Mr. Wright & Mr. Wrong: A BWWM Romance (8 page)

* * *

“
Y
ou don’t think
it’s too much?”

“It’s perfect,” Brooklyn said, leaning over her grandmother’s shoulder, looking at her in the mirror. “You need something to shake it up. And look, we sort of match!” she winked, grabbing one of her purple curls and waving it.

Brooklyn looked at her grandma’s reflection as she tried on the latest wig that Brooklyn had bought for her as a present. Annie worked in a salon and got major discounts. This one was a dark, asymmetrical bob with highlights that revealed a lovely dark purple in full light.

No one in the family had any idea what the woman’s real hair looked like these days. Much like her granddaughter, Lucille lived her life experimenting with a new hairdo each week, in the form of a wig.

“Your father is going to have a fit,” Lucille pointed out, pressing her lips together with amusement.

“Let’s hope so!” Brooklyn giggled.

Lucille slapped her lightly on the hand and joined in. “Girl, you are
so
bad.”

“It’s why you love me,” Brooklyn responded, kissing her on the cheek. “Now let’s go. I was instructed to take you to church in style,” she said before thinking.

“So this
friend
knows all about your grandma? It’s like that, huh?” She gave Brooklyn a questioning look.

“At least until tomorrow,” Brooklyn said cryptically.

“I won’t ask what that means,” Lucille responded, giving her granddaughter an assessing look.

“No more third degree!” Brooklyn protested as she thrust her arm through her grandmother’s and whisked her out before she could press any further.

“
Y
ou know
, you didn’t have to come to church today, London,” her mother said.

“Of course she did!” her father protested. “What better way to get over this mess than by embracing the word of God?”

London shot him an irritated look, knowing full well that he didn’t give two hoots about his daughter’s weekly dose of religion.

As if to prove her suspicions right, he went on, more quietly. “Besides, we have to present a good public image with the community, especially now. With this mayoral campaign, big things are happening for our little family law firm.” He beamed over at Reverend Holt who offered an enthusiastic wave in response.

“
Brooklyn
only ever comes to church when she feels like walking grandma—which is once in a blue moon,” she pointed out, knowing any mention of her younger sister would irritate him. She felt a tiny, guilty pleasure watching his beaming face falter with an annoyed shake of the head.

“What that girl gets up to on her Sundays is none of my concern.
You
are a partner at
Jefferson, Jefferson, Jefferson & Associates
, and as such,
you
have duties.”

They were standing outside the Greater A.M.E church waiting for the rest of the Jefferson Clan to arrive. She could see her brother Cleveland making his way over to them with his wife, Dana and their two kids, Jack who was 4, and Maxwell who was 6. Even though her brother was two years older, it was still a bitter reminder of the sharp U-turn her own life had just taken.

“Hey, everyone,” Cleveland said approaching them, giving Estelle a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Cleve,” London said, using the familiar, shortened version of his name.

“So, did anyone happen to catch our girl Brooklyn at the Knicks game Friday night?” Cleveland asked with a wicked grin.

Frank took note of Cleveland’s grin and the tone in his voice and gave the trademark sigh, reserved specifically for news regarding his youngest daughter. “What did that girl get up to now?” he asked.

“Not what.
Who
,
” he replied wriggling his eyes with eager delight.

Now everyone’s interest was piqued. Cleveland let it hang in the air, eating up the anticipation.

“Will you please stop giving me a heart attack and say what you have to say?” their father pressed.

Cleveland dropped the act and leaned in conspiratorially. “She got caught on that kiss cam they have, but get this, turns out the guy she was kissing is the son of Richard Wright. I wasn’t sure. Who knows how many he has these days, and they always try to stay out of the lime light, but it was definitely him.”

London’s eyebrows shot up. Brooklyn and a Wright? Everyone knew Richard Wright, of course. He made a point of plastering his name over every building in the city, and loved publicity almost as much as he loved taking on a new wife every ten years or so.

Cleveland was right though, the sons were usually pretty media-shy. Which son was Brooklyn involved with? There was Michael, whom she knew only because he was also an attorney. She thought there was another that might be old enough but it was well known his spent his life jet-setting off to some party city or another, never in New York.

It had to be Michael. How old was that man, anyway? Like father like son, she thought. It made sense; Brooklyn was notorious for falling for older men. London didn’t need a psychology degree to know whose fault that was.

“Good god,” groaned her father. “Of
course
she’d pull this little stunt just when Dion Davis is about to announce his run for the Democratic candidate for Mayor.
Insubordination
and
treachery
, that’s what this is!”

“I seriously doubt she started dating a Wright of all people just to ruin your plans, Daddy,” London sighed.

She saw him give her an accusatory look. She became suspicious when that look suddenly broke out into an ingratiating smile.

“Oh no, Daddy,” London warned, knowing full well what he was going to ask. “If you want to know something you just ask her yourself.”

“You know that girl doesn’t talk to me,” he protested. “You’re the only one she seems to get along with.”

“Maybe you should
try
talking to her. You are her father after all.”

“London, you know I don’t ask much of you.” He ignored the incredulous look she gave him. “I would try to reach out to her if I thought she would be open to it, but this is important information we have to get a handle on, before she does something crazy.”

“Why sure, Daddy. I would just
love
to snoop on my younger sister’s blossoming love life, just as my own is falling apart.”

The sarcasm was completely lost on him as he grinned and wrapped an arm around her. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Is that a Town Car?” Estelle interjected looking past them toward the street in surprise.

They all turned to see Brooklyn exiting a shiny black car, then reaching in to grab her grandma’s hand. Frank shot his daughter a pointed look. London couldn’t deny wanting a few answers herself right about now. Both of them knew neither Brooklyn nor her grandma could afford to splurge for a Town Car. Had Brooklyn already become Michael’s little side piece?

As they approached she took in Brooklyn’s black and white, stripped maxi dress with spaghetti straps. She was a stark contrast to London and her mother, both of whom were wearing conservative dress suits, London’s in pale blue and her mother’s in coral. London was already used to her sister changing the color of her mass of natural curls, so the purple ends were no surprise. The entire package was enough to make her stand out in the crowd of, mostly black, conservatively dressed church attendees. She could already sense her father’s disapproving eyes on his youngest as she walked arm-in-arm with grandma over to where they were all standing.

Before she could address the Town Car issue, she caught sight of a flash of color in her grandma’s latest wig (which was a bit more chic than usual), as the sun reflected off one of the dark strands. “Are those purple highlights in your hair, grandma?” she asked peering in closer.

“Do you like it?” her grandma asked, tilting her head in a coquettish way, making the purple even more apparent. “It was a gift from Brooklyn.”

“What in the world have you done to mama?”
cried her father, aghast, much to Brooklyn’s obvious delight. She always seemed to consider it an accomplishment when her father became outraged. Right now he was looking at his mother’s wig as though she had decided to show up to church with a dead possum on her head.

“Excuse
me,”
his mother responded. “Your mama can
do
for herself, thank you very much.”

“I like it,” said London, leaning her head to the left to get a better look at the dark purple highlights.

“I like it too,” said Estelle, giving her mother-in-law a look of approval.

“Thank you, baby,” Lucille said. “At least someone in this family has good taste,” she said, giving her son a scornful look.

Frank pressed his lips together in his trademark look of disapproval, turning his angst on his youngest daughter in silent reprobation.

“Besides, I needed a new look,” Lucille said, girlishly pressing a hand underneath the curve at the bottom of her wig. “Something to make that Mr. Cartwright stand up and take notice.”

“Mama!”
Frank said, outraged yet again. “What about Daddy?”

“Son,” his mother said, giving him a weary sigh. “Your father, God bless his lovely soul, has been dead for 5 years. But your mama isn’t dead…and she has
needs
.”

Brooklyn laughed. London laughed. Cleveland laughed. Estelle even broke out into a small smile.

No doubt, if Frank had been wearing pearls around his neck they would be clutched tighter than a clam with lockjaw. Instead, he comically pressed a hand to his chest and audibly gasped. London watched his eyes get wide with dismay as Reverend Holt made his way over to their little grouping.

“Reverend Holt!” her father boomed, shaking the man’s hand enthusiastically. “You remember Representative Davis is coming this week? I hope we can count on you to give him a few moments to make a special announcement next Sunday,” he said with a wink.

“The Greater A.M.E. Church will always make time for those candidates with a history of serving the community,” the reverend assured him.

Her father gave one of his trademark, megawatt smiles, white teeth on full display. It faded as he watched the reverend cast a curious glance toward his mother.

“Oh, Mama Jefferson, I see we’re trying something new today,” Reverend Holt said with a confused smile. He recovered as he recalled the persona he reserved for families whose weekly tithes more than helped keep the church afloat.

“It’s
purple
,” Frank said, as though the man were crazy.

“Our heavenly father’s light shines down on us in all colors,” the reverend responded with reverence.

The Jeffersons all stood there and contemplated that statement with perplexed expressions. As Reverend Holt walked away to greet other parishioners, she heard her father mutter under his breath, “What in the Sam hell does that mean?”

* * *

L
ondon caught
up with Brooklyn after church before she could whisk grandma back into the Town Car that was (still!) waiting for them outside.

“Not so fast, sis,” she said, hooking an arm into her younger sister’s.

“What?” Brooklyn sighed, whirling around to face her. “No wait, let me guess. Daddy wants to know about the car?”

London shrugged. “Frankly so do I,” she confessed. “I mean you and Richard Wright’s son?” she said, turning the tidbit she’d learned earlier into a question for Brooklyn to answer.

The confused look she got in response wasn’t what she was expecting.

“
Michael?”
Brooklyn asked finally, the look of confusion still intact.

“Yes?”
London urged, raising her eyebrows to encourage Brooklyn to expound on that.

“What about him?” she asked, guardedly. “He gave me a ticket to the Knicks’ game,” she shrugged.

London sighed. This pretty much confirmed it. “And how much older than you is
this
one?” she inquired.

It was the wrong approach. She could immediately see the defensive wall come up around her sister, as she straightened her shoulders and glared. “So what if he’s older? What’s so bad about wanting to date mature men who are already settled in life? Would you rather I be dating guys my own age, who have no intention of being serious and just string me along for sex, then dump me?”

That one hit a little too close to home and London took a moment to recover. There was no way Brooklyn could have known about her and Clayton yet, but London became resentful all the same. “Just because they’re older doesn’t mean they won’t
still
string you along and then dump you. Frankly, you should be more than a little suspicious when a man who was probably in
high school
when you were born, takes a sudden interest in you.”

London watched as her younger sister glowered at her. Brooklyn gritted her teeth before announcing, “What I get up to in my personal life is no one’s business. Not yours, not Daddy’s. I’m going to take grandma home. Tell Daddy that I’m doing just fine, since he can’t be bothered to ask himself.” She stormed off to find their grandma.

Well, that had gone well, London thought as she watched Brooklyn retreat. Now her sister was mad at her.

All in all it was a fitting ending to the worst weekend of her life.