She couldn’t believe he was joking that cancer had been instrumental in stopping his tomcatting. “Do you miss not having sex?” Justine questioned.
He shook his head as he turned off Broadway and headed in the direction of Amsterdam Avenue. “I remember you saying you don’t miss what you don’t have, and it’s the same with me. And the answer is, no, I don’t miss it.”
What Justine didn’t miss was having had meaningless sexual intercourse with Dennis Boone. As a young girl, she had been robbed of her virginity. It had taken her a long time not to feel guilty about touching herself. The first time she had an orgasm, she lay savoring the sensation, relishing having been born female. She usually waited until Kenny was out of theapartment for an appreciable amount of time to close the door to her bedroom and assuage her sexual needs.
Knowing what she knew now about the pleasure of masturbating, she thought back to the time when Frank had kissed her in the kitchen and why she’d stopped him from making love to her. Initially it was her fear of getting pregnant, then being overwhelmed with guilt that she’d slept with a man who thought nothing of seducing a woman when her son, without warning, could’ve walked back into the apartment.
“I suppose that makes us kindred spirits,” she teased.
“We’re like priests and nuns who have taken vows of celibacy,” Frank said, chuckling.
Justine reached over and rested her left hand on his right on the steering wheel. “That’s why we are friends.”
Reversing their hands, Frank gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Not knowing whether I was terminal has allowed me a new perspective on life, and that’s when I decided I needed a will. I’ve made provisions to leave you and Kenny something.”
“No, Francis.”
“Yes, Justine. I don’t have a wife or children, so why not?”
“What about your nieces and nephews?”
“Gio has enough to take care of his family after he sold his grocery store and took over the butcher shop. He makes enough to send all his kids to private school.”
“Gio’s family, unlike me and Kenny.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he argued softly. “You and Kenny are the best things to have come into my life in a very long time. I’m a businessman who occasionally will do things I must do to keep my businesses solvent.”
With wide eyes, Justine stared at his impassive expression. Something told her he was alluding to criminal activity. “Whatever it is, I don’t want to know about it.” It was the second time she had denied wanting to know what he was going to say.
“I know what you’re thinking, but I’m no different than a chief executive officer of a major corporation who will do whatever it takes to maintain profits. It’s called free enterprise.”
“Are you saying that heads of Mafia families are CEOs?”
“They operate on the same principles as General Motors, Ford, or General Electric. It’s all about supply and demand.”
“Are you in the Mafia, Francis?”
He slowly shook his head. “No, Justine.” There came a pause before Frank said, “Would it make a difference to you if I was?”
“Yes, because it’s responsible for drugs that are polluting Black and Spanish neighborhoods.”
“You talk about Black and Spanish neighborhoods. You act as if White kids don’t take drugs. You don’t see them because they’re not waiting in doorways or on street corners, waiting for pushers to sell them a nickel- or dime-bag of shit. They live in nice suburban enclaves and wait for couriers to deliver their drugs. They have the money where they don’t have to steal from their parents or hit an old woman over the head to get her purse to get enough for their next fix. And don’t forget, it is Black people who sell drugs to their own people,” Frank continued with his monologue.
“That still doesn’t make it right, Frank,” Justine argued softly. “Drugs are like a plague that’s going to spread across this country like a pandemic, and I don’t believe it when government officials claim they don’t know how to stop the flow of drugs coming into this country when they are able to identify every foreign spy living on American soil. Profits from drugs is what is propping up our economy, and if they were able to eradicate it, companies like Ford and General Motors would go out of business, because it’s the criminals who buy expensive cars, purchase expensive homes, and fill bank vaults with drug money.”
“As you say, Justine, you’re preaching to the choir. I wouldnever touch the stuff or get involved with drugs, because I saw what it did to my sister.”
“How old was she when she died?”
“Nineteen.”
Justine slowly shook her head. “So young.”
“I’d like to ask you something,” Frank said when they were a block from her building.
Justine extricated her hand from his. “What is it?”
“Will you go away with me for a week?”
