If Only You Knew
A Hotlanta Novel
Denene Millner
Mitzi Miller
For the beautiful boys who will grow up to be the men of our dreams.
Mazi Chiles—
A Northern gentleman with Southern charm poised
to make his mark on the world…
—D.M.
John Aden Harvey—
My genius godson who never stops
coming back for more…
—M.M.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Dedication
1 SYDNEY
2 LAUREN
3 SYDNEY
4 LAUREN
5 SYDNEY
6 LAUREN
7 SYDNEY
8 LAUREN
9 SYDNEY
10 LAUREN
11 SYDNEY
12 LAUREN
13 SYDNEY
14 LAUREN
15 SYDNEY
16 LAUREN
17 SYDNEY
18 LAUREN
Acknowledgments
Also by Denene Millner and Mitzi Miller
Preview
Copyright
1
SYDNEY
“Five, four, three, two,” Sydney Duke muttered under her breath as the last seconds of AP Global History slowly ticked away. The bell barely sounded before she and her new brown crocodile Bottega Veneta shoulder bag were halfway to the door. After the last class of the day on a Friday, Sydney was more than ready to leave the Korean War to the few remaining veterans and get the heck up out of Dodge. Not to mention, since the huge Thanksgiving holiday party she and her twin sister were planning at the family’s Lake Lanier vacation house was exactly a month away, she and her best friends had some serious dress shopping to get into at Phipps Plaza.
“Um, may I have a word with you please, Miss Duke?” Her teacher’s rhetorical question brought Sydney’s attempted escape to a screeching halt.
“Yes, ma’am,” Sydney responded automatically as she covered the involuntary cringe with her best fake smile before turning around.
“I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay,” the well-dressed historian started as the last of Sydney’s classmates headed eagerly out the door. “You’ve seemed a little, um, distracted in class this week.”
Considering the love of her life had just played her out by cheating with her twin sister’s scandalous former best friend, Dara, Sydney found her instructor’s word choice a tad ironic. “No, Dr. Pitts, everything is just fine,” she replied, unconsciously twisting the diamond stud in her right ear.
“Oh, okay, ’cause I heard that you and Marcus were no longer…”
For a brief moment, Sydney was sure a hole would open up in the floor and swallow her alive. It was bad enough that the entire student body couldn’t stop gossiping about the huge blow-up at the Homecoming Benefit Gala where the mild mannered (and extremely appearance conscious) school sweetheart, Sydney Duke, flipped out and at the top of her lungs basically told Brookhaven’s infallible golden boy, Marcus Green, to kiss her butt. But now the faculty was up in the mix, too? If she wasn’t before, Sydney Duke was now officially tapped out.
“Ev-, ev-, everything is just fine,” Sydney stuttered, unsure of how to proceed. Not that she would ever discuss her feelings of insecurity with a teacher—or anyone else if she could help it—but Sydney was far from fine.
Together, Marcus and Sydney had formed Brookhaven’s most formidable “it” couple in years. Nicknamed “The Black Ken & Barbie” by peers, parents and apparently even teachers were huge supporters of the four-year relationship. Add to the equation an extremely wealthy family, outstanding academic achievement, and nonstop community service, and Sydney’s status on the list of Brookhaven’s most influential students seemed almost untouchable. However, lately life was feeling far less insulated.
“Okay, dear,” the well-meaning older woman continued, seemingly unaware of the rising blush in Sydney’s normally caramel-colored cheeks. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. Have a good weekend.”
“You do the same, ma’am,” Sydney offered through clenched teeth as she made a mental note to fling herself off the nearest bridge, then turned on her heel and finally exited the room.
“And just what are the two of you over here whispering about, huh? How to hack into Mr. Kirkland’s computer files before finals?” Sydney Duke jokingly asked Carmen and Rhea as she walked up behind the two girls leaning against a white Lexus GS in the middle of the Brookhaven student parking lot.
“Hey, Syd!” Carmen exclaimed turning around to give her BFF a quick kiss on the cheek. “Love the bag…” As the only child of extremely wealthy older parents, Carmen had taste like Sydney’s—it always leaned a little toward the conservative but extremely expensive.
“Gracias,” Sydney responded.
“Girl, please. I need to figure out how to get into those files—” the most outspoken of the three girls, Rhea, huffed as she pulled her shoulder-length hair up into a loose ponytail at the top of her head and fussed with her bangs. “I’m sure every student in Brookhaven would thank me.”
“Mm-hmm, and I’m sure you’d be the most popular prisoner down in Fulton County,” Sydney assured Rhea as she carefully placed her bag on the car’s hood and surveyed the crowded parking lot where at least half of the student body milled about, giving good-bye hugs and making plans for later.
“Whatever,” Rhea continued as she now dug in the bottom of her oversized silver Cole Haan bag for her car keys. “If it’s between going to jail and telling my parents that I failed freaking health class, I’d rather go to jail!”
“Um, I hear ya, Foxy Brown,” Carmen teased good-naturedly. “Just don’t call my house collect in the middle of the night crying about your cellmate named Big Bertha. ‘Cause you know poor Harold and Anita’s nerves be bad. And, I don’t want to be an orphan before I turn eighteen.”
“Why are you so retarded?” Rhea asked as all three girls burst into laughter. Carmen and Sydney exchanged high fives and finger snaps.
“Wow, it’s so beautiful out today,” Sydney sighed when she finally caught her breath. “I can’t believe it’s this warm in November.” She stretched her arms overhead to try and relieve some of the tension from her conversation with Dr. Pitts.
“I know that’s right,” Rhea co-signed as she triumphantly pulled her keys out of the bottom of her bag. With a click of a button, all the windows automatically lowered. She tossed her bag onto the driver’s seat and settled back against the car.
“Seems like nobody wants to go home,” Carmen commented as she surveyed the faces of some of Atlanta’s most privileged African-American kids from behind her favorite pair of oversized Tom Ford sunglasses. “Considering how folks ran out of last period like the roof was on fire…”
“Speaking of which, what took you so long to get out here, Syd?” Rhea asked as she closed her eyes and turned her face up to the warm three o’clock sun.
Sydney paused. Even though she loved Carmen and Rhea as much as, if not more than, her outrageous and often infuriating drama queen twin, Lauren—it was still hard to admit when life wasn’t going as planned. Which is why, even after all these years, neither Carmen nor Rhea knew the truth about Sydney’s biological father, Dice Jackson—the career felon with a gun-smuggling record. Not that Sydney was in denial. But, as she rationalized every time she snuck over to her Aunt Lorraine’s house on a side of town neither Carmen nor Rhea would imagine Sydney even knew existed to pick up one of his letters from lockdown, some secrets were best kept hidden.
Applying the same train of thought, Sydney had never discussed any of her suspicions about Mar
cus cheating until after things hit the fan at the Gala. And even then, it took days and a whole lot of humble pie before she was able to come totally clean about how her once rock-solid relationship completely disintegrated. Thankfully, like true friends, neither passed judgment on Sydney. Instead they became her most ardent supporters.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she finally sighed.
“Good grief, what now?” Carmen asked adamantly. As Sydney and Marcus’s breakup continued to be the hot topic all over school as well as online at YoungRichandTriflin.com, the infamous blog created by an anonymous Brookhaven student and dedicated solely to the behind-the-scenes rumors, gossip, and scandal at the prestigious private school, the girls had become accustomed to hearing more and more outrageous “theories” for the couple’s split each day. “Did you discover he had a second row of teeth in his head?”
“Almost,” Sydney smiled slightly. “Dr. Pitts asked to speak to me after class—”
“For what,” Rhea cut Sydney off with a roll of the eyes. Ever since Dr. Pitts had issued Rhea an after-school detention for sending text messages during class, she was officially on the least favorite teacher of all time list.
“Wait on it.” Sydney drew the hard pause for effect and continued sarcastically, “She wanted to know if I was okay. Apparently she, too, has heard about the breakup. Can you believe that?”
“What?” Carmen yelped as her jaw dropped open.
“See, I knew I didn’t like that nosy old lady!” Rhea started shaking her ponytail furiously and muttering, “Asking a million unnecessary questions, giving folks detention for sending one stupid text message, man, listen.”
“Like seriously, I was so mortified,” Sydney said somberly as she picked at a spot on her olive-colored Stella jeans.
“I’m sorry, Syd,” Carm offered, reaching out to touch Sydney’s arm as the hurt streaked across her best friend’s face. “That’s horrible. I can’t even imagine.”
Sydney inhaled deeply and forced a smile on her face. “What are you gonna do, huh? Like I always say, keep it moving.”
“Mmm-hmm, speak of the devil,” Rhea stated cryptically as she locked her sights on three approaching figures. Sydney followed the line of vision across the parking lot to Marcus and two female classmates who were laughing just a little too hard at whatever was being said.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Carmen said as she stood straight up and scowled protectively.
“Is he serious? Caroline Morrison? Trina Beddleman? Those girls can’t even string a sentence together without help from Hooked on Phonics,” Rhea continued as the trio steadily approached.
“Hey, hey, hey, guys, play nice,” Sydney said, half-heartedly trying to calm her girls down. Contrary to what had occurred at the Gala, Sydney Duke generally prided herself on behaving like a lady at all times. And that included both a strict no gossiping in public policy, as well as resisting the burning urge to rip every last piece of tacky weave out of Caroline’s and Trina’s heads for blatantly pushing up on Marcus.
In preparation for the inevitable confrontation, Sydney turned slightly so that Rhea and Carmen could give her outfit a quick once-over. No sooner had they given discreet nods of approval than Marcus and crew were standing on either side of the silver Lincoln Navigator parked directly in front of the girls.
“Hey, y’all,” Caroline and Trina called out in sugary voices as Trina clicked the remote access for the locks.
“Hey,” Rhea and Carmen offered lamely as Sydney simply smiled coldly and waved with a limp wrist. Picking up the not so subliminal “you’re playing yourself” message loud and clear, both girls got into the SUV and started the engine.
“What’s up, ladies,” Marcus called out as he stopped to pull his dreadlocks back from his chiseled face before opening the front passenger door.
“What’s up with you,” Rhea answered pointedly, while Carmen simply shrugged her greeting and turned away dismissively. Sydney just looked at him blankly.
“Chilling,” he continued with the same engaging smile that just weeks ago would have melted Sydney’s heart to a puddle. “So what, y’all waiting on Syd’s new football homeboy to get out of practice or something?” he asked snidely, referring to star player, co-captain of Brookhaven’s varsity football team, and all-round cutie Jason Danden. Sydney and Jason had spontaneously developed a casual friendship in the weeks leading up to the breakup that unfortunately got caught directly in the crosshairs at the Homecoming Benefit Gala. Since that ill-fated night, Sydney had been way too embarrassed to speak to Jason again. But as far as she was concerned, Marcus didn’t need to know that.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sydney countered without flinching.
“Do you, Sydney,” Marcus retorted as he jumped in the truck and slammed the door. With a single beep, Trina sped out of the parking lot.
“Are you okay?” Carmen asked hesitantly as soon as the SUV was out of sight.
Sydney looked down at the pavement and started twisting her right earring again. “Sure, I mean…it’s not like…”
“Whatever, girl, forget Marcus. I swear, he’s the worst,” Rhea rallied as she opened the driver’s side door and got inside. “His stock is totally downgraded as far as I’m concerned.”
“You think?” Sydney questioned quietly without looking up. “’Cause clearly every girl in this school seems more than happy to be all up in his face now that I’m not around. Maybe I made a—”
“They’re scavengers,” Rhea countered.
“Absolutely,” Carmen agreed emphatically as she followed Rhea’s lead and opened the car’s back door to get in. “Like even if we didn’t know about sloppy ‘ole Dara, Caroline Morrison is so not you. Even on your worst day…”
“Not even on a dare,” Rhea said with fierce conviction as she slipped on her black Gucci aviators and pulled down the visor to admire her reflection. Satisfied, she turned to Sydney. “Now will you please get your cute butt in this car so we can go shopping?”
“’Cause you know, Miss Duke,” Carmen continued with a grin, “Mama needs some new shoes to what?”
Confidence restored, Sydney looked up at her waiting girlfriends with a huge smile on her face. “Keep. It. Moving.”
When Rhea finally pulled around the fountain in front of the Duke’s Buckhead estate five hours later, Sydney carried six huge shopping bags full of new items and a much-improved outlook on life. “I’ll hit you guys tomorrow afternoon when I get home from volunteering,” she promised, holding the door open for Carmen to hop in the front. “Maybe we can pass by that barbeque at Tracee’s house. I heard her saying that her parents were having it completely catered ‘cause her maid quit.”
“That’s funny. But knowing Tracee’s crazy mama, I believe it,” Rhea replied as she sipped the last of her strawberry smoothie. “I actually have a twelve-thirty to get my ends cut, but I should be done by the time you finish at the shelter.”
“I’m supposed to meet Michael at the shop during his lunch break, but that’s not definite,” Carmen offered as she closed the door and leaned out the open window to give Sydney a good-bye kiss on the cheek. “Call me when you’re ready.”
“Cool. I’ll talk to you both tomorrow then,” Sydney said as she waved them off and headed inside.
As soon as she closed the front door behind her, Sydney could hear her mother’s demanding voice going nonstop. As she kicked her studded Sergio Rossi ballet flats off to the side and dropped her keys in the foyer’s community key bowl, Sydney wondered what Keisha Duke was complaining about now.
“I’m tired of asking you, Altimus,” Keisha said pointedly.
“Okay, okay, Keish, relax! I just walked in the door. Can a brother please get a minute to breathe before you hit me over the head with your demands?” the twins’ stepfather of fifteen years, Altimus Duke, responded wearily.
Tall, dark, and handsome, even when he was tired, Altimus still qualified as a dad most of her classmates wouldn’t
mind sitting across from at the dinner table every night. Not to mention, on paper Altimus was the modern-day American dream. After hustling his way out of the West End, one of the roughest hoods in Atlanta, he’d continued on to own and operate the most successful chain of luxury car dealerships in the greater Atlanta area. Unfortunately, that was just the story on paper.
Sydney stood quietly outside the kitchen door and listened. “Babe, how long have you been saying you were going to do this? I want you to get on it now or I’m calling a professional to handle it,” Keisha threatened in a low voice. A professional? Sydney couldn’t imagine what had her mother, who normally saved all her attitude for Sydney and Lauren, so worked up with Altimus. She leaned in closer to the door.
“Is that so,” Altimus countered unwaveringly as the ice cubes clinked in what Sydney assumed to be his one-a-day glass of Glenlivet and Drambuie on the rocks.
“Yes, yes, it is. Mark my words, Altimus, you’ve got two weeks.”
“I knew I should have cancelled that damn HGTV channel,” Altimus grumbled and pushed back his chair from the kitchen’s center island. “Got me living with the black Martha Stewart up in here…”
“Trust, you’re going to thank me a month from now when you’re relaxing in our fully furnished basement,” Mrs. Duke replied confidently. “Now please pass me—”
At the mention of the basement, Sydney broke out in a cold sweat. She immediately headed back to the foyer and grabbed all her shopping bags. Grateful for the plush wall-to-wall carpeting to muffle the sound of her footsteps, Sydney sprinted up the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her and her bags. Hanging a hard left at the top, she headed halfway down the hall and directly into her sister’s bedroom without a single breath.
Startled, Lauren dropped the brush she was using to wrap and pin her long auburn/black-streaked weave. “Damn, Syd, do you not know how to knock?” she snapped.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m sorry,” she apologized nervously, dropping her bags and turning to close the door behind her. “Anyway, you are not going to believe this!”
If Only You Knew Page 1