Woman on Top Page 22

“These last few weeks have been very stressful for me and my husband,” I said, now having taken a seat on the footstool.

  “Can I assume the Mayor has his hands full with something other than his wife?” he asked, while removing my purse from my shoulder and setting it on the floor next to me. I pushed back, sinking into the warm leather of the chair, while he kneeled beside me, slipping off my shoes.

  “Me coming here, it’s not right.”

  “I wanted to see you. Make sure you were all right, that’s all. We haven’t really talked since the last time.”

  “I didn’t think we needed to, we both got what we wanted.”

  “Tiffany, stop acting hard and enjoy this time,” he told me, his hands now massaging my feet and up my calves until I began falling under his spell.

  “You see, being in prison I’ve learned, the trick to good living is knowing when to relax and I’m here to help you do that.”

  I wanted to resist the warmth of his fingers, the pressure of his hands, but I was too tired and it felt too good. I repositioned myself in the chair to get more comfortable and he took advantage of that by kissing each of my toes, while caressing the back of my heels. Where had he learned to do this so well?

  Taking a sip of the cool wine, I allowed myself to relax in the moment. It had been a long time since a man had massaged me, since I’d been given this kind of attention. The last time I recalled Malik and I making love was on vacation.

  “Tell me what you want me to do. Tell me how you want it.”

  Reaching down, I fingered through his beard, then put my hand over his mouth and said, “Stop talking.”

  Three hours later, we lay there tangled in his sheets, exhausted, the bed soaked and now cold from my gushing orgasms.

  “You okay?” he asked, his beard rubbing up against my butt, where his head had come to rest.

  Releasing my fingers that had become entwined with his, I said, “I have to go.”

  Pulling himself up behind me, he whispered in my ear, “I love you, Tiffany.”

  Not that it mattered, but he’d never said those words to me, which meant I didn’t have a response. Turning my head enough to meet his eyes, I said, “I have to go.”

  A shadow covered his face, disappointed that I hadn’t reciprocated his love, but I couldn’t because I didn’t love him.

  While gathering my clothes from the floor, there was an uncomfortable silence between us, until the tone of his voice brought forth the old Haney.

  “So tell me First Lady, how is the Honorable Mayor Skinner doing anyway?”

  “How do you think? His best friend’s funeral is tomorrow and they haven’t caught anyone.”

  “They won’t.”

  With my back facing him while I slipped my dress over my head, I pondered his words. What did he mean by that? Did he know what happened to Wesley and if he’d orchestrated it, then he was right they might never get caught. I knew Haney was a calculating man, but the sad part was I couldn’t even tell Malik what I suspected. I asked Haney, “Why not? What do you know?”

  As he sat up against the enormous iron headboard, he said, “Wesley had more on your husband than he was willing to tell you. Actually, on a lot of people.”

  “What did you do?”

  With his lips twisted in a sardonic smile, he said, “If you’re asking the question, then you already know the answer.”

  Chapter 19

  Philly, We Can Do Better. . .

  Wesley’s funeral was being held at Christian Compassion Church in South Philly. Blu Eyes was driving us that morning and when he arrived at the house, dressed in a black suit, white shirt and a black and white polka dot tie, it occurred to me that not only did I not know much about Blu Eyes, I didn’t even know his real name.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Skinner,” he said, when I opened the door.

  “Good morning, Blu Eyes,” I responded, and since this was the first time that I’d seen him since Wesley’s death, I added, “I’m so sorry about Wesley. How are you doing?”

  His cold blue eyes seemed to warm for a moment when he said, “Thank you, it’s been tough on all of us.”

  “Has Phinn picked up Nanny and Tootie yet?”

  “Yes, they should be at the church already. How’s Malik this morning?” he asked, not moving from the doorway.

  “He’s still upstairs, he got in late from DC.”

  “And what about yourself, Mrs. Skinner, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I responded, slightly uncomfortable having a conversation with him.

  “Glad to hear that. Malik needs you.”

  I wish he knew that, I thought to myself.

  When we finally piled into the SUV, the mood in the Tahoe was very solemn. Malik stared out the window as he held my hand. For as handsome and powerful as my husband was, I could see that at this moment he felt powerless.

  Staring at my husband made me think back to Haney and his words. As ruthless as he’d been as a DA, I couldn’t imagine him being capable of murder. But if that were true, did it mean Malik was ultimately responsible because he’d asked for Haney’s help?

  I should’ve asked Mr. Haney more questions. Maybe he’d told me what he did because I hadn’t returned his words of love. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t able to share or confirm my suspicions with anyone.

  We were three blocks from the church when Blu Eyes had to maneuver through the barricades where uniformed officers directed traffic, keeping the media and onlookers at a respectable distance. The media had been told Malik would not be giving interviews, nor did Curtiss want any cameras or photos to be taken inside the church.

  When Blu Eyes brought the vehicle to a stop in front of the church, Malik took a deep breath before stepping out.

  “You all right, my man?” Blu Eyes asked, as he held open my door.

  “Yes, let’s do this. Let’s send our boy home.”

  Malik held my hand as we made our way through the large crowd and finally to the stairs of the church. There were so many people stopping him to give a hug, offer condolences, as well as encouragement, that it became overwhelming.

  With Sato on his arm, Haney made it easy for me to notice him, especially with that smile on his face proving to be as sinister as he was. As Malik spoke with Leander, I moved ahead when I saw Tootie.

  Over the past two weeks, I’d tried to reach her several times to offer my condolences, but had been unsuccessful. When I’d mentioned it to Malik, he’d told me that she’d become depressed and wasn’t talking to anyone.

  Upon seeing me, we both opened our arms to embrace. “I’m so sorry Tootie, how are you?” I asked, noticing that she was in a tight dark blue pantsuit, with a white tank top underneath. Black sunglasses trimmed in rhinestones covered her eyes.

  “I don’t know, this is tough. What about you?”

  “Worried about him, that’s all,” I said as we both looked over to where Malik stood talking with Outlaw and Leander.

  “They need to catch this mofo instead of standing around talking.”

  “I’m sure they will. Have you viewed yet?”

  “Yeah, your family’s inside, sitting with Nanny.”

  “Tootie, I’m here if you ever wanna come over, go to lunch, anything, okay?”

  “Thanks, Tiff, we better get inside.”

  Christian Compassion was filled to capacity with the overflow of people standing along the aisles, and sitting in folding chairs along the back. Flowers filled the front of the church from one end to the other, with Wesley’s casket at its center.

  Moving down the aisle, Malik stopped to speak to no one and was focused only on getting to the front of the church. As with any funeral, there were those who came to sincerely pay their respects, but also those who just came to see and be seen.

  On reaching the front row, we greeted Curtiss, Wesley’s parents, siblings and children, then made our way to the casket as a hush went over the church.

  Curtiss had dressed Wesley in a soft gray pin striped suit, whit
e shirt and a paisley gray and blue tie, held down with a diamond tie clip and a Mason emblem on his lapel. He looked not only peaceful, but beautiful.

  Malik’s body was rigid as he gripped hold of my hand and started talking to Wesley in a hushed tone, while tears fell from his eyes. When his shoulders began to tremble and people in the sanctuary called out, telling him it was going to be all right, Blu Eyes and Tootie came to stand on either side of us. Finally, he kissed Wesley’s forehead and we took our seats.

  Glancing through the three-fold program, I took in the family photos, as well as all the pictures of Malik, Blu Eyes, and Tootie with Wesley from when they were toddlers to adults. They really were family.

  Reading the obituary, I realized there was a personal side of Wesley I didn’t even know. He’d sat on the board of three non-profits, held a degree in Criminal Psychology, as well as Criminal Law, and had once been the Worshipful Master of his Masonic Lodge. It was also obvious that his love of family and friends was paramount above all else, which told me anything he’d done was because he’d loved my husband.

  After the singing, the prayers, Masonic funeral rites, and reflections from family and friends, it was time for Malik to give the eulogy. Malik had always been able to deliver a speech with ease, rarely did he need a script in front of him. But today his fingers tightly held the notes he’d written. After kissing my hand, he let go and I watched, like everyone else, as he took painstakingly slow strides to the front of the silent church.

  “Good afternoon, Pastor Henry, clergy, dignitaries, family and friends, I stand before you today, not as your mayor, but as a man who has lost his best friend. . .”

  With his lip quivering, he cleared his throat and continued. “Curtiss, my heart breaks for you. . . and the children. . . it will be the collective strength of the community that will help you to heal.”

  With Malik pausing so many times to quell his emotions, I feared he might not make it through the eulogy, but he didn’t give up.

  “There are so many stories I could tell about the four of us,” he stopped to smile over at Tootie and Blu Eyes, “. . . the four of us have been together for a long time, riding pedal bikes through the streets of Point Breeze and getting in more trouble than I can talk about here. . .”

  There was laughter and there were tears as he spoke.

  “Losing Wesley has been an unimaginable loss, creating unspeakable pain. . . he lived an amazing and full life. . . his family, Curtiss and the children were all that mattered to him. . . whatever Wesley did, if you didn’t like it, then it meant it was for your own good, even if you didn’t realize it at the time.

  “I encourage all of us to hold onto my brother’s legacy and remember what Wesley meant to you, and be thankful you knew him because, Wesley. . . I will never forget you.”

  The church exploded with applause as Malik took his seat; I’d never been prouder.

  Besides the emotional strain, they say funerals make you hungry and horny and I was both. I thought Malik would be feeling the same way, but instead, on the way home, I could see how Wesley’s funeral clung to him. Needless to say, I was a bit surprised when pulling up in front of the house, he invited Blu Eyes inside because I’d rarely seen them socialize together, but today he needed his friend. Once inside, Malik went straight to the cabinet to get glasses, to the refrigerator for ice, then into the family room to the liquor cabinet.

  Assuming they wanted to be left alone, I went upstairs to change into something comfortable. A few minutes later when I stepped out the shower, and then into the hallway to see if I could hear if Malik and Blu Eyes were still downstairs, the whisper of their voices piqued my curiosity. Wrapping the towel around me, I crept halfway down the steps, and realized they were standing by the front door.

  “There’s gotta be a way for you to get him legally,” I heard Blu Eyes tell my husband.

  “I’ve tried everything, he’s clean. I need you to handle it, Blu.”

  “You don’t want me to do that; that’s not your style.”

  “It’s Wesley, man; he killed Wesley. We put our boy in the ground today. Somebody’s gotta pay.”

  “You don’t even know for sure if Haney had anything to do with it.”

  “I don’t care, get it done.”

  When I heard the front door close, I returned to my bedroom and slipped into a tank top and panties. After hearing their exchange I was too afraid to go downstairs and instead prayed that they weren’t planning to actually kill anyone and if Haney was responsible for Wesley’s death, then he should go back to prison.

  In was some time later that night when I felt Malik’s body collapse onto the bed and reaching for him, I hoped that maybe he’d respond. He did, but not in the way I’d hoped. It turned out to be another one of his overly aggressive acts of lovemaking and rather than complain, I let him have his way.

  Afterward, we lay there in the dark of our bedroom, his breathing heavy, with me curled underneath him.

  “It’s gonna be okay, Malik.”

  “That’s bullshit. I look like a fool. I’m the damn Mayor and we can’t even catch my brother’s killer. I can’t let this be my legacy. I need this case closed.”

  His tone was a bit frightening, so rather than respond, I pulled him closer to me.

  “Curtiss and the kids are counting on me.”

  “Is that why you asked Blu Eyes to handle it for you?”

  He fell silent and for a moment I thought he may have fallen asleep. Then, he said, “You need to go to sleep,” before pushing me from underneath him and climbing out of bed.

  Over the next few weeks, Malik began to unwind and in turn, I made every effort to be a supportive wife.

  Without complaining, I willingly attended all the functions to which we were invited, and there were plenty, including the Whiskey and Fine Spirits Festival, Liberty Medal Awards Ceremony, and the Marian Anderson Awards. He even had me looking forward to the year-end Pennsylvania Society event being held in New York. However it was business as usual at each event, we smiled and made nice with guests who vied for his attention. No one dared to mention Wesley’s murder.

  One night, we attended a dinner with Dan and Lindsay Katz, the CEO of Katz Pharmaceuticals, another company considering moving from Lawrenceville, New Jersey to the old IRS facility on Roosevelt Boulevard. I’d suggested we take them to Citron + Rose in Bala Cynwyd, and according to Malik, I sealed the deal by offering to let his wife manage a volunteer campaign for BBWC.

  Malik responded to my support by coming home early, bringing me flowers, and cooking dinner when he could.

  Nylah relished in the new home life we provided. In the mornings, he’d often take her to school on his way to City Hall, and some days he even picked her up. We didn’t discuss having another child, but it was there every time we made love, which was often these days.

  Each day I could tell my husband was less stressed and I attributed that to his unloading the responsibility of finding Wesley’s killer onto Blu Eyes. But I knew he was still haunted by Wesley’s death because some nights, he’d sit quietly in the living room with a glass of bourbon in his hand, staring off into space. And on those nights, I left him alone.

  As for me personally, with the exception of intermittent texts from Mr. Haney, which I ignored, all else was as it should be. Max and I were planning her baby shower for what I now knew would be my Godson. Kamille was working with Mrs. Wayns on a second location for Halfway House Café, and my brother was clearly on his way to becoming Mr. October, as the Angels were entering into the World Series. To show their support, my parents made plans to break-in their RV, by traveling to California.

  We rarely discussed the goings-on at City Hall because Malik wanted time away from the city when he was at home. However, he did inform me that Cyndi had landed a new job and she was moving to Hartford, Connecticut in January to co-anchor a mid-day news program.

  Raquel had called me twice seeking my decision on heading up her charity division. However, for
as good as a seven-figure salary sounded, and the benefit it might have for Malik’s campaign, now was not the time. My focus was on being a wife, mother, and First Lady of this city.

  Chapter 20

  Selfies

  I loved autumn in Philadelphia, the gold and browns of the trees, leaves falling, and crunching underfoot, made this my favorite time of year. Between planning for Nylah’s birthday party and decorating for Halloween, my house was in a frenzy. Personally, I’d been contemplating trying to convince Malik to join me for a weekend getaway to The Lodge at Woodloch, where I imagined it would be beautiful right now.

  This day, busy as always found me traveling back across the Ben Franklin Bridge, having had breakfast with my parents before they left for California, then onto the Wellness Center for my weekly volunteer work as a cuddler. I was also scheduled to have lunch with my sister, who’d been pressuring me to get involved with an adoption agency, Children’s Choice, who was in the process of revamping their program. Huli had already signed on, which meant I had no choice but to participate.

  While on speakerphone with Michael reviewing my upcoming workshop at the Pennsylvania Conference of Women, my phone signaled a text message coming in. When I picked the phone up to peek at the sender, the screen displayed only a six-digit number. Keeping an eye on the road, I clicked on the message, but instead of a message with text, there was a photo. Being a proponent of not texting and driving, I told Michael I’d call him later.

  Once I pulled to the light at the base of the bridge, I tapped once again on the screen. A horn beeped behind me, but I was still staring at the photo. The horn beeped again, and I jolted forward, making a hard left turn, swerving into a spot at 4th and Wood Streets. Using my two fingers I stretched the photo wider, until it filled the screen.

  “Nooooo, this can’t be! God no, not now!”

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing; my face on an angle, my eyes closed, lips parted, with my arms stretched over my head, pressed against the window of Haney’s condo.

  “Please don’t. No, no, no,” I screamed, beating on the dashboard, the phone still in my hand.