Adored by a Brooklyn Drug Lord 3 Read online

  6

  Kelsey

  The news of Briana’s pregnancy got me thinking. Quill and I had just got back together after years of being separated, with the bulk of our time being spent catching up on lost time. I was aware that he had a ton of shit to work through, as did I, but I also wondered if kids were something he wanted. Considering everything my father went through with me, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be ready to bring a life into this world. Poor kid wouldn’t get any slack on either end. My thoughts drifted to the step before any kids were coming out of me: marriage. What if marriage wasn’t something Quill wanted? I thought I would at least have the rest of the night to run through endless scenarios, when I spotted Quill in my parking spot posted up on a brand new Benz. It was Eric’s—I had seen plenty of pics with him posing in front of it—and felt a flicker of annoyance at my boyfriend not being able to drive me around in his own car.

  “Good evening, beautiful,” Quill greeted me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pressing me into his chest.

  I kissed him on the lips extra hard, hoping it would push away my negative thoughts. “Hey, what are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you…”

  “You would know if you picked up your phone. I been calling you for the last hour to see if I could steal you away for dinner tonight.” He searched my eyes, his brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I brushed off.

  He gave me an alright look. “You down to grab something to eat? I made reservations at your favorite Italian spot.”

  “Gelso & Grand? I can go for some lasagna,” I relented. “Let me freshen up and we can head out.”

  Normani was sitting in the living room, feet propped up on two pillows, munching on snacks. The smell of Daddy’s famous parmesan crusted chicken wafted down the hall, setting off my stomach. I greeted her with a hug and kiss, instructing Quill to keep her company while I was upstairs. I messaged Normani to keep him occupied while I took a shower and did my makeup, to which she replied with a winking emoji. Underneath the steaming hot shower I was able to center myself, emerging with my head screwed on right. I was dressed in under ten minutes, opting for a simple black dress, tights, Louboutin boots, with a moto jacket to complete the look. My curls were damp at the ends, blowing my cover. I had no worries; Normani had fixed Quill a drink, and they were having a deep convo in my absence.

  “You ready?” Quill asked, downing the rest of his drink.

  I jingled my keys. “Why don’t I drive?”

  “This was nothing. I’m more than capable of driving,” Quill asserted.

  “I want to take my car,” I pressed, earning a worried look from Normani. “Nothing personal, it would be easier for my security to keep track of me.”

  Quill opened his mouth, ready for a rebuttal, and was cut off by Daddy, who appeared at the sound of my voice. His eyes flickered between the two of us. “Why don’t you take my car? It comes with a driver and security.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Normani cosigned with a vehement nod of her head.

  Daddy didn’t wait for an answer from either of us; he whipped out his phone and made the call on his way to the couch. “Antonio is yours for the night. Me and my baby mama don’t need any extra security tonight.” At the mention of being called his “baby mama,” Normani raised her foot to kicked him, only to have her foot claimed and massaged. “He should be pulling up in a minute or so.”

  Quill kept it cool, wishing my parents a good night with a wide smile, but I could see his jaw working as we climbed into the bulletproof Cadillac Escalade my father drove around in on the regular. We spent the ride to the restaurant in an excruciatingly cold silence. I took this opportunity to catch up on some light reading. The current book that had my attention was one written by a kidnapping victim. My stomach turned as she recounted the physical and sexual ways she was abused by a perfect stranger. He feigned being feeble in order to have her help him with his groceries. Like an angel, she assisted him, and was thrown into the back of his van. My free hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing as I read through a particularly gruesome detail, damn near strangling myself.

  “What was the problem with taking Eric’s car?” Quill asked out of nowhere.

  I placed my phone screen down on my lap. “There’s nothing wrong with taking his car…I just wanted to ride around in my own. You’re the one who turned it into something.”

  “Not before you did. You already had an attitude when I pulled up. If you didn’t want to go out all you had to do was say so. I would’ve went home.”

  I rolled my eyes. “How did me not wanting to ride around in someone else’s car turn into me not wanting to go out?”

  “Any other day you have no problem. What changed today?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You were fine when I spoke to you before you went to see Briana.” Pause. “Is this about Bri? Is she good?”

  I answered with a nod. “She’s fine.”

  Quill pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kelsey, I’m not a mind reader. I’m more than ready to discuss whatever it is that you have on your mind whenever you’re ready to speak up.”

  We pulled up to the restaurant. Being mad at me didn’t stop Quill from being a gentleman; he helped me out of the car and escorted me into the restaurant. My favorite table—on the far left-hand side so I could see the comings and goings of patrons—was reserved for us. A waiter greeted us by pouring two glasses of my favorite wine. Paired with the candles and mood music, I’m sure Quill put plenty of thought into tonight.

  “The reason why I’ve been driving different cars is because there’s a tracker underneath mine. I’m sure it was put on by Amos to make sure I was handling business,” Quill said, observing me over his menu. “I don’t give a fuck about his tracking my whereabouts, but I don’t like the idea of him knowing where you rest your head, which is why whenever I’m with you I use Eric’s car while he drives mine around.”

  I felt like a bitch. “Why didn’t you say something? I thought it was because—”

  “Drea was keeping tabs on me?” He laughed. “As long as my card doesn’t decline, I don’t get pushback from Drea. She’s irrelevant at this point; you already know what the deal is with that.”

  “Sorry,” I said, finishing off my glass of wine.

  Quill shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t want a ‘sorry’ from you; I just want you to tell me what’s wrong. You’ve never picked a fight over something this small. Why don’t you tell me the real reason why you’re upset?”

  “Briana’s pregnant.” I caught Quill in mid-sip. He choked on the gulp of wine in his mouth, coughing and clapping himself on the chest. “I don’t want a baby right now, but I keep thinking what if I have one? My biggest fear is my child growing up with two parents in volatile situations. You’ve got all this drama with Amos and I…I…”

  “You what?”

  I leaned in, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “I’m one of the biggest drug dealers in New York City. At least I will be when I get my first shipment.”

  Quill took my news exactly how I expected. He shut down, giving the menu his undivided attention. I felt like an even bigger bitch. Instead of shoving my foot farther down my throat, I skimmed the menu even though I knew what I was going to order. The waiter came around ten minutes later taking our orders. In an effort to clear the air, I started up another conversation.

  “Thank you for taking me out tonight. I know you have a lot on your plate, but it means a lot to me that you thought of me,” I complimented him.

  Silence.

  “Quill…”

  “For the record: I would never let anything happen to my child. I’ve done a good job of taking care of you, right?” he shot back.

  I nodded. “You have.”

  Quill ran a hand through his hair. “Can we start over?”

  “I’d like that.”

  With the air cleared between the two of us, dinner went well. I caught Quill up on my therap
y sessions. Arden was more than a therapist; over the short amount of time we had been seeing each other, she became more of a confidante. Although I was unable to divulge the nature of my real job, she accepted the analogies I used without any questions. Being able to layout my fears, feelings, hopes, and observations was freeing. Every session felt like ten pounds off my shoulder. Tonight’s dinner would be our first topic of discussion at my next session. I needed to unpack this conversation and see it through Arden’s focused lens.

  “Therapy is looking good on you,” Quill complimented me, intertwining our arms in the comfort of the car. “Your light has been shining brighter than ever.”

  I rested my chin on his shoulder, admiring his profile against the Manhattan backdrop. “So, what do you have planned for the rest of the night?”

  “Reservations at the Ritz Carlton. Staying at your place, I haven’t been able to put you to sleep…”

  “Word?” I quipped, my hand creeping up his thigh as I peppered his neck with kisses.

  As a response to my slick brazenness, Antonio began rolling up the privacy window. Quill and I shared a look before busting out laughing, the frisky moment ruined until we arrived at the hotel. In the midst of it, Quill’s phone went off. Drea’s name covered his screen. No emojis, no pictures, just Drea. He sent it to voicemail. She called right back. His thumb was hovering over the decline button again when I stopped him.

  “It might be important,” I suggested. “Pick it up. I’m a big girl.”

  Quill obliged, placing the phone on speaker. “Drea, what is it? I’m busy right now.”

  Over the sound of a baby’s frantic cries, Drea shouted, “Quill, I need you to come home! Legacy won’t stop crying!”

  “Drea, it’s probably just gas like it was the last time. Give him some gripe water and—”

  “I gave him some of that water. I also bicycled his legs like you showed me. He’s not eating either and I’m scared.” This didn’t sound like some dramatic ploy to get Quill to come home to her; she was genuinely worried about the well-being of her child.

  I knocked on the privacy window. Antonio rolled it down. “We’re making a detour.”

  __________

  Drea stood in front of Quill’s building bouncing a bundle of blankets. She stopped at the sight of the SUV stopping in front of her. I slid over in my seat, engrossing myself in my phone, pretending not to hear them arguing outside. After another five minutes of going back and forth, Quill whispered something in her ear that had her climbing into the car. Drea sat on the seats across from us, clutching baby Legacy in her arms, refusing to meet my gaze. Quill sat beside me, placing a firm hand on my thigh, the gesture speaking volumes. The ride to the hospital was silent except for Legacy’s grunts.

  “Where’s your car, William?” Drea asked, her face frowned up.

  Quill sighed. “Drea—”

  “Don’t ‘Drea’ me. Had you told me that you were riding around with someone else I would’ve hopped on the bus before I got in this car with—”

  “DREA!”

  “Quill, leave it alone. She’s got a lot on her plate,” I soothed, pressing him into his seat.

  The silence was broken again by Legacy crying, screaming at the top of his lungs. I was a little buzzed from the bottle of wine we shared at dinner, and the wailing didn’t improve my mood. Antonio hadn’t pulled to a complete stop when I opened the door, stumbling out with the help of Quill. Legacy’s cries had gone up another three octaves at this point, mixing with the other wailing children in the emergency room. Quill went to sign him in while Drea and I took a seat.

  “When I was a baby I cried a lot.” I wasn’t sure where the words were coming from, but I couldn’t stop them. “I wasn’t even home two days from the hospital when my father took me right back. He was convinced that something was wrong. The doctors did every test imaginable. They all came back negative. I was growing sicker; my dad was frantic at this point. It took a specialist to diagnose me with aperture stenosis. It’s rare. I was all fixed up and my mother left shortly after. A sick baby wasn’t in her future.”

  By now Legacy had calmed down somewhat. Drea rocked him slower, her eyes never leaving mine. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I wanted you to know that Quill loves him, and you won’t have to be like my dad. He’ll always be there for you until the end.” I gave a sad little shrug. “I’m going to head home. You have a good night, Drea.”

  Quill was still speaking with the receptionist when I glided by him. I didn’t want him worrying about me, but I also knew my presence was too much. Stealing one last glance of him over my shoulder, concern was etched into his profile as he demanded the woman see Legacy immediately. According to him, this wasn’t the first time the fussy baby had been brought in. The determination in his eyes killed all of those panicky feelings in my stomach. Quill was a good man, one I would be blessed to have a baby by.

  __________

  First United Trust Bank was a mammoth building, fifteen stories high and three times as wide. Over the last twenty years since its birth, it had become one of the largest Black owned banks in the country. Daddy had three branches on the East Coast and was working on adding the West Coast to his resume. The interior was as prestigious as the exterior; sales associates wearing navy blue suits greeted you upon entry, asking what service you required. If you were there for a simple transaction you would be guided to one of the twenty tellers waiting to service you. If not, there were bankers hard at work willing to assist. On the higher levels were customer service representatives, brokers, and every other employee necessary to keep the cogs of the monstrous financial institution turning. The person I needed was on the top floor, overlooking his empire through faith. Daddy was trusting to a fault; that, and he knew he had some of the best security that FDIC insured money could buy. His temp secretary, a middle-aged black woman with a beaming bright smile, greeted me with a sense of familiarity.

  “Good morning, Ms. Mackenzie,” she said. My brows shot up to my hairline. “Mr. Mackenzie has photos of you all over his office. That, and he mentioned you would be in for a meeting with him.”

  Of course he did. “Yes, is he in?”

  “He sure is. You’re more than welcome to enter,” she said, motioning to the large wooden door behind her.

  My earliest memories of my father’s office consisted of me being marveled by how large it was. In the center of the room was a solid mahogany desk with a winged chair fit for a magnate. Even after filling the room with necessities there was still so much more space, for pacing, practicing the latest dance moves, even enough to have a second or third office. Years later it still had that same effect.

  “Daddy?” I called out, creeping through the empty office, poking my head into his en suite full bath. “Daddy?”

  I opened his walk-in closet, fitted with a full wardrobe of suits, leisure wear, and athletic wear in case he wasn’t able to make it home to change. There was only one way in and out of his office, which meant I was missing something. Stepping deeper into the closet, I closed the door behind me, jostling the racks of clothing. Nothing. I was missing something.

  “Damn,” I muttered under my breath as I took a seat. “I’m running late.”

  Something underneath the seat caught my attention. One of my father’s Italian loafers. Nothing in the entire office was out of place except for this shoe. I picked it up and walked over to the wall of shoes, searching for its companion. It was face level with me, sitting right next to his watch collection. Each one of the five watches sat on a mount. I studied each one, from the classic Rolex to the occasion Audemars. One was missing. I looked to my left, my right, and gave the empty mount a push. Like something out of a spy movie, the wall to my right popped open a crack. I slipped inside, finding a pathway leading away from the building. My navigational skills were trash, but I was positive that this would lead me to the office buildings next door. I stood in front of it, listening for any other signs of life. It was
silent.

  “Whew,” I said, straightening my blouse and running a nervous hand over my slacks.

  I turned the knob and entered. Three sets of eyes stared at me, each one with varying degrees of humor. Daddy sat on the left side of the table next to Koi. Opposite them was the general manager from McDonald’s, Mr. H. I took a seat at the head of the table. Koi chuckled at my arrival, while Daddy remained solemn. The two still weren’t on the best terms, but I knew they had to get it together for the sake of the business.

  “They had no faith you would find the door,” Daddy said with a smile, pointing to the chair at the head of the table. “I’m not here in an official capacity; only to help you sort this situation out. The Trust has been in business for a very long time and nothing like this has ever happened. The best solution we came up with was to wipe the slate clean.”

  “What about him…?”

  Mr. H chuckled. “I am an old friend of your grandfather. Ulysses and I went to elementary school together. Mott Haven was my home for a very long time; I looked out for these two knuckleheads. Gave them their first jobs at my restaurant.”

  “Y’all used to work at McDonald’s?” My eyes widened in disbelief.

  Daddy shook with silent laughter. “Yes, I worked at McDonald’s every summer until I went to college. Started at the bottom as a fry cook. Four years later, I was a cashier. Old Man Harper wouldn’t make me a manager because he wanted me to focus on my studies.”

  “Owning a franchise was a dream of mine. Plus, I had other streams of revenue to make sure my kids were well taken care of. Urban needed to find one of his own. Once he was done, Koi came right after, giving me more headaches than I could manage. Imagine being so good with numbers you can’t even make a proper cheeseburger? I put him in charge of cleaning the lobby.”

  Koi held up a hand in surrender. “How about we get down to business? Kelsey, once again, I apologize for thrusting you into this business. It almost cost you your life. I relied on the people who have been part of this organization to have more loyalty to Urban, who has done nothing but make them filthy rich. They chose to be greedy.”