Absolute power, p.9
Absolute Power, page 9
“Really? A surprise, I take it.”
“A big one.”
“I have several of those myself,” Fernandez said and laughed. “How old is he?”
“He’ll be twenty-one soon.” Mr. O chuckled, but then his game face returned. “So, why am I here?”
“I’m getting pushed out.”
Mr. O chuckled because he knew all too well what that felt like. “By who?”
“I am being pushed out of my own organization by some people that work for me,” Fernandez answered. Then he paused. “And others,” he added. “I believe that they’re responsible for the recent attempt on my life.”
“I understand. What can I do to help?” Mr. O asked graciously, but at the same time, he was wondering, Why come to me?
“I need money.”
“How much money?”
“Three hundred grand. And I need it in cash.”
Mr. O leaned back and thought about it. It wasn’t about the money; a few hundred Gs was nothing. The question was, Did he want to get involved in Ferdie’s problems? “Sure, Ferdie.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Give me a day or two to put the cash together.”
Fernandez stood up, and with both hands, he shook Mr. O’s. “Thank you, O. I really appreciate this.”
“No worries,” Mr. O said and reached for his gun.
“You in a hurry?”
“Not especially.”
“Have a drink with me before you go,” Fernandez said.
“All you had to do was offer,” Mr. O said and reclaimed his seat. “But just one.”
It was just about the time when Brock looked at his watch as he sat at the bar. Although it had been only thirty minutes since he and Mr. O had parted ways, it felt like an eternity. Maybe there was nothing to worry about. After all, they were at a hotel, and maybe Mr. O was there to meet a woman. If that was the case, Brock understood keeping Imani out of it. But if that was the case, why not just tell him? Why all the mystery?
“Is this seat taken?” a female voice asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Brock turned toward the voice. “No.” The woman was beautiful, and that made him smile. “Please have a seat.”
“Thank you,” she said and signaled for the bartender without success.
Brock picked up his drink, took a sip, and then turned to take all of her in. Her jet-black hair was parted down the middle, and thick braids framed her honey-kissed skin, her chiseled features, and her dark eyes. He turned away.
As she continued to try to get the bartender’s attention, Brock looked at his watch and couldn’t help but notice the way her purple Stella McCartney mock-neck minidress hugged each of her curves, as if the dress had been designed for her. He finished his drink, put the glass down, and signaled for the bartender. He came right away.
“Another Jack?”
“Yes. But the lady was trying to get your attention,” Brock said, and she smiled.
“I’m sorry.” The bartender put a napkin down in front of her. “What can I get for you?”
“Cuba libre please,” she said in a soft and sultry voice.
“I’ll be back with those in a minute,” the bartender said and went off to complete his tasks.
“Thank you,” she said, and then she looked at him. “Have we met?”
“I don’t think so. I think I’d remember you.”
“You look very familiar to me. If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from?”
“Miami.”
“I’m from Madrid, but I spend a lot of time in Miami.”
“I don’t live there anymore.” He chuckled. “I’ve been living in Atlanta for the past ten years. I just recently moved here.”
She looked disappointed. “Well, maybe not, but you look so familiar to me.”
“I just have that kind of face,” Brock said as the bartender returned with their drinks and set them on the bar top.
She picked up her glass. “Renata Cano.”
“Brock Whitehall.” He raised his glass. “Nice to meet you.”
“And you. So what brought you to Jacksonville?”
“I have some friends here, family really. They invited me down. I like it here,” he said and thought about Imani. “I’m thinking about staying. What about you?”
“Just visiting. I’m here to meet somebody who’s staying here at the hotel,” Renata said.
From there they got into a lively conversation about Miami, and it went on until Brock saw Mr. O coming toward the bar.
He finished his drink and signaled for the bartender. “As much as I’d love to stay and talk some more, I have to go,” Brock said as the bartender arrived. “Check, please.”
“Well, it was nice meeting you.” Renata smiled and held out her hand. “And it was very nice talking to you.”
“Believe me, it was my pleasure. It reminded me of home,” he said as Mr. O made it to the bar. He waved and kept walking toward the exit. Brock stood up and tossed a couple of twenties on the bar top.
“Maybe we’ll bump into each other again when you have more time to talk,” Renata said. “Or maybe I’ll see you next time you’re in Miami.”
“I’d like that,” Brock said, and they exchanged numbers. “Good night, Renata. It was very nice meeting you.” He then left the bar to catch up with Mr. O.
Chapter Nineteen
On the way home from the Hyatt, Mr. O called Kimberly and told her they were on their way, so she had dinner prepared and ready to serve when they got home. Brock hoped that there was still time to do whatever it was that Imani had planned for them to do that evening.
If she had something planned.
He was disappointed that Imani wasn’t home when they got there. He sat down to a meal of zucchini boats and rigatoni with sausage, thinking that maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself when it came to Imani. Maybe she was just being friendly by showing the new guy around the city. After all, Imani was her father’s loyal soldier. It would only make sense that she would do everything she could to accomplish Mr. O’s objective, and his objective was to get Brock back in the game.
So you need to slow down and keep things in perspective.
For dessert, Kimberly served them homemade cheesecake brownies. It was then that Mr. O announced his intentions for the evening.
“I’m gonna head out tonight,” he said and took a bite of his brownie.
“I’ll bring the car around,” Brock said before shoving his last bite of cheesecake brownie in his mouth.
“No need. I got this tonight.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Mr. O chuckled. “I think I can get some pussy by myself.”
“I know that, boss. But what about your security?”
“This ain’t Miami, son. Up here, I’m a legitimate businessman. Cops ain’t hunting me, and I have no enemies,” he said, getting up from the table. He headed upstairs to change. His response made it obvious to Brock that Mr. O didn’t need him to drive him; he had asked Brock to drive only to keep him around.
With nothing to do and nobody to do it with, Brock got up from the table and went into the game room. He made himself a drink, picked up a pool stick, and racked up the balls. This was the first time he’d picked up a cue in ten years. His plan was to hang around and see if Imani came home, and then maybe they could do something together.
Didn’t you just say you were going to slow down and keep things in perspective? he thought as he broke the balls. The six ball went in a corner pocket. You still got it.
After a few games and a few drinks, Brock assumed that Imani wasn’t coming home any time soon, and went upstairs to his room. Seeing that he wasn’t tired or ready to sleep, Brock propped up some pillows, turned on the TV, relaxed, and thought about his future. He pondered getting his own place and a car of his own.
It was fifteen minutes later when Imani finally got home and parked in the garage. She was disappointed that she didn’t see her father’s car. To her, that meant Brock wasn’t home. After Brock had dropped her off at the house earlier, Imani had decided to go to the St. Johns Town Center to see if she could use her tickets to The Escape Game the following evening. And since her dinner plans had been ruined as well, Imani had gone to Maggiano’s and dined alone on their salmon with crispy Calabrian shrimp.
Imani climbed out of the car and entered the house. When she went upstairs to her room, she was surprised to see light coming out from under Brock’s bedroom door. Her first thought was to go knock on the door and see if he wanted to do something with her. She started down the hall, but she quickly changed her mind. Imani went to her room and shut the door, thinking that she needed to slow her roll.
She changed out of her clothes and crawled under the covers. As she lay in bed, Imani thought about her decision not to knock on Brock’s door. Although she was pretty sure that Brock was feeling her the same way she was feeling him, she didn’t want to seem like she was chasing him or trying to force herself on him.
At seven forty-five the next morning, Imani’s internal clock woke her up before her iPhone alarm went off. She rolled out of bed and started getting dressed to go work out. As she was leaving her bedroom, she turned off her alarm, and then she headed downstairs to the gym. As she expected, Brock was already in there, jogging on the treadmill. She stood there quietly watching him for a while, admiring how good he looked in the Gymshark sport shorts and the Critical Drop Arm Tank that she had gotten for him to wear while he worked out.
Imani dropped her towel on a bench. “Good morning, Brock.”
He turned off the treadmill. “How are you, Imani?”
“I am doing great this morning,” she said, enjoying the sight of sweat dripping off his muscular frame. “What about you?”
I missed you last night, he thought. “Great. I slept like a baby last night.”
Imani assumed her opening yoga pose. It was called Balasana, or the Child’s Pose, and was a hip-opening exercise that increased mobility and flexibility and allowed for a greater range of motion. Brock stopped to watch her before moving on to the cage workout machine, because he was into the way her round ass rested on her heels when she stretched to engage her core muscles.
“Where did you and Daddy go last night?” Imani asked as stretched.
“Did you ask your father?”
“No.” She giggled. “And he’ll just say that he went out.”
“If that’s what he’ll say, then that’s where he was.”
“You’re just as bad as he is.” Imani stretched some more, and Brock held his breath. “I’ll ask him when he gets up.”
“Is he back?”
Imani tensed. “What do you mean, is he back?”
Brock started walking toward her, and Imani held her breath. “I mean, is he back from wherever he went last night?” he said.
Imani rocked back on her heels. “I thought you two were together.”
“We were. Then, when we got home, he said he was going out and he didn’t need me to drive for him.” He started to tell her what her father had said about getting pussy by himself, but it wasn’t necessary. The point had been made.
“And you let him drive himself?”
“Yeah, he said—” Brock began, and Imani held up her hand.
“Daddy may think that he is all right to drive himself, but he’s not. He has early-stage cataracts, and he can’t see very well at night anymore.”
“I did not know that.”
“Why did you think I wanted him to get a driver?”
“I thought that was just a reason to get me to stay.”
Imani remained silent, as if she’d been caught in a secret. “It was, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t need a driver, because he does,” she finally confessed.
“Understood. Next time he tries that, I’ll insist that I drive him where he wants to go and pick him up when he’s done.”
“Thank you, Brock.”
“No problem.”
Imani laughed lightly. “He probably went to see Anissa.”
“Who is that?”
“A woman half his age. He hasn’t told her how old he is, and you driving his blind ass over there would have made him feel old.” She laughed again. “Older than he is.”
After they completed their workout, showered, changed clothes, and had breakfast, Brock took Imani to work. Since her father hadn’t made it home by the time they left the house, Imani called him, but Mr. O did not answer. A few minutes later, he sent her a text that said, I’m fine.
Once he walked Imani to the building and held the door open for her, Brock told her that he’d be back when she called, and then he went back to her car and drove away. Imani stood there for a second or two, wondering what had just happened. The morning had been going great between them. They had had a good workout together, the conversation over breakfast had been engaging and at times hilarious, and that good feeling had continued in the car on their way to the office. Imani went to her office, wondering if she had done something or said something to make him mad. She shook it off.
And they say we’re the sensitive ones, she thought and got to work.
But there was nothing wrong, nor had she done something or said something to make him mad. Now that Brock had decided to get a car and a place to stay, he wanted to get right on it. And so, when Imani called to say that she was ready to leave the office, Brock picked her up and took her to see the Infiniti Q60 he had picked out and then drove by the apartment he had selected for himself. Imani was a little disappointed that he wanted to move out of her family home, but then she thought that it may be a good thing.
They lived in her father’s house, and Imani would feel uncomfortable having hot sex when her father was in the bedroom down the hall. That was why she had got her own place. Maybe he feels the same way, she surmised. And that single thought made her feel better about the situation.
“I’ll work out the financing in the morning for you,” Imani promised as they drove off.
“Thank you, Imani,” he said with a smile that showed how much he appreciated it. “And I appreciate you,” he added, and Imani’s smile broadened.
“Anything you want or need, you just have to let me know, and I will make it happen for you.”
“That’s because you’re all things to all people, right?” Brock asked, and Imani took a moment to think before she answered.
“No. Not all things to all people. I just want to be all things to you,” Imani said, and Brock took his eyes off the road to glance over at her. They stared into each other’s eyes for a split second before he focused back on the road.
Brock was caught off guard by her words. “I want to be that for you too,” he said and had to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting the car in front of them.
“You want me to drive?” she giggled. “You seem a little distracted.”
“I think you’re enough to distract any man. But that’s not the point.”
“What is the point, then?”
“I’m hungry, so where do you want to eat?”
Imani thought for a second or two. She had planned for them to go and experience The Escape Game at Town Center, so she picked a restaurant that was close by and chose Seasons 52. Fifteen minutes later they parked and headed inside the restaurant.
“What are you having?” he asked once they were seated.
“I was thinking about the cedar plank roasted salmon, but I had salmon last night,” she replied as she looked over the menu.
“Where did you eat last night?”
Imani put down her menu and folded her hands in front of her. “Tell me where you and Daddy went last night, and I’ll tell you where I ate.”
Brock raised his menu so that it covered his face. “I think I’ll have the filet mignon and Maine lobster tail.”
Imani giggled at his evasiveness, and she chose the wood-grilled filet mignon.
After dinner they headed to Town Center to play The Escape Game. They decided to try the Space Station. According to the game, their spaceship crash-landed on the surface of Mars. Radiation levels were rising fast, and they had to get the spaceship’s systems back online and relaunch the vehicle into orbit in order to make it out alive, along with the four other crew members they met when they got there. They were able to escape from Mars and had a great time doing it, and they even made some new friends in the process.
When they got back to the house, Brock and Imani had a drink in the great room and talked about how much fun they had had together. Once Imani announced that she was tired and going up to bed, Brock walked her to her bedroom door.
“Good night, Imani. I had fun with you tonight.”
“I did too,” Imani said, and they stared at each other before they stepped closer to one another and shared their first kiss.
“Good night, Brock,” she said when the kiss was over. And then she turned and went into her bedroom.
As Brock walked down the hall, he saw light coming out from under Mr. O’s door.
“Definitely need my own place,” he mumbled to himself.
Chapter Twenty
The next morning, after their workout, which was laced with flirtatious comments and longing glances, which spoke volumes about the way they were feeling about each other, Imani headed upstairs and got dressed. She grabbed a couple of coconut-quinoa breakfast bars and left the house without waiting for Brock and her father. There were a couple of deals in motion that Imani had to handle, and there were some financial arrangements that needed to be made, and she wanted both done by the end of the day.
When Brock came downstairs for breakfast, Mr. O told him Imani had already left the house. As he fixed his plate, Brock wondered if she had left early because of their kiss the night before.
It was just a kiss, he told himself. They didn’t tongue each other down, nor did their hands roam each other’s body to check out what the other was working with. It was just a kiss.
I was looking at her, she was looking at me, and it just happened, he thought as he sat down at the table. But then he thought that if anything was wrong, she would have said something while they were working out this morning.
