The Builder_BWWM Romance Series Read online

  They tried to forget the fact that this might be the last time they all saw each other. They tried to forget about all their anxieties about growing older, about love, happiness and the lot of it.

  “Are any of you married?” Dinah asked.

  Gigi and Tyra both shook their heads.

  “Nope.”

  “Nah.”

  “Do you ever want to be?” Dinah asked.

  Tyra shrugged and Gigi nodded.

  “I do. But I’ll need to meet the right guy. Maybe I’m getting too old though.”

  “Nonsense!” Tyra said, “There’s no such thing as too old.”

  Dinah replied, “Well, I don’t think I want to get married. I watched daddy go through three wives in my childhood. None of them could have kids and none of them lasted very long.”

  They were silent again. Even if they tried, they couldn’t help but think of Jerome. The good, the bad, the ugly — they were forced to confront all of it now in his death.

  “I never knew he was ever married.”

  Gigi knew about her father's other children but she didn't know enough about him to know he'd had spouses.

  “After I turned eighteen,” Dinah said, “But I still lived here after college and during vacations. So I got to see a lot of it. I wonder if any of them ever really loved him.”

  “Are any of them coming today?” Gigi asked.

  Dinah shook her head, “They all made excuses when I called.”

  They were silent again as they were forced to confront another unpleasant truth. Jerome had a string of women on his arm but his actions had also made him many enemies throughout his life.

  They talked until guests started to pull into the driveway. Black cars manned by mixed race Costa Ricans with thick dark curls and walnut brown skin pulled up and then all manner of Americans and Nigerians descended upon the Jackson mansion for Jerome’s funeral.

  Gigi, Tyra, and Dinah waited by the door, playing the part of perfect daughters and loving sisters. They greeted everyone who came. A man gripped Gigi's hand with tears in his eyes and told her that her father was the most loving man he'd ever known. Gigi couldn't muster up tears in response, but it moved her to know that her father had impacted someone like that.

  Maybe he wasn't all bad. Maybe he just couldn't do family the traditional way, she mused.

  The house was filled with upwards of 100 guests who all fit into the viewing room. The priest arrived somewhere in the middle of the pack and Dinah pulled him aside to discuss the proceedings. Gigi took in the room before making her way to the reserved seats in the front.

  The room smelled like new leather and designer perfumes. Gigi had never been surrounded by so much wealth in her life. The odd venue for the funeral bothered no one. The ultra-wealthy are accustomed to eccentricity.

  Gigi's mind wandered as she waited for the priest to begin. She'd never understood what Dinah’s life had been like until now. In Paris, she remembered thinking Dinah was clueless, some barely-black Oreo who couldn't possibly understand what she'd been through. Now, she empathized with Dinah, for having to be enveloped in such a cold, stiff world.

  The start time of the funeral drew near. Tyra joined Gigi in the front and their eyes moved over to Dinah as they waited for her to join them. The priest stood in the front of the room waiting to officiate and Dinah stood off to the side talking to a short, gently tanned latino man.

  When Dinah finished speaking to him, she joined the duo.

  “Who was that?” Gigi whispered to her.

  “Luciano.”

  “Who?”

  Dinah whispered, “A friend of my father’s. He helped me get everything together today before you guys arrived.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  Before Gigi could ask any more questions, the funeral service started. The priest began to speak about her father’s life. Gigi started to learn things that she’d never known about Jerome. She learned about his childhood in Nigeria, where he'd been the smartest of his brothers who were now all dead.

  His parents had pegged him out for success and he'd attended Oxford for two years before dropping out to begin his enterprises.

  Enterprise was a good word for it, Dinah thought to herself. Neither her sisters nor the guests knew as much as she did about what her father had done to make his money. Except for Luciano, of course, the bearer of her father's secrets, the guests were ignorant.

  When it came time for Jerome’s eulogy, Luciano was the one who stepped up to the podium to speak. Gigi drew her eyes to him, hopeful that she could gain some final lasting insight into the man her father was.

  Luciano spoke with a thick Spanish accent, but he eulogized Jerome well. He spoke about their memories together in Costa Rica and all the times that Jerome bailed him out of trouble. He spoke to the heroic image of her father that Gigi had always carried with her (whether intentionally or not).

  The image Gigi had of her father persisted as a Nigerian man that loved laughter, liquor, and making love with equal vigor. He had been boisterous, untamable and loyal to a fault once he decided you were worthy.

  Gigi could feel tears spilling out of her eyes involuntarily. Dinah was weeping softly and Tyra sat up stone-faced. She never allowed her grief to be on display in the room full of people. The shimmer in her eyes was replaced by an intense stare. Dinah and Gigi couldn’t help themselves. They all gripped each other’s palms as Luciano said his final words.

  “…And I want to say a final goodbye to you, amigo. I promise that I will carry you in my heart forever and I will make sure that nothing happens to your beautiful daughters. Adios.”

  Luciano left the podium and Gigi watched as a single tear streamed down his face. The room was filled with people who were either weeping or looking sullenly forward. The priest continued with the rest of the service and when the collection box was passed around, people dropped $100 bills into the box as if it were nothing.

  Everything about that day had felt utterly surreal, including the ease with which a room full of people parted with what would total up to a year’s worth of her rent.

  Gigi made mental notes of everything going on so she could remember to tell her mother. Her mother had declined the invitation, but Gigi promised her she'd spare no details about what happened.

  Towards the end of the service, they sang and a friend of Dinah’s played the piano. And just like that, the funeral service was finished. The gangly events co-ordinator led the guests to the other room for a small wake while Gigi and her sisters said their final goodbyes to Jerome.

  The end drew closer. Jerome's requests would be followed and carried out by his team of assistants. Their lives would change and three regular black women who barely knew each other would become heiresses overnight. Jerome would be cremated and the ashes would be split in three and shipped priority mail to Gigi and Tyra. This was it — their last time with their father.

  Gigi’s chest balled up like a fist as she stood above her father’s body for the last time.

  “Goodbye,” She whispered through her tears.

  Tyra handed her a handkerchief which she used to dab beneath her eyes. Dinah planted a kiss on their father’s forehead and Tyra just stood there staring at him. Gigi thought her head seemed like it was swimming with thoughts. There was a lot to think about and a lot to mourn.

  When the funeral home arrived and the coffin closed for the final time, Gigi felt the fist around her heart clench even tighter. They had to go back out there and face the folks who had all come expecting to see the three of them after the funeral.

  “I’m starting to think the next part is what’s going to be the hardest,” Gigi said.

  Dinah sighed, “You’re right. But… We can do it. I know we can.”

  “At least we’ve got each other for this next bit.”

  “Let’s go then.”

  They pushed open the doors into the next room and walked out into the…

  …middle of the party.

  Booze flowed like
water. Jerome’s specific instructions for how his funeral was supposed to be carried out had been followed to the letter. Dinah’s meticulous attention to even the smallest details had panned out.

  “I have a feeling this party’s going to last all night,” Tyra said.

  “Too bad your flight’s in four hours, huh Gigi?”

  Gigi nodded, “I know. Maybe I’ll be able to come back to see you girls for Christmas.”

  “You really think we could make that happen?” Dinah asked hopefully.

  Gigi nodded.

  “Of course. I know we’ve been separated most of our lives, but maybe this is a chance for us to make it all work.”

  “And maybe by then, you’ll be married. Or have a kid,” Dinah offered.

  Gigi chuckled, “We’ll have to see won’t we.”

  She doubted that Dinah’s prediction held any weight. But a part of her wondered if Dinah needed one of them to have a kid. The three women were the only children he had -- no sons.

  Dinah seemed to crave the company, the tight-knit family she'd never had growing up sheltered in her father's Costa Rican mansion.

  Before the reunited sisters could continue talking amongst themselves, more of Jerome’s old acquaintances approached them to make uncomfortable grief-ridden small talk. Everyone who approached spoke about Jerome as if he were a hero.

  One man even took Tyra's hands, kissing them, and cried that she should be "so grateful to have Jerome as a father".

  Tyra pulled her hands away afterward, wondering how deep Jerome's double lives went. He couldn't be the hero these folks thought he was after leaving his own daughters to be cared for in separate parts of the world.

  One of Jerome’s old clients came and gave them a diatribe about a trip she’d taken with Jerome to Amsterdam and how he'd lavished her with presents. Two of his old university friends spoke at length about how Jerome had pranked their opposing debate team and had them kicked out of the tournament.

  People filed in and out of the circle and each one of them knew more about Gigi’s father than she did. The discomfort in her chest sank to her stomach and she couldn’t wait another moment until all of it was just over. Her feet ached from standing, her face throbbed from grimacing all night and her eyes were puffy and swollen from a mixture of crying and exhaustion.

  The night moved on somberly until Gigi's taxi came…

  CHAPTER TWO

  TYRA JACKSON

  Goodbye to Gigi wasn’t easy. I’d only just grown accustomed to having a sister and saying goodbye so soon had never been a part of my plan. She zoomed off in a taxi and left me standing next to Dinah.

  “Think she’ll be okay?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Dinah smiled, “Of course she’ll be okay. “

  “I dunno. She’s taking it hard…”

  Dinah smirked, “Listen, I’ve got people looking after her.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “People? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you don’t have to worry.”

  I didn’t get along with Dinah as well as I got along with Gigi. I found her standoffish and she spoke as if she knew everything. If she knew so damn much, why didn’t she just tell us instead of being so cryptic and speaking in code?

  “C’mon,” Dinah said, “Let’s head inside. We still have guests.”

  “Right…”

  We walked back inside when one of Dinah’s staff approached her with a worried look on her face. She touched Dinah’s arm and whispered into her ear. Dinah’s expression twisted with worry and she thanked her housekeeper before returning to my side.

  “Bad news.”

  “How bad?”

  I worried about my mama back in California. She’d never been without me for this long and with my younger brothers (half-brothers) off on their tour of duty, she needed me now more than ever.

  Yup, my mama had more kids when I was sixteen years old and my brothers were just old enough to pick up guns and serve their country.

  “There’s a storm. We’ve just had word a hurricane is going to hit tomorrow.”

  “In Costa Rica?”

  “Off the coast. It’s unusual but… not impossible.”

  “I’m supposed to leave tomorrow morning!”

  “Sorry Tyra. You’re welcome to stay here the night.”

  I had no desire to stay in Dinah’s cold, Costa Rican mansion any longer than I had to. I was never close to my father and if I had to be honest, I came to collect my inheritance and meet my sisters, who I’d met only a handful of times during my life. The mansion had no life to it. The large beams and open spaces with their operatic acoustics only felt empty to me.

  Despite the tropical heat, the humid atmosphere within the concrete megalith chilled me to the bone. I wrapped my shawl around my shoulders and returned past the manicured palm trees and bougainvillea gardens to the guests. My father’s associates all imbued me with a sense of deep discomfort. When one man grabbed my hand, my palm shivered with the panic a woodland creature feels before being squeezed by an anaconda.

  I stuck to Dinah’s side the rest of the evening. I could sense her growing frustration with me, but I couldn’t bear to mill about with the black-suited dementors whose soul-sucking interest in wealth alone was practically palpable to me. I reached for my phone, hoping to steal away for a few minutes to call my mother. No bars. Right — the hurricane.

  Dinah had attempted an escape, but I spotted her across the room talking to a short, latino man, one of the ones who had spoken at the funeral. He had a scar across his eye and chilling anthracite eyes.

  “Tyra, have you met Luciano?”

  The name rang a bell. He’d spoken and given one of my father Jerome’s eulogies.

  “Ah, I don’t believe so.”

  He reached out his hand, licking his lips before greeting me.

  “Beautiful Tyra. I remember your mother.”

  He winked.

  “Oh, thanks. Hi.”

  “I’m Luciano. I’m leaving. I must get out of here before the storm hits.”

  His thick accent belied his perfect diction.

  “Safe drive,” I replied.

  He chuckled, “I doubt it.”

  He hugged Dinah and we watched him leave together.

  “Scary, isn’t he?” Dinah whispered.

  “You could say so.”

  “Harmless. I’ve known him since I was a child.”

  I didn’t think growing up in this environment, Dinah had any clue what safety meant, but I didn’t question her. Drinking and partying continued until the wee hours of the morning. Dinah and I were the last to retire, except for the wait staff who now had the funeral of a century to clean up after.

  Dinah yawned as we ascended the marble staircase.

  “Daddy would have hated this,” she mused.

  “I guess.”

  I didn’t know our father well enough to say otherwise.

  “I’ve arranged a private company to take you to the airport tomorrow. You won’t miss your flight.”

  “What about the storm?”

  “They say it’s swung north. We’re safe.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  I exhaled a sigh of relief and caught another yawn from Dinah.

  “Sleep tight. I’ll send Ana up in the morning to take your breakfast order.”

  “Thanks, Sis.”

  “Sorry, we didn’t get to hang out much this time.”

  “Next time.”

  I doubted there would be a "next time". Since we’d grown, “next time” never materialized the way it had when we were younger.

  Dinah went to bed, leaving me in my suite. I wandered around with my phone for a while, flipping my braids out of my face as I pressed it against the window.

  Nothing. Nothing. I shuffled to the left. Nothing. I shuffled to the right. Ah! Yes!

  One bar.

  I called my mama’s number, feasting on the melody of the warbled dial tone.

  “H
ello? Who’s this?”

  “Mama, it’s me? Can’t you see the number?”

  “Ain’t it late?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Girl you done woke me up.”

  “Sorry. There was a storm…”