Snapped (7 page)

Gillian was born a year later. Mayra went all out, buying the most expensive strollers and baby clothes, having the most elaborate christening party, decking out the nursery in their opulent home with designer trimmings. Celia, meanwhile, faded into the background and never complained or made waves. Nobles continued to pay all of her bills and expenses. In return, Celia never moved another man into her home to play father to his son. Celia was a dignified woman who saved her money for her son, invested wisely, and lived a life of quiet luxury. Gillian’s mother was the total opposite. She lived for the limelight, the glitz and glamour. Everyone warned Nobles that he would go broke trying to keep up with her. But he loved her anyway and let her do as she pleased. To this day, she spent like there was no end to her husband’s wealth, and Nobles didn’t utter a word. All he had ever cared about was that she made him happy. As long as she did that, she could have whatever she wanted. Meanwhile, Nobles saw to it that his children—his yin and his yang—grew up side by side.

Now Nobles nodded and smiled at his beautiful wife. She still made him weak after so many years. Mayra kept
her body in excellent shape and wore the most expensive clothes to show it off. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Satisfied, Mayra smiled and winked at her husband. “Frankie, it’s good to see you,” she said. “Will you be there with Gillian tonight?”

Frankie looked caught off guard, and Gillian frowned since she had already told her mother that she wasn’t inviting Frankie to the party. It was moments like these that she wanted to slap her mother for starting shit all the time.

“Ma, I told you I’m going alone.” Gillian spoke through nearly clenched teeth. “Frankie’s busy.”

Frankie noticed the tension between the mother and daughter, so he decided not to point out the fact that he wasn’t busy at all that night. In fact, he had planned to go home and spend a rare night alone with his wife. But since there was a party going on, he would have much preferred to spend the evening there instead of watching Lifetime movies with Camille. Plus, he had some questions for Gillian. What was she trying to do? He wanted to know exactly what had prompted her to tell Nobles about her brother’s altercation with Dusty.

“I see.” Mayra smiled. “Well, next time then,” she said to Frankie before leaving to prepare for the evening’s big bash.

When she was gone, Frankie looked at Gillian and noticed that her posture had stiffened considerably since Mayra had mentioned the party. Gillian wasn’t about to spend a night being interrogated by Frankie. She knew that he would want answers about why she had filled her father in on the beef between Baron and Dusty. The truth was that it was clear in Gillian’s mind that her brother was headed to either prison or a cemetery. He was living dangerously. And she had learned too much from the men in her life to let her
family’s hard work go up in smoke because of Baron’s foolishness. Gillian had felt for years that Frankie was her father’s true heir apparent. And she knew Frankie well enough to know that he felt ambushed by her and her father. Gillian wasn’t ready to face his many questions. Not tonight.

Nobles noticed the tension in the room as Gillian fiddled with the rings on her hands while Frankie stole glances at her every few moments. Nobles could see clearly what was happening between the two young people who sat across from him. They were falling in love, and doing everything they could to fight it. He thought the whole thing was very amusing. He certainly could not have chosen a better husband for his precious baby girl than Frankie. The problem was that Frankie was already married. And even though Nobles loved Frankie like a son, he would kill him if he ever broke his daughter’s heart.

He cleared his throat, ending the silence that had engulfed them. “Well, you two, I’m going to get myself together for tonight. Frankie, don’t forget what I said. Baron listens to you. Make it happen.”

Frankie nodded. “I’ll try.”

He retrieved Nobles’s wheelchair and assisted him into it. Greta appeared again and wheeled the old man to his bedroom while Gillian and Frankie were left standing alone in the expansive living room.

“So you know I’m not busy tonight, right?” Frankie asked, his hands tucked in his pockets.

Gillian was stuck. “Oh,” she said. “I just assumed that you’d be with Camille. You haven’t spent a night at home in weeks.” Gillian really didn’t give a damn whether Frankie spent time with Camille or not. She was really just trying to
avoid his inevitable questions. “Besides, it’s just my aunt Serena’s birthday party. You’d probably be bored.”

Frankie nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re right.” He wondered why he resented the notion of being with his own wife as opposed to spending the evening in Gillian’s presence. He shook it off. “So you wanna tell me what all this was about today?”

She looked at him sheepishly. “Not now, Frankie. I gotta go get ready for this party.”

He knew she was just stalling, but he decided not to push it. After all, she hadn’t told her father
everything
. So this conversation could wait one more day. Still, he wondered why she seemed to be pushing him toward the door faster than usual. A thought occurred to Frankie. Was Gillian expecting company?

“You’re going to the party with that Wall Street clown, ain’t you?” The look on his face was a mixture of suspicion and disappointment. Gillian hadn’t even admitted it yet, and already he knew her well enough to suspect that she was back together with Sasquatch, or whatever his name was.

Gillian had to suppress a smile. Frankie was clearly jealous of her relationship with the stockbroker. “He may come. Depends on whether or not he has to work late.”

Frankie nodded, secretly pissed that Gillian’s bourgeois boy toy would be with her that night. Knowing that he had no right to be jealous, he shrugged it off. “Call me later, after the party. I’ll be at home.”

Gillian nodded, following Frankie to the door. As he stepped back out into the chilly rain, Frankie put his hood on, then bid Gillian farewell and trotted off to his car parked in the driveway. She watched him jog away, missing him before he even reached his car. As he started it, backed
up, and drove off, she continued to watch him—all the way down the long and winding driveway that led to their estate. Even as his car faded from sight, she found herself staring after it, the scent of him still lingering in the foyer he’d stood in only moments prior. Finally, Greta shuffled by, snapping Gillian out of her reverie, and she shut the door at last.

“This muthafucka thinks I’m playing!”

Misa threw her cell phone into her purse and shoved two twelve-packs of toilet tissue in her shopping cart. Her ex-husband, Louis, had just canceled on her for the third time in a row. That meant that she would have to tell her poor son, Shane, that once again, Daddy wasn’t coming for him. It also meant that, without a babysitter, she couldn’t go out tonight as she had planned. She seethed as she turned into the next aisle.

Camille could see the rage burning in her sister’s eyes after her conversation with her ex. She followed Misa at a safe distance, knowing that she would talk about it when she was ready. Camille quietly perused the shelves at BJ’s, a wholesale store just over the bridge in New Jersey. Coming to this “low-budget” warehouse was beneath her, but she’d come along with Misa anyway. The plan was for them to do some school shopping for Shane before he and his mother headed home to meet Louis for his weekend visitation. Camille seldom turned down an opportunity to shop, so she had happily
tagged along. Stopping off at this superstore wasn’t on her agenda, though. She walked behind her sister, hoping that she was almost done shopping, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Misa heading for the cash registers.

They stood on line, and finally Misa filled the silence. “That son of a bitch is so selfish, Camille.” Misa looked at the floor and shook her head. She was truly hurting for her child, who was always disappointed by his no-good father.

Camille wished there was something she could do to make it easier on her sister. She couldn’t imagine how it must feel to have a rat-bastard husband abandon you. “Misa, Shane is loved. With or without Louis’s dumb ass.” They moved forward slightly in the line. “You don’t need him. If you want to go out this weekend, I’ll keep Shane.”

Misa brightened a little. That meant that she wouldn’t have to cancel her plans with the guy she had met at Almond earlier in the week. “Thank you, Camille,” she said. “But that’s not the point. Louis should want to spend time with his son. I shouldn’t have to argue with him to get him to do that. And he should be man enough to step away from that bitch he’s living with so that he can build a relationship with Shane. I’m sick of him, for real.” Misa took a deep breath. Her eyes seemed almost sorrowful. “I don’t want to wind up like Mama, living alone, struggling to get by. This single-mother thing is so hard!”

Camille wanted to hug her younger sister and assure her that things would get easier. But they were next in line, and so instead she helped Misa load her laundry detergent, toilet tissue, and paper towels—enough to stock most homes for an entire season—onto the conveyor belt. Misa handed over her store card and then foraged through her purse for her
credit card. Coming up empty, she leaned against the shopping cart and rifled through her bag in search of enough cash to pay the $87.46 total.

As she saw her sister struggling to come up with the money, Camille came to the rescue, handing over her own credit card to pay for it.

“Thank you,” Misa said again, smiling slightly. “I mean that, Camille. I’m just gonna go home, pick up Shane, and stay home this weekend. I’ll go shopping one day after work next week, since I forgot my wallet at home.”

Camille helped Misa load her bags into the shopping cart, and they headed for the parking lot. On the way, Camille stopped her. “Let’s still go shopping,” she suggested. “My treat. We’ll get Shane whatever he needs for school, and we’ll get a little something for ourselves, too. Whatcha think?”

Misa lit up. “Wow, Camille.” She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “Okay. I guess that’ll take my mind off of Louis’s dumb ass.”

They laughed and walked to the car, ready for some retail therapy.

Toya was on
her way to her car after locking up her home. As she shut her gate, she saw her neighbor from across the street strolling over in her direction. She had only seen this character on a few occasions, exiting and entering his house. He always had a smile and a wave for her, and she would barely acknowledge him before scurrying inside her own plush surroundings. She unlocked her car and opened the door, tossing her Chanel bag onto the passenger seat as she prepared to climb inside.

“Excuse me,” her neighbor said as he approached her car. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Toya turned around and got a good look at her neighbor up close for the first time. He was average height with a muscular build and a deep voice. But that face! Toya recoiled slightly, thinking that he had to be the ugliest man she’d seen since meeting Flavor Flav back in the nineties at a Brooklyn rally for Tawana Brawley.

“What’s up?” she asked curtly, eager to get away from this ugly bastard. “I’m in a rush right now.”

He nodded. “I understand. I just wanted to introduce myself. We live across the street from each other but I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced.” He held his hand out. “My name is Russell.”

She took his hand and shook it lightly. “Toya,” she said, before she turned and got behind the wheel of her car. She pulled the door, hoping to shut it right in this ugly dude’s face, but he put his arm out and stopped the door from closing. She looked at him, taking in his Southpole jeans and plaid shirt. He had no flavor and he was ugly as sin. She glared at him icily.

“Okay, Toya,” he said, smiling. Toya couldn’t help noticing that smiling only made the situation worse. He looked like a monster! “Well, I noticed that you’re single.”

“You noticed that, huh?” she said sarcastically. She hated neighbors who were so aware of her comings and goings. Most of the homes on her residential block were occupied by families—husbands with wives who watched Toya like a hawk, insecure around the single femme fatale who could afford to live in their tony neighborhood without the luxury of a husband. Now she was finding out that this beast was watching her as well.

He nodded. “Yes, I did. So I was hoping that you’d let me take you out sometime. Maybe go to dinner or—”

Toya was immediately offended. “Why would
I
go out with
you
?” Her face expressed her disgust and complete amazement that a man this hideous would ever think he had a chance with a woman like her.

The beast seemed taken aback. “Well . . .”

“Sorry,” Toya cut him off. “I gotta go.” She pulled her car door shut and started her car, then peeled away, leaving her dejected neighbor staring off after her. She glanced at him again in her rearview mirror and shuddered. “Ugh! The nerve!”

Octavia sat on
the train heading to her dance class after a tough day at school. It was Friday afternoon, and that meant that her grandfather was attending kidney dialysis.

Bill Storms’s kidneys had begun to fail six years ago, and he opted not to have a kidney transplant. The list for a donor kidney was incredibly long, and the odds of him getting one before his own kidneys completely shut down were small. When he broke the news to his daughters, their responses had been as different as they were. Whitney, his eldest child, told him that she would do research to aid him in his search for a kidney—even going so far as to suggest that they could buy one with all the clout and connections she had. She knew that in foreign countries there were channels through which these things could be done for a reasonable fee. Bill had declined, though he thanked Whitney for her offer.

Dominique, on the other hand, had a different response altogether. “You can have one of mine, Daddy,” she’d said.
“You only need one to survive. And I’m young and healthy. Let’s get tested to see if I’m a match.” Bill had been extremely touched by that. Within a week, Dominique had gone with him for a battery of tests to determine if she was a viable kidney donor for her dad. As it turned out, she was a perfect match. Still, Bill refused to take her kidney.