BOMAW 1-3 (70 page)

"When I signed that power of attorney. Looking down at it, I realized that until I have control of my life - I can't be responsible for hers. She'll only end up like me, if not worse. She's happy... he'll take good care of her." She went quiet after that. Terra reached over and squeezed her arm.

"You're doing the right thing Deidre, no matter how hard it is right now - in the long run - it will have been for the best."

"Yeah... well - we better get done, I still have to go and pack up all of her things, and send them there for her."

"Sure... you have me for the day... we'll get plenty done." Terra assured her, and both went back to unpacking.

*

The day had ended, and Maxwell was done. He sat with the thumping base of Phil Collins and Tupac, 'In The Air Tonight' remix vibrating around him as he sat at the red light on his way back to his neighborhood. He knew that he was forever under the suspicious eye of the local dicks, trying to catch him out dealing weed and rock, which is why he held onto his daytime J. O. B. Maybe he was guilty of dealing a bit on the side, but a man had to make the ends meet somehow. Besides, his brother saw to it that he was back on the streets in no time should he ever get scooped up in a bust. It was his ride, that was what they hated about him. Since when did a furniture delivery man cruise in the luxury of a Mercedes? Shiny black with gold trim. They said it was stolen, founded untrue. That he obtained it dealing drugs, untrue and so he drove on. His cd track switched to Tupac's dedication song,
'Dear Mama.'
which brought back all the stuff he'd always tried to avoid thinking about. Once you lost, what is lost is gone, no amount of wishing and dreaming, can return one from the dead. Maxwell shook his head, his diamond stud sparking from his left earlobe, he just needed to get home and showered, rubbing his chest to shake off the heavy oppression, he reached forward and clicked on to the next track,
'Ghetto Gospel'
. Once he got out of his work clothes and into his preferred gear, he'd feel better. Hook up with his boys, check out what was going on. His head bobbed as he pulled through the light, receiving dirty looks from those standing at the bus stops while his booming speakers rocked him as he cruised by.

Today was a different day... hauntingly ugly, painful images from the past replayed in his mind. He wondered was it this day that would make a change for all time. His mind was humming, thumping with the thought, still stunned to have finally seen her.

'Deidre Wherrington... the real life - living breathing Ms Wherrington-McPherson.'

How many times had his brother muttered that name. How many times had he watched him pace, voicing his hate for her parents...the Wherrington's. Especially Oscar T. Wherrington. How many fights had they had because Jeremiah wanted him to work as hard as he did to become what he had. A Lawyer - a man knowing the law inside and out as no one did. His brother was driven, perhaps a tad mad. Obsessed with the idea of finding a way to bring down the Wherrington Empire.

Maxwell shook his head thinking him crazy. Life was too short to be wasting it on chasing a dream of destroying some twisted white man. Even if the man was partly responsible for their mother committing suicide, plunging them into the ever changing hustle of the court system, subjecting them to one foster home after another. Jeremiah had been hard to handle, while he, Maxwell had been just quietly going along with whatever was the next move to make. Jeremiah on the other hand, had been a enigma, contradicting the stereotype the courts were accustomed to dealing with. They could only scratch their heads in confusion by this hostile young black youth who for all intents and purposes should be slow matching his aggressive type. However, he was anything but slow. He was a straight A student who glared with flared nostrils into the eyes of the judge, of their case workers, of their social workers, of their foster parents. The last home they were placed with, was that of Felicia Campbell.

Felicia had been their savior. A strong black woman, on the police force, with room in her life and heart for two young boys that no one else wanted. She had begun as the means for Jeremiah to learn all the ins and outs of the law. Picking her brain in his genius way as if he possessed the secret societal codes that made him capable of playing his hand to win. Max picked up his cell phone and dialled his brother's number, turning the music down as he cruised home.

"Hey, what's up Max?" Jeremiah answered after the third ring.

"Nuttin' too much B. Just wanted to drop a line on you. Tell you 'bout my day." Maxwell started.

"Let me guess, you spotted that special antique piece I've been telling you to keep a look out for me."

Maxwell chuckled, "Naaaw man, this ain't antique, what I saw today... but its straight up from way back in'th day."

"Oh yeah... meaning?"

"Delivered some furniture today, furniture belonging to a young woman moving into her own place."

"Why would that interest me?"

"The woman... Deidre Wherrington... in the flesh."

Suddenly there was nothing but silence on the other end of the line. "Aye man, you still there? You hear what I say?"

"Yeah... I heard you."

"Oh... my bad, thought you might be interested."

"You saying she left the estate?"

"That's what it look like to me."

"So where is she?"

"Living in the warehouse, you know... high street. Top loft, living where only they can afford to live. Down from Wilshire."

"Hmmm..."

"Ah'ight man... just wanted to drop that on you. Later."

"Yeah." Jeremiah returned, hanging up his phone. He stood gazing out of his top office looking over the city landscape with his chest feeling tight. At the age of 39, he was pretty well established and right on target with his carefully laid plans. He stood in his custom cut Armani suit, hands clasped behind his back, thinking back to the days when he was a young boy, and after school, he'd take off for hours from his foster parents to ride his bike by the Wherrington's mansion. Every day that he could, he rode by their banks, and their businesses. Catch sight of Oscar T. Wherrington in his chauffeured Mercedes and ride like the wind peddling to catch up to him, and never did. But ride he would until he lost site of him. He'd turn back and ride by the mansion again, with one thought on his mind, one driven course, one overwhelming desire. To own that place and call it his home one day. To see the look on their faces when he turned them out, just as they did his mother. Mainly speaking, Oscar T. Wherrington.

He was on his way, as a corporate lawyer, his reputation was building, mounting. All he needed from the Wherrington's was a small crack opening big enough for him to squeeze through, and he'd have them right where he wanted them. Standing 6'ft, dressed always in a suit, with his natural afro always cut and lined to perfection, he was the kind of black man that could have any woman he set his sights on, black, white, anything in between. Yet he was without a steady. He had his needs like the next man, but once the needs were met, he moved on, breaking a few hearts along the way, belonging to some black and white.

Love... not his agenda.

Taking everything that belonged to the Wherrington's and making it his own... that... was on his agenda.

He was ready now... to make it happen, all he needed was for the chink in their armor to appear, and something told him... the crack had already begun.

The day had turned out a busy one for Sylvia. Shawn gave her his credit card to pick up whatever extra things Angela would need. His instructions were to act as if they already had her, and Sylvia did. They had a good time shopping, Sylvia bought her bed linens, curtains, summer clothes, hair things, toiletries, posters for her room, a game for them to play together on her dads Playstation, they both laughed about the expression that would be on his face when he saw the two games they'd bought. The Sims, and Tetris. They hit the grocery side of the superstore next and bought all the types of food, snacks and things on the list from the menu. They made it home happy to see Shawn there unloading lumber and all kinds of fixtures from Home Depot. He stopped to help them, then went back to finishing his unloading.

Angela happily took all of her things in her room and once again hung or folded them, putting them away, that done she returned to the kitchen to help Sylvia, when the phone rang.

"Hello?" Sylvia answered wiping out the refrigerator as Angela put away can goods.

"It's Gert. I've been up in the attic, got stuff for you. Including your wedding gown if you want it. It was the one I married Bart in, you're about the same size as me, and I thought this would be a perfect opportunity for it to be used again. Shanna wore it, and if you wish... you can too... I thought it'd be nice to stir a tradition with us women all marrying in it."

"I think that's a fantastic idea."

"Well wait until you see it first before you make up your mind, it needs to be cleaned, but its in excellent condition, just needs freshening up."

"Hmmm, what are you doing today? Maybe we can come there and I can get a look at it, then if its a go... which I'm sure it is, I can bring it back with me to be cleaned."

"I'll be right here, this way you can look over some other things I have. Got things of Shawn's as well you might wish to take back with you, and something else for you to see."

"Okay... Angela and I are almost done putting away groceries, we'll be on our way as soon as we're done."

"See you when you get here." Gert finished and hung up.

"We're going to my grandma's?" Angela asked.

"Yep... as soon as we get all of this stuff put away."

Just then Shawn walked into the kitchen. "Hey, when are you gonna cook, I'm starving."

Sylvia stood from the fridge bottom shelf and looked at him as if he spoke another language.

"Cook?"

"Yeah... as in - cook food?"

"We're getting ready to leave again." She informed him.

"Where? You just got home."

"Your moms, she called and Angela and I are heading over there. So I need you to write down how to get there, because I only went that one time with you. Don't wanna get lost."

He stood with an odd look on his face scratching his arm.

"Well can't you cook me something to eat first, then go?"

"Order a pizza Shawn."

"I don't want no friggin' pizza! I want food, a home cook meal... to hell with fast food, I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime."

"Well cook yourself somethin' to eat then."

He stood with his mouth open as if something was wrong with what he was hearing.

"Well... what - what are you going to my moms for?"

"To look some things over, to make up my mind about something, stuff like that."

"How long you gonna be gone?" He asked looking over the groceries for something to bite out of.

"I don't know Shawn, however long it takes. Ain't no tellin'... I'll be back when we get back."

"Why don't you go tomorrow and I'll go with you."

"So I can stay here and cook for you - you mean." She returned, busy wiping up and organizing her cabinets. When she did a fresh grocery shop, it was habit to pull everything old out front and wipe up, then place the new in the rear, which is what she was doing as Shawn stood in the middle of the kitchen scratching his head.

"Well yeah... you can eat some too, Angela as well, I won't eat it all." He returned sarcastically.

"Shawn! We're going today! We have court in two days. The kids are coming this weekend, and I have to get myself a gown still, as well something for Angela to wear."

"Well what was all that you just finished doing? Why didn't you shop for it all then?"

"At Walmart?!" She exclaimed.

"Look! I'm hungry... that's all I know. Can someone please fix me something to eat?!" He demanded.

Sylvia cocked her hip with her hand braced in place and did the head rotation. "Oh no you not standing in this kitchen trying that with me! I'm rushing around trying to get things done for our ceremony next week, as well get this child in order and you can't fix yourself something to eat?!"

"I want you to cook me something to eat!" He insisted.

"Shawn! Why are you trippin'?"

"I'm hungry! I went and purchased all of this stuff to get started on this place. Unloading it all, thinking - oh yeah, she gone cook something good again tonight, my mouth watering with all the fantasies of food I knew you were getting ready to prepare, and you talking about going to my mother's! And I know once you get there, you'll be there until late. Which I don't think so! I don't want you driving back here late at night, just you and Angela... anything could happen!" He fussed back.

"Shawn you mean to tell me you can't cook yourself something so I can go and take care of what I need to do?!"

"I want
you
to cook me something, for once I wanna be put first! I wanna be seen to first." He complained. "Forget it... I can do it! I've been doing it all my life, I can do it now as well. Go!"