WMD Ch. 02

"I'll think about it," she edged away.

"Do you know where the Fonteneau House is?"

"No ..."

"I'll wait in the parking lot for fifteen minutes. If you decide to share a large family dinner with a lawman, a crazy woman and eleven other people ... well, you will be welcome."

"Eleven? Do you often invite people over for dinner?" she lightened up.

"Well, it is my two brothers and I, Mom, Dad, Kamika the cook, Anita the Major Domo, Hector the groundskeeper and his wife plus Consuela the upstairs maid and her two kids and Bebe the stable hand. On their days off, or if the family is having a late dinner, Kamika and Anita have dinner with their families."

"Wow ... okay," she nodded. "I guess one meal won't be so bad."

"Follow me," he gave her a tender smile as he went for his motorbike. For Andrea, it was the first true sense of humanity she'd felt in some time. She didn't' think her nightmare was over. If it was alleviate for one day though ... that was one day she hadn't dreamed she'd ever have again.

(Madame Mayor)

With one arm around Brandy, I was grabbing my keychain when I realized she was looking up at me with her deep blue eyes.

"Yes?"

"I don't know what's going on anymore," she seemed truly vexed.

"You are my first girlfriend," I shrugged. "Don't look at me for answers."

"Seriously?" she gulped.

"Yep. You are the first girl Mom's let me get close to. Trust me, she can kill intimacy faster than head lice," I joked. Gross perhaps ...

"Ick (the lice-thing) ... your Mother likes me?" Brandy shifted gears.

"I honestly don't know," I shook my head. "Mom's the super-genius / evil criminal mastermind in my family."

"You are pretty smart," she offered. I didn't respond. Mikhail and Taliyah transferred their squabble to the back seat. I held the door for Brandy, shut the door, then went around to my side. Once inside, I brought the car to life.

"Vlad?" she prodded.

"I'm thinking ..." I stated. We were out the gate and rolling toward the nice side of Kingston before I put words to thoughts. "I didn't know what to think of you when you treated me like shit on the bottom your heel the first time we met," I brutally laid out my feelings. "I pretty much hated you after that stunt you pulled that first Monday."

"I ... that's not fair ..." Brandy interrupted.

"Shut up," I put a stop to the excuses. "I don't want to hear your bullshit justifications anymore; now listen." I waited until she nodded. "I don't like how Darius uses you, or the lies you tell yourself about the two of you being together - shut up and let me speak, Brandy," I growled.

"The first time I had sex with you, I wanted to shoot off and get it over with as quickly as possible. I felt you were hoping for the same thing ... when we started. Right, or wrong?"

"I ... it wasn't like that," she lapsed into her lies.

"Okay. I've said my piece," I looked away. "I will carry tons of weight for you, Brandy, but I won't carry your lies. If 'it wasn't like that', or 'I wouldn't understand' then 'I don't care what it's like' and 'I don't want to understand'," I said.

Brandy began to sniffle up. Taliyah and Mikhail had grown very quiet.

"Listen Vlad ..." Taliyah rallied to her BFF's defense.

"Don't," Mikhail stated in a totally different tone. It was the Samsonov voice that had been freezing evil-doers in their place for centuries.

It was that utter authoritarian, calm and confident vibe that hinted at an impossible genetic memory of hundreds of loyal officers of tsars long since passed. Taliyah's protest sputtered out.

"Right this second, Brandy, do you think I care about you?" I challenged her.

"I ... ah ... I don't know ..." Brandy mumbled.

"Girl, don't be stupid," Taliyah switched sides.

"But Darius," Brandy twisted in her seat to look at Taliyah.

"But Darius - nothing. Neither man is going to let you keep the other one on the side, Brandy. Make your own damn decision for once," she insisted. "Make up your mind, or Vlad is going to make it for you."

"Vlad ... Prince, can I have a little time to think about this?" Brandy prevaricated.

"Call me before you leave for school tomorrow morning," I replied. I wasn't backing down. I firmly believed she was going to fail this test and I was okay with that. To a degree this remained my Mom's personal vendetta.

I was willing to press my body and blood to her efforts, but I wanted a piece of my heart and life to remain my own. Brandy was feeling relieved. The police lights coming on behind us was an unwelcome diversion. It was one of Kingston's Finest. I readied my Driver's License, registration and insurance then let him rap on the widow before rolling it down.

"My, oh my, what do we have here?" he sneered.

"What seems to be the problem, Officer?" I replied. "I'm driving two classmates home after doing homework together at my house." Every piece of equipment was working on Mom's car and I knew I hadn't been speeding, or weaving across the line.

"Ms. Carson," he addressed Brandy in a condescending manner. He even flashed his flashlight's light that shone from her face to her cleavage. Next the light danced over to Taliyah. "Ms. Malik?"

"Hello Bruce," she turned into the light. We, as the children of law enforcement, knew that unconcerned tone of voice.

"Taliyah, whose is your Dad?" Mikhail asked her.

"My Mom is the Mayor," she rolled her eyes, "you Neanderthal."

Wow ... we'd always heard the Mayor referred to as the Mayor, not Madame Mayor ... like we'd been taught to address a woman in that office.

"What's your Dad do?" sort of spilled forth from my lips.

"He's a property manager," she mumbled.

"Okay, Mr. Samsonov. Step out of the car. I suspect you are under the influence," the cop - Officer Bruce - demanded. I got out cautiously and let him steer me to the trunk.

"So basically, your Dad dicks your Mom and manages her money?" I heard Mikhail remark. It was a reach on his part. By the smack I heard, it was on the mark too.

"I'm not saying it isn't a good - oomph - dick - ow," Mikhail's laughter, "only that - urgh - it probably isn't - 'missed me' - worth the price - ow."

"I hate you," Taliyah groused.

"You - wait," Bruce ordered me. He strode back to my door. "Ms. Malik, are you okay."

"Yes Bruce; I'm beating up a White Boy. I couldn't be happier," she zinged back. Bruce didn't know what to make of that.

"Oh ... okay ..." he mumbled. He was so fatally distracted, he didn't bother with the mock sobriety test. I got a stern warning, my paperwork back and off we went.

"Thanks Taliyah," I said as I rolled into the Malik U-shaped driveway in front of their Mac-Mansion. I was out of the door first, holding it open - the 2012 Shelby V8 Mustang is a two door ride. Mikhail looked content to let her climb over him.

"What for?" she addressed me while glaring at my brother. I tapped him on the shoulder.

"Try to remember Mom wants her to hit you," I reminded him. "Taliyah, thanks for not giving us any grief with Officer Bruce back there." Mikhail took my cue to get out first so she could exit the vehicle with minimal molestation.

"Don't mention it," she murmured. "Really do NOT mention it." She reached to pull her book bag out, but Mikhail stole it from her. "Hey!"

"I'll walk you to the door (all of ten feet)," Mikhail grinned.

"I don't want you to," she snipped and made a grab for it. My crazy brother danced away then dodged two of her lunges.

"That's why I'm doing it," he teased. The door to the Mac-Mansion opened. We had a Mom and a Dad ... and not in the best humors.

"Young man," the mature buxom, curvaceous Black woman demanded, "what are you doing with my daughter?" Officer Bruce must have called ahead.

"Samsonov," her Pa got into it, "get away from her."

"No problem, sir," my brother extended the book bag out to his side. Taliyah kicked Mikhail in the shin after she snatched it from him. That action appeared elicit some level of personal satisfaction from both parents.

"Mom - Dad, I'm fine. I don't need your help," she growled as she stormed past them. Her dad was attempting to look menacing to us.

It might have worked twenty-five years ago when he was in far better shape. He still looked 'handsome' enough, but he'd gone soft.

"Taliyah, what are you doing with that Samsonov boy?" her Mother grabbed her daughter's arm.

"Boy," her father made a move on Mikhail, "you better have some answers."

"You played football, right sir?" Mikhail smiled warmly.

"What ... huh ... yeah. I was half-back at Arkansas State," the moron let my brother seize the initiative. "But that's not what I asked you."

"I can tell you played a great deal," Mikhail complemented the man. Mr. Malik puffed up.

"It's those droopy eyelids and vacant stare which are the results of too many concussions that gives you away, Sir," my brother skewered him. "On the plus side, your eyesight appears to still be 20/10."

"Huh ... what? You little Beecher-Bitch," he got all macho on us.

Who the hell was Beecher? [Reference the HBO series: Oz]

"Do you know who you are talking to?" the man didn't like being made a fool of.

"Mom," Taliyah protested. "Nothing is going on. I only went to their house because Brandy needed help with her homework. Mikhail is being an asshole - like he always is."

Mikhail was neither intimidated by our lofty company, nor finished.

"I know who you are. I saw you in the back of Theater #3 with that woman who was clearly not your wonderful wife here - her slurping your python while you laughed at all the White folks getting gakked in The Purge: Anarchy," he kept grinning.

"You are right, Mikhail. That was him. I couldn't recall where I'd recognize you from," I joined in. "Mr. Baker ..."

"It is Malik!" the husband and wife barked.

"You've got to have some serious bull-sized testicles to cum that much - especially for a man your age. I swear I thought you were going to choke that chick out," I congratulated him. "Mikhail? How many times was it?"

"Shut up, Peckerwood!" Mamma Malik shouted at me while blazing solar flares of death her husband's way.

"Times? I don't recall," my brother shrugged. "We should ask her. I didn't catch her name but how many young, busty red-heads with 'Red Wolf Bitch' tramp stamps can there be in a township as big as Kingston?"

"You fucked Riley!" she turned her unbridled hate on her husband.

"Daddy!" Taliyah joined in on the verbal beat-down.

"You screwed her at the Cineplex," Mamma spewed forth her outrage. "You couldn't even pay for a room at the Foxtrot Inn (we now had the name of the local 'Cheater's Retreat) for you and your latest Bro-ho?"

Yeah, it was fine for Darius to bang Brandy against her father's, the Sheriff's, wishes. I had little doubt the Mayor mocked Big Bob behind his back for his daughter being the constant center of the football team's gangbangs ... but now the BBC legacy had slithered back home to roost.

"Honey, it was a one-time thing," he pleaded. "You know she's just ..."

"A whore for Big Black Cock?" I volunteered.

"Shut your yap," he turned and yelled at me.

I bet the Malik family was happy there were these big, thick and tall property hedges on both sides of their rather expansive plot.

That would make this public display of dysfunctionality far less visually damning and slightly less audibly comprehendible.

"Don't you turn your back on me," Madame Mayor hollered. She yanked his arm back around with her left and double-slapped him with her right. She was clearly unhinged.

"Riley is Reggie Murdoch's mistress, you stupid sonofabitch! How in the fuck am I going to make it to the State House this year of you piss away his Goddamn patronage!" Mr. Malik had enough of 'his' woman getting in his face. To any outsider, it was clear she wore the pants in their family and her love of some sort of political future for herself was running full-tilt over her love of his cockery.

By the twisted nature of this sexual piranha tank, ole Reggie was probably slipping some to Madame Mayor as well. It wasn't like the Mister was giving her much to feel loyal about. Mamma was winding up for another slap-fest when he grabbed her wrist, twisted it painfully and drew back a fist to punch her with.

"You are not going to go all-Omarosa on me," he bellowed.

His body jerked when he tried to land his punch. Mikhail had stepped up behind him and hooked his punching arm at the elbow with his own arm.

"Mr. Malik," I swear he sounded just like Dad right then, "You don't want to do that."

"Get your hands off me, you Aryan Mother-fucker" he turned on Mikhail. My brother backed off. He hadn't grabbed the man, just stopped him.

"Let go of me," Madame Mayor sounded off like a jungle cat. Mr. Malik was trying to stare-down my brother. I was already edging up. His gaze swung my way.

She took that moment to drag her fingernails along her husband's constraining wrist viscously enough to draw blood. Mr. Malik hauled off to hit her once more. Now that I was positioned to flank him, Mikhail switched up his response. Twin (and triplets) don't have telepathy. What we have are our inherent abilities, honed by instincts and interwoven through numerous series of shared experiences.

I knew my brother's intent without devoting more than a heartbeat of attention. My brother swiftly maneuvered himself between the feuding couple by pushing the Mayor behind him so he could interposed his body into the path of Mr. Malik's blow. He could have blocked, but that would have entailed knocking the woman to the ground so he received the blow with his left shoulder.

His stumbling had as much to do with the weight of Mrs. Malik pulling him backward as the father's fist. It was the kind of blow we'd all learned to roll with some time ago. As it was, she almost spilled them both. Whatever Mr. Malik's intentions were for a follow-through never materialized.

I wrapped my arms around him from behind, mid-abdomen, lifted him up and spun him away from my brother. Having bought space and placed both my body and Mikhail's between him and his wife and daughter, I released him; putting the man down gently.

I didn't want to give him any scrapes, or bruises, to indicate I'd assaulted him. Yeah, we were saving the woman from domestic violence. That didn't make them 'not' our enemies.

"Son of a ..." Mr. Malik crouched slightly. He was preparing to start wailing away which, given the events of the past fifteen seconds, was the height of foolishness.

He swung, I blocked then backed up. The Black bastard was probably used to fighting White pricks too small, too scared, or too drunk to fight back and mistook me for the same. Behind me, I heard Mikhail edging Mrs. Malik back.

"Daddy!" Taliyah screamed.

"Stop this!" - "Let go of me!" commanded the Mayor. "Chinedu - stop damn you!" He kept swinging. Taliyah rushed in, causing her father's next blow to falter. He spent a few crucial seconds readjusting.

"Damn you, Chine - stop beating up these two boys in front of Bob Carson's daughter!"

His next attack came up short as Mrs. Mayor 'shoved' me aside so she could confronted her husband.

"Dom (Dominique was Mrs. Mayor Malik's given name), these shitheads are mocking us," he grumbled. Dominique turned her scrutiny in my direction. I kept my eyes on the guy who'd tried to hit me seconds earlier.

"Which one are you?" she sizzled.

"Vladimir, Madame Mayor," I answered in a low, even tone.

"He's Vlad, Mom," Taliyah stated at the same time.

"Boy, are you giving me attitude?" she gave me an evil stare.

"No, Mrs. Malik. I don't like you at all, but I respect your office and I'm not partial to any man hitting any woman for any reason," I spoke softly.

"Get you pasty-white asses off my stoop," Papa Malik raged.

"Sir, my Brother and I are not going anywhere until we are certain you aren't going commit bodily harm to either lady on this premises," Mikhail declared.

He came for me because I was closest. Chine shouldn't have shoved his wife first. Playtime was over. He lashed out with his left fist. I took the offered arm, twisted it as he swung past me then applied an arm bar and took him to the ground.

"Vlad!" Brandy had finally gotten out of the car.

"Get off me, you mutha-fuckas." He had shed his polite, educated veneer.

"Get off my husband right ..." Dominique began. I had let go and backed off before she was finished.

"Yes Ma'am," I complied. Chine scrambled to his feet, now truly furious. This time, psychology took over. The Mayor was primarily a creature of ambition (as Mom would explain later).

She weighed out who was in control ... and who wasn't. The BBC methodology was grounded in the superiority of Black physical mystique. Mikhail and I had pretty much shattered that for Mr. Malik. Had he been rational, and his wife more cock-hungry, things would have played out differently.

"Chine, calm down, you cretin," she seethed.

The crippling effect wasn't her words, it was her stance. Dominique stood behind me and to my left with her right hand resting on my left shoulder as she spoke. In the terminology of sexual politics, she was taking sanctuary from his Black thuggery behind my (temporary) White ascendancy ~ critically, the power that had just humiliated his masculine aura in front of his women (mother and daughter).

Mikhail further under-mined Mr. Malik's authority by moving to Taliyah's side in a warding manner and she was taking comfort in that protective gesture. 'That's right, Mr. Malik, I'm fucking your daughter too,' was how that gesture was read by him and it actually happened to be right this time.

"Get out of my ..." Chinedu ranted.

"It is my house," Mamma Malik shut him down, "and it is my career you are screwing up." The Samsonovs were already threatening her security due to her husband's blatant fooling around in a setting where so many people could have recognize him. Her reaction was to remind him know who had the balls in their relationship.

He must have sensed that growing shift in their 'imbalance' of power and that knowledge was probably what spurred him on to fuck Riley in the first place. He wouldn't let his wife rein in his BBC - no way, no how. Except she wasn't powerless, or as addicted to his sausage as he'd been relying on.

His options were slim ... attack me and get his ass handed to him (again), or storm off like a petulant child. There was no way he'd knuckle under - he was a leech living off his wife's fortune, a cheating womanizer and a jock who'd peaked in life at twenty-two. Ignoring his wonderful daughter, he had nothing to show for his squandered life.

"Boys, this is none of your God damn business. Get in your car and get the fuck away from my family," he made one last stab at domination.

"Sir, are you going to settle down to the point where we aren't worried about your wife and daughter?" Mikhail hovered protectively around Taliyah.

This was NOT part of the Samsonov plan. We could take advantage of the situation and be the good guys doing it. Our declaration was 'we aren't leaving until your women think you'll stop being a raging asshole.'

"Chine, get inside the house," his wife commanded with a steely voice.

I swear a vein on his temple throbbed. He was being 'tamed' and in front of two of his hated enemies ~ offspring of the hated Fonteneau Clan (Mom's people).

"Fuck you!" he flipped off the group of us. "I'm going out. I'll be back ... whenever." He chose the 'petulant child' conflict resolution retort.

Oh, he stomped past us barely giving me time to edge Dominque out of his way. Another indication of the family's true center of gravity came to the fore.

"Mom, do something," Taliyah complained. No, she wasn't asking her father to act like an adult, she was expecting her mother to fix things.