Brent Sinatra: All of Me (21 page)

“I don’t know why she even has to be here, anyway,” Denise
went on.
 
“You can take care of
this.
 
You don’t need her.”

“It’s alright,” Makayla said to Brent.
 
This woman was trying to make this tragedy
all about her, and Makayla wasn’t interested in letting her.

But Brent wasn’t about to let it slide.
 
“I need Makayla,” he said, “like I need air
to breathe.”
 
He stared hard at Denise,
just in case she had any ideas up her sneaky sleeve.
 
“Get used to it.”

Eddie inwardly smiled.
 
That was how you sat down a bitch, he thought.
 
Denise’s heart sunk.
 
He apparently had stronger feelings for this
Makayla than she had anticipated.
 
Which meant
she had her work cut out for her.
 
But
she had been married to a monster for a decade.
 
She knew what a challenge was, and she was up to this one too.
 
Life never came easy for her anyway.

She decided that getting rid of Makayla wasn’t going to
work.
 
She therefore ignored Makayla and
turned her attention back to her son. “What happened in that motel room,
Marcus?” she asked him. “Did Daddy hurt you?”

Marcus glanced at Brent, but didn’t say anything.
 

“That’s enough, Denise,” Brent said, rising to his feet.
 
“No more questions.”

But Denise was finished.
 
She took her son’s small chin and turned it toward her face.
 
“Did you hurt, Daddy, Markie?
 
You tell me what happened.
 
Did you do anything to Daddy?”

Brent grabbed Denise and angrily pulled her to her feet.
 
“What did I tell you?
 
No more questions!”

But before Brent could put a stop to it for good, as he was
about to do, Marcus blurted out three words.
 
“I killed him,” he said.

Brent’s heart fell through his shoe and the entire room went
quiet with shock.
 
Makayla looked at
Brent.
 
Eddie looked at Brent.
 
Denise and Brent were staring at Marcus.
 
“I know you hated him,” Denise said, further
incriminating her son.
 
“But you didn’t
kill him, did you?”

“I killed him,” Marcus said again.

“You killed him?” Denise asked her son, as if twice wasn’t
shocking enough.

Marcus looked at his mother and nodded his head.

“With that knife?” she asked him.

He nodded his head to that question too.

And Brent was floored.
 
He ran his hands through his hair.
 
His eyes looked like glass about to break.

Makayla was floored too.
 
She knew she had to act on his confession.
 
She knew there was no going back now.

Then Brent stood up, prompting Denise and Marcus to stand up
too.
 
“He’s overtired,” he said to
Denise.
 
“We’ll talk with him tomorrow,
after he’s had a chance to meet with an attorney.”

Eddie frowned.
 
“Brent,
what are you doing?” he asked him.

“You can’t leave town,” Brent said to Denise.

“Yes, I know.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“Brent,” Makayla said.
 
She was stunned that he was willing to overlook such a monumental
problem that she was duty bound, not to mention morally bound, to not overlook.

“We don’t have a place, no.”
 
Then she looked at him.
 
“What
about Jericho Inn?
 
They may have some
rooms available.”

“I think they do,” Brent said.

“Is Jenay still running it?
 
Or has she and your father divorced?”

That was the Denise he remembered, he thought.
 
Her slights knew no bounds.
 
“Yes, she still runs it,” he said.
 
The divorce part was none of her business.

“That’s good,” Denise said with a smile as if her son had not
just confessed to murdering her husband.
 
“Jenay and I used to be best friends, you know.”

That surprised Makayla.
 
This woman and Jenay seemed like worlds apart.

“It was me, Jenay, and Norman,” Denise said.
 
“The Three Oddateers.”
 
Then a sad look appeared in her eyes.
 
“That seemed like forever ago.”

“I’ll take you and Marcus there,” Brent said, but Makayla
stepped in.

“Brent, that’s not possible.
 
Marcus confessed.
 
I heard
him.
 
I can’t disregard that fact.”

Brent looked at a concerned Eddie.
 
“Get Denise and Marcus and wait for me
downstairs.”

“Yes, sir,” Eddie said as he corralled Denise and her son to
follow him.
 
But as they walked out, he
looked back at Makayla as if he was relying on her to make this wrong thing
they were doing right.

Denise looked back at Makayla too, but she looked back with
joy in her heart.
 
It could not have gone
better if she had dreamed it up herself.
 
She knew Brent would look out for Marcus.
 
She knew it all along.

When they left, Brent and Makayla stood toe-to-toe.
 
“He confessed to the crime, Brent,” Makayla
said.
 
“I’m sorry that he did.
 
But he did.”

“He claimed he did it, yes, he did.”

Makayla frowned.
 
“What
do you mean he
claimed
he did
it?
 
You can’t determine the truth of his
statement without investigating it first.”

“That boy has been to hell and back again.
 
I’m not adding to his horror, and neither
will you.”

“But he confessed, Brent.”

“Okay, he confessed!
 
What do you expect to do about it?”

“What I’m duty bound to do.
 
Charge him with the murder of Mark Stravinsky.”

“Like hell you will!
 
I
can’t arrest him, Makayla!
 
That’s my
son!”

“But he confessed!”

“He’s tired,” Brent said, looking and sounding beyond
exhausted himself.
 
“We’ll talk to him
tomorrow, after he consults with an attorney.”

“But that’s not possible.”

“Don’t tell me what’s not possible.”

But Makayla held her ground.
 
“It’s not possible,” she said again.
 
“That child said he did it.
 
He
did not invoke his right to remain silent.”

“Yes, he did.”

“No, he did not.
 
He
did not invoke his right to remain silent.”

“Well I’m invoking it!” Brent blared.
 
“I’m his father and I’m invoking it!”

His pain was palpable to Makayla.

And Brent continued.
 
“Ten years out of his life, I’m invoking it!
 
Nothing he said today will be used against
him.
 
Nothing.”

Makayla swallowed hard.
 
He was asking her to participate in a cover up.
 
He was asking her, on her second day on the
job, to completely disrespect and disregard the office she held.
 
“And what about tomorrow?” she asked.
 
“What if tomorrow comes and he continues to
insist he did it?
 
What if he continues
to say, unabated, that he killed Mr. Stravinsky?”

A distressed look appeared in Brent’s eyes.
 
“Then you’ll do your job,” he said, “and I’ll
do mine.”
 
He touched Makayla’s arm and
then squeezed it.
 
“But not today.
 
Okay?”

It wasn’t okay, not under any circumstances.
 
But this was the man she loved with all of
her heart, and a child that might very well be his son.
 
Many people felt she chose her career over
Brent when she took the job in D.C. at the beginning of their
relationship.
 
She wasn’t making that
mistake twice.
 
“Okay,” she said, and
Brent, knowing what he was asking of her, pulled her into his arms.
 
He knew she would never let him down.
 
He knew it.

Jenay Sinatra sat in the middle of her housekeeping staff and
listened attentively to every excuse they had to give.
 
They were inside the Jericho Inn Bed and
Breakfast conference room and the excuses were flying like birds from a
nest.
 
One of the maids had been
sick.
 
Another one was new.
 
Another maid thought the other maid had
cleaned the rooms and therefore didn’t clean them herself.
 
And on and on they went.
 

Charles entered the conference room quietly, unbeknownst to
Jenay, and remained in the back as the meeting continued.
 
He leaned against the wall, folded his arms,
and watched his wife as she listened to her employees.
 
Before he allowed her to take over the
running of the Bed and Breakfast, it was one of his worse acquisitions.
 
Not only had it been failing financially, but
it looked like a dump too.
 
Now, under
Jenay’s leadership, it was the premier hotel in town.
 
But as he looked at her, and after hearing
from Donald about the long hours she’d been putting in whenever he was out of
town and not around to stop her, he was beginning to wonder if he had put too
much on her.

He looked at the staff.
 
Why she was involving herself with mundane housekeeping matters made no
sense to him when Donald or some other employee could have easily handled
it.
 
But there she was.
 
Right dab in the middle.
 
Listening as her staff continued excusing
their own laziness.
 
Patiently
encouraging their feedback and criticisms.
 
Until it became a broken record.
 
Until even Jenay had had enough.
 

“I don’t care why it happened,” she said to the entire
housekeeping staff and their supervisor.
 
“All I know is that it happened.
 
A third of my guestrooms were poorly cleaned.
 
Not one or two, which would have been bad
enough, but a third of all of these rooms.
 
That is not acceptable.
 
Not
today, not ever.
 
Not here.”

Charles could see disapproval all over the narrow, pinched
face of Wanda Dancy, the Housekeeping Supervisor.
  
And sure enough, she spoke up.
  
“That’s what I don’t understand,” she
said.
 
“You’re claiming the rooms are so
horrible, but I didn’t see anything like that.
 
I double-checked every room just like you told me to do, and they all
were clean.
 
Every single one of them.
 
They were perfect.
 
So I’m wondering is it just me?
 
That’s why I checked the website.
 
There were no negative comments from guests
at all.
 
They said the rooms were fine.”

“What’s your point?” Jenay asked her.

“My point is that I don’t get it.
 
I don’t understand where all of these unclean
rooms could be, since I didn’t see any of them.”

“What are you saying?” Jenay asked her subordinate.
 
“Are you suggesting I’m making this stuff
up?”

The supervisor smiled.
 
“No, ma’am.
 
I just didn’t see
what you saw.”

“That’s because you didn’t look where I looked,” Jenay
pointed out.
 
“You don’t walk into a
room, glance around, and declare it’s clean.
 
You put on gloves and finger check every surface beneath the
surface.
 
You pull the shower curtains
back, you lift the rugs, you finger check every fixture.
 
Then you tell me if it’s clean or not.
 
Our guests have to live in those rooms, they
don’t just do a cursory glance.
 
I don’t
want one of my patrons lying in bed, looking up at the ceiling late at night,
and he sees a cobweb in the corner, which is what I discovered in one of the
rooms.
 
I even pulled back a couple
bedspreads and found spots on the sheets!”

“But those sheets were washed, ma’am,” one of the maids
pointed out.
 
“The spots you’re talking
about won’t come out.”

“Then throw the damn sheets away!” Jenay blasted back, and
Charles frowned and nodded his agreement.
 
What was wrong with these people?
 
And Jenay continued.
 
“If they’re
spotted in any way, you do not put them on any bed.
 
You toss them and get more.
 
I’m telling you now I will not tolerate short
cuts and excuses when it comes to something that vital.
 
People sleep on those sheets.
 
And many people sleep in the nude.”

Charles smiled when she made that comment, because that was
the only way he allowed her to sleep.

“But if we have to throw away any sheets,” another maid spoke
up, “we were told you’ll take it out of our check.”

Jenay couldn’t believe it.
 
“I’ll
what
?”

“Miss Wanda said you’ll take it out of our check,” yet
another maid spoke up.

Jenay looked at Wanda.
 
“Did you tell them that, Miss Dancy?”

“I told them not to waste supplies like toilet tissue and
soap.
 
If a guest is only staying for one
night, don’t overstuff the cabinets.
 
That’s what I told them.”

Charles looked at Jenay.
 
She had better not accept that dishonest response.
 
And she didn’t.
 
“Did you tell them that if they threw away a
soiled sheet I would dock it from their pay?” Jenay asked the supervisor.
 
“Did you tell them that?”

Wanda didn’t want to respond, it was obvious, but all of the
maids were looking at her.
 
She had told
it to each and every one of them.
 
So she
nodded her head.
 
She had no choice.
 
“Yes,” she admitted.

“You’re fired,” Jenay responded without hesitation.
 
Charles inwardly voiced his approval.
 
“Get out and get out now,” Jenay added.

But Miss Wanda was stunned.
 
“I’m
fired
?
 
Over sheets?”

“That’s right.”

Wanda couldn’t believe it.
 
Neither could her all-white staff, Charles noticed.

Wanda looked at Jenay.
 
“You think you’re better than me,” she said. “You think you’re better
because you married Big Daddy Sinatra.
 
You think that makes you superior to the rest of us.
 
But you’ll never be better than I am.
 
You’ll never be better than the lowest
maid.
 
Because you’ll still be black.”

“That’s right,” Jenay said with a nod of her head.
 
“I’m still black and very proud of that
fact.
 
And you’re still bitter and very
jealous of that fact.”
 
Jenay lifted the
Walkie Talkie she used for staff contact.
 
She was always amazed at how people showed their true colors when they
felt they had nothing left to lose.
 
“Mason,” she said into the speaker, “come to conference room C.
 
Miss Dancy will need to be escorted from the
premises.”

Mason, her chief of Security, responded forcefully.
 
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
 
“I’m on my way.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Wanda asked, rising to her
feet.
 
“Am I supposed to be afraid now?”

But when she began to move closer to Jenay, as if she was
teeming for a confrontation, Charles unfolded his arms and was about to move
toward them.
 

But then Jenay stood up too.
 
“Whether you’re scared or not, I don’t give a damn.
 
But you’re leaving here.”

“You don’t have the authority to tell me what I will and will
not do,” Wanda said.
 
“I’m not afraid of
you.
 
Mason either.”

Jenay wasn’t afraid either, even though Wanda towered over
her.
 
“You can leave on your own,” she
said, “or I will have Mason throw you out.”

Wanda was offended.
 
“You’ll have him throw me out?” she asked angrily.
 
“Wanna bet?”

“She does,” Charles suddenly said and all eyes flew to the
back of the room.
 
Nobody realized he was
there.
 
Charles began walking toward his
wife.

“Mr. Sinatra,” Wanda said with all respect and reverence in
her voice.
 
She had no clue Big Daddy had
been standing there, and was looking none too pleased too.
 
She, like every human being in Jericho, knew
what he was capable of.
 
“I didn’t
realize you had come in.”

“I know you didn’t,” Charles said harshly.
 
He walked beside his wife.
 
“Are you okay?”

He knew she didn’t like the fact that he was interfering, but
he also knew she wouldn’t discuss her displeasure in front of her staff.
 
“I’m fine,” she said.
 
“I just fired Miss Dancy, but she seems to
think my decision is up for debate.”

“I didn’t say anything about no debate,” Wanda shot
back.
 
“But I do feel I’m being wrongly
terminated, sir.”

Mason, from Security, entered the room.

“I can dismiss you summarily,” Jenay said, “and I am doing
just that.”
 
She looked at Mason.
 
“Take her to her desk, make certain she only
takes what belongs to her, and escort off of these premises.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mason replied.
 
“Let’s go, Wan.”

Wanda gave Jenay another one of her crude looks, glanced over
at Big Daddy, and then left the room.

“This meeting is adjourned,” Jenay said to her remaining
staff. “Everybody get back to work.” The staff began to rise.
 
“You’ll report to me until I find a
replacement,” she added, they nodded or voiced their understanding, and then
they all left.

Jenay looked at her husband.
 
“Don’t you have a business to run?”

Charles smiled.
 
“I
thought this was my business.”

“Nope.
 
Sorry,
bud.
 
It’s mine now.”

Charles laughed.
 
“You
heard from Brent today?”

“Not since this morning, no,” Jenay said.
 
“Why?”

“I wanted to talk to him.”

“About the boy?”

“About Robert.
 
That
boy is such a disappointment.
 
You know I
haven’t heard from him at all since he left the police station with Porter.”

“Why he would want to have anything to do with a snake in the
grass like Porter Keith is a mystery to me,” Jenay said.

“It’s that daughter of his.
 
She’s got that boy’s dick so whipped he can’t hardly see straight. But
he will one day.”

“Unfortunately,” Jenay agreed.

“And Brent had suggested I put Robert in charge of that
nightclub.
 
Yeah, right.
 
But I do hope Brent will come around.”

“Brent has enough on his plate.
 
Marcus and Makayla the main two.”

Charles exhaled.
 
“Yeah.
 
But it can’t be true.
 
Not that murder part.
 
That boy wouldn’t do something like
that.”
 
Then he looked at Jenay, as if he
wanted her to confirm it too.

“Let’s pray not,” he said.
 
And then she changed the subject.
 
“Why did you decide to interfere with my staff, Charles?
 
I can handle the likes of Wanda Dancy.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.
 
But I wasn’t going to stand idly by and let her handle you.
 
Why are you concerning yourself with all of
this housekeeping stuff anyway?
 
Make
Donald help you.”

“He does help.
 
That
boy has come a mighty long way.
 
But I
have to stay on top of my maids.
 
Nobody’s coming to our hotel without being one hundred percent
comfortable.
 
It’s my job, not Donnie’s,
to make sure that happens.”

Charles walked closer to her, and placed his arms around her
waist.
 
“This place is so fortunate to
have you.”
 
He kissed her.
 
“As am I.
 
But I do want you to slow it down.”