No One in the World (18 page)

“I don't like them,” Austen said, undoing the straps.

“What? Those are the ones you wanted. I'm about to spend my grocery money for the month on those things to make you feel better.”

“And now you don't have to.”

Not even an hour after Austen had called Sissy to tell her about the eviction, three brawny, uniformed men from a moving company showed up to move what little Austen had left down to a moving truck. When they finished, the place no longer contained even a matchbook of hers. Sissy showed up afterward, holding a Chanel shoulder bag. She walked in, pulled her dark glasses from her eyes, pushed them into her hair, and took a look at Austen, appearing generally concerned.

“I'm sorry this is happening, but the movers told me they have all your belongings. You can come with me now.”

“Go with you? Where?”

“Your new home. The Winslow estate.”

“No. I mean, I don't know,” Austen said. “I'm not ready to—”

“You and my brother are more alike than you know,” Sissy said. “Grab
your purse and whatever else and you can tell me just how much you don't want to live at the estate on the way there.”

“So this Sissy woman is still going to buy your property and make sure it's placed back in your name, right?” Julia asked, as they walked toward the exit of the shoe store.

“Yeah, she said she will.”

“That's a good thing. And till then, the house I picked you up from . . . girl, it ain't like it was Cabrini Green. That mansion had it going on. You know I was dying to see what it looked like inside.”

“It's the most beautiful house I've ever seen,” Austen said glumly. “It has everything, winding staircase, maid's quarters, chef's kitchen, and the room they put me in was damn near as big as my entire condo. It has a separate sitting area that is more like a living room. But to be frank, who cares? It's not mine.”

Stopping in the middle of the mall corridor, Julia grabbed Austen's hand. “Why are you looking at it that way? I know the situation isn't ideal, but—”

“But what?” Austen said. “I'm getting married to a wealthy, handsome man. I'm moving into a mansion, where all my needs will be met. Yeah, I know it sounds like a dream, but it comes at a cost.”

“Nothing is free.”

“I know. I just thought when and if I got married, it would be to someone I loved.”

“What?” Julia said, surprised. “I thought you never wanted to give a man control over you.”

“I don't, but that doesn't mean I don't want to fall in love,” Austen said, sadly. “This way that won't ever happen.”

Julia sighed, set down her shopping bag, and grabbed Austen's other hand. “Locked up in this contract or not, know that when it's time for you to fall in love, it'll happen. Nothing's going to stop that. Will you at least believe that for me?”

Austen rolled her eyes at her friend's desperate attempt to cheer her up. “Yeah, Julia. I'll believe love will still find me while I'm married to my gay husband just for you.”

W
hen Eric steered the Audi into the circular drive outside the front door of the mansion, he saw a woman standing outside, wearing a suit, her arms crossed.

He pulled the key out of the ignition and stepped out of the car, wearing some of the new clothes Cobi had bought him. He walked toward the house. The woman stood directly in front of the doorway with a nasty little smirk on her face, looking Eric up and down. “Well, I didn't really believe it until now.”

“Believe what?” Eric said, still not knowing who he was talking to.

“The resemblance is uncanny,” she said, slowly walking a circle around Eric, examining him. When she made her way back around, she held out a hand. “Sissy Winslow, CEO of Winslow Products, and Cobi's sister.”

Eric took Sissy's hand and shook. “Hey, Sissy,” Eric said. “I want to thank—”

“Come with me, please,” Sissy said, cutting him off.

Eric followed the woman through the house and around a corner. She opened a large wooden door and led them into a dark wood-paneled room with floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

Sissy closed the door behind them. “Eric, is that correct?”

“Yeah,” Eric said, looking around the large library.

“Are you a reader, Eric?”

“No. Not really.”

“Didn't take you for one,” Sissy said. She stepped in front of him. “I'm going to get straight to the point.”

Eric just stared at Sissy, starting to develop a dislike for her.

“I think you're trying to play my brother. I look at you, and to tell you the truth, considering the way you are dressed, if I were to have walked in this house and not known it was you, I would've sworn you were Cobi. But that's where the similarities end. You are a criminal, and have been since the first time you were caught stealing at nine years old, out of Toys “R” Us on Eighty-seventh and the Dan Ryan.”

Eric looked at her, bewildered.

“I looked up your file. I know all there is to know about you,” Sissy said, her arms crossed, casually pacing away from him. “You were put up for adoption, but no one wanted you. You were shuffled from foster home to foster home, got in trouble several times with the law before you were even seventeen. At eighteen, you committed your first violent crime and were sentenced to two years in prison. The list goes on,” Sissy said, turning back to face Eric. “Shall I continue?”

“No,” Eric said, not understanding why this woman was doing this to him. Isn't she the one that got him the job? Was there another sister? There had to be.

“Good.” Sissy walked back toward Eric and stopped just in front of him, smiling. “I see you're driving my brother's car. He spent a little money on you, bought you some fine new clothes.” She grabbed the collar of his shirt, flicked it. “Now what, you think you're him? You think you're on his level?”

“I never said that,” Eric said defensively.

“You're a worthless nobody who had a hard upbringing. It reminds me of when Cobi and I were kids. He found this stray dog. He begged my parents to keep it, and they let him, but that dog was nothing but a mutt. Cobi gave it a bath, bought it a new collar, but the dog wouldn't train. One day when Cobi was feeding that dog, it bit him. The dogcatchers came and took it to the pound, and they put it to sleep,” Sissy said, standing only inches from Eric's face, speaking in nothing more than a whisper. “You understand? I'm not going to let you bite my brother. I would sooner have you put to sleep.”

“I don't know what you talking about.”

“My brother and Senator Stevens . . . you saw them together. I swear, if as little as a peep gets out, I will have you carted off to jail for a crime so heinous that life imprisonment would be considered a light sentence. Do you understand me?”

Eric stood there silently, hatred now in his eyes.

“Do you understand me?” Sissy raised her voice.

“Yes,” Eric finally said.

“And about what you were going to thank me for. I assume it was the job Cobi asked me to arrange for you,” Sissy said. “Keep your thank-you. Like I told him last night, I don't want you working there. There no longer is a job for you.”

W
hen I walked in the house after work, I was surprised to see all the clothes that I had bought Eric folded neatly on the dining room table. Some of them were still in plastic, many of them still had tags, and the shoes were placed neatly back in their boxes.

“Eric,” I called, setting down my briefcase.

He answered me from the top of the stairs. “Yeah.”

“Can you come down for a moment, please?”

When Eric walked over to me, he was wearing the old jeans and T-shirt he had on when I picked him up from prison.

“Uh . . .” I said with a smile, trying to make light of what I knew had to be a potentially bad situation. “What's going on? Need a smaller size?”

“You should take those back, Cobi. Sorry about the ones I wore already. If they don't give you your money back, I can find a way to pay you for them.”

“Stop it. What's this all about?”

“I'm sorry about stealing your car the first night I was here.”

“I know. We went over that, and I already accepted your—”

“And you told me you wouldn't deal with me doing it again, and I promised you I wouldn't.”

“That's right,” I said, not following Eric's line of thinking.

“So why would you think I'm trying to take you for your money?”

“What do you mean? I don't think that.”

“You think I'm gonna go to some newspaper or somethin' and tell them what I saw last night to try to make—”

“I don't think that. What would have you thinking”—and then it came to me. I was just surprised it took so long. “Hold it. Was my sister here today?”

“Yeah.”

“Did she say something to you?”

“Yeah, she did.”

I shook my head, feeling sorry for my brother. I could only imagine the disrespectful things Sissy probably said to him and how he must've felt to ask me to return all his clothes.

“I need for you to understand I don't think that's what you're going to do. I trust you when you say that you wouldn't tell anyone, and my sister's thoughts are hers, not mine. You understand?”

“So you ain't never say any of that to her?”

“Eric,” I said, walking over, taking him by the shoulders. “If I truly felt that way, how big of a fool would I be allowing you to stay here in my home?”

“A pretty big fool, I guess. And what about the job you told me she gave me. She said she ain't giving me no job.”

“I'm sorry about that, Eric. That happened last night, and I didn't have a chance to tell you. But you will be getting a job, and it will be there.”

“What do you mean?” Eric asked. “How?”

“I may not work there, but my name is on that company just like Sissy's. We're going to get you a position there, even if we have to do it without her knowing,” I said, walking over to the table and grabbing an armload of the clothes. “You're going to need these for when you start.”

“Are you sure?” Eric said, not looking very confident.

“I'm Cobi Aiden Winslow,” I said, playfully. “I'd like to think that still means something. Now come on, grab the rest. We'll put these back in your room, then how about I take you and your friend out to dinner to make up for my sister?”

“I don't wanna mess up anything between you two. I'm just—”

“My brother,” I said, answering for Eric. “Now come on.”

D
inner smelled delicious, Blac thought, as he walked into the kitchen from the bedroom. He was wearing his usual, jeans, T-shirt, and do-rag tied over his shaved head.

Theresa was at the stove, her back to him, putting the finishing touches on the meal, as he rubbed the palms of his hands together in preparation for digging in. “Mmmm, mmm, smells fantastic,” Blac said. “What you cook?”

“Shrimp, pasta, and grilled chicken breasts with a side of asparagus,” Theresa said, not turning around. “But it'll just be a few minutes. Have a seat, baby.”

Theresa came over to the table and had a seat across from Blac. Her new weave was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked cute, Blac thought.

“Like I said, we got a few minutes till dinner is ready,” Theresa said, folding her hands on the table. “So I thought I could take this moment to tell you something I been wanting to say.”

“Okay, baby,” Blac said, throwing an arm over the back of his chair and leaning back.

“First, I'm gonna need for you to take that do-rag off your head while you're at my table.”

Blac had to take a second to make sure he'd heard Theresa correctly. “But I always wear my rag at the table.”

“I know. That's what I want to talk to you about. And I will, as soon as you lose the do-rag. Blac, I'm serious.”

Hearing the conviction in her voice, Blac slowly untied the scarf from around his head. He balled it up and stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans.

“Thank you.”

“Now what's this all about? I'm hungry,” Blac said.

Theresa cleared her voice. “I been with you six years. The four years you just been away, and the two years before that. I been good to you, and you been taking advantage of that.”

“Now hold on—”

“No, Blac. You listen to me. I'm talking,” Theresa said, not harshly, but almost asking permission to continue. “All that shady stuff you got going on, like the other night. That stuff gotta stop. And I need to be treated better now. You have to do your share. Clean up around here, take out the garbage, and whatever else I need help with. I'm getting older, I'm tired of doing it all myself, and you ain't a child of mine, so I shouldn't have to. I need you to act like you want to be here, not that you have nowhere else to go.”

This is complete and total bullshit
, Blac thought, but he nodded his head, faked a smile, and said, “Okay, you right. I can do that.”

“You can?” Theresa said, a smile coming to her face. She looked down at her folded hands, as if taking a moment to find courage. “So, like I said, I'm getting older. I don't do all I do for you and let you stay here because I need a roommate. I wanna be married, Blac.”

Blac clamped his jaws together to keep from telling her just where she could go with that nonsense. “We had this discussion before and—”

“And we're having it again.”

“And what happens if I say I can't marry you?”

This time Theresa didn't take time to prepare her answer, she just came straight out with it. “I gave you a few days to lay back and get treated like a king. I know what I'm worth, and I know what I deserve. If you can't get it together in the next few days, I want you gone, she said,” getting up from the table.