Uncle Larry smirked. “Yeah, smart girl. You Keisha’s daughter, all right,” he said. “Look here, Lauren, listen to your Uncle Larry and get on back to Buckhead. You don’t want no part of the hood.”
“You’re right. I just came here to check up on my friend,” she said, looking over her shoulder to see where Brandi and her audience were. No surprise, Brandi had her face pressed against the glass, mean-mugging. “Like I said, I didn’t come looking for trouble.”
“No matter. Somehow, trouble always manages to find them Dukes,” Uncle Larry said. “But not today, not you. Now like I said, get on back to Buckhead and let Altimus and Keisha and Dice deal with all this mess, okay? Your friend is gonna be just fine—all the better if you just lay low.”
“Wait, you know Jermaine?” Lauren asked, letting down her guard, if only a bit.
Uncle Larry looked over his own shoulder this time. “Yeah, I know your boyfriend. And I also know it’s not safe for either one of you in this neighborhood right now. So believe me, sweetie, it’s time to go on home.”
“Well, have you seen him? I really need to…”
“I’ll let him know,” Uncle Larry said, smiling. “Now if you ain’t gonna let me drive you home, then you’re back on that train. It’ll be here directly,” he said, practically shoving her toward the steps leading down to the station.
“But one last thing. How can I get in touch with you?” Lauren said, pushing back against his hand.
“Call your father—your real one. He knows how to find me,” Uncle Larry answered, staring at the door of Pride, his eyes meeting Brandi’s. “Now go on.”
And with that, Lauren tugged her jacket around her body, pulled her purse under her arm, and hightailed it down the stairs toward the track where her train was arriving. She hopped from one foot to the other and looked at her TAG—it was 11:30. The train doors could hardly open fast enough before Lauren practically ran through them, searching for a seat as close to the conductor as she could get without sitting on his lap.
If she weren’t so preoccupied finding that seat, Lauren might’ve noticed the long shadow Jermaine’s hoody cast on the wall just beyond the station’s Coca-Cola vending machine.
3
SYDNEY
“Hey, wait up!” a voice called out from across the empty parking lot as Sydney tossed her bag over her shoulder and locked the door on her recently washed silver Saab. At six-thirty in the morning, it was still too early for most Brookhaven students to be awake let alone rolling up to school. Sydney looked cautiously over her shoulder in the direction of the sound of approaching footsteps and disengaged the safety lock on the tiny can of pepper spray attached to her key chain.
“Oh, hey,” Sydney replied with a relieved smile as Jason Danden’s familiar figure came into view from behind a couple of parked cars several rows over. An impressive six foot something, Jason’s smooth cocoa-colored skin, perfect smile, and chiseled physique, noticeable even under his heather-gray flannel shirt, immediately set the butterflies in her stomach aflutter. Sydney instinctively ran a hand over her head to smooth any flyaway curls. After weeks of dodging, Sydney was surprised at how happy she was to talk to him again.
“Morning, sunshine, don’t you look pretty today,” Jason offered with a smile as he finally stood directly in front of her with his book bag on one shoulder and football helmet in the other hand. “The color is hot on you.”
“Aww, thanks, Jason,” she replied, shyly pulling the neck on her purple TSE cashmere sweater dress close against the early morning chill.
“Just telling it like I see it,” he said simply. “So, long time no speak…Everything been good?” he asked before looking away slightly.
Sydney looked down at the ground and shuffled her feet. “Yeah, right? Guess I’ve been kinda busy…”
“True. These morning and afternoon practices have got me running, too,” he said with a slight shrug. “But, er, um, if you saw our last game, you know why we got to be out here as much as possible,” he joked.
“Whatever,” Sydney giggled at his self-deprecating sense of humor. “If it makes it any better, you aren’t the only one trying to stage a comeback. I have some major catching up to do in Global if I don’t want Dr. Pitts to call me out again in class this week. Which is why I’m up here so early. Figured I’d hit the library while it’s still quiet.”
“And you’re sure you couldn’t do that damage control from the comfort of your bed?” he continued with a grin.
“Oh, I’m sure,” she replied emphatically as the two started to walk in tandem toward the school entrance. What Sydney didn’t bother to say was that, in addition to the ongoing Marcus drama, ever since she’d learned of Keisha’s plans to clean out the basement, she’d been totally unable to sleep or relax, let alone study in the house. Convinced that Altimus was going to come storming into her room at any moment and threaten her within an inch of her life, Sydney spent the entire weekend trying to figure out how to get the photo album back downstairs and into the box without either parent noticing. Unfortunately, now that Mrs. Duke was officially HGTV obsessed, she ran in and out of the basement taking measurements and trying to figure out all the details of her upcoming renovation day and night.
“Well, I just hope that you haven’t been stressed out about what happened at the Gala or anything,” Jason hedged as he slowed down at the base of the staircase from the lot to the school’s main entrance. Jason reached out and gently touched Sydney’s arm.
Secretly relieved that he’d actually brought up the awkward topic, Sydney tried to keep her response light. “Well, it sure hasn’t helped,” she laughed ruefully.
“Yeah, it sure didn’t look that good from a distance,” he stated simply.
“Oh, trust me, looks are nothing compared to hearing it being discussed by people who don’t even know me,” Sydney continued, not wanting to imagine what he’d heard about her around the school halls.
“One thing about New Yorkers,” Jason started slowly, “we’re always loyal to our home team. And we’re known to believe nothing we hear and only half of what we see.”
“Is that so? Well, now that I’m a free agent, maybe I’ll start looking into switching teams,” Sydney suggested with a coy grin.
“All I’m saying is, you’d be surprised how different life can be on a winning squad,” he flirted back and continued to softly stroke her arm.
As the two locked eyes, Sydney’s entire body started to tingle. With all the drama leading up to her actual breakup, it had been a long time since she’d gotten the “uh-oh” feeling from Marcus. Thoughts of what Jason’s hands might feel like running up and down the rest of her body sent Sydney’s hormones into overdrive. “I’m so sure,” she offered, boldly stepping closer to Jason. In response, he lowered his eyes and smiled invitingly.
As the tension was reaching the boiling point, the sound of two cars blaring the Hot 107.9 A-Team morning show suddenly raced into the lot. Jason looked past Sydney and shook his head. “I swear Ryan and Keyshawn are going to kill themselves one of these days,” he said before turning back. “Well, I guess I better go. The co-captains are actually supposed to be on the field before the rest of the squad,” Jason offered as he looked down at his leather-banded Swiss Army watch.
“Well, I won’t keep you, then. Thanks for walking me over,” Sydney responded.
“My pleasure,” he asserted with a smile. “Good luck with Global.”
“’Preciate it. Good luck with practice.” Sydney returned the smile and started up the long steps.
“Hey, Syd,” Jason called out suddenly. Sydney turned around and looked at him expectantly. “You still got my number, right?” he asked.
Fighting against the huge grin that threatened to erupt on her face, Sydney nodded before answering, “Sure do.”
“Well, now that you’re a free agent, you should definitely use it.”
“Thank you, Jesus,” Sydney exhaled as she tapped in the final period on the last sentence
of her Modern English Lit paper on Zora Neale Hurston. She leaned back in the comfy ergonomic computer lab chair and closed her eyes in relief.
“Somebody looks like they could use a good massage,” a familiar voice teased softly behind her left ear.
Sydney’s eyelids flew open as she sat up straight in the chair. “Excuse you?” she asked defensively with much attitude.
“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Syd. I didn’t mean anything,” Marcus said, stepping back and throwing up both hands.
“What do you want, Marcus?” Sydney hissed as she hurriedly began to save her document to the file and shut down the computer.
“I just want to talk,” he said in a lowered voice, bending down beside her to avoid their conversation being overheard by the twenty pairs of ears that perked up as he walked over to Sydney. The smell of his cologne immediately filled Sydney’s nostrils.
“I thought I made it clear that I don’t have anything to talk to you about,” Sydney replied through clenched teeth. She was also acutely aware of the eerie silence that filled the room in lieu of the normal clacking on the keyboards.
“You did,” he concurred. “But there’s something that I want to say if you’ll just give me five seconds,” he implored, softly pressing his hand over hers as she attempted to pick up her bag.
Refusing to look him in the eyes, Sydney instead focused on his hand. “Don’t you think you said everything there was to say at the Gala? Or is there another smart Jason comment that you’d like to share?” she whispered, although she didn’t make any move to shake his hand off of hers.
“I’m sorry, Syd,” Marcus blurted out. “I’m sorry about the Gala, I’m sorry about yesterday, I’m sorry about everything that has happened since school started. It was totally my ego that created this mess, and you’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
“You got that right,” Sydney muttered, still looking away.
“I want…I mean, even my mom misses you. She keeps asking me where you are and why she hasn’t heard you call the house lately. I don’t know what to say or how to explain—”
“Why don’t you just tell her that you prefer the company of hoochies and sluts to the girl that’s had your back for the past four years,” Sydney snapped, cutting him off in midsentence.
“You know that’s not true, Sydney,” he asserted in a slightly raised voice. Sydney looked at him with raised eyebrows. He quickly cleared his throat and started again. “At the end of the day, there’s no one that I want to be with more than you.”
“Hmm, no offense, Marcus, but I’ve heard this all before,” Sydney replied, finally pulling her hand away and standing up to leave. “I gotta go.” Sydney turned and marched toward the door.
Refusing to give up, Marcus followed right behind her. “Come on, Sydney, give me a break here,” he begged as soon as the door to the lab closed behind them. He desperately grabbed her arm to make her stop. “I am sorry. I can’t stop thinking about how I could have done things differently…how I will do things differently. Please just listen to what I’m saying. I mean it.”
Sydney turned around slowly. Her ears were hearing all the right things, but it just wasn’t enough. She thought about how hard she’d worked over the years to be the “perfect girl-friend” and show her appreciation for “such a good black man.” She vividly recalled how insecure and paranoid she’d become those last couple of weeks before the scandalous affair was discovered. And most damaging, how he tried to play her in front of everybody with his remarks about Jason when he was the one with the secret agenda. “I think I need some time, Marcus,” she said at last, realizing that for once she had the upper hand in the situation, that this time around, Sydney was the one with options. “You really hurt me. And seeing you leave school with Caroline and Trina last week? I mean really.”
“Caroline and Trina are trying to set up a mentorship program at the Girls Club in Alpharetta. They wanted me to introduce them to the director of programming at the Boys Club where I volunteer. That’s all that was, Syd,” Marcus immediately explained.
“I see. Well, that’s good to know,” Sydney said, looking down the empty hallway uncomfortably.
“But anyway, I hear what you’re saying. If you need time that’s fine. I won’t pressure you,” Marcus finally conceded with a look of defeat.
“I appreciate it,” Sydney said simply as she checked her diamond-studded Deco Park II Michele watch. “Listen, um, I gotta go. I want to catch up with Carmen before my Art History class starts.”
“Yeah, sure…Well, thanks for listening. I know I was about five minutes too long,” he joked, trying to lighten up their good-bye.
And about five minutes too late, Sydney thought smugly as she walked away with barely a wave.
The first thing Sydney noticed when she pulled her car into the family’s four-car garage was the missing burgundy Benz CL5. Saying a silent Hail Mary, she threw the gear into park, grabbed her bag, and hurried inside. “Hel-lo? Anybody home,” Sydney called out hesitantly as she entered the kitchen from the garage.
“Just me, Miss Sydney,” the Duke’s live-in housekeeper, Edwina, replied from in front of the oven where, from the escaping aroma, she was baking the family favorite, spinach frittata.
“Hey, Edwina” Sydney replied as she took her off purple-and-gray patent leather Via Spiga mary janes and dropped them in the shoe basket at the door. Noticing the basement door closed for the first time in days, Sydney prayed again that her initial suspicion was correct—Mrs. Duke was not home. “Um, is my mom here?”
“No, miss. She chipped a nail while working in the basement earlier. So, I believe she went to the salon to have it fixed,” Edwina answered as she headed over to the Sub-Zero fridge and pulled out Sydney’s favorite after-school snack. “She should be back shortly.”
Desperate to seize the opportunity to get the photo album down to the basement, Sydney dashed out of the room before Edwina could even offer her the plate of freshly cut pineapple and watermelon slices. Taking the steps two at a time, Sydney’s heart raced as she finally burst into her immaculate bedroom at the end of the hall. Barely pausing to catch her breath, she tossed her bag on the bed and headed into the bathroom. There tucked behind bottles of Pink Conditioning shampoo, a bag of cotton balls, her favorite Clarins body products, and boxes of Tampax, she found the huge old leather-bound photo album she’d snagged from one of Keisha’s boxes of personal items a few weeks ago.
“Aha,” she mumbled, pulling it out and starting back toward her bedroom. Halfway through the bathroom door, she stopped and looked down at the album. With a split-second decision, she flipped to the middle, removed the single most incriminating photo in the album—Keisha and Dice’s official wedding photo, where Altimus was the best man—and shoved it back in the cabinet. Just in case.
Unsure how long she had until her mother returned, without further delay Sydney raced back down the stairs. She paused momentarily outside the kitchen door to listen for voices in case she had missed the garage door opening while she was upstairs in her bathroom. Confident that the coast was clear, Sydney finally walked into the kitchen.
“You okay? You don’t want no food, Miss Sydney?” Edwina asked from the small table where she sat cutting up vegetables for the dinner salad. She stopped to point at the plate on the counter.
“In a minute,” Sydney replied as she beelined for the basement door. “I just need to grab something from downstairs right quick.”
“Okay. If you need help, let me know…”
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured in response as she opened the door and flipped on the light. “I’ll be fine.”
Sydney started down the stairs slowly. When she finally reached the bottom, she looked around in complete shock. The normally cluttered room officially looked like a bomb had hit. Everything was thrown all over the place. Clearly, Altimus intended to go through every single item before he allowed Keisha to dump it. “What a mess,” Sydney muttered as she scanned the floor for the pile of boxes in w
hich she’d originally found the photo album. After a minute or two, she noticed the pair of boxes pushed under Altimus’s old bench-press machine. Trying not to trip, she carefully picked her way over to the other side of the room.
As she made her way over the last pile of junk between her and the boxes, Sydney heard the sound of the garage door opening. Panicking, she tossed the album into the fray and made a dash for the door. But common sense told her that when Keisha or Altimus found the album haphazardly thrown on top a pile of old clothes it would be just as bad if not worse than it just being missing. At least that way, there was a chance they might assume it was lost during the original move years prior. Sydney did a 180-degree turn, retrieved the album, and bolted up the stairs.
Just as she stepped out and closed the door behind her, Mrs. Duke appeared in the garage entrance wearing a hot pink Juicy track suit and holding three large Crate & Barrel shopping bags. As she placed them on the ground, the sound of clinking glasses escaped. “Hey, Mom,” Sydney exclaimed a little too brightly.
Keisha looked up as she bent over to take off her leather Hogan sneakers. “Hay is for horses, Sydney,” she answered automatically, flipping her honey blonde weave over her left shoulder. “And why are you yelling? There’s nothing wrong with my hearing.”
“Sorry,” Sydney returned in a more normal tone.
“That’s better,” she said, grabbing her bags and heading over to the counter directly in front of Sydney. “I swear I hate going to the nail shop late in the afternoon. It’s always so crowded,” she huffed as she put the bags on the counter. Edwina automatically stood up, grabbed the bags, and disappeared into the pantry to put the items away.
“Sorry to hear about it,” Sydney said, trying to steady the nervous tremor in her voice. More than anything, she wished Keisha would pass so she could move away from the basement door.
If Only You Knew Page 3