money, too.
Chapter 5
G riffin July guided his big Harley up the quiet tree-lined street. All the houses looked like mini mansions, and the people walking their dogs and watering their pristine lawns paused to watch him ride by as if knowing he had no business there. He supposed that a half Black, half Lakota biker wearing worn leathers and a blue bandanna won off a Seminole cousin during a poker game last year didnât fit the mold of their wealthy neighbors, but in truth, he was on businessâfamily business.
The house he was in search of turned out to be farther up the street and on the left. He swung the bike into the driveway, cut the engine, and pocketed the key as he got off. There was no guarantee the lady of the house would remember him, but he was betting she would, even though they hadnât seen each other in over a decade.
The doorbell was answered by an older Black woman whose brown dress and white apron made him assume she was hired help. Her startled reaction upon finding him on the porch led him to believe the household didnât get many visitors like him, but Griffin was a July and therefore polite. âGood evening, Iâm here to see Mrs. Carlyle.â
âYour name?â
âGriffin July.â
âWait here, please.â
She disappeared, and Griffin spent a few minutes checking out the expensive surroundings and wondering how a woman heâd known as a stripper named Melody Lane wound up playing lady of the manor in a wealthy suburban enclave like this one. Her brother Jimmy said sheâd married a congressman; that too was surprising.
The maid returned. âIâm sorry, but Mrs. Carlyle says she doesnât know anyone by that name.â
âGive her this. Iâm sure itâll jog her memory.â Reaching behind his head, he unhooked the brown leather chain with its distinctive red and black beads. It had been given to him by his grandfather when heâd completed his Spirit Quest. Griffin had been wearing it around his neck since he was twelve. During the two weeks he and Melody were together, it was the only thing heâd worn. The skeptical-looking maid took the chain and disappeared again.
When she returned, Melody was at her side. The look in her brown eyes could have frozen water. âWhat do you want?â
âAn answer to a question. Can I come in?â
âNo. Ask it and leave.â
Brushing his eyes across the maidâs face, he cautioned, âYou might want to do this privately.â
âHelenâs been with me for years. Iâve nothing to hide.â
Griffin nodded and studied her silently for a moment. She was older, of course, but the wild pole dancer sheâd once been lay totally concealed beneath the polished veneer of her high-end makeup and clothes. âDid we make a child? Specifically, a son?â
The question rocked her, but she pulled herself together. âWho told you?â
âThat isnât important.â
âI will not be blackmailed.â
âNot here for that, just an answer.â In reality, sheâd given it, but he had another question. âWhy didnât you let me know?â
âSo you could do what, come back and marry me? After you rode off on that bike of yours, I knew Iâd never see you again, and that didnât change when I found out I was pregnant.â
âSo you gave him up?â
âOf course. You expected an abortion?â
âNo, but I would have wanted to know about the child. Babies are precious in my family.â
She rolled her eyes. âHowâd you find me?â
âYour brother, Jimmy.â
âCellmates?â she asked disdainfully.
âNo. Went to visit him a few weeks ago, though. He said to tell you heâd be out in six months.â
âLike I care. Why are you so interested in this baby all of a sudden?â
âBecause I believe I know where he is.â
Her eyes widened.
Jorge Luis Borges (trans. by N.T. di Giovanni)