by Tracy Brown
And now here Pat was parked outside her sister’s house with the box in her lap. She had no idea what awaited her on the other side of the door. But she had to find out. She prayed that Quincy’s sins hadn’t come back to bite Georgi where it hurt.
Knees trembling, she approached the house. She noted the drawn blinds, but otherwise the house looked normal. There was no noise, no outward sign of trouble. She rang the bell.
The man who opened the door looked vaguely familiar. He was handsome, kinda tall, brown-skinned with piercing eyes. He smiled at her.
“Come in, Pat. Georgi’s in the living room.” He gestured in that direction.
Pat took a nervous step forward, looking around. She saw no immediate signs of trouble as she stepped into the foyer and Don shut the door behind her, bolting the locks securely. Pat swallowed and walked toward the living room. She saw a man with a large scar standing near the sofa. Then she spotted a crumpled mass at his feet. Someone had been beaten bloody, unrecognizable. Pat froze. She couldn’t make out the man lying on the floor, his shirt drenched in his own blood, part of his face smashed into a bloody pulp. Her breath came in spasms and it slowly occurred to her that she could hear her sister sobbing. She spun around and saw her then. A large man stood looming beside her, a grimace on his face. Georgi had been badly beaten, too. Lumps on her head, sections of her hair yanked out, blood dripping from cuts on her face and on the side of her head. Her eyes were swollen and black. Her mouth hung open in an odd and gruesome way. She was crying, the sound so heart-wrenching that Pat began to cry instantly.
“Malik!” Georgi was trying to say. “It’s Malik!”
Pat gasped. Her head snapped back in the direction of the crumpled man on the floor. Her nephew? She wondered where Sydney was. Pat cried harder, her eyes darted toward all three of the men in the room. She prayed they didn’t plan to beat her, too.
“Is that Malik?” She was nearly breathless.
Don nodded. “Yeah. Unfortunately, he hurt himself trying to convince his mother to give me back something that belongs to me. Now I think Georgi is convinced that she should return it all to me. She said we should contact you and you would set things straight. Did you bring it with you?” He glanced at her empty hands. The man with the scar moved in a little closer to her.
Gripped with fright, Pat could barely stand. “I have it. It’s in my car.” Raised in the streets of Brooklyn, this wasn’t Pat’s first time in a situation like this. She knew that if she came in empty-handed, they would at least give her a chance to speak; a chance to convince her sister’s captors to let her go.
Don frowned a little. Wes glanced out the front window, parting the curtain slightly and peering out. He saw the blue Civic parked at the curb. He glared at Pat.
“Give me your keys.”
Pat quickly handed them over.
The man with the gun pointed his gun at Pat. She began to plead for her life.
“Be quiet,” Don said. His point had been made. He believed that the condition of her family members should serve as a sufficient warning of what he was capable of if Pat chose not to cooperate. He glared at her. “If he goes out there and this is a setup, I’m killing you, your sister, and then I’m gonna finish off your little nephew here. You understand?”
Pat nodded. Her whole body quaked.
Wes walked outside, while Georgi continued to wail. Malik lay lifelessly on the floor and Don stood idly by. Pat prayed silently. Even though she knew there was no ambush, no cops lying in wait, she couldn’t help wondering whether these men would kill them all once they got what they wanted. She didn’t know that Don had already emptied out Georgi’s bank account. He had forced her to write down her pin number, had gotten her bank cards, and siphoned the little money she had in her accounts. He had transferred the money into dummy accounts he set up for situations like this. Now it was time for the big payback.
After several long, tense moments, Wes returned with the box that had been sitting in full view on Pat’s front seat. He wondered if this woman knew the value of what was inside. If she did, she had taken an incredible risk leaving it there. He entered the apartment frowning. He handed the box to Don, suspicion gnawing at him. Then Wes moved toward Georgi and she recoiled in fright.
“Is all of it in there?”
Georgi didn’t answer.
“I asked you a question.” Wes loomed over her.
Georgi nodded her head. “Everything I have is in there.”
Her words were barely understandable, her speech jumbled, her jaw slack. Wes stared down at her.
Don watched the exchange. He set the box down on the table and sat down on the sofa.
“Where’s the key?”
Georgi looked up at him, her eyes pleading. She held her hands up in surrender, quite a feat since every muscle in her body ached. She tried to get up from the floor, but the agony was too intense. Finally, Wes pulled her up on her feet. A searing pain tore through her, causing her to cry out. Still, she forced herself to move toward the fireplace. A heart-shaped box sat between family photos of the Taylor family on vacation in happier times. Pictures of Sydney and Malik at school. She retrieved the key from the heart-shaped box nestled there amid photos of a life that box had financed.
With a trembling hand, she gave it to Wes. He tossed her aside, sending her falling onto her chaise, her broken ribs sore and aching.
Wes handed the key to his uncle and Don anxiously opened the box and examined its contents. He recognized a few things immediately. Two Rolex President Series watches, three diamond rings, a pair of diamond and emerald earrings. He held up a small black velvet pouch and poured out sparkling diamonds into his palm. He looked at Georgi.
“There were ten of these.”
She stared back at him without responding.
He shook his head. “Where’s all the cash that Quincy had? Two hundred thousand in cash.” He shuffled the small bundle of hundred-dollar bills at the bottom of the box and looked at her, unsatisfied. “So, I handed your husband close to two million dollars in jewelry and two hundred thousand in cash. And you’re giving me back … this?” He held up the box. “There’s about a thousand dollars here, Georgi. Some of the diamonds are missing. I know what was in that box when I gave it to Quincy.”
Georgi was glad that her mouth wasn’t functioning properly. She might have told Don that he knew the contents of the box so well because he had been the one to fill it up after pumping two bullets into an innocent man’s head. Now she feared that he might do the same to her, to Malik, and to her poor sister, who had always been innocent in the whole thing.
Don nodded, as if digesting the fact that he had taken a loss at Quincy’s hand. Still, he was happy to have recouped some of his losses. He returned the contents to the box, locked it, and stuck the key in his jacket’s inside pocket. He turned his attention to Pat.
“You got the rest of my money?”
She shook her head vigorously. “No! I never touched your money. I never wanted what was inside that box.” She looked at her sister, hoping that all the years of their mama’s lectures were ringing in her ears now. “I value my life. I would never put it in jeopardy over some drugs, guns, money … none of that shit is worth my life.” Tears rolled down her pretty brown face. “Please … you got your stuff. That’s all she has. My nephew is laying there … please just let us get him to a hospital.”
Don stared back at her, unmoved. He didn’t say anything for a while. Finally, he took two steps toward Pat. He looked her in the eyes. “What happened to your sister and your nephew? What you gonna tell them when the ambulance gets here?”
Pat shook her head. “Somebody robbed them.”
He smiled. “What did they take?”
She played along. “Nothing really. She didn’t have much.”
Don liked that answer. He smiled, then turned to his nephew and his boy Black and gestured toward the door. He picked up the box and walked over to Georgi. He squatted down so that they were eye lev
el.
“Tell your husband that he still owes me. When he gets out, I’ll be looking for him.” He winked at her. “It was nice seeing you again. I hope your boy feels better.”
He stood up and turned, walking out with the box tucked under his arm. The two goons backed out after him, their guns trained on the victims in their wake just in case one of them tried to be a hero. Finally, they were gone.
Pat dialed 911 with trembling fingers.
* * *
Sydney was a bit tipsy now. She and Troy had polished off what was left of a bottle of Grey Goose from Uncle Don’s cabinet. Their time together today had been the sweetest thing. Fresh out of the shower now, she began to get dressed. Troy stepped into the room and smiled.
“You’re sexy.”
She felt a little exposed as he stared at her. But she liked it. She wiggled into her jeans.
“So are you.”
He had one arm tucked behind his back. He brought it around now, revealing a long box in his hand. She froze, her eyes wide.
“What is this?”
He smiled. “It’s your Christmas gift. I can’t wait anymore. I saw it and I thought about you. I want to see it on you.” He handed it to her, realizing that he was oddly nervous. He had never been more eager to please anyone. Sydney had his heart.
She opened the box. A beautiful diamond necklace glistened in the light. She drew in her breath, truly aghast. She had never seen such an exquisite piece of jewelry. She shook her head. “This is too much!”
He laughed. “It’s not enough.” He stepped forward and kissed her. “You must not know how I feel about you.”
She held on to him, shaken by the magnitude of his gift. “Wow,” she said. “Troy, I don’t know what to say.” She shook her head again. “Thank you.”
He took it from her and hooked it around her neck, clasping it securely in the back. “You’re welcome.”
Sydney looked in the mirror and watched the diamonds sparkle and dance against the light. Her own gift for Troy—a Rocawear varsity jacket—paled terribly in comparison. “I didn’t think … I got you something simple,” she explained.
He turned her face toward him. “It’s not a competition. You don’t have to give me anything. Just let me do my thing. This is how I show my affection. I don’t expect nothing in return.”
Sydney stared at him, feeling an odd sense that this relationship with Troy was too good to be true. She looked at her reflection again. Her fingertips gingerly touched the necklace and she smiled. “It’s gorgeous, Troy.”
He smiled. “You like it?”
She nodded. “I love it.”
His cell phone vibrated. He glanced at it. “Butch is downstairs. Let’s go.”
Sydney finished getting dressed, gathering her things. Her cell phone battery had died and she silently chastised herself for not bringing her charger. It was near midnight and she wondered whether her mother would worry about her. She was, after all, just supposed to be out for a day of “shopping” with Troy. She shrugged off her guilt, though. Since Butch was bringing her home, she’d get there far quicker than if she had to take public transportation.
She found Troy in the living room, having an angry whispered conversation on his cell phone.
“Why can’t you tell me over the phone?” he demanded. “Explain what that means.”
Uncle Don was on the other end, telling Troy that he was not to get into Butch’s car. “You can’t go to Staten Island right now. I need you here.”
“For what?” Troy asked again. “Did something happen?”
Don worried that Sydney might be standing beside his nephew while they spoke. “I need to talk to you face-to-face, Troy. I’m telling you to send Sydney home with Butch. He’s downstairs waiting. After she leaves, I’ll come get you and bring you uptown. I’ll tell you everything when I get there. Just trust me.”
Trust him. Those were words that resonated with Troy. He did trust his uncle. He had been looking forward to riding back to Staten Island with his girlfriend, though. Now apparently another family emergency required his attention more. “Okay.”
Troy hung up the phone. He turned and found Sydney standing behind him. “I have some kind of family emergency. My uncle won’t go into it over the phone. He said I should send you back with Butch—”
“It’s okay.” Sydney saw the apologetic expression on Troy’s face and shook her head. “You go see about your family. I’ve hogged enough of your time for one day.” She kissed him, touching his face tenderly. Afterward, she looked at him, drinking in his handsome features. “I love you.” Her eyes twinkled with joy. “And I love this necklace.” She touched it again.
He kissed her. “I love you, too.” He walked her downstairs, greeted Butch curbside, and thanked him for bringing Sydney home.
“Get her there safely.”
Butch smiled. “You know I will.”
Sydney gave Troy a long kiss good night. The wind blew fiercely, a cold New York winter swirling around them. They didn’t feel a thing. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they were in their own world.
Reluctantly, he held the car door open and Sydney climbed into the back of the Bentley.
“Take care,” he said. He shut the door, not realizing that the door was shutting on their love as well.
They were both certain they would see each other again. Oblivious to the fact that their warring families had clashed in a way that would tear them apart.
UNFINISHED BUSINESS
Sydney’s ride home with Butch had been smooth and uneventful. They talked about the upcoming holiday and his plans to surprise his kids with new computers. She touched her necklace several times during that ride, still amazed that Troy loved her enough to spend so much money on their first holiday as a couple. She knew that monetary gifts were superficial. Still, she couldn’t wait to show her mother what her boyfriend had given her. She knew that even Malik, who was usually full of jokes and sarcasm, would marvel at the clarity and brilliance of her gift.
She showed it to Butch while they were at a red light on the West Side Highway. He stared at it wide-eyed.
“Beautiful!” he said. “My wife would love a necklace like that.”
She smiled, her fingers rubbing the stones gently. “How long have you been married?” she asked.
“Twenty-two marvelous years,” Butch said. “Her name is Nancy.”
Sydney noticed how happy he seemed when he said her name. She hoped that someday, when they were married as Destiny had predicted, Troy would say her name with that same sparkle in his smile.
They pulled up to her block and saw sirens the moment they turned the corner. Sydney’s eyes widened. She wondered who had gotten hurt. She craned her neck toward the window as they slowly approached her house. Then she saw the crime-scene tape draped across her own yard. She gasped.
“Please stop!” she yelled at Butch. He did, unaware of the situation his boss had sent him into. Sydney climbed out without bothering to shut the car door behind her. She ran toward her house.
A cop stopped her as she approached.
“I live here!” she explained.
“Sydney?” the officer asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Okay. We’ve been looking for you.” He looked relieved.
She was panting breathlessly. “What happened?”
“This is an active crime scene. Your family is at the hospital. You should come with me.”
Sydney felt tears stinging her eyes. Blindly, she followed the cop toward a squad car parked at the curb. She glanced back over her shoulder, looking for Butch. But he was already gone. She frowned, wondering why he had disappeared so quickly. She turned back and focused on what the cop was telling her.
“There was a robbery. Your mother was at home when the break-in happened. Then your brother walked in on it. He’s fighting for his life. But the doctors are doing everything they can. Your mother is in stable condition.”
She cried, cursing herself ag
ain for allowing her phone to die. She needed to call someone, needed some words of comfort from a familiar voice. Instead she was forced to cry on the officer’s shoulder, wondering what had happened to her family, wishing it were all just some terrible bad dream.
The siren blared as they raced through the streets of Staten Island. Sydney wished Troy had come with her. She needed him now. She had never been more afraid or felt more helpless.
Finally they arrived at the hospital. The cops escorted her to the ER where her mother lay stiffly on a gurney. Her body was wrapped in bandages. Her jaw had been wired shut. She looked terrible. Her eyes had turned a ghastly purple and her face was swollen. Her wrist was broken and bandaged. Her hair had bald patches caked with dried blood. Sydney began to cry.
Destiny came to her cousin and embraced her. “It’s gonna be okay,” she consoled her. “Aunt Georgi is tough. She’s gonna be fine.”
Sydney choked back a sob. “Where’s Malik?”
Destiny looked at her mother. Aunt Pat sat near her sister’s bedside. She looked at Sydney, her eyes scanning her for signs of trauma. “Malik is in a coma, Sydney. He’s got swelling and bleeding on the brain. They beat him up pretty bad.”
Sydney’s heart sank. “Where is he?”
The officer that brought her in stood near the doorway. “I can bring you to him.”
“I’ll come with you,” Destiny said.
The officer led the way and Destiny took her cousin by the hand, aware that what she was about to see would be difficult for her. When the cop was out of earshot, she whispered, “Sydney, are you okay? Did they hurt you?”