If Only You Knew (15 page)

“Syd, get out of the way!” Lauren yelled, pulling her sister from the fracas, which turned into an all-out brawl, with half the football team bouncing on Marcus and his crew. Fists were flying, girls were screaming, martini glasses crashed against the patio and crunched under fast-moving feet that tried to carry their owners away to a safe perch where blows could be avoided but the drama could still be seen.

“Are you all right?” Lauren yelled over the rumble.

“Get off of me—I have to get out of here,” Sydney said, pulling her arm from her sister's grip. She ran toward the
backstairs leading up to the bedrooms. “I can't believe this is happening!”

“Donald!” Lauren yelled. “Do something!”

“Hold up, what you want me to do? Them some big boys,” Donald huffed.

“Donald!” Lauren yelled.

Just as she tried to rush through the crowd to get to her sister, Lauren's dedicated phone vibrated. Jermaine.

“Go get Renaldo and tell him to grab every grown man in the house!” Lauren hissed to Donald as she snatched open her purse and reached for her phone. As her fingers touched it, the crowd surged against her, knocking her purse and the phone onto the floor. “What the hell!” she yelled, trying to keep the bundle of bodies and feet from trampling her phone.

The party dissolved into total chaos.

The flickering light from the candles that lined the ceiling-high shelves caught Lauren's eye, making her remember that they lined the stage, which was equipped with—yes!—a microphone. She tore away from the tangle and rushed over to it.

“Marcus Green. Get your granola-crunching, backpacking, patchouli-wearing behind off of my sister's guest!” she yelled into the microphone, just as Goldfinger stopped the music. “And all you Neanderthals who've turned my party into the WWE SmackDown, I'm gonna need y'all to get the hell on. Now!”

Lauren's directive had some impact, but it wasn't until Renaldo and several of the waiters and the bartender started pulling boys off of each other that it actually calmed down. When Marcus started yelling, it got really quiet.

“Forget this, man,” Marcus said, standing up and wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “I don't need this.”

“You don't want this is what you meant,” Jason said, straightening out his shirt and dusting the sand off his suit pants.

“Nah, man, it's all you. But just remember this: You may be playing in the game, but I'm always going to take home the trophy,” Marcus said, backing away from the line of football players who were again gathering behind their team co-captain.

“Um, excuse me!” the bullhorn sounded.

Lauren craned her neck to see who in the world was yelling into the electronic megaphone, and, more, just who was calling attention at her party, in her house.

“Just what trophy would you be talking about, Marcus Green?” the girl yelled again in the bullhorn.

This time, Lauren didn't need any introductions; it was Dara. She knew the voice, and it was as clear as crystal. This girl had lost her damn mind showing up at her party. Lauren snatched off her shoes and practically Kung Fu leaped off the wooden structure onto the dance floor, just feet away from her best-friend-turned-nemesis.

“Um, excuse me—There was a weight limit to the guest list and you didn't make the cut. I'm going to need you to vacate the premises,” Lauren snarled into the microphone.

“Oh, aren't you just the little Chris RockNot,” Dara yelled into the bullhorn. “I was just trying to get some clarity and give some clarity on a few things, honey. And then I'll be leaving.”

“I think we're all pretty clear that you're a tramp-ass hooker who can't be trusted around other people's boy-friends,” Lauren yelled. “No more clarity necessary.”

“Oh, sweetie, trust. There are some things you and your sister most certainly need to know, and I'm here to make sure you hear it from the horse's mouth: I'm having Marcus's baby.”

The room erupted into gasps audible enough, Lauren was sure, to be heard over the expanse of Lake Lanier. Jason folded his arms and chuckled; his football buddies knocked him on the arm and back in celebration, like he'd just won a prize. Marcus, on the other hand, looked like he was about to vomit.

Lauren didn't know what to do—barely squeezed out a “What did you just say?”

“Oh, you heard me. I'm having Marcus's baby. So all of this chitchat about trophies and sloppy seconds and that damn Sydney Duke can really just, oh, I don't know, come
to a halt,” Dara said. And then she really leaned into the bull-horn and said, “Now!”

“Oh, you know what?” Lauren said, rushing Dara, “I will beat your ass like you stole something.” But just as her hands got a good grip on Dara, a pair of arms embraced her in a bear hug. “Let me go! Let me go, dammit! Stop it!”

“Baby, it's me—you don't want to hit her, trust me,” Jermaine said, holding Lauren in his arms. She instantly calmed. “From what I can see, she's not worth it.”

“Oh, what do you know, Boyz N the Hood?” Dara yelped into the megaphone.

“Look, you don't know me, and I don't know you, so there's no reason for us to be getting into it. But you messin' with my girl right now, and she's asked you to leave, so leave.”

“Why don't you show her the door and then walk through it with her,” an even louder and deeper voice boomed. Lauren turned toward the source, praying a miracle of all miracles, that it wasn't who she thought it was—Altimus.

“Yo, Mr. Duke,” Jermaine said, releasing Lauren from his grip and raising his hands like someone had a gun to his chest. “I was invited, you know what I'm saying?”

Altimus continued walking toward Jermaine, the crowd parting like the Red Sea to let him inch closer to his daughter and her boyfriend. “I told you to stay away from my
daughter, and I meant it. Looks like somebody's hard of hearing, though,” Altimus said easily, eerily.

“I, um, I…” Jermaine started.

“No, no, partner—see, it's over now. You and me? We need to go on outside and have a little talk. And then after I'm finished talking…”

Jermaine didn't let Altimus finish his sentence. He gave Lauren a look that said, “I'm sorry,” and then took off toward the stage. He hopped up onto it, then onto the massive speakers that flanked the left side, and jumped over the heads of a throng of chatty girls who might as well have settled in with some popcorn, so enamored were they by this piece of ghetto Negro theater. Starring the Dukes, of all people—Buckhead's premier African-American family.

Jermaine landed somehow on his feet and disappeared through the door and out into the November night.

YoungRichandTriflin would win a Pulitzer once it finished sorting through all this mess.

As they turned up the long, windy driveway to the Duke estate, the silence in the backseat of Altimus's car was deafening. In fact, the only thing Sydney could hear above the beat of her heart was Lauren's murmured prayer.

“Oh, God, please don't let her kill us. And if she should kill us tonight, O Lord? Dear God, please let it be swift and painless. Amen,” she finished with a sign of the cross.

“Hey. We're coming up the driveway now,” Altimus said gruffly into his Bluetooth. “They'll meet you in my office. Bye.” He clicked off the call and looked up at the rearview mirror. As his eyes met Sydney's gaze, they momentarily narrowed to slits. Positive she had just been issued the kiss of death, Sydney gulped.

“Sydney, I'm really scared,” a pale-faced Lauren whispered.

“Me, too, sis, me, too,” Sydney admitted as she reached for Lauren's hand. The car finally came to a stop in front of the front door.

“Your mother is waiting for the both of you inside my office,” Altimus said to the girls despite continuing to look straight ahead. “Go 'head.”

As soon as the girls stepped out and closed the car door behind them, Altimus pulled away without another word. They both looked at the car as it disappeared back down the driveway. “Do you think we should make a run for it?” Lauren asked with a slight tremor in her voice.

“And go where?” Sydney asked. “There's nowhere that we can hide, no one who can protect us from him except Mom. We just have to make her believe us.”

Lauren nodded her head silently. “She might be crazy, but she's our mother. At the end of the day, blood is thicker than water. She's not going to take the word of some man over her own flesh and blood, right, Syd?”

“I hope so, Lauren, I really hope so,” Sydney replied grimly as she walked toward the house.

“Close the door, sit your asses down, and don't, I repeat do not, open your mouths,” Keisha hissed as soon as Sydney
and Lauren stepped half a foot inside Altimus's office. Seated in his oversized leather chair behind the enormous mahogany desk, Keisha looked like the female version of Don Corleone from
The Godfather
to the two terrified girls.

“So I take it the two of you think that your stepfather and I are a couple of fools, huh?” she said in a very low, very lethal tone of voice. The twins simultaneously shook their heads viciously. “But you must,” she goaded. “You must think we're stupid. Because otherwise, why would you behave the way you do?” The girls shifted uncomfortably on the plush burgundy loveseat. “Why,” she paused for emphasis, “why would you disrespect us like this?

“I mean, just so I'm clear. Your stepfather and I allow the two of you to throw a no-holds-barred holiday party for damn near everyone in your entire school at our million-dollar lake house, and instead of behaving like mature young women with a lick of home training, you end up in the middle of a melee? Thousands of dollars wasted, a fistfight in my living room, and someone that I wouldn't even want to share the same sidewalk with, standing up in the middle of my damn house, so called representing my child? This is how you repay us?”

Lauren gulped audibly.

“Are you satisfied with yourselves? In a matter of months, the both of you have managed to make our family the laughing stock of the entire community. Oh, but I guess that shouldn't
matter because Altimus and I, we're nothing but a couple of dummies. So who cares what people say, right? Who cares how hard we've worked to secure a better life for the two of you ungrateful little heiffas; this is the
Lauren and Sydney Show.
And I guess we're just lucky to be here.” Sydney could feel the perspiration forming on her upper lip.

Keisha stood up and walked over to stand directly in Lauren's face. “Look at you, sitting here with that fifty-dollar manicure, five hundred-dollar weave, and three-thousand-dollar outfit that
I
bought your silly behind; running around pretending to date a pansy so that you can screw a future convict. You think you're thugged out, Little Ms. Dance Squad? Huh? Is that what it is? Clearly you do. ‘Cause instead of being grateful for the privileges, instead of trying to take advantage of what's around you, you're up in the middle of the hood trying your damndest to either get knocked up or knocked out. And the worst part is, I can't tell which!” Lauren cringed after every word as if she'd been physically slapped.

Then Mrs. Duke walked over to stand in front of Sydney. However, instead of screaming at her, she just started to laugh. Not knowing what to make of her mother's behavior, Sydney unsuccessfully tried to sneak a look at her sister without turning her head. “You kill me, Sydney,” Mrs. Duke finally said when she stopped laughing. “Do you hear me, you KILL me with your low-budget Nancy Drew act. Running
around trying to find clues, and you don't even understand the case. You're pathetic,” she hissed. “So hell-bent on this whole save my daddy campaign and you don't even KNOW your father!” Hot tears formed in Sydney's eyes as she struggled to remain silent. “Since you want to know so badly, let me tell you again. Your father is a piece of crap. Period. Nothing more and nothing less than a worthless excuse for a man who, when push came to shove, wasn't willing to do what it took to handle his business. So now that you know, you can stop trying to be Captain-Save-A-Convict and focus on getting Marcus back. Because you might play the role of Lil' Miss Bleeding Heart, but at the end of the day, your tastes are real high maintenance. And being the captain of some damn high school football team certainly ain't no NFL guarantee!” Unable to hold them back, Sydney sat stone-faced as the tears finally fell.

Keisha stepped back and turned her back on both of the girls. “I'm just tired of y'all,” she sighed. “As long as you've been alive, I've always done everything I can to make sure you were well taken care of. I swore my children were going to have everything they could ever dream of…regardless of what it might cost. And this is how you repay me. I give you the world and you give me your ass to kiss. Humph, well I'm done. The both of you are some ungrateful brats. And I'm really starting to wonder if maybe Altimus and I should just send you both away until you learn to appreciate
what you have here. I'd be very curious to see what your beloved father or even your ghetto Romeo can do for y'all when you're cleaning up shit in a barn on a farm in Africa!”

Unable to sit still a moment longer, Lauren blurted out, “Mom, you don't understand what's really going on. I swear to you, we weren't trying to be disrespectful! It's bigger than the party! You're in danger! We're all in danger!”

“What the hell are you talking about,” Keisha said, spinning around. Her eyes were nothing but narrow slits as she stared at Lauren like she wanted nothing more than to smack the taste out of her mouth.

“Tell her, Sydney,” Lauren pleaded. “Tell her what we found out.”

“It's true, Mom,” Sydney sniffled as she wiped the tears away. “I wasn't trying to be ungrateful. I just, I didn't understand why I couldn't ever see Dad. But that's nothing, ‘cause we found out that Altimus—”

“Altimus what?” Keisha snapped. “Please tell me what you found out about my husband. I surely want to hear this mess. What did you find out? Please tell.”

“Mom, I know this is going to sound crazy, but Altimus is not the person he pretends to be,” Sydney continued carefully, trying to gauge her mother's reaction as she went along. “He's living a double life. Trust us, he does much more than just run the car dealerships.”

“Oh, really,” Keisha said in feigned disbelief. “And what else is he doing?”

“Mom, he's a killer!” Lauren blurted out. “A straight-up gangster. You didn't see him when he got really angry…I mean,
everybody
in the West End is convinced that he killed Rodney Watson, and I, I mean, we think they may be right!”

“It's bigger than that, Mom,” Sydney continued quickly on the heels of her sister's outburst. “I think he may have even had something to do with setting Dad up to go to jail. Which means that Dad is innocent! He didn't just abandon us!”

“Mom, this is for real. And he knows that we know something.” Lauren continued working herself into a full frenzy as she looked over her shoulder at the door and back to Mrs. Duke. “We need to get out of here. Not now, but right now! We are not safe!”

Mrs. Duke's facial expression went from sarcastic disbelief to dead seriousness. “So it's not just the two of you who think that Altimus is leading a double life?” she asked thoughtfully.

“Absolutely not,” Sydney insisted. “Dad has hinted, Aunt Lorraine…”

“Shoot, anyone who figured out that I was Altimus's daughter always acted like they were about to get it,” Lauren continued cryptically. “It's crazy. Not for nothing, the one time I met Rodney he said something about Altimus having
to ante up or something like that! Whatever he said, Mom, for real, this is not good!”

Keisha inhaled deeply, frowned, and shook her head. “No, you're right, this isn't good.” She replied so calmly that Sydney thought she must be in shock.

“Er, um, okay, but don't you think we should be making moves to pack our stuff and go to the cops?” Lauren asked. “He could be back at any moment…”

“Oh, I'm sure he will be,” Keisha answered with a sigh as she walked over to the desk and sat on the edge facing the girls. “Which is why I need to hurry up and say what I have to say. Because, as I'm sure Lauren can attest, Altimus is not the one when he's pissed. And quite honestly, it's high time you two got with the program and started acting like you had some damn common sense before every last one of us goes to jail!”

“Excuse you?” Sydney responded without thinking.

“No, excuse
you,
” Mrs. Duke snapped. “Where the hell do you think all the money to keep your little spoiled behinds on weekly shopping sprees comes from? Ain't that many damn leased luxury cars in the world!” Lauren's mouth dropped open. “Oh, save the theatrics, Lauren. You stay watching BET. You know exactly what time it is. Now listen very carefully to what I'm about to say.

“Altimus had nothing to do with setting your father up. At all. But yes, the two of them were business partners back
in the day. And they were both deep in the streets. Between Altimus and your father, the entire West End was on lock. There wasn't an illegal dollar being made that they weren't getting a percentage of in their heyday.”

“You– you– you knew Dad was into something illegal and you were okay with that?” Sydney stuttered.

“Um, and how the hell else were we going to pay the rent every month, smart-ass?” Keisha retorted angrily. “Last time I checked, landlords didn't accept food stamps.” Humbled, Sydney looked down at the floor. “And like I said, we were doing good. But when I got pregnant, your father started losing focus. He just kept stressing how he didn't want to miss out on raising his babies.” Keisha laughed evilly. “A lot of good all that trying to get out of the game did him, huh?”

“You sound like you're glad that he went to jail,” Lauren said incredulously. “I thought you loved him.”

“Love don't have shit to do with survival. When your weak-ass father stopped taking care of his business, I had to step up and handle mine. So I made a choice. I chose to be with the man who could and would do whatever it took to make sure that me and mine were cared for. Period. Altimus goes hard for me and I will ride for him. It is what it is.”

“So our stepfather is a drug dealer, is that what you're telling us?” Sydney asked Mrs. Duke contemptuously.

“Altimus is a lot of things—not all of them legal—but what you need to know is, he's a good man who understands
what loyalty means. In turn, he expects and deserves that from the both of you,” retorted Keisha, ignoring Sydney's comment.

“But– but– but–” Lauren stammered.

“But nothing,” Keisha answered.

“But drugs, Mom? As anti-drugs as you are?” Sydney questioned.

“Sydney, I said he was into a lot of things. You said drugs,” Keisha corrected swiftly. “Your stepfather is a businessman. He provides transportation. Packages come through Georgia and need safe transport to various destinations. What these packages are is irrelevant. What matters is that the owners are willing to pay a lot of damn cash to make sure that
one,
their items get where they're going, and
two,
that no one knows about the deliveries.
That
is the real Duke family business.”

“So then why does everyone think he has something to do with Rodney getting killed?” Lauren asked.

“In this line of business, sometimes there are unexpected incidentals,” Keisha shrugged nonchalantly. “Charge it to the game. Nothing personal I assure you.” Lauren and Sydney looked at each other as her words sunk in.

“As I'm sure you can now understand, the last thing this
family
can afford is to have the two of you drawing unnecessary attention to Altimus. Your snooping and running amuck is becoming a liability. And that makes us all vulnerable. So
I suggest you both get with the damn program. Because whether you like it or not, you're part of this family. If one falls, we
all
go down. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Sydney and Lauren mumbled, too afraid to say anything else.

“Good. Now, go up to your rooms and stay there till I figure out an acceptable punishment for the stunt you pulled at my damn lake house!” The girls stood up wordlessly and turned to leave. “Oh, and Sydney,” Keisha called out as the girls headed through the door. “The next time you talk to your father or his trifling-ass sister, Lorraine, I suggest you keep the conversation to what's happening at school. I'd hate for him to miss out on the rest of his daughters' lives trying to prove a point. Am I clear?”