War (33 page)

And now we’re in her car.

She’s trying to engage in small talk. I’m checking email messages on my Android. I have work to do, lady. Just show me the condos. In just eight weeks, I have built my own empire. I have a following. I have respect. I have followers. I have an editor. I have an agent. I have a realtor. I have money.

“Ms. Harlow, should we go to Beacon Hill first?”

“That’ll be fine, Elaine. Thank you.”

I
am
the man that I always wanted to marry.

I have something.

ANGIE BLAIR

              I pride myself on being the matriarch of this family. So, when Malcolm came home on Friday and told me that Pammy was hosting Sunday dinner at her home, I nearly reached into his chest and tore out his heart.

              Allow me to explain.

              Not only is our household in the midst of preparing for a week-long trip to Hawaii, some of its members seem to be going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment. Gwyneth and Jacob are, once again, in their own private family court. Jacob is such a sweetheart, despite who birthed him, so I can only assume that this current issue of him cheating on Winnie is his mother’s fault. (By the way, I am privately searching for Jasmine Harlow, the harlot who has tried to systematically destroy my family every five years. My investigator has narrowed her down to the New Hampshire area.) Lola and Cadence are nervous wrecks and are transitioning to move back and make Boston their home base, once again. They need help with their new bundle of impending joy and while Eva, Lola’s mother, is a nice woman…well, she raised the hellion who is Laura.

              Enough said.

              Then, Danielle is in DC with Winnie and Lola. Danielle and Lola, for some reason, have never gotten along. I can’t blame Danielle; Lola does go a bit overboard at times. A prime example was when she burned Cadence’s house down. But I always hoped Danielle and Lola would be close on day. I’ve been anxious for Danielle to come home so that she and I may discuss Lola over a glass of chilled white wine. I intend on using my crisis management skills to finally resolve the issue between those two, since it appears that Lola, now that she’s pregnant, is here to stay. It was touch and go there for a while. I always thought my Cadence could and
would
do better than staying married to the daughter of the President of the United States. A bit melodramatic, my Cadence is, but he is indeed charming and brilliant. He could have his pick of the litter. Unfortunately, he chose the runt.

Also, all of Jacob’s sisters were arrested last night. Again. Another Saturday night, another drunken rant in a Cambridge bar ending with Malcolm easing into Wynston and my bedroom early this morning. “I need to head to the chief’s office with Jacob. Looks like he wants to practice tough love this time around and keep the girls locked in there until Monday morning.”

              “I would like you two to note,” I said to Wynston and Malcolm, “that we will be dining at the home of a woman who has three out of four of her children currently behind bars.”

              “Don’t start, Ang,” Wynston said.

              “In other words, 75% of her children are incarcerated.” I began to get out of bed and put my robe on so that I could check on my grandbabies. Nicky always kicks his covers off at night. “And her home was elected for Sunday’s supper.”

              “Ma…” Malcolm gave me his usual look of ‘don’t start.’ While Cadence is my charming, sweet and brilliant child, Malcolm is my cunning, beguiling and ingenious son. Sly, crafty and resourceful that Malcolm is. So crafty, he’s gotten the girls to sleep on the chief’s office couch instead of in a cold hard cell where they should be.

              “I just figure I’d bring up the elephant in the room,” I said as I slipped on my slippers with the ivory feathers on them, the ones Roman bought me for Christmas last year.
Enchanting
, he called them.

              “I’ll be back in time for Mass,” Malcolm said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through its messages.

              “Well, let me get up and check on these grandkids of mine,” Wynston said as he gave a big huff while pulling his legs out of bed. “I know one thing, I didn’t raise both of my kids just to help them raise
all
of theirs.” He gave Malcolm a sharp look. My beloved Wynston is full of shit. Malcolm gave his father a smile. Wynston and I had been living in London for so long, we felt detached from our grandchildren. Him especially, since he was so very close to his own grandfather. So it was Wynston’s idea to come and move in with Malcolm and Danielle to assist them in the raising of Ginger so that she might start her life off on the right track. (Both Wynston and I assume that Nicky and Roman are lost causes. We simply moved back too late.)

              Malcolm remained at the jailhouse for hours, later explaining that the girls were passed out on foldout couches under the spell of a drunken stupor. He told us this on the way to the home of the mother of said drunken girls. I implored Malcolm that I should stay back at his condominium with Sunday Simone, lest she pick up those lewd and drunken ways. He was convinced that everything was fine. I begged to differ.

              So, come Sunday morning, I wasn’t in a good mood when Malcolm pulled up to Pammy’s home. The smell of corned beef, a recipe she stole from me and parades as her own, wafted through the air on the Lord’s day. That bitch. I grew annoyed at the smoke coming out of the chimney. Three-fourths of her children are in jail and she dares to have a rolling fire roaring inside as if she maintained a proper household. I laughed at the thought.

              “What?” Wynston asked as he picked a piece of lint off of Nicholai’s hat.

              “Just the laughability of this entire moment,” I said with a smile.

              “Laughability,” Roman said. “Is that a word?”

              “Of course.” I noticed Malcolm looking in his rearview mirror at Roman, shaking his head
no
. We weren’t even
in
Pammy’s home yet, the breeding ground of three of America’s three million prisoner population, and already my son was becoming insolent.

              Malcolm parked the car and then assisted the children and me out while Wynston grabbed the side dish I made: a twenty-pound prime rib roast.              

“Malcolm, I may need help carrying this in. You hold up the left side, I’ll hold up the right. Think funeral processional.”

“Here, Pop. I’ll hold it.” Malcolm slid the pot out of his father’s hand.

“Angie-baby,” Wynston said to me. “I think when Pammy said ‘side dish’, she was talking more along the line of potatoes au gratin, rice pilaf, possibly a green bean casserole...”

“She’ll take what I give her,” I said while holding Sunday Simone tightly to me, easing a spare hat I have of hers onto her head. Who gave Malcolm the permission to take her infant hat off for the rest of her life without my prior consent? “Please grab Sunday Simone’s toiletry bag, Wynston.” He headed for the bag, the boys ran towards the house and Malcolm waited for Wynston and me.

              I was dreading this.

              I had too much on my mind. I had Danielle and Lola, Jacob and Winnie, Lola, Cadence and their new baby. (I secretly knew they were having a boy. I could just feel it.) I was developing a headache just thinking about the lives I had to save after this dinner. So imagine my surprise when I walk through the door and see Lola and Danielle laughing with each other, Cadence and Pammy engaged in deep conversation on the couch, and Winnie and Jacob off to the side whispering with each other.

              What in the sam hell is going on?

              “Oh, Wynston! Malcolm! Angie!” Pammy shouts as she jumps up from the couch, young Jaden in her arms.

“Hey, pretty lady,” Wynston says to Pammy. Preston, where the hell are you?” He then screams out, “Get your lazy ass down here and come get this lump of meat out of my boy’s hands.”

“Ah, my darling Sunday,” Cadence says as he notices Sunday Simone in my arms. He stands up and heads over to me.

“Hi, Auntie Pammy!” Nicholai and Roman scream out as they run and give her a hug.

“Boys! Sunny! So glad you’re here! Your cousins are in the game room,” Pammy replies. The boys hug Danielle next and then make their way around the room quickly, before running off to the game room.

“Cadence what are you doing here?” I ask him.

“I’ve decided to take my darling Lola on a babymoon. We’ll be going to Cape Cod for the week.”

“Charming, isn’t it?” Pammy says. “I called and suggested it.”

“Thanks, Aunt Pammy!” Lola screams out.

“Of course, my love. Oh, and I have a surprise! Malcolm, you remember Danielle right?” She gestures to Danielle as if she’s on a game show presenting a brand new car. I watch Malcolm slide his mouth into a little smirk before he winks at Danielle and heads straight to her.

“I went and called her and Winnie and told them the family was meeting here for dinner. Surprise!” she said to Malcolm.

              “Thank you, Aunt Pammy.” He walks over to Pammy and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

              “Of course. You know your Aunt Pammy loves you.” She smiles and looks me. Preston comes into the living room, gives me a kiss on the cheek and then slaps Wynston on the head. They begin to fight off to the side. “Oh, Preston, be careful of Sunday!” Cadence slips Sunday Simone out of my hands and walks back to the couch with her.

“She’s still wearing a hat?” he asks.

“Yes, she is. And don’t you touch it,” I warn him.

“I thought Malcolm took the hat off this weekend,” Danielle says. “Jasmine’s dad said-”

“Yes, he did. And now it’s back on,” I warn her. I don’t care if Jasmine’s father is a Harvard educated pediatrician or not, he raised that harlot Jasmine Harlow. Perhaps if he had kept her hat on a bit longer, we wouldn’t be in this situation now.

“Oh, okay.” Danielle looks up at Malcolm and then begins to whisper in his ear. He starts doing that smirk of his.

“Oh, and Lola,” Pammy says, her eyes still locked on mine, “tell Angie the good news.”

              “Pammy and Danielle will be throwing me a baby shower here at Pammy’s house in two weeks!” Lola says. “Isn’t that exciting?” Pammy continues to smile at me.

              “It sure is, dear,” Pammy says. “This is your first child, I’m surprised no one thought of it before. Cadence, will you please tell us all
your
good news?”

              “Well, Aunt Pammy and I were talking,” Cadence says as he leans back on the couch with Sunday Simone on his chest and takes a sip of bourbon. “And since you’re moved in with Danielle and Malcolm for the time being and will be busy with little Sunday, Lola and I will move in here. With Aunt Pammy and Uncle Preston.”

              “
Excuse
me?” I say as Malcolm, Danielle and Lola start walking over to Cadence.

              “Good deal, huh?”

              “Sure is, dear,” Pammy says. “Oh and Cadence, why don’t you tell your mother the big surprise.”

“It’s a girl!”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask.

“I know, I couldn’t believe it either when he came in and told me…” Pammy says while looking at her watch, “about fifteen minutes ago. So happy! Oh
,
and guess what
?
Guess who’s going back home?” Oh, don’t you say Gwyneth. Don’t you dare say Gwyneth! “Gwyneth.” She nods towards Jacob and Winnie talking near the staircase, Jacob not saying a word, Gwyneth looking extremely cross. “What’s the saying? The family that eats together stays together?”

Danielle eases Sunday off of Cadence’s chest and begins to kiss her. Lola takes her hat off to see her red hair. Malcolm stands by proudly looking on with the side of roast in his hands. Preston and Wynston, still fighting, bump into me.

“Sorry, baby,” Wynston says to me as he puts Preston is a headlock. “You bumped into my wife, I ou
gh
tta murder you for that!” Do you see what I mean about Pammy’s home being the breeding ground of criminal activity?

“Shut the hell up, you old ass geezer,” Preston grunts out.

“If only someone would have thought of this family dinner sooner,” Pammy continues. “Oh well, come along family, let us move into the kitchen to enjoy some
aperitifs
.” And everyone rushes to the kitchen to sip vermouth. Cadence slaps Malcolm on the back and Malcolm whispers something to him, a small smile on his face. They both start to laugh. Danielle and Lola walk side-by-side into the kitchen, talking and smiling. Wynston and Preston walk into the kitchen talking and laughing loudly. And apparently we’re all going to pretend as if Pammy’s daughters aren’t in jail. We’re all going to pretend to be happy.