Chardonnay: A Novel

by Jacquilynn Martine

  Myron’s glare became intense and displaced as he flexed his jaws and answered, “I wasn’t...until recently. I’m his son, the Heir to his foundation so...he’s been testing me. He’s wanting to pass it down to me.”

  My mouth dropped. The foreign words swarmed around me in a sense, taught and sharply destructing each lie fabricated to glorify the Kent’s image.

  “But you have a NFL contact, Myron!”

  “You don’t know the shit I have to go through daily that I really don’t want to do! I see better for my life, but my pops don’t!”

  “You can’t control that?”

  “I don’t have a choice.” Myron said as tears flooded his eyes.

  “Char, if I don’t take the reign, my father will not only disown me, but my family will starve. He started this thing from the ground up when he moved here from West Africa to build a better place for his family, any way he could.”

  I wasn’t having it. Any of it! I moved from the sink and around him to his dimly lit bedroom. It all seemed preposterous to me.

  “So what happened tonight? Why the gun shots and people running away? Fuck—I don’t even know if my girls are okay!”

  “They are. Denim and Gehvoni hid them away like I thought I hid you.”

  “Have you always done this? Protected me?”

  He nodded his head yes.

  “What about the buildings he owns, investment he’s supposedly has secured for you, Mystro, and Myra? The charity events he’s sponsored?”

  “That’s all true—”

  “How can he give blood money to a health organization?!”

  Myron lowered his head and shrugged his shoulder. And now, more than ever I wondered about the businesses Mr. Kent had invested in with my father.

  The neighborhood we were resting our heads in...

  “You mean to tell me your father gets his profits to fund his investment in the neighborhood we had our childhood in by selling drugs. His household name is courtesy of drugs?”

  Myron couldn’t even answer those questions let alone look me in the eyes after the words left my mouth.

  “YOU LIED TO ME!” I screamed.

  Who was he? What kind of man was I dealing with all…this…time.

  “Were you ever going to tell me? I WAS GOING TO MARRY YOU?” I screamed.

  Myron reached for me but I swung his arms away. He sat down on his bed. And said,

  “There’s a lot of things I’ve done you don’t know about that I’m not proud of, baby. But I have sacrificed it all for the well-being of my family and most of all you.”

  I chuckled and looked up at Myron.

  “You sound so...stupid for the first time that I’ve known you in nineteen years. Sacrifice?! That’s what you call it? Man your father has you screwed.”

  “The truth about tonight...I—I’m in trouble with some guy named Miscogey. I lost about sixty grand of his money. Money my dad owed him for a drug order. My pops don’t know...he can’t know,” he said dropping his head.

  “Slim nearly died because of me. I never thought I would let this shit happen again.”

  “What happen again?”

  He looked up slightly and whispered, “Them getting this close to me again—my family again. If keep getting caught slipping, I’ll mess up my father’s empire. I don’t want to let him down.” Myron began crying. I shook my head. Not only was he not made for this shit but he didn’t want to do it. I felt bad for him.

  “What would happen if you weren’t able to get him the money?” I asked in fear.

  “They came after me tonight and instead got Slim. These muthafucka’s don’t care! They’ll pull the roots to ya family tree if they have to.”

  “So...I take it they know about me.”

  He looked at me as tears fell down his eyes.

  “I—I—”

  “It’s okay, Myron,” I said interrupting him.

  “We’ll get through this.”

  “And Jasen Vonseigneur?” he asked.

  I looked at him.

  “You know his name?”

  Myron looked away from me and nodded his head.

  “How?” I asked.

  He shrugged,

  “He big time ain’t he? Everybody know who he is.” Myron stood from the bed and walked over to his sky line window.

  “But Myron, he’s not from here. Hell I’ve never heard of him.”

  He looked at me and said,

  “I know everybody.”

  I waved him off and left that question open to his subjectivity. I grabbed my things and headed for the door when he said,

  “In the bible...God says the man’s role is to protect his wife...with my flaws in all, I’ve done my damnest to do that.”

  I turned to face him and said,

  “Well that’s good for you.” and left out the door.

  I woke up to my shoulder being nudged. I jumped and looked up to see my father stretching out his arm with a Starbucks latte in it. I smiled and took it from him since it was very cool in the emergency room. I came here straight from Myron’s penthouse and been there the whole night. I looked at my daddy and his face looked sympathetic for me. I looked around the empty room and then back to him before I asked,

  “Can we talk?”

  He nodded his head and said,

  “You know it baby.”

  I took a deep breath and prepared myself for what was next to come from probably one of the most dramatic responses I could receive from my father. My father had brown eyes and a beautiful brown even skin tone. I relaxed my head back and looked him dead in the eyes,

  “Slim and I have been seeing each other for some time now...I— I—”

  “Shhhhh. It’s okay. You’re a big girl now.”

  “But I don’t want momma being—”

  “She’ll survive. She doesn’t know we’re here anyway.”

  I smiled and said,

  “Thanks daddy.”

  The waiting room doors swung open and Myron and Mr. Kent walked in. Mr. Kent who looked like a Don once I actually looked at him closely, strutted towards the ICU unit. I jumped up and ran to Myron telling him he didn’t belong here. I was hysterical. Mr. Mychale Kent took his hat off and winced his eyes at me. Then he looked at Myron like he had lost his place in life.

  “Get your woman and make sure she keeps her keep.” he ordered.

  I don’t know when or how my father got so gangster, but he smooth jumped up out his chair and got all in Mr. Kent smooth chocolate face and said,

  “Don’t you EVER confuse my daughter for some two bit hoe! You hear me boy?!”

  Mr. Kent sniffed and said, “Now, Carnegie...let’s not get delusional.”

  Whatever that meant, my father backed off. How could one man have so much power? I spat on Mr. Kent’s suede coat. Security stormed the room and Mr. Kent told them to let me go immediately before he had their asses sued. And they did. And just like he knew it, he looked me dead in the eyes, making sure I would never forget the words he was about to speak to me, and said,

  “Chardonnay, you best to mind...you not ten inches from being kicked on your ass ya self.”

  “Dad, don’t speak to her like that.” Myron protested.

  “Then you better get her ass in check...all them damn Houston women are loose and out of check—don’t know why I—”

  “DAD! Enough.” ordered Myron.

  I looked over at my father wondering why he let this shit go on. When the doctor entered the room he spoke with me since he had already spoken with Slim’s mother in the ICU room and she told him to speak directly with me.

  “Skylar is in critical condition. It looks as if he will be for a while. I advise all hospital visits to a minimum of two a week. Right now I’m ordering no visits, he’ll need as much rest as possible.”

  “So his surgery?” I asked as if it would have fixed everything.

  “It went okay.”

  “What’s wrong with his internal?” asked Mr. Kent.

  As
far as I was concerned he was the cause for this whole thing. He would have loved to kill Slim dead if it meant him being out of the way. But the more I listened on to Mr. Kent the more I heard concern in his voice for Slim, yet became completely disgusted by him each second he spoke.

  “Give him the best care possible, otherwise if anything happens to him, I’m suing this place and every single last person in it from the Founder to the little Mexican cleaning lady I saw when I came in here today.” he said and took out five one hundred dollar bills and stuffed them in the doctor’s coat. The doctor, a White man, was dumbfounded and looked at my father and myself as if we had the clue. I was becoming more and more puzzled by the man myself.

  * * * *

  Rain clouds casted the sky, slowly darkening and hovering over the large crowd of people sitting in plastic seats in rows of ten on muddy soil. People were either looking down at their laps or ahead at my Pal pal’s casket. As I sat in the first row with my Donna Karen black suit on and Italian silk hat that covered most of my eyes, I wished my grandfather could have died at a more peaceful time in my life. Rain drops began to sound as they gently hit the ground. The Priest began saying the final prayer as a woman with a soulful tone sung Yolanda Adam’s Open my Heart. I looked up out the corner of my eye and saw my grandmother crying her heart out and making her final steps to my grandfather’s casket, with the help of my father, to give him his last kiss goodnight. I wanted to love a man as hard as she loved him.

  I sat there after most of the crowd began to walk towards their cars. I sat there until they had finished lowering his body into the ground. I felt a brushed wind rush past my back and turned to see Myron sitting in the seat directly behind me. He was leaned forward and his eyes dripped sadness and love. I turned back to my Pal pal’s grave that he now rested in and watched them throw the first soil over him. Myron’s hand touched my shoulder and I snatched back. He sighed and said,

  “I’m sorry about your lost. I just didn’t want you to think that I wouldn’t be here.”

  I sat silent. Wrong place, wrong time. There was no way I was discussing us at this moment. The thought of him being here repulsed me.

  I stood to my feet and blew my Pal pal a kiss. When I turned to leave Myron followed. I jogged down the steep hill to my parent’s limousine where others stood around and said good-byes. Myron grabbed my arm and I turned into his body due to his strength. I could hear off sided whispers and comments about Myron and I from, “Oh look at the happy couple” to “Uhmp, young people don’t know how to keep their business home”. I sighed hard and looked at him in order not to make a scene. He had tears in his eyes and was choking on his words about how sorry he was. I didn’t feel like hearing it; although I didn’t resist being held in his arms. He kissed my cheek and told me that he would be with me for the rest of the day if I needed him. To me he was just performing in an act staring him.

  * * * *

  My whole family had a dinner back at my parent’s home. Konstance and Myron sat with me in the formal living room as people came by to give support and extra food that the already stuffed kitchen didn’t need. This day that brought so many memories of my grandfather only prompt me to new questions about my family. Aunt Fallon. Why was she coming to me? And if My Aunt Hattie was right about the ten year thing, her mark was off by one year seeing how I was twenty-one and had had a birthday on January 1st. I was a New Year’s baby. Anyway, I had so much information about this lady, and realized my mother or anyone else never spoken one word about her, that it was obscene. No pictures...but I had an idea of what she looked like. I looked over at Konstance and she looked at me as if she could feel me looking at her. We smiled at each other. Myron’s hand touched my knee and squeezed it. I didn’t look at him, so I wouldn’t give him the wrong impression...Slim was still in the hospital, practically on his death bed. I wouldn’t live with that shame for the rest of my life.

  After everyone had come and went their own ways, my mother began cleaning the kitchen. Denim had come to pick up Konstance. It was just Myron and I in the den. My father had left the television on, so that left us only with a dim light.

  “You can leave now.” I said to excuse him out the door.

  He ran his hand over his mouth and stood as he kept his eyes on me.

  “I’m here if you need me.”

  I waved him off as I walked him to the front door. He leaned over to kiss my cheek. I didn’t move because I wanted that touch in some form of way. My vulnerability was my down fall. Myron walked out the door looking back once he reached his Cadillac Escalade. I closed the door. Truth was I was scared to be around him.

  * * * *

  July streamed itself into the raw New Year with a thick haze of heat. In Kansas City at this time of year, summer time was a desert in the city. The countless amounts of deaths that took place due to the heat were ridiculous. I sat on my queen sized pink and ivory lace duvet on my bed and looked through my photo album of the years I spent as a child. I had so many pictures of my Pal pal and I. With no outside interventions, I had the opportunity to just think. As screwed up as I was, I knew I wouldn’t be going right back to school.

  Nothing made sense anymore. And Jase...I could have killed myself for what I let Myron come in between. Truly a chance of a life time to have the attention of a CEO that owned two successful companies. Twice. I knew I wouldn’t be forgiven this time, but this time I was mad at Jase. Mad at the thought of him not telling me he had so much money and it still didn’t sit well with me. Pushing him away would be the best thing for the both of us and it only seemed right since we couldn’t get what we were feeling right.

  I heard a knock at my door.

  “Come in.”

  My mother walked in the room with a dusty box that had old newspaper wrapping around it. Then she gave me a letter...from my pal pal to me. It was written twenty years ago. I looked up at her and sat up.

  “What’s this?”

  She sat down by me on my bed and handed me the box. There were old pictures of me, some of me and my mother near the Eiffel tower in Paris, France, others of just me when I was a baby in my Pal pal’s arms. My mother looked at me as I went through those pictures.

  “Do you recognize anyone?”

  “Yes...me and you.”

  She held quiet. I turned over one of the pictures and read it...I didn’t understand. I looked back up at my mother and she began to speak.

  “This box is a keepsake your grandfather kept of you from when you were born...you were never to see this until after his death.”

  My body grew paralyzed as tears fell down my face. My hands shook. I opened the letter and it was written in another language; Creole language like the words on back of the pictures.

  “He had an IRA that was invested in from the time he was a young man...a very young man. You were one of his beneficiaries.”

  “ME. Why me?”

  She shook her head.

  “Chardonnay I’m not sure. But you were to not get this money until you reached twenty-one, the age you are now.”

  “How much money?” I asked as I kept seeing she was going around it.

  “First there are some things I have to tell you about your family. We’re not from the United States.”

  “Yeah I know daddy isn’t from—”

  “No. I don’t mean your father...I mean my family. Your heritage is much more complicated than what you think. As a child I was raised and catered to like a princess in France. At fifteen my family moved here.”

  She stopped there and I sensed there was another part of the story she’d rather not tell.

  “Chardonnay this box is for your education and discovery into your heritage. Go through it, read it, confirm, and think about it.”

  “So, he wanted me to have this now...why? And I can’t read this letter.”

  “Learn to.”

  She stood from my bed and finished with,

  “Here’s a check.”

  She handed it to me. My eyes glance
d over the courier printed black letters on the pay in the amount of line, five hundred and fifty thousand dollars...that was a little over half a million. When I came out of my shock and looked up my mother had gone out my room.

  I put the box up and cried myself silly. It seemed what I had been fighting for was attainable, but it wouldn’t be as easy as I may have thought it would be to achieve.

  * * * *

  Myron came by my house the very next day and as I assumed my mother let him in and welcomed himself to my room where I lay barricaded under my silk and lace plush pink pillows. At least when I was away at my friend’s houses I wasn’t easily to be found. He knocked on my door when he came in, hence my not moving once, I heard his voice. I cringed and shook my head.

  “Hi.” he offered.

  “What-do-you-want-now?” the irritation in my voice dragged evenly.

  “If you didn’t mind I was coming to see if you needed anything...”

  I got up from my bed and walked over to my dresser drawer where I had slipped the box my mother had given me in.

  “Myron, we need to talk.” I said going through the pictures again. I shook my head as I thought that there had to of been significance to my grandfather doing what he had done. Why not share in looking at these pictures with me?

  Myron came up behind me and said,

  “Where is Kingston? Haven’t seen him in a minute.”

  “He’s at basketball camp.”

  “And Jersey...she wouldn’t even speak to me at the funeral...she koo’?”

  I nodded my head to Myron yes, but I knew my little sis’ wouldn’t deal with Myron if I wouldn’t deal with him. She stood by me like that.

  “Yeah, she had to leave camp...King stayed...this the first time he’s dealt with death in the family so he would rather not deal all together.”

  Myron nodded his head as if he understood and then tisked his mouth in a bored “okay it’s your turn to speak” way. When I didn’t impose he went to ask me what he was stalling to ask me.

  “You going back to the hospital to see Slim?”