Lovers & Players (9 page)

The day Rachel married Red, her family disowned her. Red immediately made it his business to bankrupt Rachel’s father, and when she begged him not to, he took much pleasure in laughing in her face.

Nobody fucked with Red Diamond and got away with it. Nobody
.

The New York brownstone was Red Diamond’s favourite residence. He’d long ago given up the elegant apartment in Monte Carlo overlooking the bay, the magnificent villa in Marbella, with two swimming-pools and a sunken tennis court, the luxurious London penthouse located near Buckingham Palace and the rambling farmhouse in Tuscany Edie had persuaded him to buy.

Red no longer travelled, since 9/11 he’d rarely left New York. It wasn’t necessary–there was nowhere he wanted to go, no one he wanted to see. He’d done and seen it all. There was nothing left for him to discover.

Lady Jane often tried to talk him into going places. A ball in Venice. A political dinner in Washington. ‘
You
go,’ he instructed her. ‘I’m not moving.’

And he didn’t have to. He oversaw his various businesses by e-mail, video conferences and phone. He had hand-picked people in place who took care of everything, and if anyone screwed up, he knew about it immediately. Red Diamond had highly paid spies everywhere.

He imagined what his three boys were thinking. They were probably under the impression that he was at death’s door, ready to embrace them and leave them a shitload of money.

No such luck. They were damn fortunate he’d been such a hard task-master during their formative years. It had made them the men they were today, and that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Red believed in challenges, roadblocks and, as successful as his two eldest sons were, he was interested in seeing how they handled themselves when faced with adversity.

He thought about Max first. Very successful in real estate, Max had needed a jolt to take it to another level. So Red, for his own amusement, had arranged that jolt. The two banks pulling out of Max’s billion-dollar building complex was no random act.

Next there was Chris who’d got into trouble in Vegas. Pure stupidity. Gambling was for morons. Red had far-reaching connections, and he was determined to make sure his middle son learned a good lesson.

As for Jett…well, he wasn’t surprised the boy was a fuckup. With a drunken whore like Edie for a mother, he’d never had any expectations that his youngest son would achieve anything. Still…the boy appeared to have given up his bad habits, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be tested.

One thing Red knew for sure, he couldn’t wait to see the look on all three of their faces when he told them the
real
reason he’d summoned them to his house. They’d shit themselves, and he would have one big smile on his face.

Too bad for them. Red Diamond always got the last word.

O
n Friday morning, Liberty was still asleep when Diahann quietly left the apartment to fix Mr Diamond’s breakfast. Recently he’d announced that he didn’t want anyone preparing his food except her. This had not gone down well with Mae, his full-time cook. Mae, a large, elderly black woman, had been in his employ longer than anyone. ‘What
that
shit be about?’ Mae had demanded, stamping her foot. ‘My food ain’t good ’nuff for the old fool? That be the way things goin’ down here?’

Diahann had managed to calm her, although it hadn’t been easy. They both knew what a difficult and tyrannical man Red Diamond was: he treated everyone with the same rudeness and lack of respect.

Diahann often felt that she understood him better than most people. She certainly understood him more than the skinny-assed white woman who’d planted herself in his life several years ago. Lady Jane Bentley, indeed. The only reason the witch had a title was because she’d married some doddering old Englishman who happened to be a lord. None of the staff liked her, she treated them as if they were only there to do her bidding, and her Madonna-style British accent fooled no one. The woman was not their boss, yet she acted as if they all worked exclusively for her.

The staff in the kitchen loved nothing better than a good gossip, and usually Diahann ignored the incessant bitching and back-stabbing, but today the talk was about Red Diamond’s three sons, sequestered in the library, and she couldn’t help listening. Red Diamond’s business was common knowledge among his staff, so they all knew it was unusual for him to have any contact with his sons, and everyone was curious as to why they were at the house.

‘They’re surely handsome,’ sighed Letty, the young Irish maid who’d taken them refreshments. ‘They look nothing like the Master.’

‘That’s ’cause Mr D. always hitched himself to fine-lookin’ wimmin,’ Mae said knowingly, busily chopping fruit with a sharp knife. ‘I bin through every one of his poor wives. Seen ’em come, seen ’em go an’, believe me, he
always
picked ’em pretty.’

‘How long
have
you worked here, Mae?’ asked Letty, stealing a slice of apple.

‘Mosta me damn life,’ Mae replied, slapping the young girl’s hand away. ‘Cooked for all them boys since they was little. They sure was cute then. Mebbe I should take a stroll into the library, see how they turned out.’

‘Lady Bentley’s with them,’ Letty said.

‘An’ what’s
she
talkin’ to them about?’ Mae demanded, as if it was her right to know.

‘I wasn’t in there long enough to hear.’

Listening to their conversation, Diahann couldn’t help wondering about Red Diamond’s three sons. She was well aware that none of them had had it easy. Red was hard on everyone, especially his boys.

After she’d fixed the eggs exactly the way the old man liked them, she put them onto a tray and asked Letty to take them up to his bedroom, explaining that she had to get back downstairs.

‘Why’s that?’ Mae asked, always eager to know everybody’s business. ‘You feelin’ poorly?’

‘No, Mae,’ Diahann replied patiently. ‘My daughter’s staying with me over the weekend.’

‘Little Liberty!’ exclaimed Mae, expertly slicing a pineapple. ‘How’s that pretty missy doin’?’

‘She hurt her ankle at work,’ Diahann said. ‘Other than that, she’s well.’

‘’Bout time you two spent more time together,’ Mae said. ‘Wasn’t right when you bundled her outta here.’

‘I didn’t
bundle
her out of here,’ Diahann replied, immediately on the defensive. ‘You
know
I didn’t have a choice.’

‘I wanna see that girl,’ Mae continued, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Liberty was always sumpin’ special, singin’ an’ dancin’ round the place. I
miss
havin’ that little beauty around.’

Diahann remained silent. Keeping things private was her way. She certainly didn’t need to hear what Mae had to say, especially about her daughter.

Liberty had not had a chance to talk to her mom. The night before, Diahann had rushed in, changed the dressing on her arm, fixed her a cup of vegetable broth and hurried back upstairs to prepare Mr Diamond’s dinner. By the time she came back downstairs, Liberty was already asleep.

Typical
, Liberty thought sourly.
As usual, Mr Diamond comes first
. It had been that way ever since they’d moved into the house.

Now, checking out
The View
on TV, she almost fell off the couch when they announced that one of their upcoming guests was Princess Tashmir Donnell, wife of hip-hop mogul, Damon P. Donnell.

Damn! What in crap’s name was Damon’s
wife
doing on TV?
He
was the star of the family.

She sat up straight, eyes fixed firmly on the screen. Man, this was not her week. If Tashmir turned out to be a singer, that would
really
put her over the edge.

However, when Tashmir Donnell sashayed onto the screen, quite exotic in an Indian princess kind of way, it turned out that the woman was peddling a line of jewellery.

Ha!
Liberty thought.
Damon’s wife selling jewellery. How low down is
that?

Lined up on a table in front of the four hosts of
The View
was an outrageous array of necklaces, rings and earrings, all studded with rubies, diamonds and emeralds.

Like anybody can afford that shit
, Liberty thought, still glued to the screen.

After a few moments of idle chat, Joy Behar got right down to it. ‘How much does
this
little bauble run?’ she inquired, picking up a magnificent necklace and dangling it in front of the camera.

‘Oh, that,’ Tashmir answered vaguely. ‘Eight or nine.’

‘Hundred?’ questioned Meredith Viera, leaning forward in her chair.

‘Thousand,’ said Tashmir, smugly.

After gasps from the audience and more jewellery questions, Star Jones got down to the real nitty-gritty and asked what it was like being the wife of Damon P. Donnell.

Tashmir, who was clad in a gold and purple sari and projected a gracious if somewhat phoney manner, said, ‘My husband keeps me
very
busy. Damon is Mr Energy. I merely trail along behind him trying to keep up.’

I bet
, Liberty thought.
You trail along behind him after you skip out of your three-room closet in your multi-million-dollar apartment and jump into your customized royal blue Bentley
.

She hated her. But that wasn’t right, was it? How could she hate someone she didn’t even know just because Tashmir was married to the man who could do something for her career? Hmm…that was if he ever cared to notice her existence.

Then she thought,
What
career? Here she was, stuck in Mama’s apartment. How pathetic was
that
?

Anyway, all she did was serve the man eggs and pour him coffee. It wasn’t as if he’d ever heard her sing, so why
should
he notice her? As far as he was concerned she was a waitress. A server. He probably didn’t even realize she was missing.

Abruptly she picked up the remote and switched off the TV. Why go through the torture? Watching Princess Phoney wasn’t making her feel any better about herself.

A few minutes later Diahann walked in. ‘How’re you feeling?’ she asked, picking up a blanket from the floor.

‘Crappy,’ Liberty answered irritably, staring at her mother, who could have been quite beautiful if she would only take the time to fix herself up and lose a few pounds. ‘My arm’s still throbbing a bit, although my ankle’s stronger. At least I can walk on it.’ She shot Diahann a wary glance. ‘Don’t worry, Mama, I’ll be out of here by Monday for sure.’

‘No rush,’ Diahann said, plumping up a cushion. ‘I
like
having you here.’

‘Sure you do. Littering up your couch, screwing up your weekend. Bet you’re thrilled.’

‘Cindi said that if you’re feeling okay, she’ll pick you up before work on Monday,’ Diahann said, removing a couple of empty glasses from the small coffee-table in front of the couch. ‘Isn’t your boyfriend due back then?’

‘Yeah, Kev’ll be back late that night.’

‘Maybe I can meet him.’

‘Why?’ Liberty shot back, her green eyes narrowing. ‘It’s not as if I’m
marrying
the dude.’

‘You’ve been seeing him a while, haven’t you?’

‘Hey,’ Liberty said belligerently, not about to get into a discussion about her boyfriend, ‘if this is question time, maybe
I
can get a few in.’

Here we go
, Diahann thought, taking a long, deep breath to prepare herself. ‘Of course,’ she said, remaining calm. ‘I was hoping we could talk.’

‘You were?’ Liberty said disbelievingly.

‘Yes. It feels as if I hardly see you anymore.’

‘Not
my
fault.’

‘Well,’ Diahann said, treading carefully, for she didn’t want to upset her daughter, ‘you
did
cancel the last two times we were supposed to get together.’

‘I’ve been busy.’

‘I understand, but—’

‘Mama,’ Liberty interrupted, determined that today she was going to find out the truth. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you told me who my father is? I can’t go on pretending it doesn’t matter, and that we’re never gonna talk about it. Surely you understand–I
need
to know.’

There. She’d said it. Now it was up to her mom.

Diahann sat down on the edge of the couch and gave a deep sigh. ‘There’s a reason I’ve never told you, Libby,’ she said, biting down on her bottom lip. ‘It’s…difficult.’

‘How
difficult
can it be, Mama? I have a
right
to know.’

Diahann nodded quietly.

‘For the longest time I thought it might be Leon,’ Liberty continued. ‘Then I got it–how could it be? His skin’s too dark, like yours. So then I got to thinking–what am I? Black, like you’ve always told me? Half white? What
am
I, Mama? You can’t go on hiding things from me. I’m nineteen. You
know
it’s time.’

‘I was even younger than you when I left home.’

‘I’ve heard that story a thousand times,’ Liberty said impatiently.

‘There I was–getting off the bus in New York with two hundred dollars in my pocket and a ton of ambition,’ Diahann said, sighing ruefully. ‘Seventeen, an’ imagining I’d be the next Anita Baker.’

‘You could’ve been if you’d kept at it.’

‘No, I couldn’t.’

‘Yes, you
could
,’ Liberty insisted. ‘You’re a
real
good singer. That’s a talent nobody can take away.’

‘But I wasn’t good
enough.
’

‘Why you
always
gotta put yourself down?’ Liberty said, exasperated. ‘I can remember you sneaking me into that jazz club you used to sing at, and you sounded amazing.’

‘What did
you
know? You were a baby–seven, eight years old.’

‘Hey, where do you think I got
my
talent?’

‘It never happened for me, Libby,’ Diahann said flatly.

‘That’s ’cause you gave it up.’

‘No. It gave
me
up. After many years of slogging away in nightclubs an’ recording studios I was forced to realize that I wasn’t gonna make it. Besides, I had
you
to think of.’

‘Sorry,’ Liberty said sharply. ‘I didn’t
ask
to be born.’

‘You know that’s not what I meant. I always loved you, Libby, but after a while things got too hard. You were coming up to your ninth birthday, an’ one morning I woke up an’
knew
we needed to get us some kind of real security, not a month-to-month struggle where I wasn’t even sure I could make the rent.’

‘Then how come you didn’t marry one of your boyfriends? As far as I remember you had plenty.’

‘Yes, there were plenty, an’ every damn one of them turned out to be a loser. The offer of a steady job was too good to pass up, so I took it, and the
only
time I’ve regretted it was when I was forced to send you to live at my sister’s place.’

‘’Cause of Mr Diamond,’ Liberty said flatly. ‘’Cause the mean old bastard wanted me gone.’

‘Mr Diamond warned me when he hired me that he wouldn’t tolerate having a child around. I promised to keep you out of sight.’

‘Great! The invisible kid.’

‘You were a wild thing, Libby. I couldn’t watch you every second. Any chance you got you roamed all over the house.’

‘Hey, Mama, that’s about
all
I had to do,’ Liberty said heatedly. ‘We were living in the wrong neighbourhood. You dragged me away from all my friends, sent me to some fancy new school where they never accepted me.’

‘The day Mr Diamond discovered you sleeping on his bed he was furious. There was nothing I could do.’

‘Yes, there
was,
’ Liberty said, eyes blazing. ‘You could’ve quit your job.’

‘Aren’t you listening to me? We
needed
the money. How would
you
have managed if you’d had a child to support and a career going nowhere?’

‘I wouldn’t have taken a job as a maid,’ Liberty shot back accusingly.

‘Housekeeper.’

‘Housekeeper, maid, what’s the difference? I would’ve made it…somehow.’

‘I did what I could,’ Diahann said softly. ‘I sent Aretha money every week for your upkeep, and since you seemed happy there with your cousin, I didn’t insist on you coming back, ’cause after a while I got Mr Diamond to agree that you could.’