White Lines III (24 page)

“All this time you wasted worrying about your dead father, your dead grandmother, and shit that happened before you could even form memories in your mind. Meanwhile your mother is here. She's fuckin
HERE
. And I'm here.” Born took a deep breath. “Your Aunt Sunny is dead, God rest her soul. She's never coming back. Now Mercedes has no mom, and no dad. You have a family. Your aunt Ava loves you. Your mother loves you.
I
love you.”

Now Jada felt tears burning in her eyes. It was the first time she had ever heard Born say that.

“No you don't,” Sheldon said, between sobs. His voice was small and childlike for the first time in ages. “It's all about DJ and Ethan. You don't care about me.” He squeezed his eyes shut and silently cried harder.

“Yes I do,” Born said, flatly. “I don't
like
your bad ass all the time. I want to fuck you up when you start wilding. But how would you know who loves you and who don't when all you ever do is fight everybody?
EVERYBODY!
You got a chip on your shoulder 24-7, and if shit don't go your way you cause trouble. Nobody likes a nigga like that.”

Born some air blew out, feeling the anger finally beginning to wane, albeit slowly.

“But I do love you. You got a lot of people who love you. The problem is you spend so much time feeling sorry for yourself that you can't even see it.” He paused and stared at Sheldon, who still had tears streaming down his face. “Man up! Stop crying. You can't walk around terrorizing everybody and then cry like a little bitch when somebody calls your bluff.”

Sheldon tried his best to pull himself together. Jada watched in awe.

Born walked over to the counter and snatched a stack of napkins. He stomped over to Sheldon and gruffly handed them to him before he continued. Born towered over Sheldon.

“That's it, you heard? All the tantrums and the bullshit you put your mother through. All the trouble you cause at school, picking on the other kids, disrespecting the teachers, making them have doctors evaluate you and medicate you. None of that shit is necessary. Yeah, maybe you need a little extra time on a test than most kids. Maybe you have a hard time focusing. That's not your fault. We can help you with that. But you're taking advantage of it and using it as an excuse for all the shit that you
can
control. You don't fool me, son. I see right through you.”

Sheldon stared down at his feet, confused and flooded with emotion. He was angry, having been tossed around and choked up. No one had ever raised a hand to him in his entire life, and the feeling of being physically confronted was unfamiliar to him. He was nervous because he had never seen Born this angry before, nor had he ever before heard so much rage in Born's voice. Sheldon also felt convicted, because Born was right. Mercedes continuously pointed out the same thing. Sheldon was well aware that not all of his behavior was the result of his mother's drug abuse during her pregnancy. Some of what he was doing was just an attempt at garnering attention, getting his way, and making his mother pay for the mistakes she'd made. Until now, the only person who had ever called his bluff had been Mercedes. And, although she had shown him tough love, too, her version had been nothing compared to this. Sheldon glanced sheepishly at his mother.

Jada stood near the refrigerator, her gaze fixed on them. She caught sight of Sheldon looking her way, and she met his eyes. But gone was the sympathy Sheldon usually saw there. Gone was the weakness, and in its place a look unlike Sheldon had seen before. For the first time in a very long time, Jada looked emboldened. She stared back at her son, and it was clear to him that, although she'd spoken no words, she was staunchly on Born's side.

Born gestured toward the table. “Sit down.” He watched as Sheldon did as he was told, and then Born sat down across from him. Jada sat, too, while Ava leaned against the counter and listened silently.

“I don't like having to put my hands on you,” Born said, his voice sincere. He locked eyes with Sheldon, who had to resist the urge to look away. “But I will do it again if you force my hand. The next time you disrespect your mother, or any adult, or intimidate Ethan; the next time you fuck up at school or talk back to someone in authority, I'm gonna kick your little ass. That's not a threat. That's a promise. You feel me?”

Sheldon wanted to defy Born. He wanted to shrug his shoulders, or suck his teeth, or ignore him altogether. But the idea of being yoked up again kept him from doing any of those things. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Yeah,” he answered weakly.

“We're not having this conversation ever again,” Born said. “This is it. We're gonna wipe the slate clean, and start all over.” He glanced over at Jada, sitting with her hands folded in front of her. He winked at her and offered her a slight smile. “I'm in love with your mother. I'm gonna marry her. We're gonna be a family and you better learn to deal with that.”

Sheldon looked at Born in silence, letting his words sink in.

“Today, you and me are gonna spend the day together.”

Born saw Sheldon's eyes widen in surprise. Then he frowned, unsure.

“Just us, nobody else,” Born said. “We're gonna talk man-to-man and get some shit off our chest. I'm not gonna treat you like a kid today. You walk around here like you're a grown man, so today we're gonna talk grown-man style. You have one hour to think about what you want to say to me. Nothing is off-limits. That cool?”

Sheldon was enticed by the idea of having an afternoon with Born all to himself. True, he wasn't his father. But Sheldon was beginning to realize that Born was playing hardball. He could tell that Born was there to stay this time. He nodded again.

“Good,” Born said. “Now go upstairs.”

Sheldon stood up slowly and looked at Born, then at his mother. It was clear to him that a shift had taken place, and he was no longer as powerful as he had once been in this house. He cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. “I'm sorry.”

He ran upstairs, as Born smiled victoriously, and Jada and Ava stared after him, in awe.

 

15

BYGONES

Gillian walked through the kitchen at
Conga
, the popular Cuban-style Manhattan restaurant formerly owned by her mother, Mayra. Prior to his death, Gillian's father had signed ownership of
Conga
over to Frankie. But in the years since then, Gillian had persuaded Frankie to give the restaurant to her. He hadn't required much convincing. It was clear to all who knew him that Frankie was still in love with Gillian. When she had asked for ownership of the restaurant, Frankie had happily signed the necessary paperwork. So as she strolled through the bustling kitchen on this day, she did so with the authority of its owner. Gillian directed the staff, gave her compliments to the chef, and chatted with the maître d' to ensure that everything was being done according to her exacting standards.

Mayra scowled at her daughter, as she watched her make the rounds. This restaurant had been Mayra's baby. It had been
her
idea, her vision that had brought this place to fruition. Doug Nobles had been happy to see his wife enjoying the day-to-day details of running a business. Mayra had loved the sense of power and accomplishment it had afforded her. But those days were long gone. Once Gillian got her hands on the place, Mayra had no choice but to sit back and watch the takeover. She suspected that Gillian took pleasure in snatching Mayra's dream out from under her. Her only solace was the fact that Gillian was so busy running the illegal Nobles empire, that she seldom found the time to stop in to
Conga
personally. But lately even that had changed. With the family under investigation and the majority of the crew locked up, Gillian was nervous. She had been spending way more time at the restaurant lately, keeping up appearances in case anyone was snooping around. She wanted to look the part of the attentive legitimate business owner.

This forced the two women to spend time together daily. Mayra refused to allow Gillian to run her completely out of the restaurant that she had created. So she stayed on, running the day-to-day operations of the place in name only, while Gillian made all of the profits and got all of the glory. It was a setup that neither of them favored. Mayra was resentful toward her daughter for taking away her business, and ensuring that she didn't inherit more than a small portion of Doug Nobles' fortune. Gillian, too, was resentful. Her mother had cheated on Doug with one of his closest friends, a torrid affair that Gillian had uncovered. Mother and daughter had a lot of tension between them these days.

So Mayra was completely caught off guard when Gillian strolled over to where she sat at a corner table going over inventory lists. Gillian pulled up a chair, sat across from her mother, and clasped her hands together.

“We need to talk,” she said.

Mayra took off her glasses and set them down on the table. Meeting her daughter's gaze, she nodded. “Okay,” she said. “So, talk.”

Gillian let out a deep sigh. “I've been thinking a lot about Daddy lately. How he would think I've been doing since he passed away.” She looked to her mother for feedback, and hated herself for feeling hopeful for her approval.

Mayra swallowed the wrong way, and choked. As she coughed to clear her throat, she apologized. It was a rare occurrence for Gillian to spark idle conversation between them. Odder still, that she would seek her approval. Mayra cleared her throat.

“I think your father would be very proud of you,” Mayra said, honestly. “You stepped into his shoes very easily. All of his businesses are still running nicely.” She tilted her head to the side, knowingly. “Well, almost all of them. And even with those recent problems in the family, you've managed to steer clear of having your name dragged into it. You're doing a good job.” Mayra meant what she said, even though she was still a bit resentful.

“Thanks,” Gillian said, offering a smile rarely seen on her lovely face these days. Gillian had grown colder since her father's death, colder still once she and Frankie split up. In business, her iciness gave her an edge when dealing with negotiations. But that coldness had caused Mayra to wonder if Gillian would ever truly be happy. She spent so much time ensuring that she was respected that it left little time for joy. Seeing her smile now was contagious. Mayra's lips spread into a grin as she looked at her daughter.

Gillian looked away. “I need a favor.”

Mayra's smile faded.
I should have known,
she thought.

“I don't really need the favor from you,” Gillian explained. “Because I could ask someone else. There are other ways for me to go about this,” she explained, vaguely. She met her mother's gaze. “But I'm going to ask you for the favor. As a way for us to start to bridge this gap between us.” Gillian blinked, willing her emotions to stay in check. “I miss having my mother,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “I want us to fix our relationship.”

Mayra's eyes welled with tears. She was all ears. Despite her resentment, she had longed for the day when she and Gillian could begin to find their way back to the close relationship they had once shared. She nodded vigorously, too choked up to respond verbally.

“I need to hide some money,” Gillian said. “Quite a lot of money.”

Mayra nodded. She knew about her daughter's recent concerns. The feds still had most of the crew locked up. There was no telling how much dirt they had on the family, or when they might come snooping around Gillian's finances. So far, it seemed that no one in the crew had disclosed that she was really the one in charge. But just in case that changed, Gillian needed to cover all of her tracks.

“If anyone looked into it, they would find out that I work here as the proprietor of this busy establishment.” Gillian winked an eye, facetiously. “But even as a successful business owner, there's more money than I can account for. I need to correct that.”

Mayra was glad that Gillian came to her with this. Still, she couldn't help pointing out that this was a huge turnaround for her. “After Doug died, and you found out about Guy, you stopped trusting me.”

Gillian didn't deny it. “That's true.”

“So what changed now?”

Gillian sighed. “Honestly,” she said. “I thought you and Guy were both after Daddy's money. I expected him to kick you to the curb the minute he realized that you weren't inheriting anything.” Gillian chuckled a little. Guy London was her godfather, her father's supposed friend, and a married millionaire record executive with whom Mayra continued to have an affair.

“Now I see that he must really like you. I know that he's separated from his wife, and now he's even been taking you out in public recently.” Mayra didn't miss the subtle shade that Gillian was throwing, but she didn't interrupt. “Anyway, I see that he's cool with the fact that you have no money. I hear that he's the one paying your staff, and financing all of your shopping sprees. So maybe I was mistaken. Maybe Guy didn't want Daddy's money. He only wanted his wife.”

Mayra leaned toward her daughter. “Gillian, I know that it's hard for you to understand this thing between me and Guy. But, we are in love. It's not something we planned. And we did not intentionally try to hurt anybody.”

Gillian held up her hand to interrupt. “I don't care,” she said, simply. “Seriously, so save your breath. Guy is a leech in my opinion. He was supposed to be Daddy's friend, my godfather. He should have spent Daddy's last days out fishing with him. Not fucking you every second he got.”

“Gillian…”

“Like I said, I don't care about Guy. I may never understand the two of you as a couple. But that's not my concern.” She popped a mint into her mouth. “Like I said, I've been thinking about Daddy a lot lately. And I know that he would not approve of us walking around here everyday not speaking to each other.” Gillian looked sheepishly at her mother. “So I'm proposing this as kind of a … trust-building exercise.”