Troy knew that he was in too deep with Crystal. She consumed his thoughts when they weren’t together. And at moments like this when they were, he wished he could stop the clock and make time stand still. He was falling for her, hard and fast. And he knew it. Something about it felt right. He wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something different and oddly intoxicating about her. Hers had been a slow seduction that he never saw coming. He felt safe with her. Like he could let down his guard. That was what he was doing now as he answered her question about his uncle.
Troy sighed. “The organization my uncle runs is basically a halfway house for newly released inmates. He really does find them housing and employment. That much is true.” He looked at Crystal. “But, really, it’s just a way for him to account for the money he gets illegally.”
“Where does the money really come from? Guns, drugs?”
Troy shook his head. “That’s a question I never bothered to ask. At the end of the day, to be honest I don’t really care.”
“It sounds like your brother thinks your father is a hypocrite.”
Troy nodded.
“In a way he is, though.” Crystal stroked his arm.
He frowned.
“You both are, really.” She saw the confused look on his face. “Your brother makes money in the streets and you don’t. So you think that makes you innocent?”
Something in Troy’s expression shifted, but she kept going.
“You want to know what I think?” she asked.
Troy hesitated before finally nodding.
“You speak about your uncle and your brother as if they’re the only ones whose hands are dirty. But you’re not as squeaky-clean as you think. You reap the rewards of having a thug for a big brother. Having an uncle who runs Harlem. A father whose name opens certain doors in certain circles … all of that works in your favor. And, then you get to grandstand and poke your chest out because you’re the ‘good son.’ The one who gets all the benefits without incurring all the risk.”
Troy stared back at her in silence. Her words stung.
“I know guys like Wes,” she said, rubbing her hand across Troy’s bare chest. “I grew up around them. Guys who use their size and their power to intimidate other people.” She cupped his face in her hands. Staring down at him, she inhaled his scent. “I know men like your father, too. The ones who think the rules should apply to everybody except them. And men like you,” she said, “who look so unblemished in the public eye. But behind closed doors, they’re the most dangerous of them all.”
She smiled widely, her eyes twinkling.
He laughed at that assessment. “Dangerous?” he repeated. “Is that what you think I am?” He pulled her closer, his hands cupping her ass beneath the sheets.
She squealed.
“There’s nothing dangerous about me,” he said. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”
She traced his lips with her fingers. “I wouldn’t let you.”
* * *
Troy slept soundly on his back, his chest rising and falling slowly with each contented breath. Crys snored lightly, her head on his chest, one arm spread out across his body. With their legs intertwined, they lay tangled together after a blissful night of lovemaking, conversation, and room service. Crys had gotten answers, for better or worse, and had gone to sleep content in his arms. She thought she was dreaming when her cell phone began to vibrate on the bedside table. It took a while before the sound of it stirred her from her dream.
She looked at the caller ID. Vanessa. She looked over at Troy, alarmed. He was still asleep. Crystal looked at the time. It was 8:41 A.M.
She slipped out of bed, and ducked into the bathroom. She locked the door, and climbed into the empty bathtub, pulling the shower door shut as if doing so created a soundproof barrier of some sort. The last thing she wanted was for Troy to wake up.
“Hello?” she whispered.
“Crystal?” Vanessa sounded like she was crying.
She answered in the same hushed whisper. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m sorry, I’m in a meeting. Is everything okay?”
Vanessa was definitely crying. Crystal could hear her sniffling.
“Troy is cheating on me. I know he is.”
Crystal shut her eyes, and chided herself for answering.
“Calm down, Vanessa. What happened?”
“He stayed out last night. Now he’s not answering my calls.”
“Listen, it could be anything. Don’t jump to conclusions.” Crystal leaned her head against the bathroom wall. She heard Troy moving around in the suite. She climbed out of the shower, still whispering. “You think he’s hurt?”
“I don’t know,” Vanessa whined.
Crystal squeezed her eyes shut. “Let me call you back after my meeting. Okay?”
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Vanessa said. “I just don’t have anybody else I can talk to.”
Crystal felt lower than before. “It’s no problem,” she lied. “I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
She hung up the phone, and cursed under her breath.
When she emerged, Troy was sitting on the edge of the bed.
He greeted her with a smile on his face so wide that it made her smile, too. She walked over and he pulled her close.
“I wish I could stay right here with you all day.”
She lay beside him propped up on one elbow. “Why can’t you? My schedule is clear for once.”
He pouted. “Dru is forcing me to meet with those same investors I introduced you to at his party. Today’s the day they cut the big checks. I can’t get out of it.”
“Congratulations. What time is your meeting?”
“Three o’clock at my office. I should be finished by four thirty. I can come to Brooklyn after that.” He was anxious to get back in her arms again.
She thought about it. Maybe this was all going too far.
Troy seemed to read her thoughts. “I’m not in love with Vanessa.”
She looked at him.
“Running for office is my father’s chance to get his own identity. For years, he’s been tied to my uncle.” Troy thought about how he felt when he learned that his uncle’s drug money had financed his father’s businesses. That the seed money to start the family business had come from Uncle Don’s illegal dealings. Stuart Mitchell had started as a front for Uncle Don’s money. Money that had financed their rise from low-level street hustlers to power brokers, both in the entertainment industry and in the streets.
“My father needs me to play this game. To string her along for a while so he can stay close to her father.” He shook his head. “That’s all it is. I don’t love her. The only woman who has my attention right now is you.”
Crystal hated herself for believing him.
He left just after 10:00 A.M., and she didn’t wash his scent off right away. She lay in the bed until late checkout time, then rode home on the subway, still smelling him with every step she took.
She opened the door to her brownstone and knew right away that something wasn’t right. The house felt different, the energy somehow off. She walked into the kitchen and noticed that the toaster was positioned at an odd angle. She was compulsive about things like that and knew she would never have left it that way. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention and she grabbed a knife off the butcher block. Slowly, she stepped through her kitchen and into the adjoining dining room. Her heart pounded in her chest as two figures came into focus. One of them large and looming, his face set in a menacing scowl. The relief of recognition washed over her. Tyson. Her eyes darted to the man standing behind him, smiling.
She dropped everything.
“Daddy?”
Quincy smiled at his daughter. “Hey, Sydney.”
* * *
Vanessa stood by the door with her bags packed. Tears streamed down her face and Troy was pretending that he wanted her to stay.
“It’s too much,” she was saying. “It’s bad enough that things are shaky between us. But this whole thing with your brother. Now you’re staying out all night. We should just take a break for a while.”
“I told you what happened. I was drunk. Dru took me home, and let me crash on his couch. You can ask his wife.” Dru and his wife often lied for Troy, providing him with alibis for times like this.
“I know, but—”
“Listen.” Troy pulled her toward him. Reluctantly, she melted into his arms. “I’ve been distracted lately. You’re right. Work has my mind going in a million different directions at once. Wes is another headache. But I’m dealing with him.” He squeezed her tighter. “None of that has anything to do with how I feel about you. You’re my baby. We’re getting married. I fucked up last night. I shouldn’t have stayed out all night. But I was at Dru’s house. On his couch.” He kissed her forehead. “You’ve been thinking too much again. You know how you get.” He tickled her until she giggled. Once he saw her dimples, he knew he was back in.
He gave her his credit card and let her buy some new shoes. Then he hit her with the next swindle.
“I’m going out of town for a few days. I’ll be back on Sunday.”
She didn’t argue. That was the Vanessa he was used to. The one who didn’t challenge him, didn’t ask too many questions. Lately, that was changing. The engagement itself had come after Vanessa and her mother had applied the full-court press on him like they were basketball wives on steroids.
He packed a bag, kissed her good-bye, and headed for Brooklyn.
* * *
She dabbed at her eyes, overcome with emotion at the sight of her father. Free, unshackled, in his own clothes, and without the watchful gaze of guards. He was home. She hadn’t stopped smiling since she saw him.
“I still can’t believe you lied to me about your release date.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell the whole truth.” He looked at his nephew Tyson. “I wanted to ride home with my nephew here and drop in unannounced.”
Tyson grunted. A large, looming presence, her cousin was a sight to behold. To say that he was the muscle of the family was putting it mildly. He was a man of few words. But he loved his favorite uncle Quincy.
“I listened to everything you told me while I was away. About your big brownstone in Brooklyn, and your fancy car, and all that. But I wanted to see how you’re really living.” He looked around. “I’m impressed, baby girl.”
She stared at him. “What happened, Daddy?” Her voice was small, like the little girl who wished she was brave enough to ask it years ago. “The whole story, I mean. The truth. What happened with the diamonds?”
Quincy looked at her and realized he had never been able to tell her. His phone calls, letters, and visits were closely monitored and recorded. For the first time, it truly hit him that he was free. He resisted the urge to cry and lit a cigarette instead.
He cleared his throat.
“You know I was hustling back then. I used to get money with this nigga and his crew uptown. Long story short, Don was doing his thing. He had the connect, and his boys were ruthless. They were into everything. Drugs, guns, breaking and entering, scams, you name it. Money!” He clapped his hands together for emphasis and flicked the ash from his cigarette into the plastic ashtray on the table.
“I used to fuck with them—” He looked at his daughter apologetically. “Pardon my language, baby girl. You know I been away a long time. That’s the way niggas talk in there.” His smile melted her heart.
She shook her head at him, laughing. “Please! You must not remember that I grew up with Aunt Pat.”
Quincy laughed. He remembered that his sister-in-law cursed like a drunken sailor. He couldn’t wait to see her again and catch up on all that he had missed.
“So, you used to fuck with this crew from uptown,” she reminded him.
Quincy chuckled, hearing her curse. She would always be his baby girl, even though she was turning twenty-nine this year.
“We was tight. Or so I thought. We used to party together, travel. Him and his wife, me and your mother. Anyway, one day, he came and told me about a hookup he had in Midtown. Some jewelry store. We could run up in there, get a couple of pieces, and be out. He had a guy who worked there. He was gonna buzz us in and he knew the owner would be there that day. The owner was the only one with the safe combination. That was where the good shit was. So, we mapped it out, made sure the guy on the inside was ready, and we did it. Just me and him. We got in there and we tell him what time it is … this is a robbery and all that. This muthafucka … the owner? He gonna tell the nigga to kiss his ass. He’s not opening the safe. The inside guy is trying to act like he don’t know us, because the plan was never for anybody to get hurt. At least not on my part.”
He paused and took a long drag of his cigarette. He had repeated these events in his mind so many times. Still, it was painful to say it all out loud.
“I’m watching the guy the whole time, telling him to do it or he’s gonna get hurt. I got my gun on him. The situation was under control.” He shook his head. “The nigga hits the guy in the face with his gun. Busts his face wide open. The guy is leaking all over the place. Now he’s scared. He’s sorry. He’s gonna give up the combination. He gives it up and I walk over to the safe, open it up, start pulling shit out. Next thing I know I hear a shot.”
She felt like she was there. She tried to imagine how her father must have felt in those moments.
“Don shot the guy in the head. The guy was squirming, struggling to like … live.” Quincy shook his head. “Don shot him again. The guy on the inside—fucking Shu from uptown. Snitch nigga. Anyway, he started bugging out, spazzing. ‘Yo, what the fuck?’ Don is cool as a cucumber. He looked at me and was like, ‘Q, you got the shit?’ I nodded, and we got the fuck out of there.” He took one last drag on his cigarette and stomped it out in the ashtray.
“We got in the car and he was dead silent. I didn’t have nothing to say to him. Far as I was concerned, he was crazy. He didn’t have to kill that man. At the same time, I was there with him so there was only so much I could say. I knew I shouldn’t have been there. All day I kept feeling like I shouldn’t go.” He shook his head in regret over the one decision he wished he could go back and change. “Something in my gut was just like … it wasn’t right. I went anyway and now there was a fucking manhunt for the killers of an Orthodox Jew store owner in the Diamond District. Shit was hot. He dropped me off in Brooklyn and I thought he would come in and we would split it all up like usual. But when we got there, he was like, ‘You hold it, Q. I gotta go back to Manhattan. It’s gonna be hot. Just hold it. I’ll come get mine.’ And he left. That was the last time I seen Don.”
She stared at her father, anxious for him to continue. He sipped his Heineken before continuing.
“I couldn’t sleep that night. I stayed up, thinking. I felt like something wasn’t right. Don had fucked up, killed this man. Both of us were wanted for robbery. I woke your mother up early the next morning. I told her to pack as much of her shit in a little overnight bag as possible. I gave her a bunch of money and told her to go stay with your aunt and your grandmother in Staten Island until I came to get her.”
He recalled the look on Georgi’s face that morning. She looked afraid, but was doing her best to put on a brave face. She had taken the kids, the money, and the diamonds and gone into hiding.
“I told her not to contact me no matter what. And I waited. I wanted to see if Don was gonna get greedy when he came for the diamonds. Cuz we had a lot. Ten loose stones. Clear babies! A bunch of other shit. We had over a million dollars in jewelry. But we couldn’t move it. Too risky at the time. Then Shu’s dumb ass let the cops get inside his head. Next thing I know, Don is locked up. The cops are questioning him. I should have ran then.” He lit another cigarette.
“Why didn’t you?” she asked. It was the logical thing to do.
He smiled. “Georgi loved New York. And I didn’t want to leave my family behind. So, I waited.” He exhaled the smoke. “I figured the cops couldn’t prove shit if they couldn’t find shit. Sure enough, they came. They called themselves raiding our little house in Brooklyn early one morning. I was ready for them, though. They didn’t find shit. Then they searched my car.”
He looked at her then. “They found a gun in my car that wasn’t mine. I didn’t put it there. Never used it. In fact, there were no fingerprints on it at all. Like somebody cleaned it. But it was the murder weapon. I knew right then that Don had set me up.”
Quincy’s jaw tensed. “They still didn’t have the jewels, though. Your mother had them. But they didn’t need them. Don got out and I went to jail for murder.”
Her heart broke all over again for her dad. He had not been innocent. By his own admission, he had set out to rob the jewelry store, but he hadn’t gone to jail for that. Instead, he went away for a crime that his so-called friend had committed and framed him for.
“So now it’s your turn,” Quincy said. He tapped his cigarette over the ashtray and smirked. “What happened with this guy you met at college? How did he find you?”
She frowned a bit at the way he had phrased the question. He seemed to be implying that Troy had set out after her like a hunter. She shook her head. “We met at college. He was in my math class and I was struggling. He tutored me and we fell in love.” She didn’t look at her father, afraid that she might see skepticism on his face. She couldn’t handle that. At this point, she needed to believe that it had been real.
“When we came home for the holidays, he invited me to meet his family.”
“Where was your mother?” Quincy had wondered for years why Georgi would ever allow their daughter to go to such an occasion without her.
She didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that her mother had been out gallivanting with her flavor of the week. “I can’t remember,” she lied. “It was the holidays. She might have gone out shopping or something. Anyway, Destiny went with me. They lived in Harlem, but on the richer side of it.”
Quincy nodded. He had been to Fox’s home many times for social gatherings. Don’s brother tried to pretend that he was above the street life. But Quincy knew that there had been plenty of times when Fox called on his little brother to fix his problems. Fox wasn’t getting his hands dirty directly, but he was in on it, too. The big house uptown had been one of the ways Don came through for him. He got the permits and building inspections done under the table, and Fox was able to conduct an expensive renovation with practically no red tape.
“I met his uncle at that party.” She could scarcely say the man’s name now. It was synonymous with so much pain, both emotional and physical for her family. “He seemed nice. But when I looked back on it later, he was baiting me. Questioning me.” She shook her head. She had been so eager to impress Troy’s family and friends. What a fool she felt like now. “I never thought he would know you. What were the chances of that?” She laughed at the absurdity even now. “I listened to you earlier when you spoke about your days as a hustler. But I was too little to remember any of that. My earliest memories are of Staten Island, living with Mommy and Malik, eating over at Aunt Pat’s and Grandma’s house. It was a much smaller world than the one you described today.”
Quincy nodded again.
“I knew you as Daddy and not as this gangsta. So I’m sitting there running my mouth about you, about Mommy.” She shook her head at herself. “Later at the hospital when we were waiting for Malik to come out of the coma, Destiny remembered something. She said that Troy’s uncle looked at his brother funny when I said Mommy’s name. Then, when I said your name, she thought she saw the uncle smile a little. She shrugged it off at the time. When we left, Troy’s uncle had his driver take us home. I guess that’s how they found out where we lived.”
Quincy shot a look at his daughter. It was unsettling to her. For a brief moment, he seemed almost angry.
“You’re bugging.” He shook his head, dismayed, and swigged the last of his beer. “They found out where we lived the first time your boyfriend came to pick you up.”
Crys felt dread wash over her. She shook her head.
“He was in on it the whole time,” Quincy said. “You telling me that all this time you thought this nigga Troy was innocent?” He wanted to laugh at her. If she had been one of the dudes in jail, he would have roasted her mercilessly. But she was his daughter, so he went easy on her. He wished more than ever that he had been around when she was growing up. He would have never raised a daughter this naïve. “The whole thing was a setup, and he was in on it.” He said it with finality, as if believing otherwise made her a total fool.
She swallowed. She felt an incredible tug-of-war in her heart between the love she had for her father and the love she had never stopped feeling for Troy.
“Daddy,” she said softly. “He didn’t know anything about you when we were at Howard.”
“He had to,” Quincy said defiantly. “You said yourself that you weren’t raised in the streets. He was. He had to be if he was Don’s nephew.”
She still looked doubtful and it pissed him off.
“So you’re telling me his brother was in the streets enough to beat your brother to death, but this nigga Troy was spotless?”
“I’m saying—”
“He done sold you on that same shit Fox is selling.” Quincy altered his voice and posture mockingly. “Oh, no. I’m not like my brother. My brother is the bad guy. I’m the businessman.” He laughed, although the situation didn’t amuse him much. “That nigga played you, baby girl.”
She felt like crying. She hated that her father was so convinced. It was causing her to doubt her own convictions.
“You’re probably right,” she said. She shrugged.
He got up and took another beer out of the fridge. He was enjoying his newfound freedom. But he hadn’t forgotten how it felt to have it taken from him.
“You do a lot of thinking when you’re locked up. I did mine while I was in solitary for three months when they sent me up north.” He cracked his beer open. “I ain’t no saint, you know what I’m saying? I was wrong. I was getting money the fast way. I chose to go in there and rob that man. I could have dealt with it better if I went away for robbery. I did that. But I didn’t kill that man. I didn’t shoot him twice at point-blank range. It was nineteen ninety-one the last time I got to walk around like this and get my own beer whenever I felt like it. Nineteen ninety-one! Think about that. All for something I didn’t do. And the man that did do it … the nigga who put his hands on my wife and killed my only son, and played mind games with my daughter”—he shook his head at the weight of it all—“he gonna walk away with no time served?” Quincy smiled sinisterly and shook his head. “Nah.”
He swigged his beer, set it down on the table, and looked at his daughter.
She sighed and the tears came back again.
Quincy watched her closely. He had spoken to his wife and was well aware that their daughter had gone quite far in her quest for revenge. He could see that it had taken its toll on her. Tears poured from her eyes faster than her tissues could keep up. He knew that the weight of it all had finally begun to crush her.
“Malik would be proud of you.” He saw her back straighten and her tears slow as the words sank in. “He would look at everything you’ve done and he would be proud. He would tell you it’s not your fault.”
She choked back a sob and squeezed her eyes shut.
“It’s not your fault, Sydney. That’s what he would tell you. You didn’t know. There was no way you could know.” Quincy stood up and walked over to where his daughter sat. He squatted beside her so that they were eye to eye.
Tyson stood watching silently in the corner.
“You came this far. You don’t have to go any further. I’ll take it from here, baby girl.” Quincy wiped her tears.
She sniffled and shook her head. “No. I want to finish what I started. But the plan has changed a little bit. I think we can take the whole family down.”
* * *
She got her dad settled in at his new place and picked up takeout from her favorite place on the way home. She took a much-needed shower and got ready for Troy’s arrival. She felt safer on her home turf now that her father was home and still her hands shook slightly from nervousness.
Troy arrived right on time. She peeked out between the blinds and watched him approach her door. His walk had always turned her on. Tonight was no exception. He rang the doorbell and she greeted him, smiling.
“Hello.” She held the door wide.
He stepped into her foyer and took off his coat. She hung it up in the hall closet and then turned to face him again. She drank him all in. His toned chest bulged against the black T-shirt he wore. His biceps peeked out from beneath its sleeves. His ebony skin shone against the dark denim jeans he wore. He kicked off his construction Timbs at the door. He looked delectable.
He stepped into the living room. “I can tell you decorated this place yourself. It’s feminine and masculine at the same time. Just like you.”
Crystal scoffed at that. “I am not!”
Troy nodded. “You are. All tough and fragile at the same time.”
She shrugged. She wasn’t sure that she agreed, but she chose not to argue now. “Okay.”
She offered no protest when he came near. She didn’t pretend not to want it just as badly as he did. She kissed him, throwing all of her caution and concern to the wind. She led him by the hand down the hall to her bedroom. As they climbed into her bed, she felt all the doubt and uncertainty fall away. She told herself that this was all part of the plan.