Things are heating up in the Black Hamptons, an affluent vacation community of African Americans nestled in Long Island, New York. The families are facing trials and tribulations both individually and collectively, and everyone has a lot at stake.
The Brittons are shocked by the return of Moses, the patriarch of the family. While he’s eager to reunite with his wife and sons, it may be difficult, especially since his wife, Carolyn, has found comfort in the arms of another man. There’s no time to welcome him home, especially with grandson Jesse in the hospital after he is assaulted by Peter Lane.
Anthony Johnson is trying his best to get back into his wife’s good graces after nearly losing their company and everything they worked to build. His efforts may cost him more than he bargained for. Little does he know, Sydney has drama of her own to conceal when a secret from her past shows up in the backyard.
Moses’ return has Jeffrey Bowen busier than ever, leaving no time for his wife, Leslie. Luckily, Aries Cora has plenty of time to keep her company.
Sgt. Lane’s world is turned upside down, and his only goal is to keep his son out of jail. The choice in doing so may be accepting help from the one person he despises: Bobby “the Beast” Boyd, Middleweight Boxing Champion. Bobby is more than willing to come to the rescue, but Sgt. Lane knows it will come with a price he doesn’t want to pay.
The entire community must put aside their differences and come together to fight a common enemy that threatens to destroy the land and legacy of the Black Hamptons.
Publisher:
Urban Books
Print pages:
288
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I stood outside the back door of the police precinct, gasping for air and fighting the overwhelming feeling of nausea. I had rushed out of the building soon after the Brittons made their dramatic exit, still screaming about how my son should suffer just like their precious Jesse had.
My worst nightmare had come true, and I was living in the middle of it. Over the years, I worked hard to protect my son. Like a lot of boys, he had tons of energy and could be a bit wild at times, so I had introduced him to boxing to channel that energy in the gym. It kept him off the streets and out of trouble. He was a talented fighter, too, most likely headed for the Olympics someday—until now. Ever since he got together with that damn girl, he’d been slacking off on his workouts, always in a rush to finish so he could go see her. I knew she wasn’t worth a damn, and I was hoping that Peter would figure that out one day and leave her alone. But he was hooked, and now, because Tania couldn’t stay away from that spoiled son of a bitch, Jesse Britton, my son was locked up.
Chief Harrington had told me I couldn’t talk to Peter until he was processed, so I didn’t know the full details about what had happened between him and that Britton punk. What I did know was that there was no way my son was going to sit in jail. I would fight to get him released just as hard as Carolyn Britton planned to fight to keep him in there. Hell, if she had her way, Peter would be headed to death row without a trial.
The uneasy feeling came over me again, but I swallowed it. I didn’t have time to be sick. I had to save my son.
“Fuck this.” Taking my phone from my back pocket, I called the only person I could think of who might be able to help.
After a few rings, I was relieved to hear his voice on the other end.
“Hello?”
The voice belonged to a lawyer named Jeffrey Bowen. His wife, Vanessa, was the head of the Black Hamptons Homeowners Association. She was the woman who had convinced the Chief to hire me as the town’s first Black police officer. I didn’t really know Jeffrey that well, but I guess I was hoping that my position as the police liaison to the Black Hamptons community might mean something to him. Besides, he was the only lawyer I knew in Sag Harbor, and I was desperate. So desperate, in fact, that I called him even knowing that his wife was related to the Britton family, which complicated things, to say the least. Under normal circumstances, I might have just Googled someone else, but I was so stressed I wasn’t really thinking straight.
“Jeffrey, it’s Sergeant Tom Lane,” I said. “I know it’s late, but I’m dealing with an emergency.”
He cleared his throat. “Uh, yes, I heard about what happened with your son.”
It came as no surprise that Jeffrey was already aware of Peter’s dilemma, but hearing him say so still caused me to feel deflated.
“I forgot how fast news travels around here.” I sighed.
“Travels even faster when it’s bad news.”
“Indeed. Well, Peter’s in need of an attorney. I’d like to hire you.” The words tumbled out of my mouth without hesitation. The desperation in my voice was obvious, but I didn’t care.
The moment of silence that followed was brief but ominous. I held my breath and closed my eyes, praying, Dear God, please let him say yes. My son and I need him.
He finally spoke. “Sergeant Lane, I can’t do that. Representing your son would be a conflict of interest on both a personal and professional level.”
I was silent as I struggled to process what he’d said. What the hell was I going to do now?
“Sergeant Lane, are you still here?”
“Uh, yeah. I knew it was a long shot, but I just thought . . .”
“I know it took a hell of a lot for you to call me, and this is a hell of a predicament for both your son and yourself.” He paused, and for a moment, I thought the conversation was over. Then he said, “From what I understand, Peter is going to need a suitable attorney for the felony charges he’s facing. That’s not my specialty, so even if I wasn’t involved with the family, I wouldn’t agree to take the case. If he were my son, I’d find the best criminal defense attorney possible.”
I sighed, feeling lost. “I understand. I’m sorry to have taken up your time.”
“Hey, no need to apologize. I probably would’ve done the same thing if I were in your shoes. I hope it all works out for you guys.”
“Thanks.”
“And I do have one more piece of advice for you.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“When you do hire an attorney, find someone outside the county. My wife’s family has significant influence around here that could complicate things for your son’s defense.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” I said. “Carolyn’s reach is far, and I’m sure she’s going to do everything in her power to make my son pay. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying he shouldn’t be held accountable, but he’s a good kid and he deserves to be treated fairly.”
“I agree. And you’re right about Carolyn. She’s a beast on a mission. But honestly, that’s not the person you need to be worried about.”
“Then who?”
“Moses is home.”
“Who the hell is Moses?”
“Her husband. He loves his family and will fight for them even harder than she will.”
“Shit,” I said aloud before I could stop myself.
“I’m just keeping it real with you. If it was my son, I’d want someone to tell me.”
“Yeah. Well, thanks again, Jeffrey. I appreciate it.”
“Good luck, Sergeant Lane.”
I ended the call, feeling even more anxious. Not only was finding a suitable lawyer going to be a challenge, but we were going to be up against someone even more vicious than Carolyn Britton.
“You still here, Sergeant?”
The voice caught me off guard, and I turned around to see Officer Nugent exiting the back door. He was eyeing me with a look that I couldn’t read. It was either concern or pity.
“Yeah, I’m still trying to wait around until they let me see Peter.”
Nugent shook his head as he walked toward me. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen, Sarge. Chief Harrington isn’t letting anyone see him.”
“Fuck that. I’m seeing my—” I started to yell, but Nugent raised his hand to stop my growing anger.
“I know you’re worried, but Peter’s good. He’s in a cell by himself, away from everyone else. I know it may seem like Chief is being an asshole about this, but he’s not. He’s really looking out for him, but he has to be careful so it doesn’t look like he’s giving him preferential treatment. The last thing anyone needs is for the Brittons to hear that Peter’s being treated any different than anyone else in custody.”
The word “custody” almost made me break. My son was in police custody and alone. I held back the tears that threatened to escape.
“We made sure he got some food and some bedding.”
“Bedding?” I frowned.
“Come on now, Sarge. He’s spending the night here, if not a couple more.” Nugent shrugged. “Hopefully he will go before the magistrate tomorrow morning, but you heard what Carolyn Britton said.”
“I don’t give a damn what she said. My son isn’t spending more than one night in jail,” I snapped. “Tell Chief Harrington I’ll be back in the morning, and I expect to be able to see Peter.”
I walked off, leaving Nugent to watch as I got into my cruiser and drove off. I had no doubt that once I was out of the parking lot, he would be inside delivering my message to our boss. Undoubtedly, this entire ordeal would be the talk of the station, the community—hell, the entire town. The reality was my son had assaulted Jesse Britton, crown prince of the Black Hamptons and heir to the Britton throne, all because of Peter’s cheating-ass girlfriend, Tania.
The more I thought about the situation, the more guilt I felt. Earlier in the summer, I’d been called to the marina to investigate a suspected break-in, only to find Jesse and Tania on his mother’s yacht, butt-ass naked in the bed. I knew that girl wasn’t shit, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell Peter what I’d discovered. I was too worried that it would distract him from training for the upcoming Olympic boxing trials. Maybe I could have found a way to break it to him gently and prevented things from escalating to violence.
Going to an empty house seemed pointless, so instead, I drove around Sag Harbor. When Peter and I had first moved to the community, we would drive around to get familiar with the area. It was a quaint little village, nothing like the Brooklyn neighborhood where we’d lived before. He loved it when we drove past the wealthy communities with their immaculate lawns and huge homes.
“Look at that one, Dad,” Peter would say as he admired yet another million-dollar mansion.
“Yeah, that one is nice.” I agreed. “When you win that gold medal and then become Heavyweight Champion of the World, you can buy that one.”
“And I’m gonna buy you the one next door, I promise.”
“Next door? That’s a little close, son. How about across the street?” I laughed.
“I’m gonna have so much money that I might buy the whole block and let you pick,” Peter answered. “I owe you that, and I’m gonna make you proud.”
The way Peter said it had made me proud and confirmed that accepting the job had been a good move for both of us. Now, I had to wonder if I’d made the right decision. My mind was all over the place, and the drive didn’t seem to help. Exhaustion set in, so I headed home and went to bed without taking off my uniform.
After seven long years, I was finally home, though no thanks to my wife, who hadn’t even bothered to visit me while I was in hiding in Venezuela. The irony was that my escape had been orchestrated to protect her. It was Carolyn’s financial mismanagement at Amistad Bank, the institution founded by my great-grandfather, that had brought my world crashing down in the first place, but the Feds set their sights on me. After I was indicted, it became clear that my only surefire defense would be to point a finger at Carolyn, and I couldn’t bring myself to do that, so I fled. I was hiding out in South America until my lawyer, Jeffrey Bowen, could negotiate to get the charges against me dropped. It had taken years, but after a change in administration and a hefty donation, it was finally safe for me to go home.
One would think she’d show more support for my sacrifice, but in true Carolyn Britton fashion, she had seized my absence to her advantage, stepping into the role of CFO at Amistad Bank once it was released from government conservatorship. Carolyn had always been smart and beautiful, but she was also an opportunistic bitch, and that characteristic remained. Still, there was something about the tough woman that I admired, and once I’d sufficiently punished her for her disloyalty, I just might try to see if the flame between us could be rekindled.
When I had popped up unannounced, the look on my wife’s face and her reaction to seeing me wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I’d imagined, especially after our brief encounter was cut short. The news of my grandson’s beating took precedence over our reunion. In what I assumed was an attempt to assert her dominance, she refused to let Malcolm and me get into the car with her. We had no choice but to accept a ride from Jeffrey, who offered to take us to the hospital.
“Dad, I can’t believe you’re really home,” Malcolm said as we sat in the rear of Jeffrey’s car.
“Believe it, son.”
“But, how? Why didn’t anyone say anything to us about it?”
“I didn’t want anyone to know, especially your mother,” I said, glancing at him. “I couldn’t risk her taking any actions that might jeopardize my legal status.”
“Oh.” Malcolm’s terse response confirmed what I already knew: Carolyn was the cause of the delays that Jeffrey had encountered.
“But I’m here now. That’s all that matters.”
“Damn right. This family needs you, Dad.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that, son. I’m hoping your brother feels the same way. He didn’t seem too thrilled to see me.” Martin was in the car with his mother and didn’t protest one bit when she kicked me and Malcolm out.
“I think he was just shocked, that’s all.” Malcolm defended his younger brother. “We all were.”
I wasn’t really surprised by Martin’s reaction. He’d always been more partial to his mother. As my firstborn son, Malcom had always been close to me. I taught him everything from tying his shoe and riding a bike to selecting valuable timepieces and the proper way to hoist a sail. Our tight bond was probably the catalyst for Carolyn monopolizing our younger son, Martin. By the time he was a teenager, it was obvious that he preferred being around his mother, who spoiled him with toys and video games, rather than spending time with his older brother and me. Now that I’d returned home, I planned to change that and forge closer connections to both of my sons. I was going to need their support in rebuilding the life that I’d had before.
Malcom grew quiet beside me, and Jeffrey matched his silence with his hands clenched on the steering wheel. We all had a lot on our minds.
“What happened to Jesse?” I asked urgently. Things had been pretty chaotic when I showed up just as everyone was getting into the car to go to the hospital, and in the rush, no one had bothered to give me any details.
“It was Peter Lane,” he said. “He attacked Jesse.”
“Who?”
“A local kid. Recently moved here. From what I was told, Peter found Jesse with a girl named Tania. They were . . . together, and Peter snapped. He’s a menace, Dad. An amateur boxer with a bad temper.”
I winced at the thought of my grandson, who was just a preteen the last time I’d seen him, being beaten by a boxer. “How badly was he hurt?”
Malcolm’s jaw clenched. “It’s bad.”
“I’m sorry, son. I truly am.”
I was silent for the rest of the ride. This was certainly a terrible way to come home.
By the time we arrived at the hospital and Jeffrey pulled up by the front door, I was livid and ready to kill the man who’d attacked Jesse.
“Where is this punk at now?” I asked.
“He’s in jail. That’s why we were at the police precinct, to make sure he wasn’t getting any special treatment since his father is on the force,” Malcolm explained.
Malcolm and I got out of the car. “Thank you, Jeffrey, for the ride and everything else. We’ll speak tomorrow.”
“He will be. I’d appreciate it if you would go to the DA’s office first thing in the morning and make sure whoever this kid is, he doesn’t get away with this. I know I’ve been gone a while, but the DA wouldn’t have that position if it weren’t for me. He owes me, and I haven’t forgotten.”
“Will do, Moses.” Jeffrey pulled off.
“I see you’re not wasting any time Dad,” Malcolm commented. “You’ve only been back a few hours, and you’re already taking charge.”
“What can I say? I’m always going to be the head of this household. Now, let’s go check on Jesse.” I cupped Malcolm’s shoulder, and we headed toward the entrance.
We were directed to the waiting room. The others had already beaten us there, and all eyes were on me once we entered. Vanessa, my daughter-in-law, stared at me in shock from where she sat with Carolyn and Martin.
“Moses, you’re actually back,” Vanessa said.
“I am.” I nodded, ignoring the evil glare of my wife.
“How is Jesse? What are the doctors saying?” Malcolm asked, hurrying to Vanessa and hugging her.
“Nothing yet other than they needed to run some tests,” Vanessa answered.
“Mr. and Mrs. Britton?”
“Yes?” Malcolm, Vanessa, Carolyn, and I all said simultaneously to the white-coated doctor who stepped into the waiting room.
He looked around briefly, then his eyes settled on Malcolm and Vanessa. “I’m Dr. Phillips. I’m the physician treating your son.”
Carolyn rose to her feet. “I’m his grandmother. What’s going on with Jesse, doctor?”
“Well, he still hasn’t regained consciousness. We’ve done an MRI and CT scan to make sure there’s no bleeding in his brain, and we are waiting on the results. His nose is broken. So are his ribs and his arm.”
“My God.” Vanessa cried into Malcolm’s shoulder.
“He’s going to be fine, Vanessa. The tests are routine for head injuries, baby,” Malcolm reassured her.
“He’s right,” Dr. Phillips agreed. “Jesse is young and strong. It’s likely he’ll make a full recovery.”
“I’ve already made a call to the top neurologist in the state to come and check on him. He’ll be here later tonight,” Carolyn announced. “And if he needs a plastic surgeon for his nose, we’ll take care of that as well.”
“He won’t be back in his room for a little while. I would encourage you all to go home and get some sleep.”
“I’m staying. I’m not going anywhere until I see my son,” Vanessa said quickly.
“Neither am I,” Carolyn agreed.
“That’s fine. I’ll have a nurse come and get you when he’s ready,” Dr. Phillips said. “I do need to let you know that visiting hours end in an hour.”
“Like I said, I’m not leaving, and neither are his parents.” Carolyn’s voice was as rigid as the look on her face. It was a look I knew well.
“The rules are the rules, Mrs. Britton.” Dr. Phillips shrugged.
“I don’t give a damn if—”
“Dr. Phillips.” I took a step forward to interrupt my wife. “Certainly, you can make an exception considering the extent of my grandson’s injuries, in addition to the substantial amount of money the Britton Foundation has donated to this hospital.”
Dr. Phillips inhaled slightly, then said, “I’ll make sure they know that I’ve approved an additional hour. That’s the best I can do for tonight.”
“Thank you.” Malcolm shook the doctor’s hand before he exited.
“Well, I guess that’s my cue to leave.” Martin sighed. “I’m gonna head on home.”
“I guess I will just ride home with you, son,” I told him.
Martin looked caught off guard. He shot a glance toward his mother as if he needed to confirm her approval. “Uh, okay. I’ll go get the car and meet you out front.”
“We’ll call you if there’s any update with Jesse, Dad,” Malcolm said before he gave me another hug.
I turned to Carolyn. “I’ll see you at home.”
She was silent. Although she was looking directly at me, it was as if her mind was somewhere else. She’d zoned out.
“Mom?” Malcolm said.
Carolyn pursed her lips and turned to Vanessa. “I have a phone call to make. A private one. I’ll be right back.”
Not caring to wait for her to return, I gave a small wave and went after Martin. As he said he would, he’d pulled the car to the front doors of the hospital and was waiting for me. I couldn’t help but notice the uncomfortable expression on his face as I got in. There were no words to describe how that made me feel, being a stranger to my son. Not in the physical form, but in the mind. Hopefully we could change that.
He said nothing to me when he started driving. After fifteen minutes, I grew tired of hearing the sound of the outside air as we whizzed by.
“It’s nice to see your brother and Vanessa getting along,” I said to Martin, breaking the ice. “But I’m even more surprised that Vanessa and Carolyn seem to be cordial. I always thought they’d be sworn enemies forever.” Carolyn had never thought any woman was good enough for her sons, so when Vanessa and Malcolm got married, she had made the woman’s life a living hell. In the end, it led to the breakup of their marriage.
“Yeah, things changed after they got remarried, so everyone’s cool,” Martin responded, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Remarried? And your mother allowed it? Things certainly have changed since I’ve been gone.”
“She was the one who orchestrated it.” Martin turned onto our street.
Carolyn arranging my son’s remarriage was just as shocking as it was troubling. She wasn’t one to change her opinion about a person once she’d formed it. There had to be a calculated reason behind her apparent change of heart, but I couldn’t imagine what that could be.
“Why would she—”
“Damn, why the hell are they here?” Martin interrupted, slowing his Maserati down as we turned into the driveway.
He leaned forward in his seat, and my gaze followed his to the police cruiser sitting in front of our house. Martin parked, and the two of us got out. The door of the cruiser opened, and Chief Samuel Harrington stepped out.
“Maybe they have more questions,” I said as we walked over to the chief.
“We told them everything we knew while we were at the precinct,” Martin responded.
The chief extended a hand to me in greeting.
“Sam, how you been?” I asked.
“Been good, Moses. I can only hope the same for you.”
“What are you doing here this late, Chief?” Martin asked. “Have you upgraded the charges against that punk?”
“No, this is about something else.” Sam glanced over at me, then back to Martin. The look of discomfort on his face let me know that whatever it was, it had to do with me.
“What’s going on, Sam?” I asked.
“Well, Moses, I hate to tell you this, but you aren’t allowed to enter the house.”
“Are you crazy? It’s my damn house,” I said, now standing face to face with him.
“I know, but right now, we’ve been told to escort you from the premises.”
“Escort him from his own property? That’s crazy.” Martin reached for his cell phone. “I’m calling Jeffrey. My father just got back in the United States. Legally. I don’t know what kind of political games y’all are trying to play, but—”
Sam interrupted him. “This doesn’t have anything to with politics or the legal issues.”
In that moment, I knew what this was about. And as much as I admired the fact that my youngest son, who up until that moment had seemed quite indifferent about my return home, suddenly came to my defense, I couldn’t let him get involved.
“It’s fine, Martin,” I said. “You don’t need to call anyone.”
“You know what? You’re right. I don’t need to call anyone because this is my house, and I can give permission to whoever the hell I want,” Martin snapped. “You can leave, Chief.”
Sam shook his head. “I can’t do that, Martin. I’m sorry.”
“Fine, stay.” Martin turned to me. “Come on, Dad. Let’s go inside.”
“Moses.” Sam and I locked eyes. I heard and heeded the warning in his voice.
“You know, I think I’ll stay somewhere else tonight, son, until we get this situation taken care of,. . .
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