by Tracy Brown
“I told her not to contact me no matter what. And I waited. I wanted to see if Don was gonna get greedy when he came for the diamonds. Cuz we had a lot. Ten loose stones. Clear babies! A bunch of other shit. We had over a million dollars in jewelry. But we couldn’t move it. Too risky at the time. Then Shu’s dumb ass let the cops get inside his head. Next thing I know, Don is locked up. The cops are questioning him. I should have ran then.” He lit another cigarette.
“Why didn’t you?” she asked. It was the logical thing to do.
He smiled. “Georgi loved New York. And I didn’t want to leave my family behind. So, I waited.” He exhaled the smoke. “I figured the cops couldn’t prove shit if they couldn’t find shit. Sure enough, they came. They called themselves raiding our little house in Brooklyn early one morning. I was ready for them, though. They didn’t find shit. Then they searched my car.”
He looked at her then. “They found a gun in my car that wasn’t mine. I didn’t put it there. Never used it. In fact, there were no fingerprints on it at all. Like somebody cleaned it. But it was the murder weapon. I knew right then that Don had set me up.”
Quincy’s jaw tensed. “They still didn’t have the jewels, though. Your mother had them. But they didn’t need them. Don got out and I went to jail for murder.”
Her heart broke all over again for her dad. He had not been innocent. By his own admission, he had set out to rob the jewelry store, but he hadn’t gone to jail for that. Instead, he went away for a crime that his so-called friend had committed and framed him for.
“So now it’s your turn,” Quincy said. He tapped his cigarette over the ashtray and smirked. “What happened with this guy you met at college? How did he find you?”
She frowned a bit at the way he had phrased the question. He seemed to be implying that Troy had set out after her like a hunter. She shook her head. “We met at college. He was in my math class and I was struggling. He tutored me and we fell in love.” She didn’t look at her father, afraid that she might see skepticism on his face. She couldn’t handle that. At this point, she needed to believe that it had been real.
“When we came home for the holidays, he invited me to meet his family.”
“Where was your mother?” Quincy had wondered for years why Georgi would ever allow their daughter to go to such an occasion without her.
She didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that her mother had been out gallivanting with her flavor of the week. “I can’t remember,” she lied. “It was the holidays. She might have gone out shopping or something. Anyway, Destiny went with me. They lived in Harlem, but on the richer side of it.”
Quincy nodded. He had been to Fox’s home many times for social gatherings. Don’s brother tried to pretend that he was above the street life. But Quincy knew that there had been plenty of times when Fox called on his little brother to fix his problems. Fox wasn’t getting his hands dirty directly, but he was in on it, too. The big house uptown had been one of the ways Don came through for him. He got the permits and building inspections done under the table, and Fox was able to conduct an expensive renovation with practically no red tape.
“I met his uncle at that party.” She could scarcely say the man’s name now. It was synonymous with so much pain, both emotional and physical for her family. “He seemed nice. But when I looked back on it later, he was baiting me. Questioning me.” She shook her head. She had been so eager to impress Troy’s family and friends. What a fool she felt like now. “I never thought he would know you. What were the chances of that?” She laughed at the absurdity even now. “I listened to you earlier when you spoke about your days as a hustler. But I was too little to remember any of that. My earliest memories are of Staten Island, living with Mommy and Malik, eating over at Aunt Pat’s and Grandma’s house. It was a much smaller world than the one you described today.”
Quincy nodded again.
“I knew you as Daddy and not as this gangsta. So I’m sitting there running my mouth about you, about Mommy.” She shook her head at herself. “Later at the hospital when we were waiting for Malik to come out of the coma, Destiny remembered something. She said that Troy’s uncle looked at his brother funny when I said Mommy’s name. Then, when I said your name, she thought she saw the uncle smile a little. She shrugged it off at the time. When we left, Troy’s uncle had his driver take us home. I guess that’s how they found out where we lived.”
Quincy shot a look at his daughter. It was unsettling to her. For a brief moment, he seemed almost angry.
“You’re bugging.” He shook his head, dismayed, and swigged the last of his beer. “They found out where we lived the first time your boyfriend came to pick you up.”
Crys felt dread wash over her. She shook her head.
“He was in on it the whole time,” Quincy said. “You telling me that all this time you thought this nigga Troy was innocent?” He wanted to laugh at her. If she had been one of the dudes in jail, he would have roasted her mercilessly. But she was his daughter, so he went easy on her. He wished more than ever that he had been around when she was growing up. He would have never raised a daughter this naïve. “The whole thing was a setup, and he was in on it.” He said it with finality, as if believing otherwise made her a total fool.
She swallowed. She felt an incredible tug-of-war in her heart between the love she had for her father and the love she had never stopped feeling for Troy.
“Daddy,” she said softly. “He didn’t know anything about you when we were at Howard.”
“He had to,” Quincy said defiantly. “You said yourself that you weren’t raised in the streets. He was. He had to be if he was Don’s nephew.”
She still looked doubtful and it pissed him off.
“So you’re telling me his brother was in the streets enough to beat your brother to death, but this nigga Troy was spotless?”
“I’m saying—”
“He done sold you on that same shit Fox is selling.” Quincy altered his voice and posture mockingly. “Oh, no. I’m not like my brother. My brother is the bad guy. I’m the businessman.” He laughed, although the situation didn’t amuse him much. “That nigga played you, baby girl.”
She felt like crying. She hated that her father was so convinced. It was causing her to doubt her own convictions.
“You’re probably right,” she said. She shrugged.
He got up and took another beer out of the fridge. He was enjoying his newfound freedom. But he hadn’t forgotten how it felt to have it taken from him.
“You do a lot of thinking when you’re locked up. I did mine while I was in solitary for three months when they sent me up north.” He cracked his beer open. “I ain’t no saint, you know what I’m saying? I was wrong. I was getting money the fast way. I chose to go in there and rob that man. I could have dealt with it better if I went away for robbery. I did that. But I didn’t kill that man. I didn’t shoot him twice at point-blank range. It was nineteen ninety-one the last time I got to walk around like this and get my own beer whenever I felt like it. Nineteen ninety-one! Think about that. All for something I didn’t do. And the man that did do it … the nigga who put his hands on my wife and killed my only son, and played mind games with my daughter”—he shook his head at the weight of it all—“he gonna walk away with no time served?” Quincy smiled sinisterly and shook his head. “Nah.”
He swigged his beer, set it down on the table, and looked at his daughter.
She sighed and the tears came back again.
Quincy watched her closely. He had spoken to his wife and was well aware that their daughter had gone quite far in her quest for revenge. He could see that it had taken its toll on her. Tears poured from her eyes faster than her tissues could keep up. He knew that the weight of it all had finally begun to crush her.
“Malik would be proud of you.” He saw her back straighten and her tears slow as the words sank in. “He would look at everything you’ve done and he would be proud. He would tell you it’s not your fault.”<
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She choked back a sob and squeezed her eyes shut.
“It’s not your fault, Sydney. That’s what he would tell you. You didn’t know. There was no way you could know.” Quincy stood up and walked over to where his daughter sat. He squatted beside her so that they were eye to eye.
Tyson stood watching silently in the corner.
“You came this far. You don’t have to go any further. I’ll take it from here, baby girl.” Quincy wiped her tears.
She sniffled and shook her head. “No. I want to finish what I started. But the plan has changed a little bit. I think we can take the whole family down.”
* * *
She got her dad settled in at his new place and picked up takeout from her favorite place on the way home. She took a much-needed shower and got ready for Troy’s arrival. She felt safer on her home turf now that her father was home and still her hands shook slightly from nervousness.
Troy arrived right on time. She peeked out between the blinds and watched him approach her door. His walk had always turned her on. Tonight was no exception. He rang the doorbell and she greeted him, smiling.
“Hello.” She held the door wide.
He stepped into her foyer and took off his coat. She hung it up in the hall closet and then turned to face him again. She drank him all in. His toned chest bulged against the black T-shirt he wore. His biceps peeked out from beneath its sleeves. His ebony skin shone against the dark denim jeans he wore. He kicked off his construction Timbs at the door. He looked delectable.
He stepped into the living room. “I can tell you decorated this place yourself. It’s feminine and masculine at the same time. Just like you.”
Crystal scoffed at that. “I am not!”
Troy nodded. “You are. All tough and fragile at the same time.”
She shrugged. She wasn’t sure that she agreed, but she chose not to argue now. “Okay.”
She offered no protest when he came near. She didn’t pretend not to want it just as badly as he did. She kissed him, throwing all of her caution and concern to the wind. She led him by the hand down the hall to her bedroom. As they climbed into her bed, she felt all the doubt and uncertainty fall away. She told herself that this was all part of the plan.
REDEMPTION
He opened the door and ushered Crystal inside. She looked around, smiling.
“So, this is where the magic happens, huh?” They were in his office at Stuart Mitchell’s main location in Harlem. He was showing her the place during off-hours on Friday night. Dru had called and asked him to pick up a client file and drop it off to him. Troy agreed, figuring it was the least he could do for him. Dru was covering for him yet again. For the past two days, Troy had been living a double life, holed up in Crystal’s house while Vanessa thought he was out of town. When Crystal had gone to work earlier in the day, Troy had spent the day there, under the guise of being the head man in charge. He pretended to focus on figures and statistics when all he was really focused on was Crystal and the way her eyes lit up when she smiled.
“This is it.” He motioned toward a set of plush leather chairs, then shut his office door halfway. The place was empty, all the staff having gone home hours ago.
Crystal sat on top of his desk while he searched through his drawer for the file. She noticed an expensive pen set, a calendar, and a black-and-white photo of a beautiful, Lena Horne-esque woman.
“Your mother?” she asked, gesturing toward the picture.
Troy nodded and smiled proudly at the portrait. “Yeah.”
“She was beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He leaned forward and kissed her softly. “So are you.”
She gripped his face in her hands and kissed him deeper. He groaned and pulled her closer to him, upsetting some of the papers on his desk.
She grinded back at him, encouraging him. Troy leaned into her and gripped her tightly around her waist. With his lips at her neck, he tugged at her leggings until they came down. He freed one leg and placed it on his shoulder, grinding into her wetness. Crystal slowly winded her hips, trying hard to take in more of him.
Vanessa stood watching them through the partially opened door with tears streaming steadily down her face.
Caught up in the ecstasy of how Troy was making her feel, Crystal was abruptly rocked by a powerful force from behind. She was suddenly aware that someone was screaming and it dawned on her that Vanessa was there, raining down blows on her head. Vanessa swung wildly, connecting with Crystal’s jaw and the side of her head. Gone was the harmless and naïve arm candy Troy had been parading around town. In her place was a scorned, raving madwoman. And she was out for blood. She charged at Crystal as she and Troy scrambled off the desk. He managed to grab Vanessa just as she grabbed a stapler off his desk and hurled it at Crystal’s head, narrowly missing her.
“You fucking bitch! I trusted you.” Vanessa’s chest heaved with fury. “You sent me fucking cupcakes!” She tried to charge at Crystal.
“Calm down!” Troy yelled over and over.
“Get the fuck off of me!” Vanessa sobbed. She kicked at Crystal, but Troy had grabbed her in a bear hug from behind. She could only scream as Crystal scrambled back into her clothes. Vanessa watched through the tears pouring from her eyes.
“Listen!” Troy was saying. “It’s not what you think!”
“I saw you!” she hissed. “I watched you fucking her just now.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
Crystal managed to get herself together. She looked at Vanessa and felt sorry for the girl. There was no way to tell her now that she was just a pawn in all of their games.
“I’m sorry,” Crystal offered sincerely.
“Let me go!” Vanessa wriggled free at last.
Crystal grabbed her boot and held it up like a weapon. She was ready for battle.
Vanessa looked at Troy. “Wow. You made me look like a fool.” She hocked back and spit in his face, the action occurring before she knew it. She wanted to fight him, to tear at him, and hurt him the way that his rejection over so many years had hurt her.
He stood frozen, aware that he could really hurt her at that moment. Slowly, he wiped the slob off of his face.
“What, am I not good enough? I’m not nice enough? Who do you think you are?” She shook her head, enraged at him. “You think you’re a god, walking around playing chess with people’s lives. All for your own gain. You take from everybody, and you never concern yourself with what’s left afterwards.”
Troy was disgusted. Even now as he stood listening to her tirade, he wanted to punch her in her face.
“Everybody told me your family was trash. They were right.”
He called her name as she stormed out, even though he knew there was nothing else to say. He looked at Crystal helplessly.
She held her head where Vanessa had pummeled her from behind. She locked eyes with Troy.
“Now what?”
* * *
Fox was furious. Crystal and Troy sat with him in the living room of his Harlem mansion. Neither of them had the guts to look at him. He paced the floor anxiously, his attorney and staff secretary watching in silence.
Troy stared at the headline in the New York Times.
WILLIAM “FOX” MITCHELL MONEY LAUNDERING PROBE
Troy was distraught. Two weeks had passed since Vanessa had busted him and Crystal together in his office. She had sent movers to collect her things, changed her number, and cut off all ties with Troy. Crystal had gone back to work, anxious each day over whether or not she would be asked to step down as editor in chief. She didn’t think they’d be stupid enough to ask for that and she was right. The days went by with no mention of any shake-up at the magazine.
That didn’t stop the whispers around the office from the staff and her other colleagues. Although Crystal and Troy had been careful not to be seen together in any compromising positions since their discovery, and they had not confirmed any relationship between them, it was the worst-kept secret ar
ound the offices of Hipster and Stuart Mitchell. Everyone was buzzing about it. Oscar had been the only one bold enough to voice his suspicions, cornering Crystal in her office one Friday afternoon.
“If you’re trying to keep it a secret, you might as well give up. All it takes is for someone to watch the way he looks at you. It’s obvious that he’s smitten.” Oscar had been smiling when he said it, since he found the whole thing incredibly romantic and deliciously taboo. Crystal, however, was not amused. One part of her plan was going terribly awry. She was desperately trying to keep her emotions in check. She refused to admit that she had already started falling in love with Troy.
Fox’s fall from grace had been public and shameful. Now he had his name splashed across the paper with the words “money laundering” right beside it. He was embarrassed. This time by the good son from whom he least expected it.
Fox looked at Crystal. He should have known she was too attractive for his son to resist. Foolishly, he had hoped Vanessa would be enough for him. He realized now—too late—that it had been too much to ask from Troy. To love the woman he chose, and to be content with what was a good life. Just not the life he had chosen for himself. He thought about the sacrifice Troy had made years ago, when he was forced to leave Howard and return to New York. He had been in love then, too. That time, Fox had asked his son to do the unthinkable. To choose family over love; to turn a blind eye to the savage destruction of a girl who had meant everything to him. Fox shook his head in self-pity. He deserved this. It was some kind of divine retribution for the pain he had allowed his son to suffer years ago.
Still, this was bad. It was hard to be philosophical when his shame and embarrassment were still so raw. His political aspirations were over. And worst of all, he knew that somewhere Don was having the last laugh.
He sat down at last, his head in his hands. Troy watched his father, wracked with guilt over the part he had played in this. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am.”
Crystal hated that she had been summoned here. Like Vanessa, Fox’s pain was collateral damage for a much bigger war than the one he was fighting. She hated seeing him broken this way, his dreams dashed and his reputation in tatters. Worst of all, Fox hadn’t said a word to her since they got there. It was like he had called her there just to make her see what her lust had done to ruin him. She was anxious to get this all over with.