The Billion Dollar Dynasty by Dominique Davis

1: Wake, Interrupted

Ramona

Common sense would tell anyone hosting a wake to lock the door to their hideaway spot. Ramona Kane’s common sense had left her around the time her father kicked the bucket. One lapse in judgment after another. And this one would cost her if the guest turning the doorknob pulled back the shower curtains to find her in the fetal position.

Ramona gathered her composure fast enough to be aware of what was happening. She wiped her tears and sat up. She was two seconds away from yelling, “It’s occupied!” when the door swung open and closed as abruptly. The presence of someone in the room told her they hadn’t left. Then came the voices.

“Did you lock the door?” a woman’s voice that Ramona didn’t recognize asked.

“Yeah. There’s nothing to worry about. Everyone is downstairs. No one’s coming in,” a deeper male voice answered.

“Are you sure? I can’t afford to lose the money from this gig if someone catches us.”

“Then you better not get too loud.”

Ramona held her breath as the unmistakable sound of two people making out filled the room. Then it dawned on her. They were going to have sex. Right there. In the bathroom. On the sink where hours ago she had applied her now cried away mascara.

The audacity of these people. Ramona thought that feeling any emotion other than sadness today would be impossible. She didn’t think that anymore. Steam could have billowed out of her ears at how furious she was.

She couldn’t see the offenders’ faces. Her sage green shower curtains blocked them from her view, but Ramona didn’t have to see them to be pissed. She was the one who should have been acting out. The one who deserved the grace to make poor decisions in her moment of need. Not them.

“Fuck. I can’t believe this is happening,” the woman said when she came up for air.

“What, you didn’t wake up today expecting to get fucked at a wake?”

She giggled. The sound left Ramona digging her nails deep into her palms. “Definitely not. I don’t do this often, you know.”

“I wouldn’t judge you if you did.”

Well, isn’t he a gentleman, Ramona thought sarcastically.

“You are so bad,” she cooed.

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I know. I’ve seen the magazine cover stories about you when I’m in line at the grocery store, but I’m not a puck bunny.”

“Once again, I wouldn’t judge you if you were.”

“It’s just this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. How often does one get the chance to be with McCoy Cafferty?”

At once, the pieces fell into place. Ramona didn’t know how she didn’t connect the dots sooner. McCoy “Mac” Cafferty was the best active center in Peerless, Limitless, Hockey. He was also the league’s biggest slut. And lucky for Ramona, he played for her father’s team.

“A lot, actually.” McCoy chuckled before doing something to make the woman groan.

“Things like this don’t happen to me.”

“They do today.”

Ramona felt nauseous. She could take grief driving two mourners into bed, or in this case, a bathroom. But neither of these people were grieving her father.

They didn’t care about him. They cared about having a quick fuck. They had no respect for Smith, for her family, and none for her. Ramona now considered the feeling mutual.

“Oh shit. My phone,” the woman groaned. This time not from pleasure. “Ugh. They need my help loading everything back into the van.”

“Give me your number. We’ll finish this another time.”

The girl squealed. “Text me any time you want. Day or night.” A few seconds later, the door unlocked, then closed again.

McCoy sighed, letting Ramona know he was still there. But that’s exactly how she wanted it.

Pulling back the curtain, Ramona revealed herself to the bastard, who was leaning against the sink, scratching his beard. She noted his ruffled dirty blonde hair, swollen red lips and crooked black tie. His white skin became paler at the sight of her.

Ramona took great pleasure in causing the man to flinch.

“Uh… I didn’t know you were in here.”

“Clearly.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t. This is my fault for not having the good sense to lock the door. I should’ve had the foresight that you would need to use it for a quick fuck. Next time, I’ll remember that.”

McCoy’s face burned. “You’re upset.”

“At myself. I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to keep it in your pants for longer than an hour. You are McCoy Cafferty after all.”

“Listen, Ramona.”

“I’m not sure why you’re talking.” She stepped out of the tub, keeping as much space from him as she could. “This was my mistake. You’re the victim.”

“I didn’t plan this.”

“Didn’t plan what? To make my day harder than it already is?”

“No.” McCoy was suddenly right in front of her. His hands hovered inches from her arms, as if he was afraid Ramona might attack him if he went as far to touch her. There was a good chance she would. “I loved your father. Growing up, I idolized him. I loved working for him. The last thing I would want to do is disrespect you, your sister, or him.”

“What do you call this? Paying your respects?”

“Nothing I can say is going to fix this.”

“That we can agree on.”

“All I can tell you is that I loved your father and I’m sorry.”

“I thought the media overdid it with you.”

Her sharp turn prompted an eyebrow raise from him. “What?”

“If anyone would know how unforgiving the media is, it would be me and my family. But they have you pegged right. You really are a good-for-nothing whore.”

Ramona didn’t stick around to hear him beg for her forgiveness. She left McCoy there, speechless and embarrassed.

Upstairs, she found her sister, Juliana, in the kitchen, sitting at their sleek island. That was now cluttered with trays of food. “Hey,” Juliana said, her features relaxing upon seeing her. “Where did you go? You left me out here to dry. Were you hoping I would tell them to leave?”

Ramona clutched the edge of the island. “I was sick.”

“Again? As if the bushes outside the church wouldn’t fuel the alcoholism rumors as it is.”

Tomorrow, the paparazzi pictures of the scene would be next to the headline: “Brooklyn Brawler Heir Drunk At Father’s Funeral.” Or even better: “Late Hockey Legend’s Daughter Debuts Baby Bump at His Funeral.”

It didn’t matter that Ramona wasn’t drunk or pregnant. Or that her nerves made her sick. What mattered was what made for an interesting headline. But Ramona decided she didn’t care.

Today of all days would be the one where she wouldn’t let them get to her. She’d been generating headlines since 2001 when PLH legend Smith Kane, and her mom, Alicia, announced they were expecting.

At the time, her father was the league’s darling. Being dubbed as “The Greatest Modern Player In Hockey” by national magazines and fans alike. Smith was famous and adored. If he was a Beatle, he was Lennon. Making Alicia his Ono.

He was a white future hockey great snagged by an unknown Black Brooklynite from Flatbush. Their love story left many fans and outlets disapproving. Alicia was deemed a distraction. A jinx. Smith’s dead-weight.

The labels were used to justify the media and fans’ covert (not) racism and hostility towards Alicia for nabbing Smith. They wanted him to themselves. When he committed to Alicia, he burst his fangirls’ pipe dream of ever having a chance with him. And pissed off his other supporters for lowering hockey on his list of priorities.

But the critics’ detest of Alicia didn’t change anything. Smith had fallen head over skates for her. He defended his partner to even his loyalest fans, shielded her and later their children from the world that had made him. He chose her and their family time and time again until the bitter end.

“Hey guys,” a male voice said, clearing his voice behind them. “I mean gals, or ladies. Whichever you prefer.”

Definitely a hockey player.

“Hey Maxwell,” Juliana greeted him with a smile that Ramona wasn’t sure how she could make at a time like this. “Do you need anything?”

“No. Just wanted to let you know we’re heading out. McCoy is feeling under the weather.”

Ramona scoffed. Sure he was. Her sister noticed her reaction, but Ramona refused to make eye contact with her or acknowledge Maxwell.

“Thanks for coming,” Juliana said on their behalf. “We appreciate it. It means a lot.”

“It meant a lot to us to be included. The team loved your dad. He was the best boss, and an even greater person.”

“He thought the world of you and the team. He was so proud.”

Ramona could see Maxwell’s smile and the slight blush in his sun-kissed cheeks on a dish’s reflection. “We felt the same.”

“Let McCoy know we hope he feels better.”

Ramona rather he choked on his own tie, but sure. Let’s go with that.

“Will do.”

When the front door shut behind Maxwell and his teammates, Ramona let go of a breath she’d been holding.

“We got through it.”

“Just about.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“McCoy and a caterer were fucking in the downstairs bathroom.”

Juliana’s eyes popped out of her head. “When? Which one?”

“A bit ago. I don’t know which one. I was busy hiding in the tub.”

“Shit.”

“I don’t want that guy here again. He has no respect for dad or us.”

“Done. McCoy is banned.”

Ramona’s lips lifted. Not into a smile, but a straight neutral expression. Her sister not putting up a fight, but taking her side was what she needed right now.

Juliana looked down at her hands in her lap, chuckling. “What is it?” Ramona asked.

“We get to ban people from here now. Dad always wanted this house to feel like a home for his players. He hated the idea of the team and staff feeling like they were intruding. But this isn’t his house anymore. It’s ours and we make the rules.”

The statement should’ve been said with some excitement. As it should’ve felt freeing to hear. Instead, the reality of their situation came crashing back.

The house was no longer their father’s. Neither were his cars. Or his bank accounts. Or his business. Nothing was his anymore. Nothing would ever be his again. Including them.

Juliana’s glossy eyes made Ramona come and wrap her arms around her baby sister. She rested her head on her shoulder and hoped Juliana felt her love through it. “We’re going to be okay.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

There, in the uncertainty of their future, Ramona mustered an iota of gratefulness towards McCoy. Not for being a whore and using her family’s home to do it. But, because, if only for a moment, he made her forget. And there was nothing more she wanted now than to forget.

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