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  As usual, Nanny traveled with us on vacation, and this time Sheema came, along with Phinn, who we’d convinced to bring his daughters, Hanna and Hailey. I’d extended the invite to my nephews, but they’d finally made it out to Los Angeles with Huli for a four game stretch. Mickey Mouse was no match for a baseball game.

  It was Labor Day weekend and we’d rented two rooms and a suite at the Grand Floridian. Because of the holiday it was crowded, but it was our only opportunity to get away as a family. The lines were long for every ride and attraction, but that didn’t bother the girls, as they willingly waited to get the most out of their days, then they fell fast asleep by eight-thirty at night.

  In the evenings, Malik and I had drinks at the bar with Phinn, who then went off on his own adventures to Downtown Disney or some other retreat he’d found away from all of us.

  On the second night we were there, we went to the ESPN Zone, where we watched Huli hit a home run with flashes of my nephews cheering on their uncle in the stands. The two of them were seated on either side of Rihanna, which meant Ciara was out of the picture. If that was his idea of a nanny for the boys, I’m sure my sister was going to be thrilled. I couldn’t wait to call her.

  It was day three of our vacation and to get a head start on the crowd and the heat, we’d made it to the park by nine a.m. Malik and Nanny were at the vending stand getting cronuts and coffee for everyone, while the girls circled and waved from the Mad Tea Cup ride. Phinn and I sat on a bench in the blazing sun waving back to the girls, and I didn’t think much of it when his mobile rang or when his face turned a shade of red that didn’t match his tan. I figured it was the twin’s mother checking on them, as she’d phoned several times since we’d arrived.

  But then I watched his body stiffen and he nodded more than he spoke. Without turning my way, he said, “Excuse me.”

  He wasn’t walking fast or running, but his deliberate 20 paces to my husband let me know it hadn’t been his children’s mother. Something was wrong. I prayed another cop hadn’t been killed.

  Looking over my shoulder, I watched the interaction between him and Malik, but Phinn was intentionally blocking my view. I did see Malik toss our coffee in the trash. Nanny, walking away from them, made her way over to me.

  “Something ain’t right. My grandson is upset.”

  We hurried to get the girls. Luckily, Nanny had the tray with their cronuts, so we sat them on the bench.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked Malik and Phinn when they reached us.

  “It’s bad, real bad. I gotta go back,” Malik told us, his face etched with something I couldn’t read.

  “Why, what happened?” I asked a little too loudly.

  “Come on, let’s go, so we can talk,” he said to me.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Back to the hotel.”

  When I told the girls we had to return to the hotel, the scene turned chaotic. Nylah began whining because she didn’t want to leave the park. Nanny offered to stay behind, but then Nylah started crying because we were leaving her. I took Sheema’s hand, and Malik picked up Nylah, while Hailey and Hanna sidled up next to their father.

  “Let’s take the monorail, it’s the fastest,” Phinn suggested to Malik.

  Nylah cried to her father, “Daddy you promised we could take the ferry, I wanna take the ferry.”

  “Next time, okay, sweetie,” I told her.

  Pulling on his arm, Nylah was insistent. “Daddy, I wanna take the ferry. Please Daddy, you promised.”

  “We will; c’mon, it’s okay,” Malik said to quiet her, and give himself more time to think about whatever had happened back at home.

  “Malik, please tell me something,” I said as we rushed to catch the ferry.

  “I can’t, not right now. Do me a favor don’t answer your phones,” he instructed me, as well as Nanny.

  Now I was scared.

  When we arrived at our suite, Phinn waited inside the door and Malik asked Nanny to take the girls into the adjoining room.

  “Sit down,” he told me.

  “Is it my parents, my sister, Huli, what happened? What is it? You’re scaring me.”

  He closed his eyes, slowly opened them, and blinking back tears, he said, “Wesley’s gone.”

  “What do you mean he’s gone? Gone where? What are you talking about, Malik?”

  He lowered his head. “He was murdered, this morning.”

  Covering my mouth so as not to let out a scream, I shook my head back and forth. “No, that can’t be right.” He reached out to me, but I pulled away and sat further back.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying? He was shot.”

  “No, Malik!” I screamed, looking from him to Phinn.

  Nanny came rushing from the other room, closing the door behind her and said, “I already know. This is a bad thing, Malik, a bad thing,” she told him making it obvious that she’d answered her phone.

  Malik’s expression was deadpan, the muscles in his face tightening to conceal his pain and anger that he was straining to hold back.

  “Malik, why? I don’t understand; who’d want to kill Wesley?”

  He turned to Phinn and said, “Talk to them, tell them what you know. I need to make a call,” he mumbled, and then went into the bathroom.

  When we were alone, Phinn started, “It was last night or this morning, they’re not sure of the exact time yet. But they said he was leaving City Hall through Dilworth Plaza and he was shot, a robbery it looks like.”

  “City Hall? City Hall?” Nanny repeated, unable to believe it.

  “They couldn’t ID him right away ’cause his wallet and everything was missing. It happened around five this morning; what he was doing there, I don’t know. But the cameras I’m sure will give us all the leads we need,” Phinn told us, his body rigid like a solider against the door.

  “Oh my God, his family. This is awful. I can’t believe it,” I cried, and my body shook with sobs, putting Phinn in the awkward position of having to hug me.

  “Mrs. Skinner, please Mrs. Skinner, don’t cry.”

  “What we gonna do now?” Nanny mumbled from where she sat, rocking on the edge of the bed.

  When Malik emerged from the bathroom, I could tell he’d been crying. “Did you call Curtiss?”

  “I can’t, not now, not yet.”

  Heading to the closet, I told him, “I’ll get our stuff packed.”

  “No, stop, I need you to stay here,” he said, holding onto both my arms.

  “Stay here for what? Malik, I’m coming home with you. What are you talking about?”

  “The media is going to be all over this, they’ll be waiting for me at the airport and I’m not putting my family through that,” he told me, his voice straining to hold back emotion.

  “I don’t care about that. I’m not letting you go home alone,” I said, still crying and pulling our suitcases out of the closet. My anxieties continued to rise as all four of our phones continued to ring.

  Malik took one call after the other, and Phinn did much of the same. I paced the room, too nervous to pack, while Nanny unnerved me with her comments.

  “It don’t make no damn sense! What time was it? Somebody had to see something. Malik, you gotta get out here, we need to talk, that man was your best friend.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Mayor, it’s Outlaw,” Phinn said, knocking on the bathroom door and handing Malik his phone where we could hear him screaming and cursing at the Police Commissioner.

  Meanwhile, there were text messages and calls going unanswered on my phone, coming in from my parents, my brother, sister, Max, Raquel and even Mr. Haney. I didn’t know what to do with myself, my husband had just told me his best friend had been killed and that I couldn’t go home with him. I stood outside the bathroom waiting.

  “What’s going to happen?” Nanny asked Phinn.

  “Ma’am, I don’t know, but the Mayor’s right. They’re going to be all over him.”

  “Wait, you’re not saying they’r
e going to accuse my grandson of having something to do with this?”

  That hadn’t even crossed my mind. Then I remembered Haney, and how he’d said he’d take care of things for Malik with Wesley, details to which I’d never been made privy.

  But a few days after our meeting with Haney, Wesley released a statement, apologizing to the Mayor saying he’d been incorrect in accusations. His statement had barely made the news.

  “No ma’am, no one is going to accuse the Mayor. They said the motive was robbery. Outlaw says his wallet, cell phone, iPad were all missing and they took his weapon.”

  “Well, I’m worried about what they gonna say about my grandson.”

  “Stop worrying about me, this isn’t about me, and I don’t care what they say,” Malik cried, wiping his eyes, as he emerged from the bathroom.

  “Grandson, are you okay? You gonna be able to handle this?” Nanny asked, standing up to face Malik.

  He turned away from her and lied, “Yes ma’am, I’m okay. I have to get back, and I need all of you to stay here.”

  “Can’t we get picked up on the tarmac; we’ve done that before,” I suggested, as an alternative to being left behind.

  “Tiffany, we can’t cancel Nylah’s vacation. We’ve only been down here three days,” he said, leaving me confused as to why my husband would want me to stay behind. Rather than stress him even more, I took a seat on the bed.

  “I’m going to let my girls know we have to go,” Phinn interjected.

  “No Phinn, I need you to stay here with my family,” Malik ordered.

  “What? I don’t understand. Mr. Mayor, I need. . .”

  “No Phinn, I need you here. I trust you with my family. If you get me to the airport, Blu Eyes will meet me on the other end.”

  “But Mr. Mayor. . .”

  “Listen, the governor of Florida has offered his private jet. It’ll be on the runway waiting to take me home. Have hotel security stay outside the room while you come with me to the airport. Once I get home, I’ll have a second man come down and travel home with you.”

  “Yes sir,” he mumbled in disappointment.

  “I’ll get your things together,” I told Malik, still hopeful he might change his mind.

  “I don’t need anything. Bring it all with you when you come home.”

  He went over to Phinn, and put his arm on his shoulder. “I need you to take care of something for me.”

  “Yes, Mayor Skinner, anything.”

  “I need you to take my wife to dinner tonight.”

  I jumped up from the bed and standing between the two of them I asked, “Dinner, what dinner? I don’t wanna go to dinner! I wanna go home with you!”

  “You have to, it’s all been arranged. Do it for me, please. I don’t want you sitting in this room worrying about what’s going on back home.” Then, he turned to him and said, “Can you do me that favor?”

  Phinn’s face was tight, as I’m sure the last thing he wanted to do was take me to dinner when all the action was back in Philly.

  “Whatever you say, Mayor,” he answered.

  Next, they both went into the adjoining room to talk to the girls and I could hear Nylah crying because her father was leaving.

  “Daddy, but I don’t want you to go.”

  By all accounts our vacation was over.

  Coming back into the bedroom, Malik said, “Nanny, can you excuse us for a minute?”

  Malik sat in the chair by the window and pulled me down onto his lap.

  “Tiffany, listen to me, you only need to stay another day or two, but you gotta be ready for this.”

  “But you’ll be by yourself, you’ll be alone. I’m your wife, I want to be there with you,” I cried.

  “I know you do,” he said, pulling me toward him and soothing me by rubbing my back. “I won’t even be home. I’ll be at City Hall day and night until you get back. I have to find out. . .” He began to choke up and for the first time ever I saw my husband cry.

  My husband was in pain and I was hurting for him.

  “It’s okay,” I told him, now rubbing his back.

  “Tiff, I loved Wesley like a brother. It feels like it’s my fault, like I let him down.”

  “What about Curtiss and the kids?” I asked, thinking of Wesley’s family and his parents who were still alive, along with four siblings, one of whom worked in Malik’s administration. They would be devastated.

  “I’m going to see them first, then I’ll head to City Hall.”

  “Will you be okay going there?”

  “I’ll be fine. I spoke to his father.”

  “I’m so sorry; I love you,” I told him, planting a light kiss on his lips.

  “I know. I love you, too.”

  “Malik, oh my God, what about Tootie? You have to call her,” I said thinking of their Point Breeze foursome.

  “I did, she can’t even talk. Blu Eyes went to get her.”

  The hardest thing for me was to see my husband walk out that door knowing the burden of pain and guilt he was carrying. More than anything I wanted to be by his side.

  After they left, Nanny and I ordered pizza for the girls, then came back into the bedroom and turned on the news. Every national network FOX, CNN, MSNBC, was running the story, and even the local Florida networks were reporting that while the Mayor was on vacation people were being killed on the doorstep of City Hall.

  When I powered up my iPad, the local Philadelphia networks were showing more of the same. I had no idea how’d they’d gotten pictures of us in Disney World - we all looked so happy.

  “Is someone sending a message to Mayor Skinner by killing his friend on the doorstep of City Hall? Did he and Mr. Lawson ever patch things up? Why did Mr. Lawson retract his statement? Is the Mayor back in the city yet?”

  The sight of City Hall physically sickened me with the yellow police tape cordoning off Dilworth Plaza. In addition to the police covering the courtyard, there were homicide detectives, the crime scene unit and helicopters were flying overhead. The water sprinklers had been turned off, the café had been closed, and all entrances on the north, south, east and west were barricaded.

  The media, and onlookers had been held back to the other side of 15th Street and there was no access to City Hall as it had been officially closed for the day. In addition to City Hall coverage, cameras covered Wesley’s home, the hospital where they’d taken his body, and the Philadelphia International Airport as they awaited Malik’s arrival.

  I had no idea when I might talk to Malik again, but he was right, this would not have been a good scene for the children.

  I’d never seen Nanny upset and this had truly shaken her. She sat on the edge of the bed rocking back and forth and wiping away her tears. Finally she got up from the bed, unlocked the mini bar and poured us both drinks. It was the best move she could’ve made.

  To assure my family that I was all right, I returned their calls, that is everyone except Mr. Haney to whom I sent a text. Raquel graciously offered to have us flown by private jet back to Philadelphia, but I didn’t think Malik would approve.

  Then came the press conference headed up by Deputy Mayor O’Hare and Commissioner Outlaw outside of Hahnemann Hospital.

  “This morning at approximately 5:13 a.m., Wesley Lawson was fatally shot. . . every cop and law enforcement agency in this city is here today. We will pull people from the academy to go door to door. Details are sketchy, but what we know is the shooter came out of the shadows wearing a black hoodie, black sweatpants, black backpack and a silver handgun. We will not stand for someone committing murder on our doorstep.”

  From there, reporters began firing a barrage of questions. I was actually glad Malik hadn’t been there for this initial press conference because I doubted he would’ve been able to hold up. I was praying for my husband’s strength and sanity.

  Later that afternoon after we’d taken the girls to the pool, I tried my best to talk Phinn out of dinner, but he was adamant about following Malik’s instructions.


  Victoria & Albert’s restaurant was located in the lobby of our hotel and we had an eight p.m. seating. The first thing we did was change our reservation from a romantic little alcove, to a communal table, where we were seated with two other couples.

  With Phinn’s hand placed on my back, he guided me to the table, wasting no time in ordering a double shot of Kettle 1, while I kept it safe with a glass of Malbec. However, try as we might to talk between ourselves, the other couples kept drawing us into their conversation. I had no plans on telling them we were from Philadelphia, so to have some fun I came up with new identities for the both of us.

  The other guests, seeing us huddled so close together, assumed we were a couple so upon introducing ourselves, I said, “We’re Mr. and Mrs. . . .”

  “Baker,” Phinn added when I couldn’t think of his last name, which drew a hearty laugh from the always-serious Phinn. But I also had to remind him that being Mrs. Baker meant he had to stop calling me Mrs. Skinner.

  “I thought you were Channing Tatum, you know the actor,” the Southern woman told us.

  I whispered to Phinn, “So I wonder who they thought I was?”

  “Where you from?” asked the woman who hailed from Louisiana.

  “Manhattan,” I said.

  “That’s a big city. What do y’all do up there?”

  “I’m a dancer and my husband is a Navy Seal, but don’t tell anyone.”

  I thought Phinn would fall out his chair laughing. He certainly spilled a little of his drink and this time he whispered in my ear, “You’re a good liar, Mrs. Baker but we both know you can dance.”

  That’s when I realized that even though he’d never mentioned it before, he hadn’t forgotten my sultry dance in Max’s family room.

  “You folks on vacation?” asked the man from Corpus Christie.

  “It’s our honeymoon,” Phinn told them.

  This time we both broke down in laughter, which made everyone at the table laugh, too, none of them really knowing what was so funny.

  “No wonder y’all look so in love.”

  We had another round of drinks, and while joining in the conversation with the others, I realized that I’d had no idea how interesting Phinn was or how infectious was his laughter.