“Hello?”
Her mother’s voice came through clipped and furious.
“Where are you?”
Nina straightened in her seat. “Why?”
“I am at Beaumont.”
Nina’s stomach dropped.
Beaumont was not just a bakery. It was Gotti territory dressed in flour, sugar, butter, and legacy. It belonged to Jio’s aunt, but everybody knew what it truly was. Nina didn’t put two and two together until she got with Jio. Although the bakery was a neighborhood staple known for its homemade cakes and pastries, it was also a front to clean drug money.
“What are you doing there?” Nina asked carefully.
“I came to get dessert.”
She knew her mama was on bullshit, but why today out of all days?
Jackie Marcelle never stumbled into anywhere accidentally. She moved with intention, even when she pretended otherwise.
“Mom, you told me you would never go there again after what happened with-”
Her mama cut her off. “Do you know that no one will serve ME?” The shock dripped from her lips.
Nina’s eyes widened.
Cairo looked at her with concern.
“What do you mean nobody will serve you?”
“I mean exactly what I said. I have been standing here for fifteen minutes while they pretend I’m invisible.”
“Mom, what do you want? I’ll get it for you.”
“No, I want to be treated like the LOYAL PAYING CUSTOMER I AM!” she shouted.
For a split second, Nina wondered if her mama was drunk because what the fuck was she thinking by going there?
“I’m on the way,” she told her, motioning to a server that they needed the check pronto.
By the time Nina reached the bakery, tension had already spilled onto the sidewalk.
Two black trucks sat outside with tinted windows.
“My Lord,” she mumbled under her breath.
Men lingered near the curb pretending to smoke, though Nina knew what Jio’s men looked like when she saw them. Beaumont’s warm golden sign glowed above the entrance. It was pretty and inviting, the complete opposite of what was happening inside.
Cairo stayed close behind her, clutching his bags.
“You should wait in the car.”
He shook his head, “I’m family too.” Although, he wasn’t a Gotti, he still considered himself a part of the bunch.
Inside, the bakery smelled like vanilla, caramelized sugar, and lots of trouble.
The bakery was gorgeous in a classic way. Black-and-white tile floors. Gold shelving. Glass cases full of lemon pound cake, red velvet cupcakes, peach cobbler tarts, butter cookies, and brownies wrapped neatly in clear boxes.
