Woman on Top Page 13

“Are you ready?” she asked, having turned on her recorder, pen and notebook in her lap.

  “I am.”

  “So Mrs. Skinner, what was your initial reaction when your husband told you he wanted to run for office?”

  “Actually it was kind of romantic, he simply asked me if I was interested in becoming his First Lady.”

  “How would you define your role?” she asked, her smile insincere.

  “I think each First Lady brings her own definition to the role based on how she’d like to be perceived. I’m no different than any other woman who supports her husband. I’m here to ‘have his back’,” I said, mimicking a poster I’d seen of the President and Michelle Obama.

  “Is it hard to ‘have his back’ as you say, when sometimes you might not agree with his choices or decisions?”

  “My husband, as you know, is very good at deciding what’s right for this city, but when I offer or am asked for my opinion, I give it honestly.”

  “It’s public knowledge that you and your siblings are adopted. Have you taken a particular interest in any of the organizations that foster adoptions?”

  Lou was now taking pictures of our pictures, and pretty soon I feared he might sneak upstairs to get pictures of where we slept.

  “With BBWC having been my focus, I have not. However, if these children aren’t cared for initially, they too will become part of the foster system, so to answer your question, yes I’m involved on the preventive level.”

  “I know your sister discovered years back that former DA Gregory Haney was her biological father, and your brother has found his mother. What about you?”

  The mention of his name caught me off guard. Had she done that on purpose? Did she know something? What was her angle?

  “I’ve never had the slightest bit of interest in searching for someone who for whatever reason, didn’t want me, however I understand and support Kamille and Julian’s decisions.”

  “I see,” she responded, while looking down at her notes.

  “Your daughter, Nylah, she attends kindergarten in New Jersey, Crème de la Crème? That’s a very prestigious and expensive school, isn’t it?”

  “Is that a question or some sort of accusation?”

  “I’m sorry. What I was meaning to ask is will she be attending a Philadelphia public school in September?”

  “That would be the plan,” I said, when actually that had been a point of contention with Malik and me. I wanted Nylah to attend private school and as Mayor, he needed Nylah to be in our neighborhood public school. That battle was far from over.

  “The Mayor is known for being meticulous about his time, particularly his daily schedule. I understand it’s been a personal habit of his since college. How does that fit into his home life?”

  I thought to myself, does this woman think she knows my husband better than I do?

  “We’ve been living on a schedule for so long, I’m not sure I’d know how not to, so yes, it translates into our home life.”

  “Recently, the Mayor of St. Louis was caught cheating, and his wife, as in most of these cases, stood by him. Would you do the same for Mayor Skinner?”

  Was she really asking me that question? Did she know I’d been suspicious of her sleeping with my husband?

  “I highly doubt Mayor Skinner would ever put himself in that position, but if by chance it did happen, well my husband knows the answer to that.”

  “Interesting,” she whispered as she once again wrote in her notebook, then sipped her diet coke. I sipped my water.

  “And lastly, Blessed Babies, we understand your friendship with Mrs. Raquel Turner-Cosby played a big part in getting you out of the red.”

  “We are extremely grateful to everyone who’s contributed to BBWC, however it goes without saying that Mrs. Cosby’s contribution was a welcome and much needed surprise. Are there any more questions?” I asked, now glancing at my watch.

  “No, I think that’s it. But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to get a photo with you, you know to put on Instagram. I have a lot of followers.”

  As awkward as her request was, I said yes, and posed for the ridiculous selfie as if we were friends.

  “Thanks for doing this, Mrs. Skinner, I really admire you.”

  “When will this run?”

  “I’m going to edit in on the plane, then when I get back from New Orleans I should be able to wrap it up in time for your gala.”

  Trying to keep my composure. I wasn’t sure I’d heard correctly. Had she said she was going to New Orleans? Once the shock began to melt away, I walked around the coffee table to regain myself.

  With my mind buzzing and an uptick in my heartbeat, I bit down on my lip and asked, “You’re headed to New Orleans?”

  “Yes, I got called down there this morning.”

  If I could’ve gotten on a plane, I would’ve followed her down there. I’d been to New Orleans, I knew that the sexually charged culture of that city could make men and women do strange things. Searing with jealousy, I needed this woman to get out of my house so I could call my husband and tell him he was a liar. But after taking a moment to consider all things, glancing down at my gift from Haney I plotted out a better plan.

  I stood up and moved probably a little too close to her as she packed up her things and when she looked up at me, I said, “I’m sure my husband must need you for some reason.”

  “I do my best, Mrs. Skinner, to anticipate his needs, but sometimes even I don’t get them right.”

  I sent a text.

  Tiffany: I need to see you

  Haney: You will

  Malik returned home early Sunday morning in enough time to shower and change to attend church, which he never missed on Mother’s Day. I had yet to mention Cyndi’s sudden trip to New Orleans and he never even asked about the interview.

  Last year, Mother’s Day had been extra special because both of our families had dined at Prime. But this year it would just be me, Nylah, Malik and Nanny and she wanted to have dinner at Red Lobster.

  My parents, along with Kamille, Brandon and the boys had all driven down to Baltimore to Huli’s game, including a weekend stay at the National Harbor.

  When I went downstairs that morning, the dining room table was filled with presents from Nylah and Malik and before leaving for church, Nylah pestered me to open all of them.

  My first gift was a shopping bag filled with all my favorite things from L’Occitane, then of course there was the standard Tiffany’s bag, which held a gold-heart necklace, encased with Malik’s photo on one side and Nylah’s on the other. In addition, there were numerous gifts and cards that Nylah had made for me at school. Needless to say, I played a happy mother.

  Shiloh Baptist Church in Overbrook was where we’d begun attending when Malik took office and where Reverend Shoulders presided. He usually insisted that Malik say a few words at service and most times he did, but this morning, Malik declined, saying he wanted to sit with his ladies for Mother’s Day.

  After walking around for the offering, upon returning to our pew, I realized Malik wasn’t behind me. I assumed he’d either gone to the men’s room or someone had rudely pulled him aside for a trivial conversation.

  However, when twenty minutes had gone by and he still hadn’t returned to his seat, I began to wonder where was my husband. A few seconds later, I felt my mobile vibrating in my purse. Nanny gave me the side eye, but I ignored her.

  It was a text from Malik.

  Malik: Bad news, cop shot, gotta go, leaving the car and driver for you.

  Without being obvious I glanced toward the narthex, but he was already gone. Instead, there sat Phinn two rows behind us.

  At the end of service, it was obvious everyone had heard the news and were huddled in and outside the church discussing this latest tragedy. As we departed the church Nylah, sensing something was amiss, held tightly to my hand as I did my best to make small talk with members without responding to anyone’s questions. I’d learned when Malik took office not to
engage in matters of City Hall with the general public, less my opinion be misconstrued as having come directly from the Mayor. Nanny, on the other hand, didn’t hold back from giving her opinion on anything that related to headlines or her grandson.

  “Tell me what happened?” I asked Phinn, when we finally made it to the Tahoe where I took a seat in the front so we could talk out of Nylah’s earshot.

  “A rookie cop was gunned down outside a deli in the Northeast,” he said, his voice filled with angst as he weaved around cars in the church lot.

  “The Northeast, isn’t that where the academy is?”

  “Yes ma’am, a few blocks away on State Road.”

  “That’s so awful. What the hell is going on? Did he have a family?” I asked, always wondering who’d been left behind to endure the pain of such a senseless and untimely death.

  “It was a woman, Officer Christine Fanelli; she was engaged to another cop. They had a little girl.”

  Gasping, I asked, “That’s horrible. How does something like that happen again?”

  “They say she was sitting in her car in a parking lot off Rhawn and Torresdale. There were no cameras, and like before, he walked up to her window and ambushed her.”

  I was silent for a few minutes trying to take it all in, knowing the affect this would have on my husband, the police department, and the city.

  “Who’s with Malik?” I asked, since Phinn had driven us to church.

  “Blu Eyes picked him up,” he grumbled, which told me he wasn’t happy that he’d been replaced on Malik’s direct detail.

  I rarely saw Blu Eyes, so it came as a surprise that he’d been called into Malik’s detail. “Where’s my husband now?”

  “They’re headed to the Northeast, then he’s meeting the Police Chief and DA Leander at City Hall.”

  In light of the news, I was relieved when Nanny suggested we cancel our dinner reservations. Phinn dropped her at home first and her parting words to him were, “Young man, don’t you let nothing happen to my grandson.”

  My intuitive daughter began whining on the way home about wanting a Happy Meal and without me asking, Phinn pulled into the drive-thru of McDonald’s.

  I wasn’t hungry, but figured I’d cook anyway, just to ease my own anxieties. Pulling up in front of the house, I almost wanted to ask Phinn to come inside because the idea of these police officers being randomly shot, left me with an eerie feeling. But instead I began to prepare one of Malik’s favorite meals, red salmon cakes, home fries, and baked beans. It wasn’t balanced and full of carbs, but in times like these, I wanted to give him what he liked.

  After dinner, Nylah was so antsy that I took her around the block a few times to ride her bike, then we rode to Rita’s for water ice. Phinn, of course, followed behind us on foot, while another officer sat outside the house.

  Later that night after having fallen asleep in Nylah’s bed, I heard the alarm beep, and when I glanced at the cable box, it was eleven-thirty.

  I began making my way down the hall toward the front steps, but stopped when I heard Malik talking with someone; it was Wesley. Initially I thought it was a good thing, that maybe these tragedies had brought them back together, but the more I listened, the worse it sounded.

  “Your man, Wu, that you put in office, knows these cop killings are gang related. Ask him, Malik.”

  “C’mon man, I appreciate the information, but you can’t put this on Wu simply because he took over your position. That was my decision.”

  “I’m not putting it on him, but we both know why you gave him that job, his people fattened your pockets.”

  “I didn’t pocket anything, that money went into my campaign.”

  “But I was your man, remember? Point Breeze.”

  “Wes man, let’s not revisit that, your financial situation hasn’t changed, has it? You’re still good, aren’t you? Just tell me what you heard about this gang.”

  “It’s an Asian girl gang, Ho Ching Girls. It’s a rite of passage, the bigger the kill, the higher you move up.”

  “That doesn’t make any damn sense. Plus, we already checked into the gang theory. We have a gang Czar, remember? You helped me pick him.”

  “Check social media; it’s there. You just gotta know what to look for.”

  “Who told you this? Where’d you get it from?”

  “I still got people in the street, remember?”

  “It doesn’t make any sense, girls killing cops.”

  “I know that, that’s why I’m coming to you. You need to check Wu, I bet he knows what’s going on.”

  “You want me to investigate the man I already put in office ’cause you think he’s involved with girls killing cops? What is it you really want?”

  “You think I want something from you? I don’t want nothing; I’m trying to help you out, but you know what? Fuck you, Skinner.”

  When I heard the door shut, I slipped back into bed. Malik had enough on his mind without me drilling him with questions. I wondered though, could Wesley have been right? Were Asian girls killing cops? And what had he meant about Malik pocketing money?

  The house was quiet and I could hear him on the phone, but not understanding what he was saying. I could also hear him dropping ice in a glass and pouring over it what I was sure was Pappy Van Winkle. I checked the clock on the cable box, it was 1:42 a.m. and I wondered if I should go to him, but fearing a possible argument I stayed in bed.

  Later that morning when he collapsed onto his side of the bed, the stench of liquor mixed with a cigar was heavy on his breath. I was about to turn over and ask if he was okay, but then, using his last bit of strength, he threw back the covers, and climbing on top of me, he let me know that now wasn’t the time for talking.

  Chapter 13

  Under the Sea

  My interview captioned, She’s Every Woman ran in the Huffington Post and was linked to other social media sites. That ending up bringing in additional funds for BBWC. But in Philadelphia, it unfortunately ran alongside the stories of the police murders, which didn’t sit too well with the public, or Malik.

  Tonight though, wasn’t about Malik or me. Tonight was the Blessed Babies Gala and to the delight of the board and all involved, it had become a highly anticipated event on Philadelphia’s social calendar. My guess was the city had become so weighted down struggling to deal with the murders of two officers and no solid suspects, that we all needed something positive to focus on.

  The gala was being held at the Hyatt at the Bellevue and with so many rooms reserved by guests, they’d offered me a two-night complimentary suite, which I’d stayed in alone last night. But Malik would be staying with me after the gala.

  For us, I’d scheduled a romantic midnight couples’ massage, complete with champagne, strawberries and warm chocolate. I also planned to take this opportunity to give him an early Father’s Day gift. At my brother’s suggestion, I’d gone overboard with the purchase of a Cartier Santos 100 watch and a bottle of Malik’s favorite and rare bourbon, Pappy Van Winkle’s.

  Under the Sea was our theme for the evening and when Michael and I entered the ballroom for a walk-through, I fell in love with it. It certainly fared better than the overused Nights in Vegas or The Great Gatsby themes.

  The ballroom had been swathed in varying hues of Caribbean blues and greens, bringing the nautical theme to life. In place of flowers, tall glass vases filled with water that held swimming goldfish, sat as centerpieces for the tables. Large fish tanks ran the length of the three bars, filled with multicolored fish of varying sizes, along with blue and silver balloons that lined the ceiling. Party favors for the evening were a set of glass coasters etched with the BBWC logo.

  The evening was set to begin with cocktails and a silent auction at six p.m., followed by dinner, a live auction and dancing to music from UGO with a performance by Jazmine Sullivan. Our menu included eight different appetizers, with dinner entrees of filet mignon and lobster tail. Our emcees for the evening were Mike Jerrick and Alex Holl
ey from Good Day Philly.

  As board members, we’d decided not to all sit together so we might reach as many guests as possible. Each member had purchased a table, and joining me at the Johnson Properties table would be Malik if he made it, Max, Lynn, Brandon, Kamille, Tootie, Nanny, and Huli, who was bringing his mystery woman.

  From where we stood at the front of the room, donor representation was everywhere: RTC Holdings, CHOP, PECO, Verizon, Mitchell and Ness, Carter Crafted, and the City of Philadelphia had purchased two tables.

  “Is there anybody that didn’t purchase a table?” I asked Michael.

  “Does that mean we did good?”

  “I’m honestly overwhelmed, thank you and everyone at Platinum Images,” I said, before kissing him on both cheeks.

  “I knew you’d love it. It’s fun, yet white jacket formal. We have 600 guests confirmed and I’m sure they’ll be stragglers wanting to pay at the door.”

  “Are we set up to do that?”

  “Yes ma’am, no money will be walking out this door.”

  “Well then, let’s get ready!”

  Three hours later after primping and pampering courtesy of Salon Tenshi, and the $1,300 Carmen Valvo dress that I’d let my sister talk me into, I was officially glamorous. Since Malik was en route from a meeting in Harrisburg with the governor, I wasn’t sure what time he’d make it to the party, or if he’d make it at all. Fortunately for me, I had to settle on being escorted by Brother Sadiq, who showed up to my suite in a white tuxedo, topped with a black and white bowtie.

  “Brother Sadiq, I’m surprised to have you as an escort tonight.”

  “Why would you be surprised, you said the Mayor might not make it and there’s no way we’d let a beautiful woman be unescorted,” he said looking at me with eyes that confirmed my primping was all worth it.

  “But your wife, I mean wives, didn’t they want to attend?”

  “They understand, I’m working tonight.”

  As we headed to the elevator, the front desk manager, who was delivering a small black gift bag to me from Jay Roberts, stopped us. Anxious to see what it held, I opened it right away and inside laid a beautiful diamond hair clip in the shape of a dolphin. Malik had done well.