Brent Sinatra: All of Me (14 page)

“You’re so stupid,” Rhonda Jean said with a laugh as she and
Norm Morgan stood behind the counter at the Jericho Inn Bed and Breakfast
restaurant.
 
Norm, the chef, was on break
from the kitchen, and Rhonda, the cashier and waitress, was waiting to ring up
another customer.
 
It was four p.m.
  
The lunch crowd was gone, the dinner crowd
was only trickling in.
 
It was slow.

“I’m serious,” Norm responded to the cashier.
 
“I think ambition is highly overrated.
 
Look at me.
 
I’m a chef in my best friend’s hotel.
 
And I love it!
 
I don’t want to do
anything else.
 
I like Jericho now.
 
I love Jenay and all my other friends.
 
Life is good.
 
But these ambitious types will say I’m a loser.”

“You are a loser if you think working here as some cook is
your definition of success.”

“First of all,” Norm said with those same mannerisms that
made Rhonda call him a black woman imitator, “I’m not a cook.
 
I’m a classically trained chef, so let’s get
that straight right off the bat.
 
Second
of all, I didn’t say working here was the definition of success.
 
I said working here is what I enjoy doing and
that makes it a success for me.”

The door, to the restaurant’s entrance from the outside,
opened and Brent Sinatra walked in.
 
As
soon as he did, Rhonda smiled and began sprucing up her short, blonde locks.

Norm looked at her, looked where she was looking, and then
shook his head.
 
“Not you too,” he said.

“What?”
 
Rhonda
asked.
 
“Can I help it if he’s good
looking?
 
He’s hot.
 
I’m sorry, but he is.”

But Norm wasn’t a fan.
 
“It’s pathetic the way you girls salivate over that man.
 
A man, I will remind you, who already has a
woman that he’s not about to dump for y’all.”

But Rhonda didn’t care about possessing him.
 
She just wanted to admire him.
 
He was heading toward his favorite table by
the window and she was watching his every move.
 
She was staring at his gorgeous green eyes that even from where she
stood were gleaming.
  
She was checking
out his big, fine body that gave off such a heightened sexual charge that most
boys around Jericho would kill to be able to exude.
 
She couldn’t stop staring at
him
.
 

He was dressed in what Rhonda viewed as his chief of police
uniform: perfect-fit suit, a tucked-in collarless shirt that highlighted his
thick chest, and his trademark hat.
 
He
removed his hat, revealing a thick swath of wavy black hair that dropped to his
neck, and tossed it onto the table as he sat down.

Rhonda took her hand and began fanning herself.

“You need to quit,” Norm said.
 
“Every female I know go nuts whenever he’s
around.
 
I’m telling you it’s pathetic.”

Rhonda looked at her co-worker.
 
“So he’s not good looking to you, Norm?
 
Is that what you expect me to believe?”

“He’s good looking.
 
Every one of those Sinatra boys are good looking.
 
I’ll give them that.
 
But my goodness, they aren’t the only nice
looking men in town.”

“Name one that looks better?” Rhonda challenged him.
 
“Just one.”

“I think Biff McCord is nice looking.”

“
Biff McCord
?
 
Are you joking?
 
Biff McCord looks like a little rat face boy
compared to Brent Sinatra!
 
Did you see
Brent’s thighs?
 
Did you see that thickness
between his legs?
 
I’ll take Brent,
thank-you, and I don’t even like cops.
 
But I’ll take Brent.
 
Hell, I’ll
take skinny-ass Donald Sinatra over Biff McCord!”

“Then you’re farther gone than I thought,” Norm said.

“Sure Norm,” Rhonda said with a laugh.
 
“But at least he’s not like his father.
 
I can’t stand that man!”

Norm was floored.
 
“You
can’t stand him?
 
Yet you have no qualms
whatsoever working in his establishment.
 
He owns the Jericho Inn, I hope you’re aware of that.
 
Which means he owns this very restaurant you
depend on for your livelihood.
 
He signs
your paychecks, girl, what are you talking about?”

“Jenay Sinatra signs my paychecks, that’s what I’m talking
about.
 
She owns this.
 
Not just him!”

“She owns it too, but he owned it first.
 
He owned it long before he ever met her or
married her, so don’t get it twisted.
 
You need to show some respect.”

But Rhonda had already moved on.
 
She was looking toward the entrance.
 
“Well well,” she said.
 
“Here comes the girlfriend.”

“Big Daddy doesn’t have a girlfriend!”

“Not Big Daddy you idiot.
 
Brent’s girl.”

Norm looked out of the window as Makayla got out of her
Acura.
 
“I didn’t know she was in town,”
he said.

“Probably came to celebrate the proposal.”

Norm looked at Rhonda. “What?”

“He proposed to her.”
 
Rhonda looked at him.
 
“You’re so
buddy-buddy with Mrs. Sinatra.
 
Didn’t
you know?”

“No,” he said as he looked back out of the café window.
 
“But knowing Jenay, she probably figures
Brent’s business should be told by Brent.”
 
Then she looked at Rhonda.
 
“How
did you find out?”

“Donnie.”

“His kid brother?”

“Yup.
 
He can’t keep a
secret.
 
He told me not to tell anybody
though.
 
I only told you because I
assumed you already knew.”

He didn’t.
 
Jenay never
told her personal business, not even to him.
 
“Anyway,” he said, “break time’s over.
 
Let’s get back to work.”
 
And Norm
headed back into the kitchen.

Rhonda shook her head.
 
“What a loser,” she said aloud, but got back to work.

Brent waved a hand at Makayla when she entered the café and
started looking around.
 
When she saw his
hand, she smiled and headed toward his table.
 
Although it was a regular Saturday afternoon, she was nicely dressed in
a bicsotti-colored satin dress that crisscrossed at the cleavage, and matching
heels.
 
With her hair flowing behind her
in waves of thick curls, she looked angelic to Brent.
 
He loved the fact that she took such care
with her appearance.
 
Even when she was
casually dressed, she was always well put together.

He stood up when she arrived, kissed her on the mouth, a
gesture that had the few people in the café staring at them, and he helped her
to her seat.
 
“You look hot,” he said as
she sat down.

“Why thank you, sir,” Makayla responded.
 
“You don’t look too cold yourself.”

Brent laughed as he sat down.
 
Rhonda came over and took their drink orders, and then left.

Brent stared at Makayla’s cleavage.
 
“Sorry to be away from you all day.
 
But my day off is never a day off
anymore.
 
What have you been doing with
your day?”

“A little of everything,” Makayla said.
 
Including
house hunting
, she wanted to say but knew it would only spoil the
mood.
 
He had enough on his mind.
 
“I met up with Tony and we hung out together
too.
 
He’s very happy for us.”

“I’m glad he had time for you.
 
Tony’s fun to be around.”

Makayla smiled.
 
“Yes,
he is.
 
So what about you?
 
How did it go with that hit-and-run?”

Brent exhaled.
 
“Not so
great.”

“So it was Bobby’s car that fled the scene?”

“The witnesses changed their stories.
 
They both now claim it was a green Ford Focus
that fled the scene.
 
Bobby’s saying it
wasn’t him.
 
With no evidence that it
was, I couldn’t hold him.”

“What about car tracks at the scene?”

“There were none.
 
By
the time we let Bobby go and sent a team out there to analyze the tracks, a
city crew had painted the entire street.”

Makayla frowned.
  
“Are
you serious?
 
Why would they suddenly
paint over a crime scene?
 
Wasn’t the
police tape still up?”

“They thought it was cordoned off for them by a different
crew of city workers.
 
At least that’s
their story.”

“That doesn’t past the smell test, Brent.”

“Tell me about it.”

Makayla stared at him.
 
“What else aren’t you telling me?
 
There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

Brent ran his hand across his face.
 
“There’s a lot I’m not telling you.”

Makayla was hurt by the admission.
 
“Why?”

“Because you’ll be deputy D.A. in ten days.
 
I don’t want you in a position to have to
deny anything.
 
Or confess to anything.”

“Regarding your brother?”

Brent looked at her.
 
“Regarding my brother, my family, any of it,” he said.
 
“Yes.”

A look of concern appeared on her face.
 
Which concerned Brent.
 
“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s getting real now,” she said and looked at him as if she
wanted to see if he shared her anxiety.

He did.
 
He
nodded.
 
“Really real,” he said.

Then Makayla exhaled.
 
“And I’ve got to be real with you.”

“What?” Brent asked.
 
“You rented a townhouse?”

Makayla was stunned.
 
“How did you know?”

“Tony was there.
 
Remember? He has an allegiance to you, true enough.
 
But he has a greater one to me.”

She stared at Brent.
 
“Upset?”

“It’s not thrilling news,” he said.
 
Then he looked at her.
 
“But I understand it.”

Makayla smiled.
 
That
was all she was after.

Two weeks later and Makayla was ready.
 
She grabbed her purse, her keys, and her
briefcase, and hurried out of her front door.
 
She wasn’t late, but she was determined to be especially early.
 
It was, after all, her first day.

But as soon as she walked out of the front door of her
townhome, and made it to her car, Brent’s big Ford F-150 drove up and parked at
the curb.
 
She smiled when he got out of
his truck.

Brent buttoned his suitcoat and made his way up the sloped
driveway.
 
Makayla, he thought, looked
stunning in her dark blue pinstripe skirt suit and heels, with her hair
partially pinned up in an upsweep up front, and down curls in back.
 
Her big eyes were smiling and Brent’s heart
was soaring with love as he looked at her.
 
He would have preferred to have been in bed with her all night and saw
her when she first woke up, but she insisted on having her own place.
 
He didn’t like it, but until he married her
that privilege was off the table.
 
And
rushing her to the courthouse after all these years wasn’t going to work
either.
 
She’d already said she wanted a
well-planned, real wedding.

Makayla, too, had a surge of joy as Brent approached
her.
 
It was an odd reality.
 
They’d been living apart for four years and
rarely saw each other every week.
 
Now
that she was a bona fide Jericodian and his soon-to-be wife, she wanted to see
him all the time.
 
Even last night she
considered hopping in her car and going to be with him.
 
But talk about a mixed message.
 
That move would have defeated her entire
argument for having her own place to begin with.
 
They were handling this transition just about
right, she felt.

Her smile grew even brighter when he made his way to her
side.
 
“I wasn’t expecting to see you
this morning,” she said.
 
“You almost
missed me.”

He kissed her and placed his arms around her.
 
“I thought you didn’t have to be to work
until eight.”

“I don’t.
 
But it’s my
first day.”

“Yeah, and since I know your ass I figured you’d be early as
hell.
 
But I thought you’d leave a
half-hour early and I’d have time to do what I do.”
 
Makayla laughed.
 
“But a full hour early?
 
That’s a tad excessive, young lady.”

“That’s me,” Makayla said cheerfully as she loved the warmth
of his arms around her.

“No time for a quickie?”

She shook her head.
 
“No time.”

Then Brent’s look turned serious.
 
“Don’t allow them to steal your joy,” he
said.
 
“That D.A.’s office is a closed
society.
 
They don’t like outsiders in
any way, shape, or form.
 
Not all of them
are going to welcome you with open arms.”

Makayla nodded.
 
“I
know.”

“Be yourself,” Brent said, “and they’ll come around.
 
And if they don’t?
 
Fuck-em.”

Makayla laughed.
 
“I don’t
know if that’s possible since I have to work with those people.
 
But I get your point.”

Brent smiled too, but he couldn’t release her and let her
go.
 
He didn’t know what was happening to
him, but ever since he asked her to marry him, he didn’t want to let her out of
his sight.
 
It was a strange, different
feeling for him, especially since she’d been out of his sight for days,
sometimes months on end, during almost all of their relationship.
 
And the idea that those heifers downtown
would give her a hard time, as he knew they would, concerned him mightily.
 
He almost had the urge to go to work with her
just to remind them that she belonged to him and mistreating her was the same
as mistreating him.
 
But he knew Makayla
would see right through that trick and hate him for it.
 
He, instead, placed a hand on the side of her
lovely face.
 
“Nervous?” he asked her.

She wasn’t going to lie to him.
 
“Little bit.
 
First days are never easy.
 
But
I’ll get through it.”

“That’s my lady,” he said, kissed her and hugged her
again.
 
But before he let her go he
turned her toward her car door and squeezed her ass out of view of any nosy
neighbors.

Makayla smiled.
 
“Uh, I
like that,” she said.

Then Brent playfully gave her a hard pinch.

“Ooh!”
 
She pushed
him.
 
“I don’t like that!”

He laughed.
 
“Give’em
hell, Harriett,” he said, prompting her to laugh too.
 
And he let her go.

But when Brent made it back to his truck, and answered his
ringing cell phone, all smiles were gone.

“We’ve got a bad one, Chief.”
 
It was Eddie Rivers.

Brent sat behind his steering wheel and watched as Makayla
drove away.
 
He had a strange
feeling.
 
As if a part of his heart was
driving away too.

“Hate to bother you this early,” Eddie added.
 
“But I knew you would want to know.”

“Tell me,” Brent said.

“We found a kid, he can’t be no more than ten or eleven,
sitting beside a dead body, Chief.
 
A
butchered dead body.”

This surprised Brent.
 
His town was no utopia.
 
They had
their share of crime.
 
Maybe more than
their share.
 
But mysteriously brutal
murders remained a rare occurrence.
 
“Was
the child hurt?”

“No, sir.
 
Physically
he appears fine.
 
We have him here at the
station.”

“Where did you find him?”

“At Quick Hit,” Eddie said, and then quickly corrected
himself.
 
“I mean, at the Super Fin
motel.
 
And he wasn’t just there,
either.
 
He was sitting there with a
blood-stained knife in his hand.”

Brent was even more surprised.
 
“I didn’t see that coming,” he said.
 
“Did the kid admit guilt?”

“He’s admitting nothing.
 
He won’t talk to anybody.
 
And we
have no witnesses so far.”

A possible kid murderer.
 
That would be a first, not only for Brent, but for the town.
 
This could get out of hand.
 
“I’m on my way,” he said.
 
Then added: “Call my brother Tony.
 
He’s a shrink.
 
We may need him on this.”

“Will do,” Eddie said.
 
“What about Child Protective Services?
 
Should I call them too?”

“Not yet,” Brent quickly said.
 
“If this kid killed that man, I need to find
out why.
 
CPS shows up with their child’s
rights agenda, we may never get the full story.
 
What about surveillance cameras at the motel?
 
Secure any footage now.”

“There is none to secure,” Eddie said.
 
“I already tried.
 
The cameras don’t work there and haven’t
worked there for years.”

“Terrific.”

“It’s a hooker motel, boss.
 
The owner knows his guests don’t want to be filmed.
 
So he accommodates them.”

Brent exhaled.
 
“Keep
the kid with you and keep everybody else out.
 
Until I can talk to him.”

“Will do,” Eddie said again, and Brent ended the call.