Between Good and Evil

by Rochelle Alers

Genres: Historical Fiction

Synopsis

In the tradition of Studs Lonigan and A Stone for Danny Fisher, a transporting historical saga about three young men coming-of-age on New York City’s rapidly changing, vibrant, challenging, sometimes heartless Upper West Side as they walk a fine line between right and wrong amid the turbulence and scandals of the 1960s, 70s and 80s.

Kenny, Frankie, Ray. For these best friends, life on the Upper West Side during the upheaval of the 1960s showed undreamed-of possibilities—and temptations. Moved by visionaries like Martin Luther King, Jr., and Malcom X, Kenny risks the draft as he plunges into civil rights activism. With surprising business savvy, Frankie expands his grandfather's Harlem underworld empire to feed the growing demand for drugs—and his hunger to be the city's biggest kingpin. Ray dreams of being a doctor, but his near-addictive desires lead him to a near-fatal confrontation . . . and a different sort of healing.

But as the 1970s unwind, Kenny dedicates himself to revenge as well as social work—forming a dangerous alliance that puts him at an inescapable crossroads. Used to sexual playgrounds like Studio 54, Frankie falls for the one woman he shouldn't want. And Ray embarks on a dangerous double life that throws him into conflict with his deepest convictions.

With its relentless materialism, the 1980s will take these friends from a scandal-ridden Gracie Mansion mayoral campaign to wrenching urban change that will alter their old neighborhood forever. Kenny, Frankie, and Ray must decide how far they will pursue dreams that can guarantee success—or disaster. And each must come to terms with the kind of man he wants to be—no matter the consequences . . .

Release date: December 16, 2025

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 368

Sample

Mount Vernon, New York—Labor Day Weekend—1951

Precious Crawford Boone examined her face and hair before leaving the bedroom to join her husband on the lawn of their home to greet the guests who had come to celebrate the holiday weekend. She smiled when the reflection of her mother appeared in the mirror.

Lillian Crawford, or Lili to her closest friends, closed the bedroom door. “You look lovely, dear.”

Precious turned and stared at the woman who’d spent more than half her life grooming her daughter to marry well. And “marrying well” meant attending a prestigious Negro women’s college. Precious had followed in Lillian’s footsteps when she was introduced to Negro society at a cotillion ball, graduated Spelman College, and pledged Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority. While Lillian had married the son of a dentist, Precious had trumped her mother when she attracted the attention of a man who’d become a very successful businessman. He didn’t have the pedigree Lillian had wanted for her daughter, yet he’d succeeded where the other young men she’d chosen for Precious hadn’t. As a Harlem real estate financier, Dennis Boone had become quite a wealthy man. And for a Negro, it definitely was a coup, given the racial prejudice steeped in the fabric of the United States.

Precious rested a hand over her flat middle. At twenty-eight, she’d become the perfect wife and hostess for a man nine years her senior. She was perfect in every way; however, she was unable to give Dennis what he wanted more than the fortune he had amassed. He wanted a son to carry on the Boone name.

She lowered her eyes. “Lovely and unable to give my husband a child.” Tears filled her eyes, and she reached for a tissue to catch them before they fell and ruined her makeup.

Lillian approached her daughter and rested a hand upon her shoulder. “I’ve thought of a way you can give your husband a child.”

Precious stared at her mother as if she’d taken leave of her senses. Only Lillian knew why she hadn’t been able to get pregnant. Precious had just begun her junior year at college when she met a boy at a fraternity house party. She’d drunk alcohol-spiked punch and ended up in bed with him. Two months later, she discovered she was pregnant. When she told her mother, Lillian reassured Precious she would take care of her problem. Taking care of the problem meant an illegal abortion. She’d gotten rid of her problem, unaware that the backroom procedure would leave her sterile.

She and Dennis had recently celebrated their sixth wedding anniversary, and with each month that passed, her womb remained empty. Precious was beginning to panic after she’d overheard her husband talking to one of his business associates that he was thinking of divorcing his wife because she was unable to give him a child.

“How, Mama?”

“You’re going to have to get someone to sleep with your husband, and once she’s pregnant and gives birth, then you can claim the child as your own.”

Precious began laughing and couldn’t stop until she realized her mother was serious. Touching a fingertip to the corner of one eye, she smiled at her mother; then it faded once she met Lillian’s eyes. “You are really serious, aren’t you?”

Lillian pressed her manicured hands together. Always impeccably turned out with coiffed hair, perfectly applied makeup, and wearing the latest fashions, she slowly nodded. “I’m certain you remember your bible study lessons about Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar,” Lillian said in a controlled, modulated tone.

“Of course, but what does that have to do with me and Dennis?”

“You’re going to get him to sleep with that young girl who helps clean your house.”

Precious’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you talking about Justine Russell?”

Lillian nodded. “Her complexion is similar to yours, so folks won’t talk if the baby comes out too light or dark.”

Precious shook her head. “No, Mama.”

“Yes, Precious. You’re twenty-eight, and despite having sex with your husband, you still haven’t given him a child. And you know he’s been talking about divorcing you because you’re barren.”

Precious’s eyelids fluttered. “We know why I’m barren.”

A scowl crossed Lillian’s delicate features. They were features that Precious had inherited along with her mother’s thick black hair. “Don’t you dare put that blame on me, Precious. If you had kept your dress down and knees together, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. But there’s no need to cry over spilt milk. What you need to do is listen to what I’m proposing, or you’ll find yourself replaced by the next Mrs. Dennis Boone.”

Precious sat on the stool at her dressing table; at the same time, Lillian folded her body down on the padded bench at the foot of the bed Precious shared with Dennis. “Okay, Mama. I’m listening.”

“You are going to accuse Justine of stealing a piece of jewelry, and rather than report her to the police, you’re going to blackmail her into sleeping with Dennis.” Lillian held up a hand when Precious opened her mouth. “Please let me finish. You know Dennis always has a drink before going to bed. What you’re going to do is slip some of my sleeping pills into his glass, and after he’s in bed, Justine can take your place. He’ll be so out of it, he’ll think he’s making love to his wife. Once she discovers she’s pregnant, we can set her up in an apartment in the city. I’ll hire a midwife to check in on her. Then, you’re going to begin eating more than you do so you can put on weight. I’ll have Dr. Raitt recommend complete bed rest for the duration of your confinement. And don’t worry about his ethics, because I’ll give him enough money for him to go along with whatever I propose.”

A beat passed before Precious asked, “After she has the baby, then what?”

Lillian flashed a Cheshire cat grin. “Let me handle that.”

“I need to know how you’re going to handle that, Mama.”

“Don’t worry, child. Justine will be compensated for her efforts. I’ll make certain she will have a place to live, and that she can get a job so she can support herself.”

Precious’s eyes narrowed. “How long have you been concocting this scheme?”

“From the moment you told me you had overheard your husband talking about divorcing you. You’ve worked too hard to become the perfect wife and hostess for Dennis Boone for him to discard you like the water in a pail after soaking chitterlings. It’s the same with me and your father. I knew I wanted to marry him the moment I saw him at his brother’s wedding, and I’d become what folks called a ‘brazen heifer’ when I chased him until he caught me. You were luckier than me, because Dennis took one look at you and knew that he wanted you. What really helped is your resemblance to Dororthy Dandridge. You lucked out when so many other women had failed when they tried getting Dennis to marry them. So, I’m going to do everything I can to make certain you stay married to him.”

A slight smile touched the corners of Precious’s mouth. She and her mother had been born into a group of socially and financially respectable New York Negroes who had to pass certain criteria for acceptance. It was through their husbands that they were afforded a status few would ever hope to achieve.

Precious thought about Justine Russell. The pretty seventeen-year-old girl with delicate features in a flawless nut-brown complexion, and thick black hair, had come to work for Dennis to help out her housekeeper grandmother, whose arthritic knees prevented her from standing on her feet for long periods of time to cook and clean the house. Justine, who had moved into a small room off the downstairs kitchen, was scheduled to complete all her high school courses this coming January. She’d told Dennis that she had attended summer school classes to accelerate and graduate six months earlier than her peers. She planned to take time off from her studies before enrolling in college in September with the goal of becoming a schoolteacher. Justine would be the first in her family to graduate high school and also go to college.

Precious resented the young girl, who was as quiet as she was pretty. Pretty enough for Dennis to give her a lingering glance whenever he encountered her. It was something Lillian had noticed and commented on whenever she came to visit. So it stood to reason for Precious that Dennis would be attracted to their housekeeper’s granddaughter.

“Okay, Mama. When are we going to make it happen?”

“We’ll begin this weekend. Give me that ruby bracelet Dennis gave you for Christmas, and I will hide it Justine’s room when she’s busy serving guests.”

Sighing, Precious closed her eyes, praying what she and her mother were planning would come off without a hitch. They were going to ruin an innocent girl’s life to save her marriage. And for Precious, being Mrs. Dennis Boone meant everything, because not only did she not believe in divorce, she knew that as a divorcée she would no longer be welcomed into the elite social circle of prominent Negroes, a prestigious group who had become as essential to her as breathing. She’d become an extension of her husband, and she had no intention of losing that much-coveted status.

Justine Russell couldn’t believe what she was being accused of. She’d never stolen anything in her life, and she definitely wouldn’t take anything from her employers. But there it was, a delicate gold and ruby bracelet hidden under several full slips in the drawer with her other underwear.

The tears filling her eyes overflowed and streamed down her face. “I swear to you I didn’t take it,” she pleaded. She looked at Precious, then Lillian, but both women appeared unmoved by her tears.

Precious crossed her arms under her breasts over an off-white silk blouse. “You claim you didn’t take it, so how did it get into your drawer? I’m certain it didn’t grow legs and walk from my jewelry box into your bedroom.”

Justine swiped at her tears with her fingertips. “I don’t know,” she said, as Lillian shared a look with her daughter.

“Maybe we should call the police and have them question her,” the older woman said.

Shaking uncontrollably, Justine feared her knees would give way and she’d collapse to the floor. “Please, don’t.” She didn’t want to get arrested for something she hadn’t done, and ruin her chances of graduating high school and going on to college. “I’ll do anything you want, but please don’t call the police,” she continued with her pleas.

“Anything?” Precious asked, her voice deceptively soft.

Justine nodded. “Yes. Anything. Just say it, and I will do it.”

“What I’m going to say to you will go no further than this room. And that means you can’t even tell your grandmother, or you’re going to jail for robbery.”

Clasping her hands together in a prayerful gesture, Justine nodded again. “Okay. I promise I won’t say anything to anyone.”

“I want you to sleep with my husband.”

Justine slowly blinked, wondering if she was hearing what she’d just heard. “You want me to sleep with your husband? Why?”

“So he can get you pregnant, that’s why,” Lillian spat out.

“I don’t want a baby. Besides, I’m still a virgin.”

“That’s even better,” Lillian countered. “Once you’re pregnant, we’ll know it’s not some other man’s brat. After you give birth, we’ll take the baby and then we will make certain you will be compensated.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. These crazy women want me to sleep with a man, get pregnant, then give them my child.

Justine closed her eyes as she attempted to weigh what her employer’s wife and mother had proposed against being arrested and possibly going to prison. The Boones certainly had enough money and clout to have her put away for a very long time.

Justine was only seventeen, and she had her whole life ahead of her; it was obvious Precious Boone was unable to give her husband a baby—otherwise, she wouldn’t have come up with a crazy scheme to blackmail her into standing in for her.

And she hadn’t lied about being a virgin. She didn’t even have a boyfriend, because she didn’t want to end up like her mother, who’d slept with a man and, upon discovering she was pregnant, he admitted he couldn’t marry her, because he was already married. Thankfully her grandmother had stepped in to help raise her, and now that she was faced with a dilemma not of her own choosing, she wasn’t able to confide in her.

Now it seemed as if history were repeating itself, because she was going to sleep with a married man; the only difference was that she didn’t have to raise the child as an unwed mother. A sense of strength came to Justine she hadn’t known she possessed. “You talk about compensating me. What can I expect?”

Precious exhaled an audible sigh, seemingly relieved that Justine was going to go along with their scheme. “Once you know for certain that you’re carrying Dennis Boone’s baby, you’ll be set up in a rent-free apartment in Manhattan. You will be given enough money to buy food, clothes, and whatever incidentals you’ll need. A midwife will check on you every month, and she’ll be there when you go into labor. She’ll make arrangements for you to be taken to a hospital, where you will deliver the baby. And if anyone asks what happened to the child, you will tell them it was born a stillbirth. You will continue to live in the apartment rent-free for another year. During that time, you’ll need to get a job that will pay you enough to buy food and other living expenses. You are never to tell anyone about the baby. Not only will we deny it, but I’ll make certain you’ll be locked away in a hospital for the mentally insane.”

“There’s no need to threaten me,” Justine said, exhibiting a modicum of courage for the first time.

“And there’s no need for you to get snippy,” Lillian said, frowning.

At this point, Justine was beyond being intimidated. She knew she had to go along with the two scheming women, or they would ruin her life, rationalizing she wouldn’t be the first woman to have a baby and then give it up for adoption. Even though she would give up her baby, she had no intention of giving up her dream of becoming a schoolteacher.

“I’m not snippy, Mrs. Crawford. I know what you want, and I’m willing to do it, but I need you to answer one question for me.”

“What is it?” Lillian asked with a scowl on her face.

“What do I tell my grandmother once she finds out that I’m moving out?”

Lillian’s thinly plucked eyebrows lifted. “You don’t have to tell her anything. Mrs. Boone will inform your grandmother that she’s sending you to a secretarial school so you can learn enough office skills when it comes time for you to look for a job.”

“A secretarial school is not college,” Justine countered.

A frown settled into Lillian’s features. “Your grandmother can barely read and write, so I doubt if she would know the difference between a secretarial school and a college.”

“There’s no need for you to talk about my grandmother like that,” Justine said, her eyes narrowing.

“And if you continue to disrespect my mother, I will call the police and have you arrested for theft,” Precious threatened.

Justine knew challenging the two women wasn’t in her best interest. She nodded. “When do you want me to sleep with Mr. Boone?”

“Tomorrow night,” Precious said. “That is, if you don’t have your period.”

“I don’t,” Justine confirmed.

“Good. I want you bathed and dressed in one of my nightgowns, and then I’ll come and get you once my husband is in bed. He always has a nightcap before he turns in, so he’ll be slightly drunk, and I doubt if he’ll know it’s you and not me in bed with him.”

“What about perfume, Mrs. Boone?”

“What about it?” Precious snapped angrily.

“I’ll be wearing your nightgown, but I won’t smell like you.”

“You’re quite the sly little heifer, aren’t you?” Lillian drawled. “Not only will you be wearing a silk nightgown, but you also want to wear an expensive perfume.”

“She’s right, Mama,” Precious said. “I’ll give you a bottle of my perfume you can keep for yourself. You can also keep the nightgowns.”

Expensive perfume and silk nightgowns are nothing compared to what I am going to give you. And there’s no guarantee that I could even have a baby, because I’ve never had sexual relations with a man.

Justine wanted to voice her thoughts aloud. It would serve both women right if she wasn’t able to get pregnant. What would they do then? What Justine couldn’t understand: why didn’t Precious try and adopt a child like so many women who were unable to have children? But it was apparent Dennis Boone wanted his own child and not someone else’s castoff.

Justine wasn’t totally immune to Dennis Boone, despite his being twenty years her senior. He was wealthy, handsome, and undeniably charming. Under another set of circumstances, she could see herself becoming his mistress if only to reap the benefits of being a kept woman, but that’s not what she wanted for her future. She wanted a career before falling in love and marrying and then starting a family—with her husband, not with some other woman’s.

“You claim you’re a virgin,” Precious said, meeting Justine’s eyes. “And if you bleed, then I’ll make certain to put down a towel to protect the sheet. Dennis always gets on me, then rolls over after he’s finished. You can take the towel with you once he’s asleep.”

“How often do I have to sleep with him?” Justine questioned.

“Two or three times a week. I’ll let you know when I want you to take my place. Dennis will never touch me when I have my period, so that’s something we will have to coordinate.”

Justine waited until the two women walked out of the tiny bedroom that suddenly felt like a tomb. When she’d first moved into the sprawling six-bedroom, six-bathroom Colonial, set on three acres in picturesque Mount Vernon, she felt as if she’d come to another world; it was nothing like the cramped two-bedroom apartment in a Bronx tenement she’d shared with her mother, two aunts, and an alcoholic uncle.

When she’d come to her grandmother crying that she couldn’t study because of the constant bickering among her relatives that never seemed to stop, Grandma Flora had asked Dennis Boone if her granddaughter could move in and help her with cleaning and cooking. When he’d given his approval, Justine packed her clothes and books and moved out without a backwards glance. She could still hear her mother accusing her of deserting her, but Justine refused to accept any guilt because she’d wanted a better life.

After sharing a bed with her mother, she would get up early to find discarded beer bottles, ashtrays filled with cigarette butts, and plates of half-eaten food left in the sink, on tables, and sometimes on the floor. She would try and straighten up, put things away before bathing and getting dressed to go to school. On most days, she stayed late, either in the library or study hall, to study for a test or to complete her homework assignments. Her mother would come home exhausted after cleaning motel rooms, and Justine was left to make dinner whenever her aunts worked the night shift in a local city-run hospital’s laundry. Her uncle, who’d suffered shell shock during World War II, had sought to erase his demons with liquor. Since he moved in, she’d never seen him sober, and most times she stayed away from him whenever he imagined someone was coming to kill him.

She’d moved out of a home filled with chaos unaware she would be thrust into a situation over which she had no control. Her employer’s wife and mother-in-law had concocted a conspiracy where they held her future tightly within their grasp. She would give the scheming bitches what they wanted; then, she’d walk away and never look back.

Justine felt as if she’d been doused with a bucket of ice water. She’d tried rubbing her arms, but it hadn’t helped her feel warm. Mrs. Boone had given her several silk nightgowns and a bottle of Chanel No. 5 perfume, and demanded that she take a bath. She told Justine to dab a small amount of perfume behind her ears and between her breasts.

She didn’t know why, but she felt like a glamorous actress about to go onstage and listen intently to the director as to what he wanted her to do or say. It wasn’t the first time that Justine realized she would’ve been better off staying in the overcrowded apartment with her squabbling relatives than living on the estate with people who were not only wicked, but lacked a soul.

Justine had become so withdrawn since her encounter with Precious, and even her grandmother had noticed the change in her and asked if she was feeling okay. She hated lying to her grandmother, telling her she was thinking about missing her classmates, since she was finishing high school in January when they had to go until June. She almost burst into tears once Grandma Flora said she was luckier than her classmates, because she’d have her a lot longer before she would take the train from Mount Vernon into Grand Central Station, and then the uptown subway to City College.

She sat at the foot of the single bed and closed her eyes, wondering how much longer she would have to wait before becoming a prostitute. Precious Boone and Lillian Crawford had blackmailed her into offering up her body in order to stay out of jail. The two women had become pimps who were forcing her to have sex with a man; unlike women who sold their bodies for money, she was selling hers to avoid being arrested and charged with theft.

They executed the scheme so smoothly that Justine wondered if it had been their first time. How many other unsuspecting young girls had they blackmailed into sleeping with Dennis Boone, yet he hadn’t gotten them pregnant? She wondered, and not for the first time, if Precious’s inability to become pregnant wasn’t her problem, but her husband’s.

Her head popped up when she heard the soft tapping on the door. Pushing to her feet, Justine crossed the room and opened the door. Precious stood there in a matching nightgown, the scent of Chanel No. 5 wafting to Justine’s nose.

“Come quickly.”

What happened next occurred in slow motion. Justine later recalled going up the back staircase to the second floor. Her bare feet sinking into the deep pile of the carpeting on the hallway floor and stopping outside the open door to the Boones’ master bedroom. A table lamp turned to the lowest setting bathed the space in soft golden light.

Justine stood in the doorway, unable to move until Precious gave her a gentle push. “Get into bed with him,” she whispered in her ear.

Galvanized into action, she walked over to the bed, and Justine slipped in next to Dennis Boone. She swallowed a groan. He was naked.

As promised, Precious had placed a towel on the sheet where she would lay. The heat from Dennis’s body nearly overwhelmed her as he moved closer. Precious hadn’t told her what she had to do, so she just lay there waiting. Tears welled up behind her eyelids as she bit her lip and then prayed silently. She prayed it would be over quickly, and she could return to her closet of a bedroom.

Then she heard it—soft snores. It was apparent Dennis had fallen asleep. She had been given a reprieve. Justine didn’t know whether to stay in bed or leave. Precious hadn’t mentioned anything about her husband falling asleep. Her reprieve was short-lived when Dennis stopped snoring and moved even closer.

Justine held her breath when his hand went under the nightgown, his fingers inching up her thigh until he covered her mound. She swallowed a moan as his thumb massaged her clitoris, and she struggled not to move from the unexpected pleasure sweeping over her body. Justine did not want to believe that she was enjoying him touching her, but then she felt a gush of wetness bathing her folds of her vagina. Then, without warning, he covered her body with his, and seconds later, his erection replaced his thumb as he pushed into her body.

Excruciating pain overlapped what had been pleasure, and Justine clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. She felt as though she’d been ripped in two as he continued to push farther and farther inside her.

“Oh baby, you’re so fucking tight tonight,” he moaned in her ear. “What the fuck did you do to your pussy, because it’s never been this good,” he continued, breathing heavily. “I don’t want to come, but I can’t hold back.” The last word had barely slipped past his lips when he rammed in and out of her body like a piston before he growled as if in pain, then collapsed heavily on her.

Justine couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks and into the pillow beneath her head. The area between her thighs was on fire. And the pain had surpassed her worst menstrual cramps. She counted the seconds when he would get off her so she could flee to her room and wash away all the evidence of what had just occurred. She felt used and dirty. She didn’t want to believe her first sexual encounter had been with a married man, one who’d foregone foreplay.

Although she hadn’t had sex before, Justine was aware of what it entailed. She’d overheard her aunts whisper about the men they slept with whenever they’d had too much to drink. They would laugh about the ones who couldn’t get an erection or a few others who ejaculated before they could get inside them. But then, they would go on and on about those who made their toes curl when they suckled their breasts or rubbed their penises against them, simulating sex until they screamed for them to just do it!

Justine felt the rapid beating of Dennis’s heart against her breasts. His weight was pressing down on her until she found it nearly impossible to breathe. Anchoring her hand between their bodies, she managed to push him enough where he rolled off face down and began snoring again. She scrambled off the bed, picked up the towel, and ran for the door, unaware that Precious had been standing in a corner of the room, watching her husband make love to another woman.

Cradling the towel to her chest, Justine retraced her steps, using the back staircase to her room. She wasn’t concerned that anyone would see her, because her grandmother and the estate’s caretaker, the Boones’ two permanent employees, lived in the two guesthouses on the property.

She made it to the half bath across the hall from her bedroom. Justine threw the blood-stained towel on the floor of the minuscule shower stall, before taking off the nightgown and leaving it in a hamper. She covered her hair with a plastic shower cap, stepped into the stall, and turned on the cold water. It poured down on the towel, washing away most of the blood, before she turned on the hot water and let it sluice over her body. Tears flowed, mingling with the water when she reached for a bar of soap and facecloth. Justine lost track of time when she washed away the scent of Dennis Boone’s body and his wife’s perfume. And no matter how hard she scrubbed, she still couldn’t feel clean.

It was later, when she lay in bed, that she relived what had occurred between her and the man under whose roof she resided. Justine didn’t want to believe her body had betrayed her when Dennis had massaged her clitoris. She had enjoyed the pleasurable sensations that made her feel good. But it was the soreness in her vagina and thigh muscles that had become a constant reminder that she’d given her virginity to someone so unworthy of the gift she’d planned to offer to the man who would become her husband. Now, she was no better than her mother.

Justine wasn’t certain whether she could sleep with Dennis Boone again. She didn’t want to endure having him push into her body and ejaculate inside her. Perhaps she should’ve called Precious Boone and Lillian Crawford’s bluff and let them contact the police. Getting arrested and possibly going to jail was preferable to becoming a prostitute for two immoral women. And if she were given the opportunity to tell Dennis what his wife and mother-in-law had concocted, there was no doubt he would believe her. Especially if she produced his wife’s nightgowns. . .