by Carl Weber
As for you, just remember I didn’t do this because I hated myself. I did this because I hated you and what you did to me. Every time you walk in this house I want you to remember that my death is on your hands and that I died in your bed. I hope my death stays with you the rest of your life. I hope you learn your lesson and stop trying to play women. But I don’t think there’s much chance of that. So maybe I’ll just hope that someday you’ll know how bad it feels to be played. Maybe someday you’ll run into the ultimate player hater.
Indigo
“No! You’re not gonna die. You’re not gonna pin this on me!” I yelled at her lifeless body. I laid her flat on her back so I could listen to her heartbeat again. “I am not gonna have your death on my hands. Do you hear me, Indigo? I’m not gonna have it! So get up, baby, please get up. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for this to happen. Now wake up!”
The warm sun peeked over the ocean, shining into my living room through the holes of my shredded curtains and onto my depressed face. I’d been sitting on what was left of my leather couch reading Indigo’s letter repeatedly since the paramedics had carried her outta my house last night. I know I should have gone to the hospital with her but I just couldn’t after I overheard the paramedics tell a cop that she was probably not gonna make it. I’d done a lot of shitty things to a lot of people in my life, but being responsible for Indigo’s suicide had to be the worst. I still couldn’t believe she actually went through with it.
A knock at the door startled me from the daze I was in, and before I could react the knocking had become a loud banging. “Trent! You in there?”
“Come in! The door’s open!” I yelled at whoever was at the door. When I looked up, Wil and Melanie were coming in. As they surveyed the damage Indigo had done to my place, their expressions changed from mild concern about their brother who got stood up at the altar, to confusion, then to shock.
“Oh, my God!” Melanie gasped as she looked around.
“Jesus! What the hell happened in here?” Wil demanded. “This place looks like a cyclone hit it.”
“Yeah, a cyclone named Indigo,” I replied sadly.
“Indigo did this?” Wil looked surprised.
“Yeah, and a whole lot worse.” I handed him the letter.
I know I was supposed to be a man but I couldn’t help it. Having my sister and brother around brought down emotional barriers that I couldn’t control. I broke down and started to cry for the first time in ten years.
“What is it, Trent? What’s the matter?” Melanie came over and wrapped her arms around me, which only made things even worse. The tears flowed even stronger. I felt like a little kid in my sister’s arms.
“I didn’t mean it, Mel. I swear I didn’t mean it. I was just trying to get paid. I didn’t want her to die.” I continued to sob.
“What are you talking about, Trent?”
“She tried to kill herself, Mel. She tried to kill herself because of me.” I sniffed.
“Who? Who tried to kill herself? What are you talking about?”
“Indigo,” Wil answered for me. His voice was stern, almost a little accusatory. “She found out Trent was a phony and took some pills. Here, read this.” He shoved the letter toward Melanie. I buried my head into my sister’s shoulder in shame.
The phone rang and Wil walked over to answer it. When he hung up I could tell it wasn’t good news.
“That was the hospital. Indigo’s in bad shape, but it looks like she’s gonna live.”
I sat up and wiped my tears away. “Thank you, God.”
“Don’t be thanking Him unless you gonna change,” Wil said angrily. “Just because she’s not dead doesn’t mean you didn’t almost push her there. You’re my brother, Trent, but you’re not a very nice person. You don’t even take care of your own damn kid the way you’re supposed to. I’m glad Daddy’s not here to see this.”
“Wil, maybe this isn’t the time,” Melanie started to say.
“No, Mel.” I cut her off. “He’s right. I’m not a very nice person and Dad’s probably rolling over in his grave right about now. I do have to change.”
“So what you gonna do? How you gonna change?” Wil challenged me.
“First thing I gotta do is get a job. Then I gotta go talk Michelle into letting me spend some time with my son. She might not want me, but that little boy needs me and right now I need him.”
Wil thought about what I’d said for a minute, then said, “It goes against my better judgment, but I can help you with the job. We’ve got an opening in sales. It’s entry level, but with all the game you got, you’ll probably make a million dollars in commission.” His voice softened a bit and he almost smiled at me.
“Thanks, Wil,” I told him sincerely. “I won’t let you down.”
“You damn right you won’t. I’m not gonna give you that chance. Now go take a shower and get your ass over to the hospital and see that girl.”
I’d gone by the hospital to see Indigo, but her people wouldn’t let me near her. It seems she called her mom and told her about me before she commenced to tearing my apartment to shreds. I stopped one of the doctors on the way into her room, and he told me it looked like she would probably make it, so at least I could leave with that much peace. I left and drove to Michelle’s. Only I didn’t have the courage to knock on the door when I saw her mother’s car in the driveway. I’d had a pretty bad day as it was. I didn’t need a frying pan upside my head to make it worse. Luckily, a cab pulled up a few minutes later and Michelle got out of it.
“Michelle,” I called. She turned in my direction.
“Trent? What the fuck are you doing parked outside my house? I told you to leave me alone. Don’t make me get an order of protection.”
“Look, I didn’t come here to fight. I came to apologize. I just wanna talk to you. I wanna see my son.”
“Son? You don’t have any kids, do you?” She scratched her head. “Isn’t that what you told your fiancée?”
“Stop playing, Michelle. I’m trying to apologize. I’m sorry.”
“You’re right. You are sorry. A sorry excuse for a man.” She turned and started walking toward the house.
“Michelle! I just wanna know what it’s gonna take for me to see my son again.”
She turned back around.
“You wanna know what it’ll take? I’ll tell you what it’ll take. But I’m sure you’ll never agree to it…” She came across the street and got in my car.
37
Wil
“Hurry up, Wil,” Diane yelled excitedly as I walked into the room. She was sprawled out in the heart-shaped Jacuzzi, surrounded by bubbles, waiting for our favorite show to come on the television. I’d just gotten back from taking a dip in the pool and had lost track of time. I hurried to get my trunks off, then slid into the water next to my wife. I kissed her and my hands roamed her body as we made out like teenagers. It was our tenth wedding anniversary and we were spending it in the beautiful Pocono Mountains at the Caesars Pocono Resort. After a rather painful few weeks after the fibroid embolization, Diane was back to her old horny self and I couldn’t have been happier. With everything that happened with Mimi, Diane and I had been working on our marriage even harder than before. We’d both promised that nothing would ever come between us again.
“Relax, baby.” She pushed me away gently. “The show’s coming on. I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna take care of you right after I see your brother make a fool outta himself on national TV.” She laughed as we both turned toward the TV. I picked up the remote and turned the station to BET.
“You sure you got the right station? You know the channels are different up here in Pennsylvania,” she snapped playfully, leaning her head on my shoulder.
“I know how to get BET,” I told her with mock insult.
“So what do you think? Do you think he’s gonna go through with it?”
“If he wants to see Marcus he will. Michelle seemed kinda adamant about that. The question is, is
he gonna be the player or be played?”
“I’m betting on played. Your brother’s not too bright. And you know that Sylvester Harrington, he always got some twist on his show.”
“Trent’s smarter than you think, Di. And he really wants this thing with Michelle to work. That’s all he’s been talking about at work.”
“Yeah, but has he really changed? This could all be a front to get Michelle back in his life.”
“It could be, but I don’t think so. I think he’s going on this show to make a point.”
“What kind of point?”
“Shhhh, it’s coming on. We’ll talk about it after the show,” I said as the camera focused in on Sylvester Harrington, the host of Two Sides To A Story.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. My name’s Sylvester Harrington and this is Two Sides To A Story. Our first guest tonight is Michelle. Michelle’s been dating Trent off and on for almost ten years. Matter of fact, last year she was pregnant, and Trent walked out of the delivery room on her because he said the baby was too dark to be his.” The studio audience let out a collective sigh as the host turned toward Michelle.
“Welcome to the show, Michelle.”
“Thanks for having me, Sylvester.” Michelle smiled.
“Michelle, this Trent sounds like a real piece of work.” The camera panned in on a picture of Trent sitting in the green room, then back to Michelle.
“You don’t know the half of it, Sylvester. Trent is a cheating, lying dog. Not only did he walk out the delivery room, but about two months ago he came crawling back to me with a wedding ring.”
“Oh, really?” Sylvester smiled for the crowd. “So did you accept his proposal?”
“Yeah.” Michelle nodded, her face revealing her embarrassment. “I accepted it until I found out he was engaged to another woman.”
Now the audience was really enraged. There were people booing and hollering about what a dog Trent was. A few of them were yelling at Michelle for being so stupid.
“What about your son? Trent’s saying that you’re not letting him or his family see the baby. Is that true?”
“You damn right it’s true. You not gonna treat my baby like a yo-yo.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“He told his other fiancée right in front of my face that my son was not his child. And I told him, if he’s not your child, then tell your family not to come see him. And I meant that.” A few people in the audience shouted their approval.
“So let me get this straight. You’re mad because Trent keeps denying your son?”
“Yeah. He denies Marcus whenever it’s convenient for him.”
“Well I hear you, sister, ’cause I was out back and I saw your son. He does look just like Trent.”
Pictures of both Marcus and Trent came on the screen, and you could tell by the audience’s reaction that they felt the same way as the host.
“Well, Michelle, as you know, the name of our show is Two Sides To A Story, so we’re gonna have to bring out Trent and hear what he has to say. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome Trent to the show.” Before Trent even walked out on the stage the crowd was on their feet, booing loudly.
“Trent, welcome to the show.”
“Thanks,” Trent said timidly. Clearly the audience’s reaction had him shook. He wasn’t used to this kind of treatment from people.
“I’ve been hearing some bad things about you, Trent.” Sylvester smiled as he leaned in closer to Trent.
“Well, don’t believe everything you hear,” Trent snapped back sarcastically. “By the way, sending that beautiful woman to my room last night was a great touch. I hope your producers weren’t too disappointed when I sent her home.”
Sylvester did his best to hide his embarrassment as his eyes quickly shot toward the producer. The audience laughed.
“Well, enough about the producers. Michelle here tells me that you like to envision yourself as a player.”
“I think reformed player is probably the best way to describe it. I’m trying to be a family man now. That is, if I can get Michelle to let me see my son.”
“So you wanna see your son? I was under the impression that you don’t think he’s yours. Michelle claims that you walked out of the delivery room because he was too dark.”
“I did. And it was probably the most ignorant thing I’ve ever done in my life.” My brother actually sounded sincere. Then again, he’d sounded just as sincere whenever he was handing out his phony business cards.
“Well, if you know it was ignorant, why are you here?”
“Because Michelle doesn’t believe me. She still thinks I’m the ignorant person I was. But I’ve changed. I got a new job. I wanna be in my son’s life and I don’t want there to be any question about that.”
“So you’re willing to pay child support and everything?”
“No doubt. I wanna be a father to my child. I love Marcus. He’s the only thing I got left.”
“What do you have to say about that, Michelle?”
“Talk is cheap. He could say that today and tomorrow he’ll get mad at me and take it out on my baby, start telling people he don’t even know my son. I want him to take a paternity test. I want him to have undeniable proof that this is his son, and then I want him to take responsibility for his son.”
“Well, as you know, Trent didn’t have a problem with that, Michelle. The only thing he asked is that you give him a chance to be a father. Are you willing to do that?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I have the paternity results right here. Anything either of you wanna say before I reveal them?”
“Yeah, I got something I wanna say,” Trent cut in as he turned to Michelle. “First off, I wanna say, Michelle, I love you, and I wanna apologize for all the BS I’ve put you through over the years. You’re a good woman and I’m sorry you had to go through this. I also wanna thank you for having my son and being such a good mother. He doesn’t even have to open that envelope. I know Marcus is my son and I love you for that.” Trent had done it again. He’d charmed the audience over to his side, and now they were applauding his words. Even the host looked like he was rooting for Trent now. Michelle was smiling at Trent.
“Well, from the looks of it, y’all are gonna live happily ever after,” Sylvester said. “I guess you don’t need me to read the results, do you?” His words were a tease for the audience, who started shouting, “Read the results! Read the results!” just like you would expect a talk show audience to do. After all, those people didn’t really care about my brother and Michelle. They were just looking to be entertained.
“No, Sylvester, things might look good right now, but I know Trent,” Michelle said. “I still need those results in case the ‘new Trent’ decides to go back to his old ways when the camera is off.”
She looked at Trent, who looked a little disappointed that his speech hadn’t been enough to win her over completely. “Trent, I do love you, but I still gotta do this. It’s like insurance for Marcus, you know?”
Trent looked away from her, but kept his cool. His face didn’t reveal any emotions. “That’s cool, Michelle. I’m gonna do whatever it takes.”
“Okay,” said Sylvester as the audience cheered and chanted. “It’s time to read the results.” He pulled a paper out of the envelope he’d been holding. Trent looked at Michelle and reached for her hand. She held his hand and they both actually looked pretty happy.
“Trent, you are one hundred percent not the father of Michelle’s baby,” Sylvester announced. There was a collective gasp from the audience. The camera zoomed in on Trent who was grimacing like he was about to give birth.
“What?” Trent yelled.
He snatched the results out of Sylvester’s hand. By the time he read them and turned to Michelle, she was halfway to backstage.
“Did you see his face, Wil?” Diane asked with a laugh.
“Yep, I sure did,” I replied. “I’d say that’s the face of a player reborn.”
The f
ollowing is a sample chapter from
Carl Weber’s novel
THE PREACHER’S SON.
This book is available
wherever books are sold.
ENJOY!
Prologue
Blue Johnson’s metallic blue Jeep Cherokee rolled south down Merrick Boulevard. The windows were down and the radio was blasting 50 Cent’s “21 Questions.” The bass was so loud that not only could nearby pedestrians hear the music, they could feel it, too. It was the first eighty-plus-degree day of the year and Blue and his best friend, Dante Wilson, rocked their heads to the music as they flirted with one pretty woman after another. When the car stopped at a traffic light, Dante winked at the beautiful twenty-something-year-old woman who’d pulled up next to them in a red Honda Civic. She winked back with a smile and Dante nodded, his face now flush with color as he turned toward Blue. He was the shyer of the two, but not by much.
“Yo, check out baby over here in the Civic,” he yelled as he turned back in her direction, smiling like he was in a toothpaste commercial. He’d decided to impress Blue with his pickup skills. “What’s up, baby girl? Can a brotha get them digi…” He stopped himself abruptly and Blue fell out laughing. Dante hadn’t seen quite what he was expecting. Oh, there was a woman there all right, but it wasn’t the fine sister he’d been flirting with. She had made a right on red and was halfway around the corner. In the place of her car was a black Lincoln Continental. The driver was a dark-skinned, heavyset woman in her late fifties, wearing an expensive but ugly blond wig. Dante knew her quite well, and by the scowl on her face it was clear she didn’t appreciate his comment, their music or Blue’s laughter in the background. Her name was Deaconess Lillian Wright, better known to Dante as The Bitch. She was one of his mother’s closest friends along with being one of his father’s church’s biggest supporters.
