Private Property

by La Jill Hunt

  “Too bad you’re married,” Scorpio teased, and it was Kaz’s smile that now dropped. “Congrats on the new baby!”

  “Uh, thanks,” Kaz told her, clearly disappointed. “Lemme get the security dude.”

  Cheddar came in, and not only did the ladies take pictures with King and Kaz, but the rest of the guys as well. Jewel was ecstatic and became even more so when King suggested they all go out for drinks to toast her birthday.

  “I’m sorry. We have an early morning flight to catch,” Scorpio explained.

  “Damn, too bad,” King said. “I was hoping to spend a little more time with you and get to know you a bit better.”

  “Really?” Scorpio’s eyebrows raised slightly, and she tilted her head.

  “I would, even though I’m not your favorite Hot Boy.” King laughed. “Why does that seem to surprise you?”

  “Because I never formally get asked out on a date, I guess.” Scorpio shrugged.

  “You’re lying.” King shook his head in disbelief. There was no way he was going to believe that. She was Scorpio the supermodel. What man wouldn’t jump at the chance to ask her out?

  “Nope, not at all. Guys will send messages through my publicist, and she sets the dates up most of the time,” Scorpio explained.

  “Well, I’m a real man, so I’m doing what real men do. Would you like to have dinner and drinks with me when your schedule permits?” he didn’t hesitate to ask, feeling confident.

  Scorpio nodded and gave him a wink. “I would love to. Give my publicist a call and have her set it up.”

  The room erupted with laughter, and King realized that the private conversation he thought they were having was being heard by everyone. Talking with her made him feel like they were the only people in the room. It was magnetic.

  “I’m just kidding,” Scorpio teased.

  They exchanged numbers, and before he knew it, they were in a whirlwind romance, flying into different cities to see one another, taking romantic getaways between his concerts and her photo shoots and runway shows. The moments they spent together were brief and sporadic, but intimate and filled with passion.

  King was in love, and so was she. He didn’t ask her to marry him. Instead, he called her publicist and had her check Scorpio’s schedule and asked when would be a good time to have their wedding. The publicist called Scorpio to confirm. The wedding was planned, and they got married. Their lives continued as they were until the label decided it wanted to go into a younger, different direction, and Hot Boyz was dropped.

  Just like that, King’s life changed. Instead of being on the road for months at a time, he was now home, and he wanted his wife there with him. Scorpio, however, had no desire to slow down, and when she was home, they usually argued about her schedule. It got to the point where neither one of them was happy with the situation.

  Things got worse after his mother’s death. Depression kicked in, and he began hanging out on the local club scene, drinking and partying heavy. He was enjoying the attention from other women because he wasn’t getting any from his wife. Word got back to Scorpio, who couldn’t believe that he had the audacity to cheat on her, the woman who had just been named one of People magazine’s Most Beautiful People and one of Time magazine’s Most Interesting People in the World. For Scorpio, it was an insult, and her heart was broken. Everyone in the world wanted her except for the man she loved. She wanted King to hurt as much as she did. Not only did she tell him she wanted a divorce, but she made it a point to make it the worst situation for him ever.

  Her demands were over the top. She smeared his name in the media and left the country, refusing to talk to him or his lawyers. It had been months, and King didn’t even know she was back in the States until he got the call from Leo telling him about the fire, and that she had been in the house.

  King tried not to flinch as the nurse came in and took tubes of blood from his almost-ex-wife. He settled back into the chair and continued to hold her hand. They stared at one another until Scorpio’s eyes closed again, and so did his.

  They were both awakened a few hours later by the sound of Dr. DeWitt, who came in with the results of Scorpio’s blood work and test results.

  “Well, it looks like we can go ahead and take the tube out.”

  “Okay, that’s good.” King nodded. “I guess I can call her mom and let her know.”

  Suddenly, Scorpio’s grasp tightened on his hand, and he saw the frown on her face.

  “Uh, maybe not.” King shrugged, nodding to let her know he understood. He stepped away so the doctor and nurses could have room to maneuver. “I should step out so you guys can work.”

  “You can stay. It’ll only take a few moments,” the doctor said, putting on a pair of gloves and leaning over Scorpio’s body.

  King was squeamish, and he hated anything that had to do with blood or any other body fluid. He’d fainted in the delivery room when Knight was born, and he had waited in the lobby of the hospital while Portia gave birth to PJ. He turned his back and closed his eyes, moving closer to the wall. He listened as there was a slight commotion. The doctors and nurses talked, followed by a swooshing sound, and suddenly he heard Scorpio coughing and gagging.

  “I’ll get her some water,” a nurse said.

  King’s back remained turned, and he closed his eyes tighter like a scared little kid watching a horror movie.

  “Mrs. Douglas?” Dr. DeWitt asked. “Is that better?”

  “Yes, much.” Scorpio’s voice was raspy, and she coughed a little more.

  “Good, good,” Dr. DeWitt told her, then said, “Mr. Douglas, it’s okay. You can look now.”

  King turned around and saw Scorpio staring at him. She smiled weakly and whispered, “Punk.”

  “I think she’s going to be okay.”

  “Me too.” King nodded.

  The doctor and nurses made sure she was fine, and then they left the room. King sat back in his seat beside her. Scorpio was holding a small cup with a straw.

  “I’m glad you’re alive,” he told her.

  Scorpio took another small sip of water and coughed a bit more. King became nervous until he heard her raspy voice. “Me too.” Scorpio passed him the cup.

  “Man, this is crazy.” King took the cup from her and placed it on the tray near the bed.

  “I know.” Scorpio nodded.

  “You almost died. Your mom is—”

  “I know,” Scorpio repeated.

  “I’m just trying to figure it all out. I didn’t even know you were back in the States. When did you get back? You know what? It don’t even matter. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  Scorpio rubbed her fingers along the back of his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s cool. I mean, we just gotta deal with it as it comes along. What’s important is that you’re okay,” King said.

  “Thank you. I look terrible.” Scorpio looked down at the hospital gown she was wearing and touched her wavy hair, which was slightly disheveled on her head.

  “You look gorgeous as always, especially for someone who just survived a fire.”

  “Liar.” Scorpio smiled.

  “I do have one small question though, Scorp.”

  “What?”

  “Why did you burn down my damn house?”

  Scorpio began coughing again, and he quickly passed her the water. She slowly drank from the straw, and when the coughing stopped, she cleared her throat and took another sip.

  “I didn’t.” She shook her head at him and frowned.

  “The fire marshal told me their investigation is pointing toward arson,” King said. He couldn’t believe it himself when the investigator told him the news. Although he knew he and Scorpio weren’t on the best of terms, the idea that she would actually burn down his house, especially one that she helped design, plan, and was in the process of fighting him for in the divorce settlement, was unimaginable to him. Scorpio loved that house as much as he did.

  “It . . . it wasn’t me,” Scorpio manag
ed to get out.

  “Was it the guy you were with? Bishop Burke’s son? Why was he even at my house?”

  “Gave me a . . . a ride. I was drunk.” Scorpio cleared her throat again and tears formed in her eyes. “He pulled . . . pulled me out.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Scorpio nodded, and a tear slid down her cheek. “He saved me.”

  King could see that she was straining, and he didn’t want to upset her. “Okay, it wasn’t him, and it wasn’t you. Maybe they’re wrong. It’s a newly built house. Maybe the wiring had something to do with it.” He reached over and wiped the wetness from her face.

  Scorpio shook her head and said, “Th . . . there was another g . . . girl.”

  “Another girl?”

  “In the garage.”

  King was even more confused. Neither the fire marshal, the police, not even the media said anything else other than Scorpio and Malachi Burke being in the house when the fire happened. Scorpio must have been mistaken, because if there was another woman, where was she now?

  Chapter 15

  Malachi Burke

  So this is what death feels like, Malachi thought.

  Everything around him was completely dark. He couldn’t move. He had to admit, he was kind of disappointed. Although he lived a little on the reckless side, he thought he had a couple more years on earth.

  “Hey, Dad, how is he? Any change?”

  “Hey, Micah. No, not since yesterday.”

  Shit, this ain’t what death feels like. I’m in hell.

  Malachi heard the voices of the bishop and his brother. He wondered if he would have rather been dead. He definitely didn’t want to be anywhere near the two of them.

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “I’m right here. Hey, baby. Hey, Adrienne,” his mother said.

  Malachi heard her kissing someone on the cheek. He realized that he could also smell the scent of her latest favorite perfume, Euphoria by Calvin Klein.

  “What are the doctors saying?” Micah asked.

  Malachi knew his brother was probably hoping he died if for no other reason than to have the satisfaction of saying, “I told y’all he was bad news. The world is now a better place without him.”

  “They say there really isn’t a reason for him not to be awake. Sometimes the body just needs time to heal itself,” his mother said quietly.

  Wait, I am awake. Well, at least I think I am.

  “What’s that?” the bishop asked.

  “Oh, one of the neighbors brought a goody basket by the house. It has all sorts of things in it, and I figured we would bring it so you can have something to snack on. The muffins are really good,” an unfamiliar soft voice said. Malachi figured it must have been his brother’s new fiancée, Adrienne.

  “That was thoughtful,” the bishop responded.

  “Try one, Mama,” Micah said. “They’re the bomb!”

  “I’m not hungry, sweetheart. But you can put it over there,” his mother said.

  “You need to eat something, Mama,” Micah told her. “Please.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Burke?” another male voice said, and Malachi realized someone else had walked into the room. “I’m Detective Adam Frazier with the police department.”

  “Yes, how can we help you?” the bishop asked.

  “I’m sorry about your son Malachi. But we did have a few questions for you. We are investigating the cause of the fire, and it appears to be arson. Now, it seems that your son was released from prison the day before the fire . . .”

  Arson! What the hell? Oh, no, I ain’t have nothing to do with that fire!

  “Leave!” Malachi’s mother yelled.

  “Ma’am, excuse me?” Detective Frazier asked her.

  “I’m asking you to leave. Now is not the time and it is certainly not the place for you to be questioning us about this,” she replied.

  “She’s right. We don’t have any answers for you, and my son and his health are the only things we’re concerned about right now,” the bishop told him. “Now kindly excuse yourself.”

  “Sir, I don’t think you understand the seriousness—”

  “You don’t understand the severity of my requesting that you leave, sir,” the bishop said, interrupting him before he could say anything else. “And anything else can be handled directly though my son’s legal counsel.”

  “We’ll be in touch,” the detective said.

  “The nerve of some people.” Adrienne sighed.

  “Granted, his timing was not the best, but the man was just doing his job. We don’t even know why Malachi was at that house. Something was going on. He didn’t even tell us he was getting out,” Micah responded.

  Leave it to Micah to agree with the white man and accuse me of being the number one suspect.

  “Listen, since Micah and Adrienne are here now, O’la, why don’t we go ahead and leave? They can sit with Malachi.” The bishop sighed.

  “I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. Look at what just happened!”

  “Mama, you’ve been here for two days. You need to go home and get some rest,” Micah pleaded. “I’ll be here with him.”

  “You can be here with him, but so will I.”

  “Olivia, I’ve got to go and get ready for the morning,” the bishop told her.

  “Walter, what do you mean? I know you’re not trying to preach tomorrow!”

  “Olivia . . .”

  Even in his current state of what he thought was dying, Malachi knew the familiar argument his parents were about to have. It was one that he heard thousands of times before. A major family crisis would take place and yet the bishop would still find it necessary to preach. His father’s Sunday presence in the pulpit was more dependable than the U.S. Postal Service. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night would stop the Bishop Walter Burke from the completion of his sermon on any given Sunday. Especially not his son who was in the hospital. Well, not his son Malachi. Had it been Micah, the bishop probably would have shut the whole church down. But one thing Malachi did know was that, for some strange reason, the pulpit was a place of comfort for the bishop, and ministering brought him peace. He also knew that as angry as his mother was, she understood that as well.

  “You have an entire staff of preachers, Walter. Your son is lying here in a coma. You need to be ministering to him, not everyone else,” Olivia cried.

  “Mama, please,” Micah said.

  “No, I want everyone to leave. Please just go and do what you all need to do. I want to be left alone with my son. So just go!”

  Hearing his mother sobbing made Malachi’s heart ache. He wanted so badly to wake up and tell her he was fine, but for some reason, his body wasn’t listening to his mind and he couldn’t.

  “Olivia, calm down. Don’t act like this.” The bishop’s voice was strained.

  “Listen to me, Mama. We’re leaving,” Micah told her.

  “Good,” Olivia snapped.

  “But when Adrienne and I come back, I’m gonna have her take you to the house. You need to get some food in you and take a shower, put on some clean clothes. I will stay here with Chi while you do all of that, and she’ll bring you back. But you can’t just stay in here with him for days at a time. It’s not good for you, and you’re gonna stress yourself out and make yourself sick,” Micah tried to reason with his mother.

  As much as Malachi disliked his brother, he knew he was right and was grateful that he was being the voice of calm and reason in the moment. Malachi hoped his mother would listen and agree.

  “Lady Olivia, we know you want to be here for Malachi, but you have to keep your strength up if you want to stay,” Adrienne said.

  “O’la, listen to them.”

  “We’ll be back to get you later this evening, Mama,” Micah said.

  The room was quiet and for a second. Malachi wondered if they had all left until he heard his mother say, “I’ll be ready.”

  Malachi could sense the relie
f of all of them. Soon he and his mother were the only ones in the room. He felt her lips kissing him gently on the forehead and cheek.

  “Chi, baby, I know you hear all this nonsense going on, but I’m here. Mama’s here.”

  And then she began humming. Even though his eyes were already closed, Malachi felt himself drifting to sleep as his mother sang the lyrics to one of her favorite gospel songs, “My Soul is Anchored.” Her talented voice comforted him as only she could.

  Though the storms keep on raging in my life,

  And sometimes it’s hard to tell my night from day,

  Still, that hope that lies within is reassured

  As I keep my eyes upon the distant shore.

  Malachi drifted in and out of consciousness to the point where he no longer knew what day it was or how much time had passed. Sometimes he heard her talking and reading the Bible out loud to him. Other times, he heard Micah and Adrienne talking about their wedding plans. He was never alone.

  For the most part, only the immediate family was in the room with him. He knew that members of his father’s congregation had been dropping in to check on him, but the bishop made sure that they didn’t get past the waiting room down the hall.

  A few times he was glad to hear the voice of his boy Trey, who had somehow made it past the bishop’s tight security. The few times his mother wasn’t by his side, Micah was. Those were the weirdest times for Malachi because he knew his brother would probably rather be anywhere else than stuck babysitting him.

  “Excuse me.”

  Malachi strained to hear who had entered the room.

  “Yes, can I help you?” Micah asked.

  “I just wanted to see . . . check . . .” The voice was light, barely above a whisper, but Malachi still recognized it.

  “Scorpio, right?”

  If Malachi could have breathed on his own, he would have let out the biggest sigh of relief. He had been wondering if Scorpio was okay. No one had really said anything, so he wasn’t sure.

  “Yes. I’m sorry to stare. It’s just . . . you look so much like your brother. Are you twins?”

  “Yeah.” Micah laughed. “How are you holding up?”