Black Dahlia (3 page)

Mercedes felt the burning in her chest as she ran along the neighborhood streets she grew up on.

It was her second full day visiting her parents, and she couldn’t sleep past six o’clock, so instead of remaining in bed she decided to go for a run. Mercedes’ parents lived in the Houston suburb of Pearland. As she ran, Mercedes reminisced on growing up in Pearland. She felt a tightening in her chest, as she ran past the church where her father had been a preacher for over forty years. She’d spent many days in that church feeling trapped.

A woman’s place is in the home tending to her family.

Mercedes remembered the lines her father often repeated from the pulpit and to her throughout her childhood. 

She shook her head to rid herself of the memory and slowed her gait from a run to a light jog and then a walk to cool down before stretching. As she bent to hold onto the metal fence that surrounded her parents’ home, she thought about the many nights her father would leave right after dinner and not return until late at night, or even sometimes the following morning. She’d asked her mother why he left so often, and her mother responded that he was helping members of the church who were going through difficult times. Even as a child, Mercedes knew this was a lie. She saw the look of sadness and embarrassment that passed over her mother’s face. More than a few times, while doing laundry, Mercedes saw lipstick stains in the collar of her father’s shirts. Mercedes’ mother never wore lipstick.

“How was your run?” Mercedes turned to see her mother peering out of the front door. At fifty-three Mercedes’ mother’s mahogany skin remained smooth, and though she’d gained weight since Mercedes was a child, she still looked good. Linda had her relaxed hair pulled back in a bun, which is how she most often wore it. She was wearing a pair of black slacks and a grey t-shirt that was covered by an apron, to prevent stains from the big brunch she’d gotten up early to prepare. Mercedes’ mother taught her it was the duty of a wife to always wake up before her husband. It was not ladylike to sleep longer than the man of the house. Mercedes nearly rolled her eyes at that thought, since she knew her father had once again been out late the night before.

“It was good, mama. You need some help in the kitchen?” Mercedes asked as she entered the house.

“No, you gon’ ahead and shower and get dressed. Mal will be here around 10 to have brunch with us,” Linda said referencing Mercedes’ younger brother Jamal.

“Okay.” Mercedes placed a kiss on her mother’s cheek before heading up to her childhood room to shower and change. Mercedes attempted to mentally fortify herself for the onslaught of questions she knew were coming during their brunch.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Big sis. What’s up, girl?!” Jamal’s deep, boisterous voice rang through the house as he entered the door a few hours later.
Four years her junior, Jamal was one of Mercedes’ favorite people in the world.

She smiled widely and ran to hug her brother. “Mal! It’s about time you showed up. I was about to make a trip to the nearest fast food place. You know mama wouldn’t let us eat without you and I’m starving!” Mercedes laughed.

“Nah, you can’t start without me. I’m not that late.” Mercedes narrowed her gaze as she looked at the six-foot, former high school linebacker. Jamal was a few shades lighter than Mercedes, with a warm chestnut colored hue, strong, chiseled jaw and big brown eyes that were always inviting. At Mercedes’ gaze, Jamal dipped his head in mock shame. He knew he was thirty minutes late. Mercedes laughed at his look, rarely ever able to remain mad at her little brother.

A few minutes later their father came downstairs and their mother began placing the food on the table Mercedes had already set. Dwayne Holmes stood at five-feet-ten inches, with smooth skin that extended all the way to his bald head that he shaved regularly. Mercedes inherited her darker skin tone from her father, as well as her almond shaped eyes and full lips. He was, without a doubt, a handsome man. She could see how women would flock to him. The man exuded confidence, even the gold wedding band on his finger wasn’t a deterrent for women seeking his company, and her father, rarely turned down company from women who weren’t his wife. His extramarital affairs were the worst kept secret in their family. Even with his own indiscretions, he pretended like no one knew about them. Dwayne never hesitated to hold his strict Christian values over his daughter’s head.

“Mercedes are you seeing anyone?” Her father dove right in with the questioning after saying grace, as her mother served him his plate. This was his way of his hinting at Mercedes his disapproval of her life.

Mercedes placed her white cloth napkin in her lap, and waited for her brother to pass her the plate of eggs. “No, sir. I am not currently seeing anyone.”

“Mmmm. Well you know no man wants a woman too far over thirty to settle down with. Nor does he want a wo—
”

“Dad can you pass me the orange juice please?” Jamal interrupted their father. Mercedes gave him a smile of gratitude and he winked at her.

“Sure, son.” Like night and day. Dwayne Holmes treated his baby boy like a prince, while he often treated Mercedes like a burden, especially after she left for college. Dwayne believed Mercedes going off to college at Howard University in Washington DC was a direct betrayal to all he taught her growing up.

He doesn’t know the half of it.
Mercedes thought to herself, realizing if her father knew about her life in Atlanta, he’d probably have a fit. 

“Like I was saying, no man is going to want a woman who’s been around the block. A wife of….”

...
noble character is her husband’s crown, but a disgraceful wife is like decay in his bones.
Mercedes completed the Bible verse in her head that her father drilled into her as a child. She forked eggs into her mouth to keep her mouth occupied instead of firing back at her father. 

Fuck. It’s going to be a long week,
Mercedes thought as she chewed and swallowed her eggs.  

****

“Filho! It’s about time you’ve come home!” Raul’s mother greeted him excitedly as he walked into his parents’ home. Located in the exclusive Lagoa Rodrigo de Frietas community in Rio, was his parents’ spacious four bedroom, three bathroom house, with panoramic views of the lagoon. Since it was just him, he’d never felt the need to buy a home for when he came to Rio. He was close with his parents and knew they missed him when he was away, so he preferred staying with them when he was home. He purchased his own apartment in Bahia, for when he went up north to visit his extended family. His parents often used his apartment when they visited Bahia, as well.

“Alo, mama! I missed you too,” he greeted his mother as she placed kisses on his cheeks.

“Manny, vem aqui!” His mother yelled for his father. At five-foot-three and barely reaching his shoulder in her heels, his mother was a petite ball of energy. Rosaline Santiago was a beautiful woman whose light creamy skin, long curly hair and hazel eyes spoke to her mixed Portuguese and native Brazilian ancestry. Raul’s mother was in her late fifties, but looked eternally younger. Raul’s father often joked of younger men always hitting on his wife when they went out. He knew though his father would make comments jokingly, he could turn very possessive if a man tried seriously to make a move on his wife. Rosaline Santiago owned Raul’s father’s heart and had since the moment he laid eyes on her all those years ago.

“Filho!” Raul heard his father’s booming voice as he entered the room.
At six-foot-two, the same golden complexion as his son, and salt and pepper hair, Raul’s father was an exact replica of what Raul would look like in another thirty years. Manuel Santiago was the founder and still current CEO of one of
the oldest and most successful banks in Brazil, Banco Rio. Raul came home throughout the year to spend time working with his father in the home office.

Raul grew up living in Brazil and the U.S., spending school vacations, and breaks with his mother’s parents in the states. He was a dual citizen since birth, and decided he wanted to get his college education in the states. When he told his father he was considering West Point, Manuel sat him down and asked him about the school and the military obligations he would have after he graduated. His father was a very logical and meticulous man; it’s how his business had become so successful. He wanted to make sure Raul had done his research. With his father’s blessings, Raul went off to college at West Point and later joined the U.S. Army and served with many of the men he went to West Point with, including Nikola. He started his security firm soon after completing his military service.

“Alo Papa,” he greeted his father with a kiss on each cheek.

“Are you hungry, filho?” His mother asked. He’d eaten a little on the plane, but wanted to save room for his mother’s cooking. She loved making a big traditional Brazilian meal whenever he returned.

He smiled knowingly. “
Estou com fome
, mama.” He responded in the affirmative knowing she loved nothing more than feeding her only son.

His father grunted.

“Every day she’s telling me to eat more fruits and vegetables. Stop eating too much meat. Drink more water. You come home and she’s in the kitchen cooking up a four course meal.” Raul’s father teased shaking his head. Raul knew his mother often chided his father on his eating habits, and she was known to pop in at his office at lunch time to make sure he ate the healthy meals she prepared for him instead of something else.

Raul spent the rest of the afternoon and evening, eating the meal his mother prepared and catching up with his parents. Over the years they’d become more like close friends, instead of just son and parents. His mother, often questioned him for not being married yet, asking when she was going to get to be a grandmother. He knew it came from a place of love, so he didn’t mind it-except when she partnered with his second mother, Iris Collins. The two women together could be like a dog with a bone-relentless. After lunch, Raul stood, taking his suitcases to his room and unpacked, looking forward to spending the next few weeks with his family.

Over the course of the next three weeks, Raul would go into the bank’s headquarters in Rio’s business sector to catch up on what has been happening in the office, upcoming changes, and important deals they were working on. While all of this information could have been relayed over the phone or via skype meetings, Raul enjoyed working side-by-side with his father.

    At the end of the three weeks, Rio took a flight up to the state of Bahia. His apartment was located in Salvador da Bahia, referred to locally as Bahia. Some relatives on Raul’s father’s side of the family were from this part of Brazil, and still lived here. Raul felt a deep connection to the culture in this part of Brazil and his relatives there. Whenever he came home he was sure to visit, especially his cousin Luiz.

Luiz Santiago was a few years older than Raul, and had been married to his wife, Maria for ten years. They had two children--an eight year old son and a five year old daughter. Luiz owned one of the top restaurants in the city.

“How’s it going, primo?” Luiz asked as the two men sat down in back of the restaurant. It was dinner hour, so Luiz was busy, but he always made time for Raul when he visited. The two men spent the next hour talking and catching up as Raul ate. Luiz caught Raul up on the latest family happenings. He told him, he and Maria were planning on having another baby. They both wanted three children to round out their family.

After dinner, Raul returned to his apartment to change and go for a run the beach. He admired the sound of the waves crashing and young children and teens playing pickup games of soccer on the beach. Brazilians love soccer the way Americans love American football, basketball, and baseball combined. After his run, Raul headed home to his apartment, which was a short walk from the beach to shower.

“Hello,” Soon after Raul stepped out of the shower and began drying himself off, his cell phone rang. Not recognizing the number he opted to answer.

“Hi, Raul. It’s Mercedes.” Raul was surprised to hear the voice of the woman he had every intention of making his. 

“Hello, querida,” he smiled acknowledging her with his favorite term of endearment for her.

“I hope I’m not bothering you. I got your number from Devyn awhile back, in case of emergencies and things like that, not to like—never mind. I just was trying to get in contact with Devyn and have been unsuccessful. I wanted to know if you’d spoken to or seen Devyn or Nikola recently?” she asked. Her voice sent shivers down his spine and he closed his eyes picturing her beautiful face.

Sitting on the side of his large bed, he responded, “No, I’ve actually been in Brazil the last few weeks working and visiting family.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to bother you while you’re with family,” she apologized.

He smiled at the way she often peppered her speech with curse words. As if it came natural to her.

“It’s fine. I’m home now, so you’re not interrupting,” he told her thinking she would hang up before he really got a chance to talk with her.

“Was there something wrong? I mean, why you needed Devyn?” He figured she must need something important if she was calling him to locate Devyn.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I’m flying back to Atlanta tomorrow from Houston and Devyn is supposed to pick me up from the airport. I wanted to tell her I caught an earlier flight.” Raul did know from Devyn that Mercedes grew up around Houston, so he figured she was home visiting her family. He decided to ask her about it.