White Lines III (6 page)

“What about you?” Dominique asked. “You're dishing out all this advice and I don't hear you talking about Russell at all lately. What's going on with you two?”

“Not a damn thing. I kicked his ass to the curb.”

Dominique's eyes widened. “Uh-uh! Why? I thought you were in
love
!”

“I used to love him.” Toya nodded. “But I don't now.”

Dominique arched an eyebrow. “Wasn't that a Lauryn Hill song?”

Toya shrugged. “My life is a Lauryn Hill song.” She drained her glass and gestured impatiently for a refill. One of the pretty young staffers rushed over with a pitcher in hand.

Dominique wasn't letting her off the hook that easy. “You just spent the past hour digging all up in my business with Born. If you think I'm gonna let you slide with that weak explanation for what happened with you and Russell, you must be crazy. Spill it!”

Toya sighed. “He started talking marriage and kids, and that was a turnoff. I'm not interested in either one of those things. He won't budge, and neither will I. He wants a family and he's ready to settle down. And me … as much as I cared about him, I'm not the marrying kind. Been there, done that.”

She waved her hand dismissively as if it were all water under the bridge, but Dominique could see right through her. The two of them had been friends long enough for her to see that Toya's breakup with Russell wasn't as easy as she made it seem.

“Mm-hmm.” Dominique sipped the rest of her drink and gave Toya a side eye. “But
I'm
the one who's scared, right?”

Toya glared at her, playfully. “Don't get cute, bitch!”

This time, Lucy and her coworker didn't bother to hide their laughter. Dominique giggled as well. Toya was a trip, but she loved her like a sister. She smiled at the thought of the two of them single once again. This was going to be a great summer!

*   *   *

Gillian sat across from Frankie and Zion at Beso and savored her salmon. The food in this place was divine, but Frankie was making the meal less enjoyable for her with his sour mood. She pretended not to notice him picking at his food, scowling, as Zion filled him in on the new developments in their crew.

Frankie hadn't been himself around her for a long time. Ever since she had walked away from their relationship two years prior, and replaced him as head of the Nobles crime family, Frankie had been quietly brooding. Gillian paid him no mind. Business was business and, as far as she was concerned, that was all that remained between the two of them.

She gave Zion her attention.

“So,” Zion said. “Grant told us that Angelle and the doctors she works for are hot right now. It's not safe to keep doing business with her. So we're gonna go another route.”

Grant Keys was an attorney working in the Brooklyn DA's office. He was also an associate of the Nobles crime family. An insider, who was well connected with judges and members of all levels of law enforcement, Grant gave them information about who was on the government's radar. In return he was paid handsomely—far more than the salary he made courtesy of the State of New York. Grant was trusted, and for good reason. He had never steered them wrong.

Frankie frowned. “What do you mean we're not gonna work with her anymore? We've been working with Angelle for years. What did Grant say exactly?”

Gillian sipped her water before responding. She didn't appreciate her decision being questioned, but since it was Frankie she let it slide.

“He said that Angelle is under the microscope. Some jocks got caught out there with a bunch of pills and Dr. Tatum's name came up during questioning.” Gillian set down her fork, sat back, and looked Frankie in the eye. “Remember her little song and dance about how she couldn't keep running the risk of forging prescriptions? How she insisted that she needed more money and sold you on that bullshit about getting pills directly from Dr. Tatum's brother-in-law who owns the pharmaceutical company?” She waited as Frankie recalled the conversation in which he'd been so quick to give Angelle what she asked for. He nodded, and Gillian smirked and shook her head. “Well, she lied. Turns out she's still forging prescriptions, and the dudes that got arrested had quite a few of them. So the DA set up some type of sting operation to see if they can catch the doctor—or whoever is writing those prescriptions—in the act. So with all that going on, we're shutting down Angelle. It was never a good idea to do business with her to begin with. I went along with it because it was a relationship that you and Baron had already established before I got involved. But, clearly, that was a mistake.”

Frankie sucked his teeth. “I've known Angelle for years. Since we were kids in the projects back in the day. She's thorough. All Grant said is that the doctor is being
investigated.
If we stop working with everybody who's under investigation, that's gonna shut down this whole operation.”

Zion sensed Frankie's resistance. “I hear you, Frankie. But she's hot, so we're gonna move on. It's not smart for us to keep playing with fire. We're gonna cut out the middlemen and deal directly with my Russian connect.”

Frankie was livid, and was doing a poor job of hiding it. “So who made this decision?” he asked loudly, glowering at Gillian, who was chewing as if she hadn't a care in the world.

Gillian had to resist the urge to laugh at Frankie's pathetic temper tantrum. She could tell that he was pissed. To rub a little salt in the wound, she said, “Zion and I have been discussing this for a while. We made the decision together.”

Frankie gripped his glass so tightly, that Gillian expected it to crack in his hands. “I feel like you're trying to piss me off,” Frankie said.

Gillian frowned. “Piss
you
off?” she repeated. “What would you have to be pissed off about?”

“Because you're not coming to me for any type of feedback before you just make big decisions like that. Since when is that the way we do things in this family?”

She took a sip of water. “I already told you,” she said, calmly. “I talked to Zion about it.”

Frankie let her words, and their underlying meaning hang in the air. He took a deep breath, willed himself to calm down, and blew it out.

“Why not have a conversation with Angelle? Why not warn her that shit is heating up?”

“Frankie, I'm not interested in warning anybody. Angelle is cut off. It's too risky to keep doing business with her,” Gillian looked him in the eye. “Zion's guy is reliable. He's done business with him before, and there's far less risk with him than with our usual way of doing things.”

“I don't think that's smart,” Frankie said. “So what, she's hot? Every member of this crew has been on the DA's radar at some point. Why should we mess up a good thing?”

“I just told you why.” Gillian held Frankie's gaze, unflinchingly.

“I'm saying … you making these kinds of decisions without even talking to me all of a sudden?” Frankie's voice cracked. He was clearly hurt by being overlooked.

Zion was sick of watching Frankie practically fall apart. “Gillian don't have to consult with nobody,” he clarified. “At the end of the day, she's in charge. She made an executive decision.” He sipped his Patrón, thinking Frankie was sounding like a little bitch.

Frankie's jaw clenched. If he didn't get out of there fast, he would hit Zion. He balled up his napkin and tossed it in his plate. Tossing several twenties on the table, he rose abruptly. “Fuck it then. Since you two got it all figured out, ain't no point in me sitting here.” He shot a glance at Gillian. “Let me know when you need me.” He turned and stormed out without looking back.

Gillian shook her head as she watched Frankie take his tantrum on the road. At one time, Frankie had been the only man she wanted. They had shared an intense love affair that was all-consuming and taboo. Frankie's marriage had been the only thing that stood in their way. In the end, however, their passion for one another was quelled by the realization that Frankie's family drama was more than Gillian cared to tolerate. She walked away from him for good almost two years ago. Despite the passage of time, Frankie was still as salty about it now as he had been then.

Gillian sighed, glad that she had ended their relationship. It hadn't been easy. Frankie and Gillian had shared one last moment of passion, which had resulted in a pregnancy. Gillian had never told Frankie about it, knowing that if she had that he would have taken it as a sign that they were meant to be together. Instead, she had aborted his baby in secret. After witnessing his behavior today, she had no regrets. She couldn't imagine being burdened with a kid by such an emotional wreck.

Zion took a swig of his drink. “I guess Frankie don't like change.”

Gillian shrugged. “Change is good. Frankie can either get on board or get gone.”

*   *   *

Camille smiled as she stepped out of the car. Eli held open the door and held an umbrella above her head. The rain beat down nonstop, but neither of them seemed to mind. It only added to the romance of the night. Once they had stepped up on the curb, he took her by the hand. Together, they walked into Amy Ruth's restaurant, Eli's favorite. It was his birthday, so Camille had secured Misa as a babysitter for her daughter, Bria, and tonight she and Eli had some rare time to themselves.

Camille watched him as he interacted with the servers. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. Her relationship with Eli was completely opposite of what she had shared with Frankie. She was happy to trade in the grand public overtures like the outrageous parties Frankie used to throw for her in exchange for this more intimate and romantic celebration. While Frankie had been secretive and emotionally unavailable, Eli was honest, affectionate, and caring. Camille was in love.

They sat at a table in the corner.

“It feels weird being out without Bria,” Eli said.

Camille beamed at the mention of her daughter. Bria was the light of her life. The past three years transitioning into the role of motherhood had been the most incredible years of her life so far. Shane, too, was a joy to behold. Her nephew had survived so much turmoil in his young life, but was still such a happy kid.

“It is strange, right? She's usually right here making a mess and saying ‘hi' to all the people at the next table.” Camille's smile was radiant. Eli loved to see her eyes light up that way at the mere mention of her child. He couldn't wait to be a parent. But, in the meantime, being a significant figure in little Bria's life was sufficient.

Camille was grateful. Frankie had been nearly invisible in Bria's life. Fatherhood had changed him in ways that weren't necessarily positive. “I want to say how much I appreciate the way that you've been there. Not just for me. But for Bria, too. Having you around has been … it's been really nice, Eli.” She reached across the table and gently stroked his hand.

Eli squeezed her hand in silent response, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it gently. “I love you,” he said. “I love Bria, too. She might as well be my baby. To be honest, sometimes I forget that she's not. Frankie comes around only once in a blue moon.” Eli shook his head, but caught himself. He didn't make a habit of speaking negatively about Camille's ex-husband. “Oh, well,” he said. “He's the one who's missing out on watching his beautiful baby girl grow up.”

Camille couldn't agree more. “I remember a time when I would have given anything to save that marriage. Anything! But ever since Bria was born, I realize that all I ever really wanted was unconditional love. Frankie never gave me that. But I've found it in my daughter. And in you. I'm good now.”

Eli smiled. His cell phone vibrated, and he excused himself briefly to answer it. Camille did not protest. Ever since being transferred to the Narcotics Division, Eli was more and more secretive during his phone conversations. Camille understood it, although she worried about his safety in such a notoriously deadly unit. Still, she had spent enough time on the other side of the drug war that she was fine with having no involvement in it at all these days.

While Eli was away from the table, Camille checked her own messages, and was relieved to find that she had none. For once, things were calm and she was happy. After so much drama, she and her family had found peace at last, and she was grateful. Her sister Misa and little Shane were thriving with the second chance they'd been given. Camille's mom had been instrumental in keeping the family united. She had once believed that she could never make it without Frankie. But, she was doing just fine.

Eli returned and so did the waitress, bringing them water and silverware. “Are you ready to order?” she asked.

Camille had only glanced at the menu, so Eli asked for another moment or two. While they decided what to order, Eli stroked her hand.

“You want to go out after this?” Camille asked.

Eli looked at her, though he seemed distracted. “What?”

Camille sipped her water. “There's a nice little spot on Fortieth Street. We could swing by there after dinner.”

“Oh,” Eli said. He shook his head. “It's my birthday, so I get to have it my way, right?” He smiled, and Camille melted.

“Right.”

“So, let's just eat and go home and make the headboard knock.”

Camille laughed.

“Word,” Eli continued. “We can make as much noise as we want because Bria's with your sister.”

The waitress came back, and both of them placed their orders. As they waited for their meal, they looked forward to the night ahead and all of the fireworks that lay in store.

*   *   *

The kids were asleep. Misa lay across her bed, talking to Baron on the phone. She wished he was with her tonight. It was a rainy and romantic night, and right now his voice was like smooth, creamy chocolate melting all over her.