Chapter Sixteen #2
“I was trying to help,” I lie and take a step back but extend my hand. “You want me to try?”
She purses her lips and turns back to face the door. “No, they need to get it fixed and keep putting it off.” She presses the buzzer three times. “Maybe if they have to come down and answer it enough times, they’ll finally fix this lock.”
She crosses her arms, a satisfied smile on her face as she turns to face me and leans against the door.
The door opens with a sudden give that sends her tumbling backward, her arms pinwheeling.
I step forward and place a steadying arm around her waist and use my heel to kick the front door closed.
She straightens, and I sniff the air around her. “What?” She lifts her armpits and sniffs. “Do I smell?”
“No, Just…you smell different.”
She whips her head around to look at look at me. “I changed my perfume.”
“I can tell.”
“You know what I smell like?”
“Yes, you always smell the same.”
“I was trying something new.”
“Change it back,” I suggest.
She jerks a look over her shoulder at me. “Why would I do that? I love the new perfume.”
“It’s nice. Just doesn’t smell like you.”
She scowls. “No one asked you.” She steps away from me, yanks her hat off, and tosses it onto the coatrack.
The sudden loss of heat from her body makes me want to yank her back against me and keep her there all night. I have to get this off my chest or I’ll burst.
“Hey, Sin, can we talk before we go—”
“Sin, come and see,” her mother shouts from the kitchen. “Hurry up.”
“Oh Lord, what now?” She rolls her eyes and rushes off.
I follow her slowly.
Halfway down the hall, the sound of glass breaking rises over their voices and the television.
I pick up my pace and enter the kitchen just as Mr. Sackey pushes out of his chair, his hand outstretched, fingers pointing at the television.
His eyes are wide with rage. “Look at this fucking stupid piece of goat excrement smiling like he’s a good person.
Just when I thought I’d never see his face again, here he is. ”
I’ve never heard Mr. Sackey curse, so it takes me a second to follow the trajectory of his hand.
The world freezes when I see the headline that’s got him so upset. On the screen, a headline screams. “Mr. Palmer is bringing Palm Sunday back. After a two-year hiatus the iconically secret and the most coveted invite in DC is back.”
I stare at the pictures of my father that flash on the screen. Him with the famous people he kept like trophies, and try to make sense of what the reporter is saying.
“Idiot,” Mrs. Sackey’s sharp words make my head turn in her direction. She’s on her feet, too. Staring at the television. “Liar and a traitor. Utter disgrace.” She snaps her finger between each word.
As it sinks in that they are talking about my father this way, my heart starts to beat so fast I can hear it. “How do you know him?” I ask no one in particular.
“You mean Crooked Mr. Palmer? They don’t know him.
At least not anymore,” Adonis says with a long-suffering sigh.
He reaches into his pocket to pull out a small case with earbuds inside.
He slips one in and glances up at me. “They lost everything because they invested some money with him. They thought he’d cheated them. So they hired a lawyer and sued him.”
My thoughts move faster than I can process and my ears ring. “What happened next?”
“Their case was dismissed by the judge. They had to file bankruptcy. They’ve recovered financially, I think. But they lost a lot, too. They hate him.”
My head spins with this new information. “Yeah. I can imagine.” I wonder how many more people out there feel this way about my father.
“You better find something else to do ‘cause when they get going about him, that’s all they’ll talk about for the rest of the night.” He rolls his eyes and looks back at his phone.
“Who even told him that anybody misses him?” Mr. Sackey shouts in a voice dripping with loathing.
Sin stands and pats her dad’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go set the table and eat. Don’t let him ruin our Sunday.”
My stomach feels like I swallowed a lead ball. I need answers, but I’m afraid to ask. I follow Sin out of the room, but my mind stays firmly rooted in her parents’ reaction.
“Do your parents hate The Great Palmer, too?” Sin asks.
“The Great Palmer? Is that what you call him?”
“Are you sure you grew up in the DMV?” She looks look over her shoulder at me with a look of playful disbelief.
My mouth goes dry. “I did. I just…my parents didn’t mingle with other Ghanaians much.”
“Here.” Sin hands me a stack of plates and picks up two fistfuls of silverware, and I follow her to the dining room.
“Al Palmer is a Ghanaian billionaire who lives in the most expensive piece of real estate in northern Virginia. Supposedly, he’s the son of a chief in Ghana.
But no one’s really sure about that. We do know that he made a lot of money in oil and mining for other minerals.
And that he did some deals where he ended up holding land people used as collateral when the investments he’d sold them failed. ”
“I see,” is all I can manage. I feel like I’ve been hit by a hammer. “I’ve never heard any of this.”
“I wish I could say I’d never heard his name because every time he comes up, my parents go ballistic.”
I manage a chuckle even though my heart is racing like a locomotive as we walk into the dining room. Cold sweat is forming on my neck.
This is a disaster from every angle.
My father is trying to reinsert himself into DC’s political class again just as I’m trying to make a name for myself here.
If that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve finally found a woman I’m crazy about and whose family I’ve come to think of as my own, and he’s managed to taint it.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
“What?” Sin looks up from where she’s arranging a placement. Her eyes narrow and her brows furrow at whatever she sees on my face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I’m not.
It’s a miracle my hands aren’t shaking when I put down the last of the plates.
My entire nervous system is on fire. My chest feels heavy, my heart slams against my ribs, my gut is in a knot.
I back away from the table, focused on leaving before I say something I’ll regret.
I need to think. “I just remembered that I have a meeting early tomorrow morning that I haven’t prepared for. I can’t stay.”
She purses her lips and tilts her head. “Okay. Are you sure that’s all? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Yeah. Just have a lot to do for a meeting tomorrow and totally forgot.”
Sin’s smile is warm, but her eyes are slightly narrowed, whether with concern or suspicion I can’t tell. “Do you want to fix a plate to take home?”
“No. It’s all good. I’ll see you next week,” I call over my shoulder and leave the house through the back door without looking back.