In this chapter, Kylie talks more about the situation with her uncle. You also get a glimpse of her relationship with Thade “Diablo” Beauvoir who she refers to as “Diablo” and Colette refers to as “The Dip” (see Colette’s first chapter for the explanation on that one).

I called him “Diablo” because of his yellow Lamborghini, not because I was trying to be symbolic or anything serious like that. Growing up on Long Island, I knew a few guys whose nicknames reflected their cars. No one had a Lambo, mind you. But at Gino’s in Elmont where I worked all through high school and most of college, I knew a Joey Beamer and a Joey Lex. That last one might have been a Johnny Lex. I don’t remember. Incidentally, I never drove a cool enough car to get a nickname. No one wanted to hang with a “Kristin 1989 Nissan Sentra,”I guess. And because we are probably getting a Chrysler Town & Country after our current lease is up, I suspect I won’t be getting a cool car nickname anytime soon.

Anyway, so this Diablo is a pretty important supporting character. But I’ll leave it to you to decide if his intentions toward Kylie are devilish.

 

Chapter 9

Shaking in My Boots

(KYLIE)

 

            Finally in bed. Soft sheets tucked tightly under the mattress and a dark room—I loosened up my body.  I switched positions multiple times then just let my bones drop. Enough trying to fix things. Besides, I always end up in the first position: on my back, the pillow cupped around my head with my hands lying on the top of my stomach.

I tried to sleep but it wasn’t long before my mind wandered over the events of the night, replaying and analyzing them, wishing I could edit out certain parts like my life was a film.

It had been an interesting night. “Interesting”—it’s one of those ambiguous words that could go either way. And in this particular case, the night had its genuinely enjoyable moments and its completely awkward ones.

We didn’t go to Lot 61 after all. Colette called and told me that she realized making plans with “The Dip” without my knowledge was wrong. She apologized and said that we would just go out together, just us. I couldn’t believe she had the guts to break plans with him—I never broke plans with him. That’s for sure. But, she told me she didn’t break plans at all. According to her, she just flirted her way out it. Yeah, sure.

And we weren’t completely off the hook anyway. My cousin told Thade that I didn’t want to go to Lot 61 because I had been there just a week ago. A complete lie—everyone knows that the place has only been open a matter of months and it’s nearly impossible to get a reservation. Of course, The Dip asked who I went with, but she told me she “coyly evaded his question” (which probably meant she pretended like the cell reception was bad).

As we sat in the large master bathroom of my uncle’s city apartment, Colette pulled my wavy hair through a straightening iron and recollected the rest of her genius plan. She instructed Thade that we were to dine at Cipriani’s and no where else would be acceptable. There’s just one problem: Cipriani’s is not the hardest place to get a reservation. It’s pricey but it’s a huge place. Of course you could get a reservation.  Thade had one of his boys call back quickly after his conversation with Colette. Cipriani’s at 9 p.m. Did we need to be picked up?

I was grateful, however, that my cousin made even that much of an effort to escape our dinner plans. Colette always had my best interest at heart—well, she had her best interest first but I was a close second.

Cipriani’s was, as I said, interesting. Thade didn’t just get us a table, he reserved a whole section of the restaurant. I sighed as we walked in and he stood up to greet us looking at the section as if to say, “See what I can do.” He then glanced at his friends commanding them to stand for the two ladies entering the room. Colette grabbed my hand and whispered “Whoa, Big Dip” in my ear then tried not to laugh.

When I got up close, Thade drew me in for a kiss then said, “I figured you would want some privacy after the eventful morning.” He directed me to a seat next to him and put Colette at the other end of the table. I wanted to sit next to her—it was an eventful morning—but she looked pleased sitting next to Gabriel,  practically bathing in all his attention.

After he ordered for the whole table, Thade turned to me and took my hand. “I want you to know that everything will be fine—with you uncle,” he whispered.

“I hope so,” I managed, not wanting to think about my uncle’s current situation.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

“You’ll…?” I stopped myself. I smiled weakly and said, “Thanks but I think Blaise and I can handle it. It’s really up to our lawyers anyway.”

“Do you really want your uncle to sit in a cell while some lawyers chip away at this case?” He kind laughed then said, “I said I would take care of it. Don’t worry.”

I spent the whole rest of the evening worrying. I wanted to tell him to stay out of it. I wanted to scream at him that I had this under control. He was such an opportunistic asshole. But I just inhaled deeply and repeated to myself that he could be very helpful. Maybe my uncle had something worked out with him. Maybe Blaise had something worked out with him. And honestly, I didn’t feel prepared myself to deal with this. I could run my uncle’s businesses—especially the front of the clubs. I could hire people, fire people, throw parties for his associates, charm the pants off the Italians when they came around. I even got in some of the backend. I helped him make a few deals these past months. But this? This was serious shit. We’re not the type of operation that had a business plan, or weekly conference calls, or “plan Bs”.

Then I thought of the worst—what if we didn’t have enough money to cover this? Shit, I didn’t know exactly how much we had. I knew where some of it was. Blaise had already gotten to it upstate. What if my uncle needed Thade for some reason? If Uncle Denis needed Thade, then he needed me to keep Thade happy. My stomach felt like it was eroding from the inside out all night after that.

I really wanted to put all this from my mind and get some sleep—but money issues just kind of creep up on you, don’t they? I thought about my family’s money—how much of it is wasted, how much of it we would need to spend on this case. It was weird but Ben popped into my brain just then. He was marrying Siobhan Tracy. He would never have to worry about money.

A wave just came over my body. It wasn’t painful, just a rush of feeling. It felt like I was blushing—but all over my body. I pushed the sheets off me and spread my arms out on the bed. The word “Tracy” brought it on. I’ve had worked pretty damn hard at keeping that name in a darker corner of my mind.

Just then Colette flung the bedroom door open.  Her silhouette was shaking a little. Another voice was ricocheting all the way from the kitchen through the hallway behind her.

“Blaise—Shut up for a second! Kylie—something’s happened.” She whimpered. She had been crying but was trying to compose herself.

“What’s the matter? Is Blaise here right now?” I looked at my watch on the bedside table. It was only 11:45 pm. Dinner ended early and I needed to crash so we just came back to the apartment.

“Yeah. Um. Kylie…” Colette started.

“Turn on the news, Kylie!” Blaise pushed his way through the threshold.

“Will one of you please tell me what happened? You’re scaring me.” I cried.

“Just turn on the FUCKING NEWS! I just spent the whole day driving all over the place. Don’t ask questions,” he screamed. Blaise’s normally ruddy complexion had deepened and his face was glistening with sweat.

Colette grabbed the remote and found the channel. We all watched.

Now, this is just in… Brice Baptiste made a statement earlier today about how he would stay out of his father’s case. However, District Attorney James LoCicero alluded to Brice’s involvement in his press conference held earlier this evening. It seems Denis Baptiste, Jr.’s son will be playing more of role than he let on. A lady in a red suit read the news with a smirk on her face.

            That’s right. Baptiste, Jr., who is facing multiple charges from tax evasion, exhortion, and murder in the first degree, will battle for his freedom once again. And this time it will be against his own son. District Attorney LoCicero has waited for this day for a long time.  The man in the gray suit with an American flag pin on the lapel continued the report.

            Looks like the Baptistes have found themselves in another sticky situation. Red suit was smug.

A few pictures of Uncle Denis from years ago flashed on the screen. The gray suit read his lines,  Well, they’re no strangers to the courtroom. Back in 1988, the leader of the Baptiste crime family faced charges that would have put him in prison for a long time. This time the D.A. is not stopping with the crimes of his father—other Baptiste family members may be indited as well. I can’t help but wonder if Brice Baptiste will be behind the arrests of his brother Blaise and cousin Kylie Baines, better known as Styles Baptiste.  The man in the gray suit sneered—you’d think he knew us all personally or something. And he acted like he was talking about some local dog show. Jesus!

The lady in the red suit announced, Let’s take a look at the Assistant District Attorney’s press conference.

They cut to a video clip of Brice, in an immaculate suit as usual, answering questions amongst shouting reporters and bright flashes.
This is a very sensitive situation for myself and my family. And I love my family but I love our country and our justice system too. A clear message must be sent to the people of this city that organized crime on any level will not be tolerated. And murder will not go unpunished. Now, if you’ll excuse me. No more questions. Thank-you.

A journalist bellowed from the crowd, Will you seek to punish your father to the fullest extent of the law?

As I said earlier, I will not be involved in this case. Please, no more questions. Brice nodded and turned from the podium.

As Brice started to walk out, another reporter chimed in Will you go after other members of your family like Blaise Baptiste and ‘Styles’ Baptiste?

Brice turned and sharply said, Rest assured that every member of the Baptiste family that was involved in the crimes of my father will be punished accordingly.

Just then, the clock radio from my bedside table was hurled right past the side of my face. The radio broke into pieces as it hit the TV set. The plasma screen flashed a few different colors then just went black. Blaise was picking up a chair when Colette screamed at him, “Blaise! Please! STOP!”

“Blaise! you have to calm down,” I stood up out of bed and faced him. His chest was heaving and his face was searing hot.

“How can I calm down when that self-righteous bastard is leading the prosecution team?” Then he pointed at the broken TV as if it was his brother, “You’re dead to me! You’re not a Baptiste! You motherfucking self-righteous prick!”

“Blaise! Calm down. Please calm down.” I said. I sat back down. Hearing my name on the nightly news made me feel unbalanced. Colette started crying,“How could he do this? It’s his father too.”

“Because he’s not a real Baptiste, Colette. He’s a fucking asshole who happens to be our brother. He’s a fucking jerk!” Blaise was screaming again. Then he huffed, “He always has been. Ever since I can remember.”

“Blaise, please, you’re not helping.” I yelled.

“And speaking of helping, I’ve been helping all fucking day. I went upstate, met with the lawyers, all while you played student and had dinner with your boyfriend.”

“Don’t take it out on Kylie!” Colette fired back.

“Listen, we’re all pissed about this. But it does nothing to…” I started.

“Are you pissed about this?” Blaise walked towards me, finger wagging in my face, “You seem pretty fucking calm to me. Did you know about this shit already? Because I’ve been in the car all fucking day and…”

“I know you’ve been in the car. You don’t have to remind me,” I threw my hands up like I was holding a hungry tiger at bay. I took a deep breath, “Yes, I did know about Brice. He called me this morning after the arrest—presumably before he talked to the press.”

I tried to explain further but Blaise had abandoned himself—self-destructing, jumping ship. He was only hearing white noise.

He nearly screamed at me, “What THE FUCK? Were you going to share this information with me and Colie?”

“Of course, if you’d just calm down and quit throwing shit, Blaise.” I stood up from the bed again and raised my voice so it almost matched his—Blaise responded to volume.

“Well, what did my asshole brother say when he called you, then?”

“He said we should cooperate with him and his boys down at the city courts.”

“What else? That smug piece of shit.”

“Nothing much else. He was calling to gloat—like he had captured some big prize. He’s always been a sanctimonious prick—that’s no fucking surprise. We don’t need to worry about him right now. Don’t you see? This is the District Attorney’s way of riling our family. The D.A. did this on purpose. It’s all to get media attention.”

“Well, fuck the D.A.! It’s like his pathetic life’s work is to take out my dad. And he is no motherfucking mastermind. I should’ve beat the shit out of him when I had the chance.”

Colette piped up, “Oh, that would have gone over great, Blaise. You assaulting the D.A. in a restaurant with everyone watching.”

“SHUT-UP, COLETTE! You don’t know shit.” She sunk down onto the bed and looked at me.

“Your father has beat charges before.” I kept on. It was in my best interest (and my uncle’s) to get Blaise calm. Blaise can be very effective. He’s older than me and he’s been working for his father since he got out of high school.

“These charges are more serious though.” Colette whined.

“But they still have to make it stick. And they’ll need good witnesses. You can’t just put someone away for murder without considerable evidence.”  I didn’t believe my own voice—especially because I knew exactly who they would get as a witness.

“One of the charges is for the murder of Jeff Esposito—what if they can get Mark to testify?” Blaise said.

“I don’t, I don’t know.” I was getting so anxious myself though. I hated Brice for this.

“Stop telling me to calm down.” Blaise spoke in an alarmingly calm way. “You’re ex knows a lot about us, Kylie.” He bent over a little bit and continued like I was a third grader, “And you know who else knows a lot about us? My fucking brother. You’ve got my brother and your ex. That’s a lot more than a bunch of suits down at the city courts.”

We were all silent. Blaise sank into a large armchair across the room. He looked at the TV and shook his head. I looked around the room—like I was going to find the answer to my problems written on the walls or something. Colette sniffled and after awhile said, “Oh my God, Kylie, I can’t believe Brice is gonna arrest you and Blaise too. What the fuck? I mean, does he ever want us to speak to him again?”

Blaise answered before I could try to console her, “Colette, nobody is going to speak to him again. And if you think he gives a shit, you’re fucking dreaming. He’s got his little wife Rebecca and her family. Think about it—how often do we see Brice? Never. He’s a pig in shit with his in-laws. The fucking picture-perfect Carricks. And that District Attorney—man, that guy must have seen his whole fucking career turn around when young Brice Baptiste, fresh out of law school, walked in and wanted to work for the good guys.” Blaise was right. That was the sad part.

When he said the name “Carrick,” I gulped and felt it in the very bottom of my stomach. I did not need to be reminded that Ben and Brice were brother-in-laws. This was all getting too incestuous. I wondered if I should tell Blaise that I saw Ben. But why? I started to feel dizzy so I propped myself up on the headboard for support.

Blaise looked at me, “You’re right Kylie—about the D.A. alluding to Brice’s involvement. He’s trying to get attention. He must think that the public will be more, I don’t know, involved this way. It’s not just a court drama—now it’s a family drama.”          “Do you see why it’s maybe not the best idea though?” I asked. “By pitting father against son, he’s making your brother look like the guy who won’t stand by his family. We all know Denis Baptiste is no saint. Grandpa wasn’t either. But, they’ve both done a lot for their communities. That will count for something.”

“Did you see in the paper too—how they are trying to make us look bad because we have a French last name? I mean half of us have never even been to France. What’s that about? They’re trying to make us look like we’re not American or something. Like we’re sneaky.” Colette looked better now.

I stared at the broken TV and said, “I can’t believe Brice really did it. Well, I guess I can. He told me once that he was disgusted with your father but I never thought he’d have the stones to go through with it on this level.”

“Kylie, we’ll let the lawyers will take care of it.” Blaise was totally spent from his reeling. He turned one last time as he exited the room and looked at the television and the mess he’d made, and said, “Don’t worry really. I mean it. Both of you—don’t worry.”

I nodded and half-smiled as he left. I really wanted to talk to Uncle Denis at this point. He always knew what to do.

“I’m going to bed. I am so tried. My feet hurt like hell from those damn boots of yours.” Colette sat next to me on the bed and smiled.  I was happy to change the subject.

“Serves you right. Maybe you’ll think twice before wearing them again. You better ask me next time.”

“Oooh. I’m shaking in my boots—get it? Besides, what’s going to happen to me if I do wear your stupid shoes again? The tough bitch Styles Baptiste is gonna beat me up, huh?”

“Shut up, Colie.”

“You gonna come after my car with a baseball bat?”

“Shut up, Colie.” This time it was louder. My crappy love life clearly amused her in some sadistic way.

“What if I…” Boom. She slammed me in the head with a pillow. I almost fell off the bed. Colette ran to the door—a safe distance away from me.

“You are so lucky I’m tired right now.” I laughed.

“C’mon then.”
“You’re a total douche. You have to know that.” I picked the pillow up off the floor and slammed my head down on it. She laughed and left the room.