Snapped (22 page)

“Bye.” Camille watched as Gillian sashayed out the door, donning her designer shades as soon as she stepped into the sunlight. Camille sat down to begin her manicure, wondering why she was hearing Toya’s voice in her head, urging her to wake the fuck up.

Misa and Camille walked into the house with little Shane in tow, only to find Steven sitting on the couch once again. For the life of her, Camille couldn’t understand why Frankie allowed his brother to take advantage of them the way that he did. Steven was twenty-five, had no children, no debt, and no motivation to do anything with his life. He had been living in the rental unit (though he paid no rent) at the rear of their property for close to a year. Camille felt that he was lazy, while Frankie insisted that Steven was a little slow. In Camille’s opinion, Steven wasn’t slow. He was a fucking user.

Steven and Camille were cordial to each other, but that was as good as it got. Camille didn’t appreciate Steven sponging off Frankie. To Steven, Camille was a bourgeois, stuck-up housewife who hid behind her husband’s success to mask the fact that she had none of her own. Steven knew that Camille would love to see him move out. But as long as Frankie said that it was all right to be there, Steven had no intention of budging. In his opinion, Camille had no say-so in the matter. She was merely a tenant, just like he was.

“Steven,” Camille greeted him simply as she headed to the kitchen with grocery bags.

“Camille,” he answered, laughing to himself at her obvious attitude. He looked at Camille’s sister and smiled. Misa was very pretty. She reminded him of an actress he’d seen in a bad Tyrese movie one time, but her name didn’t come to mind. Misa was dark brown with lush lips and eyes that made him want to look deeper. Her hair was pulled away from her face, and her earlobes bore big hoop earrings with her name in the center. She had on a pair of tight jeans, a fitted
I LOVE NY
T-shirt, and a pair of Steve Madden boots. And Steven couldn’t keep his eyes off her phat ass.

“Hi, Misa,” he said, still smiling.

“Hi.” She waved at him over her shoulder and kept it moving, joining her sister in the kitchen. Shane had pulled up a stool at the breakfast nook and was already munching on a pear. Misa smiled at him and started helping Camille unpack the groceries.

To Camille’s disappointment, Steven followed them into the kitchen. He walked over to Misa and asked, “Need any help?”

Misa looked at Steven and smirked. “Nah, I got it. Thanks.” She knew that Steven had a crush on her. But she never gave him a second look. He was blessed with the same tall, dark, and handsome looks as his brother, Frankie, but Steven wasn’t in the same league as his brother. While Frankie had money, power, and respect, Steven had little more than a few bucks in his pocket. And even that had most likely been given to him by his brother. Misa was through getting involved with losers like Steven. She had her sights set on bigger and better men than him. Men like Baron Nobles. The
only problem was that Baron hadn’t called her in days, and she was beginning to wonder if he had already moved on to a new chick.

“Steven, did Frankie say where he was going?” Camille asked. When they’d left for the supermarket earlier that afternoon, Frankie had been taking a much-needed nap on the chaise lounge. Camille had intended to prepare him his favorite meal, even though he had come home in the wee hours of the morning. Things had been tense between them over the past few days, and she felt that it was time to make amends. But she’d noticed that his car wasn’t in the garage anymore, and he hadn’t mentioned going out. She couldn’t help feeling annoyed that he was not at home with her yet again.

Steven shook his head. “No. When I woke up and came over here to watch TV he was already gone.

“Wassup, Shane?” Steven greeted the youngster by giving him five, and Misa smiled. Shane was tearing that pear up! “You spending the night again while Mommy goes out?”

Camille shot a look at Misa, wondering if that was what she had in mind.

Misa gave her sister an innocent look. “What?” she asked. “I mean, if you’re offering to watch him . . .”

“I’m not.” Camille kept unpacking groceries, and Misa put on her sad face.

“Camille, please. You’re home for the night, so what’s the problem? I just want to go out for a few hours to let off some steam.” Misa hoped that she could convince her sister to watch Shane so that she could try to get in touch with Baron. She didn’t want to stalk him, but she was sick of him sending her repeated phone calls to his voice mail.

Camille ignored Misa, hoping she’d take the hint and go away. She didn’t.

“Please?”

Shane watched his mother beg and spoke up. “I’ll be good, Aunt Tamille.”

Camille melted and smiled at her nephew. “I know you will, baby. And of course you can stay tonight.” She shot a wicked look at her sister. “But your mommy has to remember that sometimes you want to be at your house, too.”

Shane shook his head. “Nuh-uh! I
always
like to be at your house, Aunt Tamille!” Shane was smiling, showing all his teeth.

Steven laughed. “I know how you feel, son!” He gave Shane five again, and Camille rolled her eyes at Steven’s comment. Misa kissed Shane on his forehead and wiped his sticky hands off. Grabbing her purse, she smiled coyly at Camille.

“Thanks, sis,” she said, scampering toward the door.

“You’re pushing it!” Camille called after her sister, who was already at the front door.

Steven was hot on Misa’s heels. “You think I can tag along with you?” he asked. “I get sick of sitting in this house all the time.”

Misa looked Steven’s broke ass up and down and frowned. “Get a job then,” she said. She turned around and sauntered out of the house, leaving Steven standing speechless in her wake.

Baron glanced at
his cell phone and saw Misa’s name on the caller ID for the hundredth time. He pressed Ignore and kept right on driving.

His female friend Trina sat in the passenger seat of Baron’s car, feeling a buzz from the weed she was smoking. They were on their way to her Bushwick, Brooklyn, apartment,
and she couldn’t wait to get there. It had been weeks since she’d last seen Baron. He was staying away from Brooklyn these days, since he had beef with Jojo and Brooklyn was where Jojo held court. Trina had heard all about it, since the streets were abuzz with the scandal of Dusty’s disappearance and Jojo’s thirst for revenge. She had called Baron to tell him that she was in need of his good loving and was thrilled when he agreed to pick her up from her job at LensCrafters in Fulton Mall.

“I missed you,” Trina said, passing the blunt to Baron.

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling. “When we get to your house you can show me how much.”

Trina smiled back. “Turn here,” she said, pointing to the next intersection. “It’s faster this way.”

Baron did as she instructed and turned the corner, anxious for the chance to be alone with her. They pulled up at a red light and Baron reached over and touched her thigh. Trina was a pretty light-skinned girl with sandy brown hair and green eyes. She had been his chick on the side for years, playing her position and never wanting more than their occasional rendezvous. He was eager to get her home so that he could dig her out.

A minivan pulled up alongside them at the traffic light, and Trina looked over at it. Distracted by trying to relight the blunt in his hand, Baron had his head bowed and didn’t notice the events unfolding around him. The minivan was on Trina’s side of the car, and she watched as the van’s side door slid open. Suddenly, Baron saw a hasty movement out of the corner of his eye, and, before he could react, gunfire tore through the Brooklyn air. Baron’s car was hit, and the rear window shattered into smithereens. Baron could hear screams from the passersby as they scrambled for safety. As the gunman
climbed out of the minivan and kept firing at Baron’s car, Trina opened the passenger door and got out. The gunman ignored her and kept advancing on the car, shooting all the while. Baron managed to hit the gas and peeled off as the gunman scurried back inside the van to follow him.

Baron sped down the street and sharply turned the next two corners, checking his rearview mirror for his would-be assassins. Blood poured from his shoulder and his heart pounded in his chest. He knew that Jojo was behind the attempt on his life, and he chastised himself for being in Brooklyn alone in the midst of Brooklyn beef. It was a dumb move, all in a quest to get some pussy. He looked again in his rearview and was relieved to see that it appeared he had lost his assailants.

He kept driving and pulled out his cell phone. Baron called Frankie and was glad when he answered right away. “Yo, son. These muthafuckas shot at me. I’m on my way to Pops’s house. Meet me there.”

Frankie was confused. “Somebody shot at you?”

“Word.”

“Where are you?”

“Bushwick.”

“Brooklyn?” Frankie asked, shocked.

“Yeah, son.”

“What the fuck are you doing out there?” Frankie asked, thinking Baron had to be the most foolish muthafucka he knew.

“Listen,” Baron said, still checking behind him for the shooters. “Just meet me at Pops’s house!” He tossed his phone down and kept driving, noticing that his clothes were stained with blood and flecked with broken glass. Baron was shaken. He had to get the fuck out of Brooklyn.

Frankie’s Escalade screeched to a halt in front of Nobles’s house and he leaped out, taking the stairs leading to the sprawling home’s entrance two at a time. Before he could ring the doorbell, Gillian pulled up behind him and parked her Benz. She got out of her car and scampered up the stairs until she stood at Frankie’s side. She greeted him and they proceeded inside as Greta opened the door.

“Everyone is in the dining room,” Greta said, her thick Spanish accent slicing through the awkward silence.

Frankie could see that Gillian was upset, and he pulled her close and hugged her. “He’s okay,” Frankie reassured her. “Baron is fine.”

She nodded, though she was still shaken up. They walked together to the dining room, where they found Nobles and Baron sitting at opposite ends of the long table, with Mayra sitting in the middle. Baron looked dazed as he sat with his arm in a sling and a big bandage on his right shoulder. Gillian ran to her brother and threw her arms around him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, tears flowing.

Baron patted Gillian’s back and tried to calm her. “Shhhh. Don’t cry. I’m all right. One of the bullets just grazed me.”

“He’s a fucking fool!” Nobles was furious, and, for the first time, Frankie noticed the tension in the air. Mayra looked as if she’d been playing referee, and Baron looked like a kid who’d gotten a note sent home from his teacher.

Mayra stood up and greeted her daughter and Frankie. She walked over to Nobles and kissed him on his forehead. “Calm down, baby. He’s okay. That’s all that matters.”

Mayra walked out, leaving them to discuss business privately.

“Tell me what happened,” Frankie said, sitting down near Nobles. Gillian took a seat near her brother, holding his hand in hers.

Baron had a captive audience as he relayed the events that led to the shooting. Gillian, for one, was hanging on his every word. As Baron spoke, Nobles puffed on a cigar, looking disgusted by his firstborn and the beef that was boiling over between Baron and Jojo.

“She set you up,” Gillian said, sitting back like she had just solved a mystery on
Forensic Files
.

“Trina?” Baron asked. “I thought about that. But it doesn’t make sense. She’s been riding with me for years now. Why would she flip?”

Gillian shook her head, thinking that her father was right. Baron was a fucking fool. “Who knows why? She could’ve known Jojo for longer than she’s known you, Baron. She could be his jump-off and he got her to set you up. Bottom line is that she rolled out of the car during a drive-by! Who does that? She must’ve known that they wouldn’t shoot her. Otherwise, she would’ve just ducked down and tried to hide
under the dashboard or something. She probably knew what was about to go down, and she moved out of the line of fire.”

Baron thought about it, contemplating whether or not Trina was capable of betraying him like that. “Well, whether she set me up or not, Jojo was behind it.”

Nobles shook his head, seeming terribly disappointed in his son. “All because of that shit with Dusty.”

Baron looked caught off guard and Gillian looked away. “What shit with Dusty?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t play stupid!” Nobles was furious. “The streets talk, and I might be old, but I’m not too old to listen. You got in a fight with Dusty a while ago. He hasn’t been heard from in weeks. And with Dusty’s big mouth, you know damn well that he’s dead, otherwise everybody would’ve heard from him by now. He could never be quiet this long. And you’re behind it. You know it, I know it, and Jojo knows it. Now you brought war to this family.”

Baron shook his head. “Pops—”

“Pops, my ass! You’re gonna fall back, Baron.” Nobles pointed at his son.

“Fall back?” Baron was frowning.

“You heard me.
Fall back!
” Nobles leaned forward, his booming voice echoing in everyone’s ears. “You’re gonna pass off your responsibilities to Gillian and Frankie—”

“Fuck that!” Baron pounded his fist on the table. “That’s bullshit, Pops!”

“No,
this
is bullshit, Baron! You’re out there every fucking night calling attention to yourself. The parties, the bitches, the fights, this beef . . . you’re out of control. And I’m tired of it. I worked hard to get this family where we are, and you’re fucking it up. You could have been killed today!”

Gillian tried to intervene. “Daddy, calm down.”

Nobles tuned her out and continued to set his sights on his son. “You’re gonna lay low from now on. Keep your stubborn ass in the house, stay out of the fucking spotlight, and for the time being, Gillian and Frankie—”

“This is fucked-up, Pops.” Baron looked like he was near tears.

“Baron, they’re trying to kill you. Don’t you think it’s a good time for you to be easy?” Gillian spoke softly.