42. Teddies & Prayers
teddies as a monster. Meanwhile she’s trying to survive and raise a family like Cici did.These same concerns are why I am unsure I’d be the parent my kids deserve while living under the Klarke shadow.
“I can’t just take everybody out that doesn’t like me. I don’t have the support to survive a war, and I have to be mindful because my babies need me. No one understands the pressure I’m under. So yeah, my son losing his teddy was enough for me to crack,” she admits, peering over at me.
“It’s okay. We found it, so no bad news for Andrea. As for everything else, I don’t know what to say, Gi. I wish Cici and Ace were still here to give us advice. Though, I think we both know what they’d say. They had a low tolerance for insubordination.”
She nods in agreement, distracted by a chime on her phone, and I stand to gather my things. We found what she needed, and I want to be left alone, but I don’t want to kick her out. Especially when it seems like the both of us are in need of a little company.
Low taps sound from her keyboard as she texts back a response, glancing up at me as if she just thought of something.
Whatever it is, no.
“Come for a drive with me.”
“No thanks, I’m about to head home,” I grumble, defeated, grabbing my clutch.
“I wasn’t asking. C’mon,” she orders, motioning to the door.
Never mind then.
“Fine,” I resign, punching in the code to lock up as I follow her into the hall.
She trails me through the distillery, our clacking heels echoing on the concrete as we exit.
I settle into the luxury sedan, buckle my seatbelt, and sulk in my seat.
Not at all how I imagined my night to go.
She taps the push to start before backing out of the reserved parking space, an uncomfortable silence accompanying us on the drive.
I have no idea where she’s dragging me to, but I can guarantee that we’re both overdressed.
“We need to air everything out between us,” she finally says.
No we don’t.
“There’s nothing to discuss, Gi. What’s done is done,” I huff as I look out the window.
“I disagree, but since you want to act like that. I got something for you. Bet.”
She unlocks her phone, tapping that damn keyboard again and it halts.
Suddenly, Aretha Franklin’s “I Say A Little Prayer For You” fills the space, and I roll my eyes.
“Turn it off, Gina,” I beg, blinking away tears.
“Nope, I’m waving my white flag, Dee. You know the rules. What did Ace always say?”
Cici used to turn this song on every time we fought as kids. It was a tradition she held with Ace. When they had their first fight as boyfriend and girlfriend, he walked off to start the record player and this was his surrender song.
“Ace said that nobody can be angry when Aretha sings,” I sigh.
“The only man who’s been right, ever.”
She taps her hands on the steering wheel singing the lyrics animatedly, holding her free hand out to me like a microphone for me to join.
We sing along out loud as we ride through the dimly lit city streets, and I realize that I haven’t had this much fun with her in years.
The song fades, and she says, “I’m sorry, Dee. I should’ve talked to you about it first.”
I scoff out my response. “You would’ve done it anyway, regardless of what I said.”
“I won’t lie to you. I would’ve done it anyway, but I am sorry that I hurt you in the process.”
At least she’s being honest.
“Once I learned that he wasn’t only stealing from Divin, but the casinos, too, he became my problem, and I had to be the one to handle it.
If I let shit slide, my credibility would’ve been questioned.
I couldn’t let a fucking thief who mistreated you live another day.
Nobody crosses a Klarke and lives to tell the tale. Word is bond.”
“I know.”
“Cidro not being here leaves us vulnerable, and any wrong move puts my family in danger, even something as minuscule as letting Lawrence live. I don’t regret what I did or expect you to forgive me, but you deserved an apology a long time ago. I’m sorry, Dee.”
“I get that now, and I acknowledge I’ve been selfish. Not even considering the position he put you in,” I acquiesce.
“Your feelings are valid, and it’s not selfish to be angry with me.
You shouldn’t have been in that cell, I don’t care if it wasn’t for long.
I told myself making it go away quickly would be best for you, but it only slapped a Band-Aid over a deep wound,” she says, the car growing silent as I process this conversation.
My mind flits to César, and frustration boils in my gut. This always happens to me, and now I am convinced I’m not meant to date. Since there’s always someone trying to use me to get to my family. Regina asks a question, releasing me from these thoughts.
“Do you miss him?”
“Hell no.”
“You’ve been pissed at me over a man you don’t even miss. Do you hear yourself?”
She’s got a point. But I remain silent.
“Fair enough, but the world is better off without that sorry motherfucker. We don’t have to speak kindly about the dead. Especially when there’s nothing nice to say. Death doesn’t absolve us of our sins, only prevents us from committing more,” she states calmly while keeping her focus on the road.
“My god. You really are just like Cici,” I gasp.
A smug smile stretches across her face. “Spitting fucking image, and it pisses you off, doesn’t it?”
“Only when you strut through metal detectors fully armed.” I pause to think of another reason. “Hmm. And when you set your gun on the table at work and at restaurants.”
“I told you, it digs into my side,” she scoffs.
I break out into a fit of laughter, and she eventually joins me.
“We’re so damn stupid,” I snicker to myself.
“I haven’t laughed like that since my last night with Cidro,” she admits. “Thanks for riding with me.”
“No problem. I wasn’t doing shit anyway. Where are we going?” I ask, peering out of the window.
“Church,” she says flatly.
She’s gotta be fucking with me.
“The devil can’t set foot in a church,” I tease, glancing at her in time to see her smirk.
“Says who? I’ll have you know that I attend confessional weekly . Hmph.”
“Fuck outta here.” I chuckle at her ridiculousness.
“I’m deadass. I bring a bottle of Divin as an offering for the troubles I bring and go on my way.”
Only Regina.
“That is unfortunate for the priest.”
“I disagree. It comes with the job, and they get top-shelf liquor for free, just for sitting in a box and listening,” she informs, pulling over to parallel park behind a black Mercedes in front of a cathedral.
“You coming?” she asks.
“Absolutely not. I’ll wait here,” I say, shaking my head before I look out of the windshield to admire the stained glass.
“Suit yourself. I won’t be long.”
She pops the trunk before entering the building, and I roll the window down to get her attention.
“Gi, wait.”
“Hmm?” Her eyebrows shoot up as she approaches the passenger door.
“There isn’t a mark in there, right? Please tell me you’re not doing a hit tonight with me waiting outside,” I whisper-shout, glancing around to make sure no one can hear us.
She side-eyes me with a scoff. “I’m not. That’s all you think I’m good for, huh?” she asks, her tone riddled with annoyance. “Fifteen minutes, tops,” she says before disappearing into the building.
10:58 p.m. | 1 hour and 41 minutes after ‘the last incident’
Regina exits the building, eyeing me suspiciously until she gets in the driver’s seat.
That doesn’t make me nervous at all.
Two large men exit the building afterward, getting in the car in front of us. I notice one of the men is the lawyer that got me released.
Pineros.
“What’s the lawyer doing here?” I ask, my brows pinched.
She ignores my question to present me with one of her own.
“Since we’re being honest tonight, the fact that you think I don’t know about your little boyfriend being a PI is laughable, because I do,” she says with a smirk.
“You know that motherfucker has been looking into me too? Were you ever going to tell me?” she urges.
“I didn’t know before tonight, Angie told me before the party ended. Then I confronted him and told him to run because I don’t want him to meet the same fate as Lawrence.”
“Girl. There’s a stark difference between César and Lawrence. I don’t have to tell you that,” she admonishes.
“Are you going to kill him?” I ask defeatedly as I blink away tears.
“I wasn’t planning on it. Do I need to?”
“I don’t think so, but he works for?—”
She cuts me off, finishing my sentence. “The Hales. He’s their in-house PI. They want to win that bid so badly, they fucked with the wrong family over it. They’ll learn.”
“Are you going after them ?” I ask, worried because nothing causes a commotion quite like dead white people.
“Probably, but not before you win that bid,” she says nonchalantly.
My brows knit as I ask, “What do you mean I’m going to win?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, they’re terrified of me. So I’m getting in on this bid.
That motherfucker Dax might get angry, and I hope he does,” she says with a deep chuckle as she pulls off into the street. “There isn’t a war when the competition disappears.”
“I don’t understand. Why?”
“I’ll put up all the bread you need to invest in your dream, but only if you feel comfortable,” she tosses out like it’s nothing.
“You’re serious? You want to help make things legit?”
“Yes. While my money isn’t cleaner than Uncle El’s, I’d still like to invest in you . If you’ll let me. You’re right that our kids should be able to have a choice unlike we did. What do you say?”
Holy shit.
“Uh—thank you? I have a lot of questions, but I am interested.” In partnership and in rebuilding our relationship.
“Good. We’ll talk shop in the morning. And I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but you need to fix it. I met with my lawyer in there,” she informs, tilting her head toward the church. “He assured me that his friend César is a good man. If Emiliano vouches for him, that’s enough for me.”
“But he lied, Gi,” I remind her.
“Men lie, and water is wet. Don’t act like you’re any better. Did you tell him why your ex-boyfriend is dead?” she asks with a sideways glance before looking back at the road.
“No,” I admit.
“See? You kept secrets to protect your family. and so did he. Gotta respect it,” she advises as she presses her foot on the gas to enter the on ramp.
I suppose she’s right.
“I plan to hire him to help me find out what happened to Cidro, but him being in love with you is a conflict of interest. And before you argue, watch this,” she adds with a devious grin.
Aretha’s “Think” blasts through the car, and she shares a knowing look before speeding up and changing lanes until she’s in the fast one.
Touché, Regina. Tou-fucking-ché.