Chapter Nine
The house was dark by the time Prince got home. The Hernandezes had kept him until he'd cleaned his plate of the sandwich, the side dishes, a second sandwich, and a couple of Gabby's cookies.
Gabby.
What the hell was he going to do about Gabby? When her parents showed up, she'd morphed into the old Gabby. The Gabby who made him laugh as she made funny faces at her parents' PDA. The Gabby whose insights, that she'd lay down nonchalantly about life or politics or art, made him pause to consider. The Gabby whose eyes sparkled when she looked at him and made him stop taking himself so seriously.
That Gabby he knew how to handle. The Gabby who moaned under his touch, the Gabby who made an offering of herself, the Gabby whose lips parted in invitation; that Gabby…
Fuck, that Gabby he wanted desperately. He wanted to take the offering of her lips and touch her in ways that would make her scream in pleasure. Instead, he slammed and locked the front door to his parents' house. He had to get back to D.C. and soon. Otherwise…
No, he couldn't complete that thought.
He strode through the darkened living room. He hadn't bothered turning on any lights. No one used this room any longer. Eagle had left home at eighteen, but hadn't gone far. Both he and Prince loved their parents, but their mom and dad had raised two independent, self-sufficient men who wanted their own space, and to live by their own rules.
Prince heard clanging down the hall. He knew his mom was likely working late at the courthouse, like most nights of his youth. His mother was the most ambitious, determined woman he'd ever met. He was proud to take after her. But unlike at the Hernandez's house, there was rarely dinner on the table in the evening. The Obademis only ate together on holidays. The dining room was a pristine, untouched picture torn out of a catalogue.
The clanging and banging down the hallway continued as Prince made his way into the kitchen. He flipped the light switch on to spotless fixtures and appliances. He knew that the pots and pans in the cabinets were all without grime or residue. The microwave, on the other hand, had seen better days.
Prince pulled the freezer open, took out a frozen dinner, and placed the carton on the turntable of the microwave. He set the timer and then headed towards the clanging, knowing his father probably hadn't eaten yet.
Walking down the hall, he looked to the wall of family portraits. There was the wedding portrait of his parents, both clad in their traditional Nigerian garb. His mother, Oluyemi, was second generation Nigerian, while his father, Abeni, came straight from the homeland as a mechanical engineering student. His father later became a citizen when he scored a job working on military planes.
Tonight, Ben Obademi tinkered on an old school engine in his workroom. From the looks of it, it was a steam engine, maybe for an old boat? All the Obademi men loved to tinker with anything that housed rods, and pistons, and gaskets. Prince, his dad, and his younger brother would spend hours taking things apart, putting them back together, and then taking them apart again to figure out a more efficient process.
Prince picked up a screwdriver and got to work alongside his father. The two men worked quietly, unscrewing parts and setting them aside. The mental and physical work of taking apart the engine settled Prince down. But with his mind relaxed, the memories took up shop.
Though his friends knew this wasn't the place to come for a good home cooked meal, they knew it was the place to come to discuss and fix anything mechanical. His friends, Chief and Sully, were fixtures in this room as much as Eagle and the boys of the Watchers Crew. They'd all sit and listen to Ben, who they affectionately nicknamed ObiWan, talk about the intimate workings of an engine. Then the boys would go out and apply his teachings to their cars and motorcycles.
And always, peeking around the corner, would be Gabby. Hawk would tell her to play with her dolls. Eagle would pull at her pigtails. Chief would teach her bad words. And Sully would sneak her treats. Inevitably, Gabby would end up in Prince's lap when she was little, or at his feet when she was a bit bigger, or leaning against the side of his chair when she was nearly grown.
As the boys' conversation naturally turned raucous and left the G-rating, Prince would carry her, or walk her, or tug her out of the room and back to her yard. Then he'd wind up staying with her for a quarter, half, or full hour laughing at her antics, explain to her some process for the tenth time, or they'd simply sit quietly and look up at the sky. Tonight, at dinner, was the first time he'd felt that sense of calm of his youth in a long time.
"How's the case going, son?"
Prince shrugged, as he put pressure on a bolt that wouldn't budge. "I don't feel like I'm getting anywhere. There's enough evidence to prove criminal intent. But not enough to prove that the motive was hate-filled."
His father nodded as he set aside another piece of the engine. "Why did the other man say he ran into Crow?"
"Roman Voigt maintains it was a mistake. I haven't been able to get a hold of him. He's not under arrest so he doesn't have to cooperate."
"But he's under investigation. Can't you get a warrant?"
"All the evidence has been turned over. And I doubt that even if I were able to question Mr. Voigt that he would tell me that his actions were racially motivated."
Prince hesitated to continue on and tell his dad that there was a potential wild card up his sleeve. He didn't know why he wanted to keep his spy mission with Gabby a secret. After a few moments of quiet, he came out with it.
"Gabby's invited to the governor's mansion tomorrow night," said Prince. "Mr. Voigt's father is the Governor's Chief of Staff. I'm going as Gabby's plus one."
"So you're going to go and bump into him? See If you can get him to talk?"
It wasn't that open and closed. His father missed the issue of Gabby. Because his father didn't know that there was an issue with Gabby.
"You know how Gabby's always… been a little clingy with me?"
His father chuckled. "I believe her first words were 'I'm going to marry Prince.'"
"Yeah," sighed Prince.
His father laughed again. "That's a stubborn one there. I doubt she's changed her mind."
"It was fine when she was a little girl, but she's a grown woman now."
"Exactly," said his dad. "She's a grown woman now."
Prince stopped torqueing the wrench and turned to his father. "But I'm ten years older than her."
"Your mom is five years older than me," said his dad.
Prince shook his head. "That's different."
Ben leaned against the desk. "Because your mom is the older one, and she's a woman? That's sexist son."
Prince threw up his hands. "It's Gabby."
"I like Gabby. She's a good girl."
Prince was starting to wonder about that. Gabby had always been a force of nature, but he had always been in the tailwind. Now her energy was directed at him.
"What's the worst that could happen?" asked his dad.
He could upset her father and lose his respect.
He could upset her mother and be banned from the Hernandez kitchen.
He could upset her brother and lose his longtime friend.
He could upset his brother and cause a rift in his own family.
Even worse, he could upset Gabby. He could leave her hurt and crying. That wouldn't do.
At the same time, he didn't want to ignore her any more. He didn't want to run from her or her family or his family. He'd missed them all. He'd missed her most.
Prince gave the bolt another tug with the wrench and it came free. He could manage this thing with Gabby. It would take a bit of work, but he would figure this out. He just needed to take it step by step.
He'd take Gabby to the governor's mansion. They'd have some fun spying, though he doubted he'd get anything useful out of it. Then he'd sit her down and talk this thing between them out.
Prince turned his wrench on another bolt. This one caught. It was tighter than the last one. But he knew that if he gave it some time, he'd work it out, too.