Mafioso [Part 2] Page 4

  “They’re making our feet look brand-new,” Lucky said.

  Layla smiled. “Like baby feet.”

  After everything they’d been through, it would be beyond tragic if Layla lost another child, especially the one daughter she had left. Those monsters had barely left her alive.

  So far, Scott and his men weren’t able to hunt down the animals responsible for the deaths of their children and Lucky’s assault. Their organization was supposed to be feared and respected, but now they were looking weak and vulnerable.

  Layla looked at her daughter and knew she would never be the same. The slight disfigurement to her eye made her insecure. She looked like she had been the victim of an acute stroke, with the right side of her face looking paralyzed. Lucky was still a lovely-looking woman, but she was no longer the flawless beauty she once was.

  Layla downed the champagne and demanded more. There was a server close by to fulfill their needs. She asked, and they obliged. Champagne, caviar, snacks, and even hookah were all there for them to enjoy.

  Lucky asked Layla out of the blue, “Do you trust Whistler?”

  Layla was surprised by the sudden question. “Why did you ask that? Whistler is family, Lucky.”

  “He’s smart, Mother. Very intelligent. And for him to be so smart, why’s he been working under Daddy for so many years? I mean, he could have broken away from the organization and started his own thing.”

  “It’s called loyalty, Lucky, something Whistler knows everything about. He and your father have been through hell and back together, and they respect each other. Plus, Whistler is smart enough to know that breaking away from the organization would create a war between them.”

  Lucky appeared to be in deep thought about something.

  Layla quickly picked up on her daughter’s serious demeanor. “Is there something that you ain’t telling me?”

  “I’m just talking, that’s all.”

  More champagne came, and Layla didn’t waste any time enjoying it.

  The pedicure treatment felt rewarding; it was the perfect remedy for stress. There was more girl talk between the two. The day was turning out to be perfect. Perfect days felt rare after the attacks on the family. But knowing there was still a threat out there, security was close by, and Layla herself had a .380 concealed in her stylish purse.

  “Move to Florida with me, Lucky,” Layla suggested.

  “My life is here,” Lucky replied.

  “I’ve built a beautiful home for you.”

  “Rent it. I’m not interested in Florida. Really, all they got down there is old people and hurricanes.”

  Layla sighed. “You have always been stubborn, Lucky.”

  “You taught me to be independent and tough. And I got a good thing going with Daddy. He don’t treat me like I’m a little girl; he respects me like an equal.”

  Layla didn’t want to talk about Scott. She had her doubts about him, about their marriage, and about his ability to protect their family. Losing three children in such a short time would be something she would never get over.

  The ladies continued their day together, looking and feeling like beauty queens from the expensive spa treatments. They had dinner at the exclusive Eleven Madison Park on Madison Avenue. They were seated inside the private two balcony-level dining room overlooking the main dining room that offered a spectacular view of Madison Square Park through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The large crystal chandelier glimmered with opulence, and the diners all enjoyed five-star meals prepared by some of the finest gourmet chefs in the city.

  Layla downed more champagne and feasted on a delicious meal. Despite some minor setbacks, this was a good life. She could never go back to the way she used to live—nickel-and-dime hustling in Brooklyn and trying to survive. Though their marriage was strained, hooking up with Scott was one of the best decisions she’d made. Fucking Maxine over was a chess move on her part. Besides, Maxine didn’t know how to handle a man like Scott. Layla always felt she was the right woman for him.

  She wanted to continue a conversation with her daughter, but Lucky was soon distracted by her cell phone. She was texting someone. Lucky did grown-people things and moved meth for her father, but she was still a teenager at heart, being eighteen years old.

  “You have a new boyfriend?” Layla asked.

  Lucky barely looked up at her mother and replied, “It’s business.”

  Layla thought dinner with Lucky wasn’t as much fun as the spa. While Lucky was on her smartphone, Layla’s phone buzzed. She didn’t know the number calling, but she didn’t hesitate to answer it. Maybe it was important.

  “Hello?”

  “Layla, hey, it’s me, Maxine.”

  Layla was stunned to hear Maxine’s voice. “Maxine, what’s up? You need something?” Layla asked, nonchalant about the call.

  “I’m home!” Maxine proudly announced.

  What? Home? Layla was taken aback by the sudden news. “How you home?”

  “Paroled,” Maxine said.

  It wasn’t welcome news to Layla. It was the last thing she expected to hear from Maxine. “Where are you?” she asked.

  “I’m at my mother’s.”

  “How long you been home?”

  “A few weeks now.”

  Layla acted like she was happy to hear from Maxine. “Maxine, I can’t wait to see you. Oh my God, you’re home! We need to link up and catch up on lost time.”

  “That’s what I’m calling you about. When can we talk?”

  “Today. I’ll come by.”

  “I’ll be here. Parole is strict, and my movement is limited.”

  The call ended, leaving Layla with a bad taste in her mouth.

  Lucky finally looked up from her smartphone. She noticed her mother’s reaction. “Who was that on the phone?”

  “Your auntie’s home.”

  Those words meant nothing to Lucky. She hated when her mother called Maxine her auntie. How could she care for someone that she’d never met? Yes, she’d heard the stories about how Maxine took the fall for her mother, kept her mouth shut, and did the years. Maxine wasn’t a snitch—hooray! Lucky wasn’t even born yet. It was a long time ago, and she didn’t care for her mother’s dinosaur stories.

  Layla couldn’t wrap her head around Maxine finally being a free woman. She thought it would be a few more years before Maxine was brought before the parole board. Why hadn’t Layla been contacted about it? She had connections everywhere, and yet this flew right over her head.

  She was upset. Now wasn’t the right time for Maxine to be out of prison, especially with things shaky between Scott and her. Layla wanted her life to be perfect when Maxine came home. She expected all of her family to be alive and residing in the sprawling, lavish Florida compound she’d built, and her marriage with Scott would be tighter than ever. She wanted to rub their relationship in Maxine’s face. The pictures she had sent of her family, her wealth, and the vacations they took was only the start. She couldn’t wait for Maxine to see how her life had turned out in the flesh.

  But now things were different. She and her family were knee deep in one crisis after another and under siege from a maniacal mastermind. Maxine would see the tragedy unfold, and the last thing Layla wanted Maxine to see was her suffering and her pain.

  Having her past up close in her inner circle on a consistent basis wasn’t something Layla wanted to undertake. But she knew she had to see Maxine face to face and get this shit over with.

  ***

  It was late in the evening when the black Rolls-Royce Phantom slowly turned the corner onto Blake Avenue. The streets were swamped with people gawking at the sleek chariot moving through their neighborhood. A few neighbors peeked out of their windows at the car and assumed it was a famous rapper visiting his old block to show off and give back.

  Traveling behind the Rolls-Royce were a
black Tahoe and a black Range Rover. Armed goons were in both trucks. All three vehicles were bulletproof.

  Layla and Lucky were comforted by the rich, dark interior of the Phantom with reclining seats. Lucky stared out the window and disapproved of the area. She had other places to be than the slums of Brooklyn, but her mother was adamant about seeing Maxine.

  The Rolls-Royce Phantom stopped in front of Maxine’s home, a meager-looking place in Lucky’s eyes.

  A small crowd gathered on the block to observe the occupants of the vehicle. Many anticipated that it was a celebrity about to exit the magnificent vehicle, so they were ready to snap pictures and record with their smartphones. But when the suicide doors opened and Layla and Lucky stepped out onto the pavement, many were puzzled, asking, “Who they?”

  No one had a clue who these two ladies were, both dressed to the nines and escorted by armed security. Whoever they were, they were rich, if not famous.

  Layla strutted toward Maxine’s home dressed in an exclusive Christian Siriano dress that accentuated her curves, and sporting a pair of diamond-studded Giuseppe Zanotti gladiator heels. Her jewelry gleamed, and her long, caramel hair was flawless. Lucky looked extraordinary too. She was younger and a lot curvier in a yellow dress by Christian Dior, and her long hair was styled over her droopy eye. Her jewelry and body outshined her flaw.

  Maxine saw them coming from her bedroom window. She was shocked that Layla actually showed up, that she kept her word. She saw the extravagant caravan displayed on her block and shook her head in disapproval, knowing it was all to show and prove that Layla’s life was happier and more fulfilled than hers. She chuckled at it and then pulled herself from the bedroom window and went downstairs to greet her “friend.”

  The door opened, and Layla was all smiles, looking like she belonged on the front page of Glamour magazine.

  “Maxine, it’s so good to see you again,” Layla said joyfully, opening her arms and pulling Maxine into a warm hug.

  Reluctantly, Maxine hugged her back and greeted her in a friendly way.

  The show was about to start between them, each woman feigning a warm reception when, in reality, they had contempt for each other.

  As they pulled away from each other, Layla looked Maxine up and down and said, “You look . . . you seem interesting, Maxine.” She eyed the cornrows and worn clothing.

  “And you look like a million bucks, Layla. Life must be good, huh?” Maxine countered wistfully.

  “I can’t complain.”

  “I know you can’t.”

  “It must feel good to be back home.”

  “It is. How’s married life?”

  “Happy,” Layla lied.

  Maxine knew the bitch was unhappy about her kids and everything else going on, but Layla concealed her grief with money and things. She wasn’t fooling Maxine, though.

  Finally, Layla introduced Lucky to her friend. “This is my daughter, Lucky. Lucky, say hi to your auntie.”

  Lucky not only looked like a young Layla but also reminded Maxine of her mother. She had that same brash attitude as Layla.

  Lucky was in no mood to be introduced to a woman she didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Auntie. She hated how her mother easily flung out that word, like it meant something to her. She looked at the dyke-looking bitch with the tore-up hair and Goodwill outfit, and she wanted to get away from her quickly. They weren’t related, so she wasn’t going to call Maxine her aunt. The look on Lucky’s face said it all.

  “She ain’t my fuckin’ aunt,” Lucky blurted out.

  Maxine chuckled at the rude comment. She took no offense to it. “A spitting image of you,” she uttered.

  “She can be a handful,” Layla said.

  “I bet she can.”

  Lucky frowned at Maxine. The woman was a fool for doing hard time for her mother, a lengthy incarceration that took away over half of her life.

  “We’re not staying long, right?” Lucky asked.

  “Lucky, be quiet,” Layla said.

  “I got business to take care of and someplace to be, and she’s your friend, not mine.”

  Maxine was delighted to know she was the one responsible for Lucky’s brutal night with Wacka. The things that maniac and his friend did to her, she could only imagine. She wished there was a video for her to watch, something she could gloat over.

  Layla and Lucky stepped farther into the home, and Lucky immediately turned her nose up at the sad décor. Too old and too cramped for her comfort; immediately she wanted to leave and go sit in the car.

  “This where you live? Prison might have been an upgrade for you.” Lucky chuckled. “It looks like Sanford and Son in here.”

  Maxine frowned. She didn’t like how Lucky disrespected her mother’s place. It was one thing to disrespect her, but when someone talked shit about her mom and her home—the home she grew up in—it rubbed her the wrong way. Lucky was only alive because Maxine didn’t want her dead yet. It was a decision she was regretting. She now wished she had killed Lucky when she had the chance. But Maxine kept her cool.

  “Home will always be home, no matter where I go. I’m grateful, and I’m happy to be here. How’s the family?” Maxine asked calmly, looking at Layla, who didn’t correct her daughter’s rudeness and allowed the disrespect to continue.

  “We okay.”

  “After everything you’ve been through, Layla, I can only imagine the horror. My heart goes out to you. I don’t know how you sleep at nights, knowing everything you and your daughter’s been through.”

  “Scott is handling everything. It’s what my husband does best, handle things,” Layla replied matter-of-factly.

  “Yes, he knows how to handle things. Like how he handled my arrest and my murder trial.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “I hope you’re over it, Maxine,” Layla said with unease. “Let bygones be bygones.”

  “How can I dwell on the past when my best friend is suffering in the present? To lose three children—to have them viciously taken from you in such cruel ways, is karma.”

  “Say what now?”

  “You know, karma.”

  “Actually I don’t know. Are you saying this is my fault?”

  “Isn’t that what you’re thinking?”

  “Why the fuck would I think that bullshit, Maxine?”

  “Layla, you were always too hard on yourself. I thought you would somehow blame yourself, and as your best friend, I am here to tell you that it’s not your fault. So don’t go thinking this is karma,” Maxine said, flipping the script.

  “Hell no, it ain’t my fault.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Neither Layla nor Lucky knew what had just happened.

  “So how does it feel to have twenty-two long years of your life gone?”

  “I’m home now, Layla. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know how I would have survived in there. You looked out for me when you didn’t have to.”

  “It’s what friends do, Maxine.”

  Over the years, Layla had continually bragged to her kids about killing their father’s first baby mama with her bare hands and making Maxine take the fall for it. Lucky knew the story well, and she respected her mother’s doggedness and coldness, and she aspired to become just as coldhearted. And now looking at Maxine in person, she understood why it was so easy to have the girl take the murder rap for her. She appeared weak and stupid for her age. Lucky knew she would have done the same thing her mother had done.

  As the girls continued to converse, Maxine’s elderly mother entered the living room. Her mother remembered Layla. She never liked the girl and always thought she was trouble.

  “Why is she here in my living room?” Maxine’s mother asked harshly.

  “She just came to say hello, Mom.”

&
nbsp; “I don’t want that woman in my house. She ruined your life, she and that evil boyfriend of yours.”

  “Mom, I can handle things. Go upstairs and get some rest.”

  Maxine’s mom glared at Layla and Lucky. Before she went upstairs, she said to Layla, “God doesn’t like ugly, and you have plenty of ugly inside of you, Layla. You’re a wicked person, and you reap what you sow!”

  Layla frowned.

  Lucky wanted to smack the old woman upside her head. No one talked to her mother like that; she didn’t care how old the bitch was.

  Once Maxine’s mother was upstairs, Lucky said to Maxine, “You need to control that old slut.”

  Maxine cut her eyes at Lucky. “Little girl, you need to watch your mouth.” Maxine noticed the drooping eye and some other minor imperfections on the young girl, and subtly admired the handiwork of the thugs she’d hired.

  Lucky was ready to attack Maxine, but Layla kept her daughter on a tight leash. There would be no violence toward her friend.

  “Layla, you and I, we need to have a talk. It’s why I called you,” Maxine said calmly.

  Layla didn’t plan on staying long, and Maxine wanted to ask her about the money and the house she’d continually promised her while she was locked down.

  Maxine had it all worked out. If Layla purchased her a nice home, free from any mortgage, Maxine would immediately move her mother into it and sell her old home and give her mother the needed proceeds. Maxine only wanted to see her sick mother live out her golden years in peace and comfort, not hardship and worry. She wanted her mother to live and to travel, maybe take a needed cruise or trip to Europe.

  Before Maxine could talk to Layla privately, Lucky lost her cool. Her insecurity kicked in, and she yelled at Maxine, “Bitch, why do you keep lookin’ at my face?” before storming out of the house.