Hotlanta (21 page)

“Yeah, you need to hold them tricks hostage and send that fool Altimus a message,” insisted another guy who Lauren thought she recognized as Don from the night at the bar. “Coming round here acting like they don't know what's up when bitches straight live with a killer.”

“Babe…” Lauren whispered worriedly to Jermaine. Sydney started measuring the distance to the car in case she needed to break out in a run.

“Yo, like I said. Be easy. They're with me,” Jermaine said again, this time his voice much more threatening. “Ain't nobody disrespecting my guests or my brother's memory except y'all.” He turned to Lauren and asked, “Where'd you park?”

Sydney pointed in the direction of the Saab. “Over there,” she answered in a very low voice.

“Let's go,” Jermaine said, stepping forward confidently. To Sydney's relief, the crowd parted to let them pass.

“Don't let me catch either of you tramps alone after dark,” called out a high-pitched female voice as they passed.

The group walked toward the car in complete silence. Jermaine never once let go of Lauren's hand. When they finally arrived, Lauren searched her bag for the car keys.

“So, what? Is everyone just going to act like that didn't happen?” Sydney questioned, unable to remain quiet a moment longer.

Jermaine sighed and rubbed his head. “I don't want to bring you guys into this mess,” he said reluctantly.

“Well not for nothing, seems like we're already in the middle of it, no?” Lauren stated more than asked as she finally pulled her keys out and clicked the alarm.

“Fine, but remember, you asked,” he said as he looked down at his shiny black shoes. “So basically, your stepfather ain't really a car dealer. On the real, he been running things in the hood Godfather-style for years.”

“Ohmigod,” Lauren squeaked.

“I knew it. I knew it. Please go on,” Sydney encouraged him to continue.

“Rodney was on the same block in prison as Dice. That's why your father is a suspect, because they knew each other and, well, as you know, Dice has got a pretty shady past. Supposedly, Dice put Rodney on to a lot of the shit that Altimus was doing. Which is why everyone in the hood thinks that Altimus had reason to have my brother killed. But you should know that Rodney was a lot of things, but he wasn't no rat,” Jermaine insisted.

“But…but how could you know this about my family and still want to be with me? How come you didn't say anything until now?” Lauren asked incredulously as she searched his eyes for clues.

“Once I spent time with you, I knew in my heart that you had no idea about Altimus. And I guess I just figured that when you were ready to talk about it, you'd tell me about Dice. As far as I was concerned, none of what Rodney was talking about was hard, cold facts, and it didn't have anything to do with me personally…until now. But let's just say what I know for sure is that I didn't kill my own brother. And whoever did, well…he's gonna pay.”

The limousine driver pulled into the circular driveway of the Duke estate at precisely 5:30
P.M.
Lauren and Sydney, who had spent the afternoon primping and posturing in front of the mirror—with warnings from Keisha every fifteen minutes to have their behinds downstairs in time for their ride—had been sitting in the parlor since 5:00
P.M.
, watching Altimus run through the house in his tuxedo, fetching everything but the kitchen sink for his bossy wife, who was upstairs in her expansive walk-in dressing room, being plucked, prodded, combed, and tucked to perfection. She had a team of three men up there giggling and gossiping with her—one to style her hair, one to paint her face flawlessly, and a third to make sure that every inch of her body looked absolutely perfect in her exquisite
black, knee-length, Christian Lacroix Couture party dress. By 5:35
P.M.
, it was clear that regardless of how much she had harassed everyone else to be on time for the big anniversary event, Keisha wasn't about to rush her grand entrance for anybody. They could wait.

“I wish this night was over already,” Lauren huffed. “I'm so over it.”

“I'm with you there,” Sydney said, crossing her legs. Then she whispered: “Honestly, I can't believe we're about to party it up, particularly with what all is going on with Rodney and Jermaine and Daddy. I'm finding it extremely difficult to concentrate on all of this.”

Lauren nodded. “I mean, look at Altimus, running around here like nothing—like he doesn't have a clue what's going on!” she said, a little too loudly for Sydney's comfort.

“Shh,” Sydney warned. “We don't know if Altimus had anything to do with this. We can't be sure who did that to Rodney. Anyway, just because the police say they have suspects doesn't mean the people they arrested actually did the crime. Marcus's mom is always talking about how important it is that we question…” She got quiet. Over the past few days, Sydney had tried hard to put the whole Marcus mess behind her—thinking of the greater good that was going to come from being single.
But how,
she kept asking herself,
do you just cut off your feelings for someone after a four-year relationship?
She'd figured out a lot of things about herself and
Marcus over the past few months. But the answer to that question? Not so much.

Lauren looked at her sister and then down at her hands. “Thinking about Marcus, huh?” she asked quietly.

“I ain't studying him,” Sydney snapped. “He deserves neither my time nor attention. Forget him.”

Lauren knew her twin better than that, though. She chose her words carefully: “Look, Syd, I know you're mad at him and how all of the stuff with him and Dara went down. I was a total bitch about it. I should have told you what was going on, but I need you to know that I didn't know how far the thing with him and Dara had gone. All I knew is that he and Dara kissed once, but both of them swore to me that it was a mistake and it wasn't a big deal. You and Marcus—”

“Are through,” Sydney said, cutting Lauren off. “I don't care if it was just a kiss, he shouldn't have done it.”

“And I should have known what was going on, for real, and let you know. I'm sorry about that, sis,” Lauren said.

“You were definitely wrong for that,” Sydney said, looking into Lauren's eyes. “I guess I just thought he and I would be together always. It's funny how blind you become when that's all that's on your mind. I should have seen it. And I'm not so sure I would have taken kindly to your news if you did tell me about it, so don't sweat it. It's over.

“Besides, that's the least of our worries right about now,” she continued.

“Tell me about it. Our stepdad may be the murdering black Al Pacino up in this piece,” Lauren said, shaking her head.

Just as Sydney was about to respond, Keisha called down from the top of the stairs. Both girls jumped, startled by her voice and the sight of Altimus curled around her arm. “Come on, tell your mother how hot she looks,” Keisha said as Altimus led her down the long, winding staircase.

“You look great,” Sydney practically mumbled, as Lauren threw a cheerleader fist in the air and whispered, “Hoorah.”

“She does look stunning,” Altimus said, watching his wife walk toward the foyer. “Now I know why we've been together all this time—she knows how to keep a brother interested. Hmm, hmm, hmm,” he added.

Sydney looked at her watch. “Well, we should be heading out, huh? The driver's been here for about forty-five minutes.”

“Honey, he's getting paid enough money to sit his behind in that car for another two hours and not be the least bit mad about it, so don't worry about him. Come on now, get your coats and let's go,” Keisha said, clapping her hands to hurry the twins along. “Honey, did you call the photographer to let him know we're on our way? I want him to snap us getting out of the limo when we get to The Sun Dial.”

“It's all done, dear, don't worry. Let's just get moving—I'm hungry.”

Altimus ushered his three ladies into the limousine and then climbed in himself before the driver shut the door. The limo had hardly started moving before he reached for the bottles in the bar. The limousine company had been instructed to have all the ingredients Altimus needed for his signature drink—the Rusty Nail—and they made good on it, stocking the bar with extra-large bottles of Glenlivet and Drambuie for Altimus's drinking pleasure. Keisha was too busy looking in her mirror and fiddling with the music to pay him much mind, but the girls both watched him, both of them wondering if their stepfather did, indeed, have blood on his hands.

“We've been through a lot, haven't we, Keisha,” Altimus said after his first round settled into his stomach.

“Yes, baby, we sure have,” she said, patting his knee. “Most of it good, huh?”

“Yes, yes,” he said, taking a sip from his second drink. Lauren wondered how many he could put away before their fifteen-minute trip to The Sun Dial came to an end. She looked at Sydney, who, by then, was staring out of the window and fiddling with her earlobe. Altimus kept talking. “I'd say ninety-nine percent of it has been good, you know? That's because we know what family means, and honor and respect the bonds that hold it together. You guys are blessed—you know that, right? We all are.”

“That's right, baby.” Keisha smiled.

“We're blessed because we love each other, and protect one another, and stick together, no matter what,” Altimus continued slowly before taking another sip.

“You better tell it,” Keisha said.

Lauren and Sydney exchanged glances and wondered if Altimus's sauce sermon was a cryptic confession. They both came to the same conclusion: He was creeping them out. And Keisha? Oblivous.

“I have a surprise for you,” Altimus said suddenly.

“For
moi
?” Keisha giggled, leaning in to kiss Altimus on the cheek. “I'm so excited!”

“Oh, I got plenty for you later,” Altimus said, turning to kiss Keisha full on the lips. Both girls grimaced. “I meant I have a surprise for our daughters,” Altimus clarified.

Sydney seemed unimpressed, but Lauren, ever giddy over presents no matter what the situation, had to restrain herself from clapping. “A surprise?” she said, after which Sydney elbowed her in the side. “What?” she said.

“Stop acting like you've never gotten anything before,” Sydney chastised, giving her the eye for good measure.

“Oh, you're going to love it, Pumpkins,” Altimus continued. “The question is, should I give you the surprise now, or should I wait until after the festivities?”

“I'm sorry, but you'll be quite busy after the festivities,” Keisha cooed.

“True,” Altimus said as he reached into his tuxedo breast pocket. He pulled out a Tiffany box and handed it to Lauren, knowing that the sight of the trademark blue would make his daughter lose her mind.

“There's only one box?” Lauren asked as she tore into the ribbon on the box and flipped the top open. Inside were two horseshoe-shaped pieces of silver. “Um, it's uh, cute,” Lauren said, holding one up between her fingers. “What is it?”

“Yes, there is only one box—I didn't want to mess up my lines with two,” Altimus laughed. “They're key rings.”

“Lovely,” Sydney said, uninspired, barely reaching for the ring that Lauren was dangling in her face.

“How, um, nice—a key ring,” Lauren said, unable to hide her disappointment over not getting the set of stackable gold rings she'd been eyeing for no less than four months. She wasn't about to buy them herself; she firmly believed that jewelry was meant to be received, not purchased.

“Oh, but why don't you ask me why I'm giving you both key rings,” Altimus urged.

“Why?” Lauren insisted, getting back a little bit of her excitement.

“Should I tell ‘em babe?” Altimus asked Keisha.

“Oh, go on ahead and tell them, already,” she said. “We're almost at The Sun Dial.”

“Okay, okay,” Altimus said as he reached into his pants
pocket. “I got you key rings because you'll need them for these,” he said, producing two identical shiny keys in his hand.

Both Sydney and Lauren frowned. What the…

“These are the keys to your new condo,” Altimus said simply. He settled back in his seat and let the hysteria commence.

“Our new condo? We have a condo?” Sydney screeched, grabbing onto Lauren as she snatched the keys out of Altimus's hands. “Our own place?”

“Well, it's in both of your names, so it is officially your place,” he said, smiling.

“Don't get it confused, girls, you won't be living in the condo tomorrow, throwing wild parties and acting like you don't have any parents to speak of,” Keisha warned. “We're hiring a management firm to lease it for the next year or so until you two are ready to go off to college, and then when you're about to graduate, we'll upgrade your new place and then you can move in.”

“Ohmigod,” Lauren shouted. “Yes!”

Sydney was a little bit more reserved, but not much. “Thank you, Altimus, this is one heck of a surprise! I can't believe you bought us our own place; this is incredible.”

“Don't sweat it,” Altimus said as the limo pulled up in front of the restaurant. “Anything for my daughters. This is about keeping the wealth in the family. You all can live in it,
or rent it out for income while you go to college, and then have a place for yourselves when you get your degrees and come back to Atlanta to help your old man with the business.”

Lauren and Sydney looked at each other, their twin intuition letting them know that they were thinking the same thing: Since when were they Altimus's recruits for running the dealership business? And who said they'd be living in Atlanta forever?

Keisha checked her makeup in her handheld mirror one more time and told her girls to do the same. When they were ready, the driver rushed around to the back of the limo and opened the door for them. As Lauren stepped out of the long black car, a photographer clicked away. It felt, she thought, like the red carpet treatment; she couldn't help but grin as tourists and fellow Atlantans alike stopped and stared at the power family as it strutted into the building and was escorted into one of the glass elevators, which whisked the Dukes more than 700 feet above the city and opened into a wonderland of red roses and sparkling candlelight. As the photographer continued to snap pictures, the entire restaurant broke out into applause, with many of the guests—a veritable who's who of Atlanta's black elite—hoisting their elegant glasses of champagne into the air in Keisha and Altimus's honor.

Sydney clapped politely as Lauren waved and struck her poses, soaking in the attention and, no doubt, making sure
her light was right in every frame of the photographer's film. After an ovation worthy of a Prince concert, Keisha finally waved the photographer away, and, within seconds, the elder Dukes were swallowed into a crowd of congratulatory hugs and well-wishes.

Sydney peered around the room and took in the faces; for just a moment, her eyes searched for Marcus and his mother. And then, deflated, all of it came rushing back to her: There was no more Marcus. For the first time since, like, forever, Sydney Duke was making a very public appearance without her finest accessory on her arm. Well, without being Marcus's accessory. She was keenly aware of that difference.

Lauren caught a glimpse of her sister and hung her head. She fingered the horseshoe key ring in her hand and looked at her twin. Their eyes locked. “Let's go sit down,” Lauren mouthed as she grabbed two glasses of ice water from the bar.

It didn't take long for the girls to spot their table—Keisha made sure of that. Sprays of fine roses dripped from the sparkling table, which was decked out with a mountain of candles, crystal champagne flutes, several bottles of fine champagne and wine icing in two gold wine chillers, and special gold-rimmed place settings Keisha made the staff at The Sun Dial purchase exclusively for her party. The sight of it made Sydney just shake her head, continue past the extravagantly decorated table, and head toward the window. Lauren followed.

“Look, Syd, it's going to be okay,” Lauren said, rubbing her sister's back as the two of them stared down over the breathtaking 360-degree view of Atlanta. Lauren had always loved coming to The Sun Dial; as touristy as the restaurant had become, it was still quite an exhilarating feeling to stand next to the window as the tower slowly circled the panorama of the city's skyline, watching as Atlanta passed by. When she was a little younger, Lauren would call out the names of all the landmarks she could recognize, always starting with Centennial Olympic Park and the CNN Center, and working her way over to The World of Coca Cola, the Georgia Dome, and Turner Field, and always ending with Stone Mountain, which seemed like it was so far away, it couldn't possibly be a part of Georgia—the Dukes' Georgia.