Snapped (27 page)

“I do not neglect my son!”

“Yes, you do,” Lily asserted. “You buy him designer clothes and expensive toys. And you make sure that he eats well and has a roof over his head. But there’s more to being
a mother than that. You have to put that time in, Misa. And running around from party to party ain’t benefiting Shane.”

Misa wiped her tears away angrily, and sniffled. “Well, I had no idea that you two think I’m such a bad mother.” She looked at Camille. “And I had no idea that Shane was all in your way.”

“Misa, I didn’t say that.” Camille felt guilty.

Misa held her hand up as if to quiet her sister. “It’s all good. I won’t ask you to watch him for me anymore. But all I was trying to do was find some happiness of my own for once.” She looked at her mother then. “It just doesn’t seem fair, you know? Louis walks off, pretends that he never got married or started a family, and he gets to just start over. He has a new woman in his life, he can go out and travel whenever he wants to, and he doesn’t have a second thought about Shane. I try to carve out a little time for myself and I’m the worst mother in the world. I just think that’s a double standard.” Misa closed the dishwasher and wiped her hands on a nearby towel. She looked so sad as she reflected on the way in which Louis had abandoned her and Shane that it tugged at Camille’s conscience.

“I’ll keep Shane tonight, Misa. But you’re gonna have to start spending more time with him. Seriously.”

Frankie came into the kitchen just then and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, ladies. Sorry to interrupt.” He looked at Camille. “I’m gonna step out for a little while, baby. I’ll be back.”

Camille frowned slightly. “Where are you going?”

“Over to Pops’s house. Baron’s out of town and I think Pops might feel bad about that. It’s the first time he hasn’t spent Thanksgiving with the rest of the family.”

Camille was tempted to point out that
that
family
shouldn’t be Frankie’s concern. She wanted him to focus more on the family he had under his own roof. “I see,” she said simply.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower real quick. I’ll stop in to give you a kiss before I leave,” he said. “Dinner was perfect!” And then he was gone.

Lily looked at both of her daughters and wondered where she’d gone wrong with them. One was so busy gallivanting around town that she was abandoning her three-year-old in the process. The other was so blinded that she couldn’t see her husband slipping through her fingers.

“Misa, Shane can come home with me,” she said. “He has all this time off from school and I don’t have nothing to do. Might as well let him come and hang out with his grandma for the weekend. This way you can party tonight, tomorrow, and Saturday. Pick him up on Sunday and get that baby ready for school.”

Misa smiled. “Thanks, Mama. I think Shane will like that.” Misa couldn’t imagine what she would do with herself with all those days to do as she pleased.

Lily turned her attention to Camille. “In the meantime,
you
better go with your husband over to them people’s house. Every time I call you, Frankie is out with that woman. I know they’re friends, but you better watch that. If it’s all on the up and up, then there’s no reason why you can’t go with him.” Lily handed Camille her sister’s store-bought carrot cake. “Take this over there and keep the good eye on your husband.”

Camille agreed reluctantly. She had hoped to spend the day in the comfort of her own home, surrounded by her own family. Dessert hadn’t even been served yet and already
Misa was headed out the door, her mother was heading back to Long Island with Shane, and now she was having to follow Frankie over to the Nobles’ house in Westchester. This was not how she had envisioned spending Thanksgiving.

When Frankie came down from his shower, he looked and smelled better than ever. His hair was filled with perfect waves and he had trimmed his facial hair to perfection. He wore a black button up and a pair of dark jeans and black shoes. His Rolex gleamed on his wrist and his cologne wafted directly to Camille’s nostrils. He saw her standing at the door with her mother and Shane, both of whom were bundled up in their coats and scarves.

“Why are you guys leaving so soon?” he asked, kissing her mother on the cheek as she bid him farewell.

“Well, Frankie, Shane is coming home with me for the weekend because Misa went to hang out. So this works out, because now you and Camille can spend the holiday together like a family is supposed to.” Lily winked at her daughter. “I’ll see you guys soon. Have a good time at the Nobles’ house.”

Frankie seemed caught off guard, but he managed a smile. Once Lily and Shane had gone, he looked at his wife. “You’re coming with me?” he asked, surprised. Camille very rarely accompanied him to any of the Nobles family functions.

Camille nodded. “Yeah. I mean . . . if that’s okay.”

Frankie was thinking that it wasn’t okay. He had been looking forward to spending the day with Gillian without having to watch what he said or did. Camille was throwing a monkey wrench in his plans.

“Yeah, that’s cool,” he lied. He saw no way out of it. He
grabbed his car keys off the table and they headed out the door.

Mayra rushed to
answer the doorbell and realized how much she missed Greta. They had given their housekeeper the holiday weekend off, since she did have a family of her own, after all. But since it was Thanksgiving, the doorbell hadn’t stopped ringing all day. She opened the door and smiled when she saw Frankie, looking more handsome than ever. Her smile waned a little when she saw that his wife was in tow. Camille had only been to their house a handful of times over the years, and Mayra often wondered if Camille thought that she was too good to come there. Seeing her now came as a big surprise—and a big disappointment. Mayra had always hoped that Frankie would end up with her daughter. She knew that Gillian didn’t feel for her boyfriend the way that she felt about Frankie, and reasoned that if Frankie were single again, Gillian would end her relationship of convenience. If only Camille would disappear.

“Hello, Frankie!” Mayra kissed him on his cheek and took his coat. “Camille,” she sang. “What a surprise!”

Camille smiled and stepped inside. “Happy Thanksgiving.” She peeled out of her coat and handed it to her hostess.

Mayra managed to keep the smile frozen on her face as she ushered them into the house. Music was playing—a medley of seventies and eighties hits—and the volume increased as they got closer to the living room. Mayra turned around to face them with a smile on her face. “The whole crew is here, Frankie. Everybody showed up! They all ate at home with their own families and then came here. So it’s a party. Help yourself to the food that’s in the kitchen and
make yourself at home. You know how we do it every year.” It was true. Each year, there was a gathering of at least twenty people. But as they entered the living room, Frankie could see that today there was easily double that number in attendance. Frankie smiled and began greeting each of the familiar faces with a handshake or a hug. There were many members of Nobles’s organization there with their wives or girlfriends. Frankie knew that all these people were there to make up for Baron not being there. His heart was filled with gratitude that they had so much love for the man.

Camille stood off to the side watching her husband work the room, and she couldn’t help thinking that this holiday celebration was in very stark contrast to the one she’d hosted at home. She noticed Nobles seated in his beloved recliner with Mayra standing right by his side. Several other couples peppered the area, and a few people were dancing in the center of the huge room. She wondered if this festive spirit was one of the reasons that Frankie opted to spend so much time in the presence of this family instead of at home building a family of their own. Finally, her eyes rested on Gillian, who sat on the sofa like a queen perched on her throne, staring directly at Camille.

Gillian was glaring at Camille, since for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why the hell Frankie had brought this bourgeois bitch with him. She rolled her eyes and looked away, then scowled at Frankie when he glanced her way. The last thing she expected was to have Camille rain on her parade. With Baron spending Thanksgiving in Charlotte, all Gillian had had to look forward to all day was the moment Frankie arrived to keep her company. That moment was now clouded by Camille’s presence.

Tremaine, one of Frankie’s boys, came over to where
Camille was standing. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and a bright smile, a welcome sight since she was feeling so uncomfortable with Gillian eyeing her the way she was.

“Hey, Camille!” Tremaine was clearly tipsy already. “I can’t believe you came. You never come to Thanksgiving over here.”

Camille was already feeling awkward, and Tremaine reminding her that she was the odd one out only made her feel more discomfited. “Well, there’s a first time for everything,” she said.

“True, true.” Tremaine nodded. “Here,” he said, handing her a glass of Alizé. “You gotta drink while you’re here. It’s mandatory.”

Camille took it and laughed. “Okay, no problem.” Things were suddenly looking up. With Frankie away from home more often than ever, alcohol had been her only company besides her three-year-old nephew.

Tremaine gave her a thumbs-up and pointed to the bar. “There’s more where that came from, so don’t be shy.” He left her standing alone again, and she watched him take part in the Soul Train line that had formed in the center of the room. She stood there, laughing and enjoying the spectacle, until her drink was drained. Looking at her empty glass and seeing Frankie seated beside Nobles laughing hard at some unknown joke, she decided to go and refill her drink, and strode over to the bar. By the time the Soul Train line was over, she had downed two more glasses of Alizé and was nursing another one.

Frankie watched his wife at the bar and shook his head. He sat down next to Gillian on the sofa and nudged her playfully. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight.”

Gillian shrugged. “Didn’t want to piss your little wife off, that’s all.”

Frankie sighed, aware that Gillian was upset that Camille was there. “She tagged along. I didn’t invite her.”

“Really?” Gillian looked at Camille at the bar putting a dent in the liquor supply. “Looks like she’s having a blast,” she observed sarcastically.

Frankie shook his head again. “That’s all she does anymore. Every day she downs a pint of something. She’s gonna fuck around and become an alcoholic,” he said.

Gillian laughed. “Not Miss Perfect!”

Frankie looked at her. “She’s far from perfect. Not perfect for me, anyway.”

Gillian looked at him. She was tempted to tell him that she was the only woman who was perfect for him. She liked to think of them as Bonnie and Clyde, although they had only gone so far as to flirt with one another thus far. She had fallen in love with Frankie. It was obvious. “I tried to tell you that years ago, but you wouldn’t listen.”

Frankie laughed. “You didn’t try to tell me shit!”

Gillian laughed, too. She wished she had been bold enough back then to tell Frankie not to walk down the aisle and marry Camille. But there was no sense trying to change the past. “Too late now,” she said.

Camille saw Frankie sitting next to Gillian on the couch and felt a surge of resentment. He seemed to have forgotten all about her. She watched as Gillian leaned against Frankie while they laughed at another private joke that Camille wasn’t in on. She was getting sick of this, tired of feeling like she was an outcast in this separate world in which her husband existed.

Mayra interrupted the conversation between the two
would-be lovebirds. “Frankie, did you taste the peach cobbler? It’s Doug’s favorite, and I made extra this year.”

Frankie rubbed his stomach in anticipation. “I haven’t had any yet, but I’m about to go address that now.”

Mayra reached for his hand. “Well, come on. I’ll get you a plate.”

Frankie headed to the kitchen with Mayra. He looked in Camille’s direction and waved, happy that she had kept her distance all night even though she was holding court at the bar like a lush. She waved back, but as soon as he went into the kitchen, her smile faded. She was miserable, and the alcohol in her system was giving her some much-needed liquid courage. Camille grabbed her drink and headed over to the couch where Gillian was seated.

Camille plopped down on the sofa right next to Gillian and seemed to catch her by surprise. “Well, hello, Gillian.” Camille had a grin on her face like the cat who ate the canary. “I’ve seen you sitting over here all night, but we haven’t had a chance to talk.”

Gillian smirked at Frankie’s wife, wondering why she was there. “I was just surprised to see that you came,” she said honestly. “This is a first.”

Camille nodded, crossed her legs, and tried to fix her shirt to disguise the belly fat that was spilling over the top of her jeans. Gillian’s flawless figure never ceased to intimidate Camille. “I just couldn’t stand to not be around Frankie on Thanksgiving.” Camille thought she saw Gillian roll her eyes, but she wasn’t sure. Since she had been drinking, she didn’t want to jump to conclusions and cause a scene. So she overlooked it. “I hardly get to see him anymore since he’s always with you.”

Gillian looked directly at Camille and had to admire her straightforwardness. For several moments she didn’t know what to say. Unexpectedly speechless, she smiled at Camille. Finally, she managed to ask, “How was Thanksgiving at your house?”

Camille sipped her drink. “It was nothing like this.” She watched as Tremaine staggered through the living room, and shook her head.

Gillian looked at Frankie’s wife as if she was crazy. Was this stuck-up bitch looking down her nose at them? “Really? Well, Frankie seems to be enjoying himself.” Gillian gestured toward the center of the room, where Frankie was battling Mikey to see who could do the robot the best. Mayra stood close by, holding Frankie’s plate of cobbler and egging them on.

Camille had to admit that she hadn’t seen her husband have this much fun at home in months. She stared at him so long that she forgot that Gillian was sitting beside her until she spoke again.