The Family Business 3(6)
Gone was the anger from his face. Dude could no longer hide his fear. I smiled at him then shouted, “Boo!” and he let out the stinkiest fart I’d ever witnessed. It was so nasty you could almost taste it.
“Oh my God, Sasha. What the hell you do that for?” Rio snapped, covering his lower face with a handkerchief and waving his hand. “This fool’s been eating onions and hot dogs all day.”
“Well, I’m about to take him out of his misery.” I cocked the hammer on my gun.
“I’m sorry,” he said in this whiny, pathetic voice. “Please don’t kill me.”
“You want to live?” Paris asked. LaSalle nodded. “Okay, then you got one chance, and if you as much as think about lying to me, she’s gonna blow your brains all over these nice silk sheets.”
“I’m not going to lie. I swear. Anything, anything you want. I’ll tell you,” LaSalle stuttered.
“I just wanna know who told you about the shipment.”
Without hesitation, LaSalle gave up the information. “Niles. His name was Niles Monroe.”
Paris’s face became an angry, contorted mess and she flew into a rage. “You lying piece of shit! Niles Monroe is dead!” She pulled the trigger and then stormed out of the room.
I glanced over at Rio, who had closed the briefcase and was about to follow Paris out the door. I grabbed his arm. “What the f*ck was that all about? Who the hell is Niles Monroe?”
Rio’s face went soft and sad. “Niles Monroe is the only man Paris ever truly loved. And the first person she ever had to kill for the family.”
Sonya
3
“So I guess you got my message?” My husband’s voice sounded overly calm considering the message that had been delivered.
As he stared at me from across the table, I was wishing I was anywhere but there with him. I could feel his eyes undressing me, slowly and intentionally removing all the layers I was wearing. Guess it didn’t matter how hard I had tried to cover myself up; he knew every single contour of my body too well to be thrown off by baggy clothes and no makeup. There was a time when that look he was giving me would have made my clothes melt away so I could jump his bones right there, but those days were long gone.
“Oh, I got your message loud and clear,” I replied sharply, looking up at his smug face for the first time. It had been three days since his men entered the Bull and Bear restaurant, threatening Junior and me like modern day Stormtroopers. I’m sure Junior thought it was about him, but I knew that confrontation had been my husband’s way of reminding me that I was his wife and that playtime was over, regardless of the fact that he was behind bars. “Why else would I be here?”
He turned the chair around and sat in it backward, his eyes narrowed in anger. I had no doubt that if the guards weren’t watching our every move, he would have slapped me for using that tone of voice with him. A part of me wanted to jump up and run. I could write him a letter when I got home instead of doing this face to face, I thought. Deep down, though, I knew that would never work. Not if I truly wanted to be with Junior. Besides, I hadn’t taken a five-hour bus ride just to turn tail the moment things got uncomfortable. I needed to confront him. It was the only way he would respect me enough to give me my freedom and leave Junior alone.
“I’m not sure. I’m hoping you’ve come to your senses,” he finally said.
“Yes, I have come to my senses. I want a divorce, Charles.”
He sat up straighter, clearly taken aback by my words. “My name is Xavier—and I love you, so that’s not going to happen. You knew when we first got married that Islamic law has no provision for divorce other than death. I’m your husband. Your only husband!” He spoke with finality, the same way he did when he was giving orders to the countless men who were always at his beck and call. The problem was, he seemed to forget that I wasn’t one of them.
“Really?” I shot back defiantly. “And what kind of husband have you been the last five years?” I said it loud enough for half the people in the visiting room to hear.
“I’ve been a faithful one. Can you say the same?” Most people would have stopped at that moment, frightened by his steely calm, but I had come this far, and I was going to have my say.
“No, I can’t, and that’s why I want a divorce. You can’t do anything for me locked up in here, Charles. I’m a woman. I need to be held at night. I need to be made love to. Hell, you stay in so much trouble that we can’t even have conjugal visits.” I stared at him, refusing to back down.
He reached out for my hand, but I moved it away. I didn’t want him to soften my resolve. “I understand, and I’m sorry,” he said, sounding more sincere than I would have expected. “I can fix that. Get my conjugal reinstated. I know this hasn’t been easy on you, but I can make this right. Sonya, baby, I love you.”
I shook my head. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? You’re not a husband; you’re a responsibility. A responsibility I don’t want anymore. I just want to be free.”
His eyes flashed with anger. “The only way for you to be free from me is for one of us to die. And I don’t plan on dying anytime soon. You get where I’m going with this?”