Aftermath (39 page)

Tremaine had made Gillian aware of a situation concerning Baron. Apparently, Danno's DNA had turned up during an investigation into Trina Samuels's murder. Gillian didn't need a PhD to figure out that Baron had been involved in the killing, since Trina had set him up to be shot by Jojo. Danno was on the run now, and Gillian knew that if he were caught, he could very well implicate Baron in Trina's murder. She shook her head now as she thought about what a fuckup her brother was.

And now Mayra was begging for her forgiveness. Gillian turned the key in the ignition and fastened her seat belt. She put her sunglasses on and looked at her reflection in the mirror one last time.

“Being in charge ain't all it's cracked up to be,” she said aloud to herself and peeled out, her tires squealing as she made her exit.

*   *   *

Celia couldn't believe
her eyes. She peeked through the partially open door and watched as Baron slowly, and ever so gingerly, put one foot in front of the other and took his first step since the shooting. Out of breath and clearly exhausted, he took another step, holding on to his walker for dear life. His physical therapist had been trying for weeks to get Baron back on his feet, to no avail. The entire process had frustrated him, causing Celia to feel sorry for her only child as he struggled to feel like a man again. Baron had grown increasingly annoyed and discouraged and had expressed his displeasure with the whole process. What she hadn't known was that each night, after his physical therapist and his nurse had gone home, Baron had been working hard to walk on his own, doing the exercises they'd taught him and struggling through them in a sweat-soaked determination to walk again.

And now he had done it—two small steps that felt more like a marathon. As he collapsed onto his bed, winded and drained, he smiled. He had walked!

Celia stepped into the room, applauding. Baron was clearly surprised to see his mother. He had no clue that she had been watching from the wings, willing him forward as she watched him take his first steps in months.

“I'm so proud of you,” she said, rushing to his side and kissing him on his cheek.

His smile spread. He was proud of himself.

“I knew you would get your strength back. You're going to be up and at 'em in no time.”

Baron nodded. He caught his breath and sat up on the bed.

“I'm sick of sitting in that chair,” he said. “I'm too young to settle for being a cripple for the rest of my life.”

Celia smiled. “Yes, you are,” she said. She sat down on the chair near her son's bed and crossed her legs. Baron was doing much better these days. Emotionally, he still seemed distant and perhaps depressed. But he wasn't as downtrodden as he had been. He had a sense of calm about him that hadn't been there in the days and weeks after he'd first regained consciousness.

Celia looked at him now and thought it was time she got to the bottom of what was really troubling her son. “Gillian called.”

Baron's smile faded, morphing slowly into a frown. “She wanted to talk to me?” It had been weeks since their last conversation.

“No,” Celia said. “She just asked me to give you a message. She said that Danno was killed last night.”

Celia noticed all the blood drain from Baron's face and saw his green eyes narrow. “What happened?” he asked. He couldn't believe this. It seemed that his prayers had been answered after all.

“Gillian said that Danno was on the run from the cops. He had been hiding out in Queens, but he was struck by a black Lexus SUV while he was crossing Queens Boulevard late last night. The vehicle fled the scene, but witnesses gave a description of it.”

Baron's heart was racing. Gillian herself drove a black Lexus. Baron was wondering if his sister had handled Danno for him.

Celia confirmed it. “She also said to tell you ‘no more favors.' Whatever that means.”

Baron felt a flood of emotion wash over him. He knew exactly what it meant and he was relieved. Danno was dead and he prayed that Trina Samuels's murder investigation had died with him. He also felt so grateful to Gillian, whom he knew had run Danno down on the boulevard of death. Although he knew the two of them would never be close again due to Baron's stupidity, he was grateful that Gillian hadn't turned her back on him altogether. Celia was looking at him questioningly, so Baron fought to keep his emotions under control lest she notice.

“Baron,” she said. “I want to talk to you about your father.”

He stared back at her. “Okay.”

“Are you in any way responsible for what happened to him?”

Baron looked at his mother and felt so ashamed. He had been doing his best to run from the truth, but there was no escaping it. For months, he'd sat in that wheelchair and beat himself up for what he'd done, for causing his own problems and for setting the events in motion that led to his father's death. Now, as his mother sat beside him looking so angelic and understanding, he stopped running from the truth.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low and monotone. “And you deserve to know the whole story.”

As difficult as it was, Baron finally came clean, using his mother as his temporary priest in his makeshift confessional. For the rest of the afternoon he told his mother the truth about the costly decisions he'd made in the months before his father was killed. Baron admitted his role in it and placed all the blame squarely on his own shoulders, no longer willing to point the finger at everybody else. He felt that God had given him a new start. He still had a tremendous amount of shame and guilt inside. But with Celia's help, that day was the first step on a long road to forgiving himself and changing like he had promised God he would.

*   *   *

Toya kissed her
mother good-bye and watched as Sweets climbed into the taxi and shut the door. She waved as the cab pulled away from the curb, en route to take her mother back to Atlanta at last. Toya had to resist the urge to kick up her heels and dance for joy as her unexpected houseguest finally vacated her home. Her mom had been there for weeks and Toya was thrilled to see her go.

She waited until the cab was out of sight and then she crossed the street, approaching Russell's house for the first time. She wondered why she felt a little nervous. This wasn't like her. As she neared Russell's front door, she took a deep breath and blew it out. Finally, she rang the bell and waited.

Russell came to the door wearing an FDNY T-shirt and a pair of jeans, his beef-and-broccoli Timberlands untied and a beer in his hand. He smiled slightly when he saw Toya, but she noticed right away that his face hadn't lit up the way it usually did at the sight of her.

“Good morning,” she said. “I just wanted to come by and say hello.”

Russell's brow furrowed. “Hello,” he said. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

Toya shifted her weight from one foot to the other and waited to be invited in. When that didn't happen, she sucked her teeth and said, “Well, can I come in or not?”

“Not.” Russell just stood there.

Toya felt herself getting angry and she frowned. “I can't come in?”

“Nope,” he said, sipping his Corona. “After the way you've been treating me, why would I invite you into my house?”

Toya mentally counted to ten, told herself not to go off on this ugly bastard, and reminded herself that she had been avoiding him ever since her mother came to town.

“I had a houseguest,” she explained, surprised that she was actually giving this fool an explanation. “My mother was here and I didn't want to have you coming over while she was staying with me.”

He nodded. “So I guess that's why you couldn't bother to call or to come over here and ring my bell after she went to bed. Maybe that's why you didn't keep our appointment to go house hunting like we discussed. And I bet your mother being here is the reason why you practically shut your door in my face every time I so much as looked across the street.”

Toya knew she had been hard on Russell. Still, she didn't appreciate being forced to stand out on his porch instead of being invited inside. “I apologize,” she said halfheartedly.

“You don't mean that.”

“Listen here, bitch. I'm not about to stand here and beg you—”

“See?” he said. “That's what I'm talking about.”

“What?” she asked, perplexed. “I came over here to say hello and I apologized for not returning your calls. If that's not enough, then I don't know what to tell you.”

He smirked, thinking she was too hard for her own good. “I don't know why you feel like you have to be so tough all the time. It's really not attractive.” Russell shook his head. “At first I used to think it was cute. But now I think I'm kinda turned off by it.” He thought back on all their interactions and realized that she was always pushing him away no matter how close he tried to get. He was tired of being rejected. “Look,” he said, “I know I'm not the handsomest guy in the world. I don't own my house or drive a fancy car like you do. But that doesn't give you the right to treat me like you do, hiding me from your mother and then coming by the second she leaves town. I thought we had a good time when you finally let me take you out. I found out that underneath all that crusty exterior is a really intelligent, funny, and sexy woman.” He shook his head again. “But then you went right back to acting like a bitch.”

“I'm a bitch now?” she asked, her hands on her hips. She was about to go off on Russell something terrible.

“No,” he said. “But you play the part really well.” He sighed. “I like you. I think you know that. But I don't want to be your toy. That's not the role I'm meant to play.”

Toya didn't know why she was turned on by Russell at that moment. Maybe it was because he had the nerve to tell her no, or that he had found the balls to stand up to her. Most men ran for cover when she unleashed her mean streak. But Russell was different. She had realized, after weeks of reliving the past with her parents, how her upbringing had hardened her to the extreme. She had inherited her father's brutal and cutting vernacular and her mother's holier-than-thou demeanor and it had resulted in this. She pushed men away to avoid them doing it to her instead.

She wanted to change that. “Listen,” she said, opting not to curse him out. She was going to turn a new page and start again. “I've been very nasty to you. And you have been very nice to me. So I apologize. I mean it.” She wasn't used to this. Sorry never came easy for her. “I understand if you don't want to let me in your house. But my father just died and I had to confront some terrible things from my past. And with my mother being here … I just needed some time to sort all of that out before I let myself get involved with you.” She shrugged. “But if you don't want to accept my apology, I'll leave.” She turned to go, praying that he would stop her and allow her to save face.

Russell felt sorry for her, unaware that she was mourning her father's loss. “No, wait.” He watched as she stopped her retreat and turned back to face him. He held the door open and smiled softly. “Come in,” he said. “Apology accepted.”

Toya smiled back and stepped inside Russell's home. She decided that she was going to stop being so negative and truly let go of all the pain from her past. The first step in doing that would be to look past Russell's lack of good looks and enjoy the good qualities he had to offer—great conversation and fantastic sex. He shut the door behind them and pulled her in close for a kiss. And she didn't even fight back.

Witness for the Prosecution

“The people call Camille Bingham to the stand.”

Misa looked around in desperation and saw the same expression on her sister's face. The whole courtroom began to buzz with chatter as Camille slowly rose and made her way to the front. She locked eyes with her sister on her way up to the witness stand and Misa's heart galloped in her chest.

Camille was sworn in and sat down, her pregnant belly lifting her breasts up better than any pushup bra could. Frankie marveled at how each time he saw her she looked more maternal than the day before.

“Mrs. Bingham, what is your relationship to the defendant?”

“She's my sister.” Camille glanced at Misa and smiled at her.

“Please tell us what happened when you arrived home on the night of January 5, 2008.”

Camille licked her lips and thought back to that fateful evening.

“I came home and saw that my sister's car was parked outside in my driveway. I found that odd since my nephew Shane wasn't there.”

“What time was it when you arrived home?”

Camille tried to recall. “About two o'clock in the morning.”

The district attorney seemed surprised by that. “Where had you been?”

Camille looked at Frankie, Gillian seated beside him and holding his hand. “I had been at my husband's mistress's house on the Upper East Side, telling him that I was pregnant.”

The chattering commenced, causing the judge to call for order—a daily occurrence in this trial. All of Staten Island seemed to be packed into the courtroom each day, eager for a morsel of gossip to take back to their block.

The DA nodded. “You gave your husband the good news and then returned home to find your sister's car in the driveway?”

“Yes, that's right,” Camille said. “I walked into the house and noticed that it was dark and quiet.”

“Was that unusual?”

Camille nodded. “Most nights my brother-in-law, Steven, came in from the guesthouse to watch my husband's flat-screen plasma TV. Apparently, the TV in the guesthouse wasn't good enough.” A few jurors snickered, mostly the men who understood exactly how he'd felt.

“So typically late at night, your brother-in-law would be in your living room until the wee hours of the morning watching TV.”