I'd Rather Be With You

by Mary B. Morrison

  Relieved that she didn’t ask me to come right now, I said, “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. Is it? You’re already at the hospital. Can it wait until after I get the details?”

  Silence ended our call. Women. She’ll be okay.

  Glancing up, I saw two persons instead of one.

  “I didn’t know you were bringing your brother with you,” I said, standing to greet Chicago and Chaz.

  Chicago extended his hand. Chaz sat without saying a word. He was unfamiliar to me, but I wasn’t underestimating his influence on Chicago.

  “This won’t take long,” Chicago said. “I’m not here to build a friendship. I’m here because you’re the father of my wife.”

  Chaz said, “Let’s get to it.” Then he placed a legal document, about twenty pages thick, in front of me. He remained silent.

  “Okay,” I said. Apparently, they’d predetermined what they wanted. I should’ve done the same.

  Drew returned with the bottle of scotch. “I’ll get another glass,” he said, leaving right away.

  Chicago tapped the document. “Everything is here. Have your lawyer look it over and get back to us.”

  Us? Hmm.

  “What is it? Are you divorcing Madison?” I joked. This stack of papers was high. I thumbed through it.

  “He should,” Chaz said. “Would save us time and money. She’s a liability with a big ass, but she’s no asset to my brother.”

  Chicago cut his eyes to Chaz.

  Chaz leaned back. “I apologize.”

  Good. I was relieved that I didn’t have to defend my daughter. Drew placed the glass on the table then walked away.

  “Johnny,” Chicago said, “I would address you as ‘Mister Tyler,’ but I see where your daughter gets her ways. The house. The car. The business. Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

  And I saw where they got their disrespectful ways: from their mother.

  I didn’t want to speak too fast. I should’ve asked for extra money to get Madison’s engagement rings from the pawnshop, but that would make me seem greedy. I waited a moment; then I shook my head. “No, I’ve told you everything,” I lied.

  Chaz rolled his eyes, exhaled, then shook his head. “He’s lying.”

  I prayed they didn’t already know. That would make me look sleazy. I kept quiet.

  Chicago said, “As cold and as callous as Madison is sometimes, what you did to her was cruel and unnecessary. If it weren’t for the possibility that she might be carrying my baby, we’d have nothing to discuss. I’ll get straight to it. One, I’m settling the debt to get Madison back her home.”

  “I saw that.”

  “Two, I’m buying her a brand-new luxury car of her choice.”

  “I saw that too.”

  “Three, I’m willing to bail your company out in exchange for fifty-one percent ownership. Four, if the baby is not mine, I’m taking complete ownership of Tyler Construction. It’s not negotiable. Take the package, or lose everything you have left.”

  “Whatever that is,” Chaz added.

  Shut the fuck up, Chaz.

  Chicago must’ve meant control, not ownership. That’s the way I’d interpret it. I’d hold forty-nine percent? Guess I’d read that wrong.

  What was I to do? I’d read how much cash this contract was putting in my pocket for that fifty-one. It was a million dollars, cash. That would leave me with way more than enough to get back Madison’s engagement rings from the pawnshop.

  “How long do I have to think this over?”

  “Eighteen hours,” Chaz said, then stood.

  I despised that man. No doubt, the sentiments were mutual.

  Chicago pushed back his chair. “Your time starts now.”

  Guess this wasn’t a good time to mention Madison wanted Chicago to call her. He’d find out eventually. This was my big chance to save my business and recover Madison’s property. She’d thank me later.

  “Wait.” I couldn’t risk having him change his mind. I dug deep into my jacket pocket, pulled out my Montblanc pen, signed the document, then handed it to Chicago. “I trust you.”

  Chicago shook his head. Chaz quickly took the contract.

  A man dressed all in black—hat, shirt, shoes, slacks—approached the table.

  “Cancel this bottle of scotch,” I told him. “We didn’t touch it.”

  He looked at me, then turned to the brothers. “Roosevelt DuBois, Chaz DuBois,” he said, handing them both papers, “you’ve both been served.”

  Unfolding the papers, they stared at one another; then they strolled out side-by-side like Otis and Blue did when they left David Ruffin’s place in the movie The Temptations.

  Whatever it was, I sure hoped it didn’t mess up my deal.

  CHAPTER 26

  Loretta

  I had no remorse. That passé blanc, light enough to pass for white, black bitch finally got what she deserved.

  Next time, I bet, Madison won’t think about touching me—let alone pulling out my hair. Turning down the opportunity to leave work early yesterday and deliver a package to the hospital where Madison was, I’d left the pharmacy at three in the afternoon, at the end of my regular shift.

  Dancing around my living room, I felt the ballerina inside of me curtsy for the first time. I finally had gotten the courage to tell Madison how I felt. I tried standing on my tiptoes. “Ow,” I said, falling to the floor. I rolled on the carpet with laughter.

  Get it together, Loretta, I told myself. “Stop acting silly. What you did was wrong.”

  I regrouped. For a moment I allowed myself to release my frustrations, as opposed to holding it all in. Madison didn’t hold back. Neither did Tisha. Why did I care so much about what others thought about me? Because I’m a Christian that didn’t mean I was a saint.

  Yesterday was the perfect storm. More accidents and additional trauma meant hospital staff was busier than normal. Doctors were writing prescriptions. The pharmacy was insanely backed up because more people than usual needed meds.

  After picking up my daughter from her school, I went to an ATM, knowing the surveillance camera would capture me making a withdrawal. The timing would be a little off; but if Madison pressed charges, and she wasn’t sure of the time I’d arrived at her room, I could use being at the ATM to my benefit.

  Bad weather terrified my mother and increased the odds that she’d be home. I couldn’t leave my daughter in the car by herself in a parking lot at the hospital. I wasn’t that crazy. My parents’ house was a little out of the way, but it was worth the trip.

  I’d asked, “Mom, can you watch Raynell for an hour? I need to run a quick errand.” Of course my mother had agreed, as she was happy to have the company.

  My next location was room 911. How appropriate. But before I got there, I’d texted Chicago: Haven’t heard from you. We really need to talk. He was the one who had initiated an apology and had suggested we get together, but I hadn’t heard from him since he’d sent me that text.

  He texted back: At the office, headed to a meeting, then I have to visit Madison at the hospital.

  Men always gave too much information to their mistresses. Not enough to their wives. I was actually surprised he’d replied. Obviously, he was avoiding me. He should’ve given me options for another day or time, but it was easier for him to reply but not commit? Chicago and Chaz cutting me off added to the reasons I’d paid Madison that visit.

  Simply explaining that I was at work or with my daughter wouldn’t keep me from being arrested. If I was sentenced, I’d probably lose my job and my house—and I’d barely see my family. For a moment I felt sorry for Granville. His mama being sickly and he couldn’t be with her wasn’t right, but that was his fault. In case Madison decided to press charges against me, I prayed to God for a foolproof alibi.

  Chuckling, I jumped in the air, kicked my feet back, and then let down my hair, like I was a vixen in a music video. I’d better stop acting a fool before I awoke Raynell. By the time I’d picked her up,
my mother had fed her. I’d helped my daughter with her homework, made her take a bath, and then I’d tucked her into bed early.

  Recalling my striking Madison, I covered my mouth. “Oh, my gosh.” I bet based on her skin color, Madison probably bruised easily. Had I hit her hard enough to close her eye?

  This is one time I imagined she wished she were my complexion. I didn’t mean to hit her; she made me do it. Told myself she was defenseless. Hadn’t recovered from her surgery. If she had been healthy, out of hatred, I could’ve bashed her three times.

  I only slapped and hit her once. That was her fault. She should’ve kept her mouth shut and she shouldn’t have put her hands on me that day at Chicago’s. I was taught that if a person strikes first, I had the right to fight back. For Madison, the timing wasn’t right, but the strikes to her face was warranted.

  It was cool that Madison had said, “You wouldn’t dare.” But when she told me, “You’re a pathetic bitch, who wished you were me. You could never be me,” she made me hit her.

  I hate her. I hate myself for hating her. But I wasn’t sure why I felt this way. Abusing a sick person or anyone wasn’t in my Christian nature. I had to pray on what I’d done and ask God for forgiveness for my hitting that whore.

  Chaz and Chicago could screw Madison at the same time, for all I cared. Wasn’t like she was faithful to Chicago, anyway. They’d probably already had a threesome. I wished Granville was the father of her baby.

  My cell rang. I stopped dancing and pranced to my phone. Yes! I was grateful for the interruption.

  I smiled, then answered it. “Hey, baby. You’re done at the office?” Seductively I moaned, “You wanna come over tonight?”

  Chaz firmly asked, “You at home?”

  The tone in his voice sent chills through me—not the kind that normally made my pussy pucker. I’d hoped he’d call to apologize for putting me out the last time we were together but I feared he knew what I’d done to Madison.

  “Yes. I’m home. You okay?”

  “Stay there. I’ll be there in ten,” he demanded, then ended the call.

  Ten what? It was virtually impossible to get anywhere in Houston in under a half hour. I took a three-minute shower, brushed my teeth, coated my lips with raspberry gloss, then slipped on a sexy, strapless white cotton dress. I checked on Raynell. She was sound asleep.

  Part of me realized I shouldn’t have anything to do with Chaz after he’d disrespected me but I was a Christian and it was my duty to forgive. If I could stay close to Chaz, I’d still have a chance with Chicago.

  Skipping the panties, I trotted downstairs, opened a cold bottle of champagne, got two glasses, and set up everything in the living room in time for his arrival.

  A stiff drink and a hard dick were what I needed, and not in that order. I wasn’t in the mood for French-kissing his butt again; but if that was what he wanted, I’d do it to pleasure him.

  When I saw him get out of the car, I prayed, Lord, please don’t let this be about Madison. Shaking my arms, I took a deep breath. I bent over, fluffed my hair, flipped it back, and fanned my dress. Then I opened the front door.

  Damn. Chaz was the hottest I’d ever seen him. This was a change from his casual pullover polo shirt and slacks. The scent of his masculine cologne greeted me first. Dang, I’d forgotten perfume. Madison would’ve automatically put hers on.

  Motionless, I admired his deep cranberry button-down shirt, blue tie with cranberry stripes, with a blue tailored jacket and matching slim pants. His dark wavy hair was freshly cut and his face glowed like he’d just had an amazing facial. I had to start taking better care of my skin. There was no way I could let my man outdo me.

  “Hey, baby,” I softly said, bracing myself for the unknown. “I’m glad you finally came to see me. We need to talk.”

  Chaz stepped inside. Slammed the door.

  I opened it. “If you came to fight and not make up, get out.”

  He always wanted to have sex with me. I was ready to pick up where we’d stopped. My breathing rapidly increased. I wanted him so bad—I’d lick his asshole without him asking.

  Regretting what I’d said, I did not want this man to leave. That was a stupid statement to make to a millionaire, who was dressed the part. Madison wouldn’t have said that.

  “What in the hell is going on, Loretta?”

  Stepping back, I replied, “I don’t understand. Be specific. Isn’t that what you used to tell me?” I picked up the champagne bottle and a glass. Tilting the flute in my direction, I held the bottle while keeping my peripheral vision focused on Chaz. I didn’t want to hit him upside his head; but if he was here to defend Madison, he was getting some of this too.

  He shoved papers toward me. I couldn’t take them. My trembling hands were full. What should’ve been the catalyst to a toast was now my assault weapon. Raising the bottle to my mouth, I poured a mouthful of bubbles, then swallowed. Was Madison suing me? Did she still believe she’d won the bet and I owed her my house? What was I thinking? She couldn’t have papers drawn up this fast. I’d just left her hospital room about five hours ago.

  My fingers locked around the neck; I lowered the bottle beside my thigh. I asked, “What do you want?”

  Chaz stared at me and bit his bottom lip. He didn’t blink. “You’re one pathetic, demented, deranged bitch. I have no idea who you are. It’s because of you that Chicago and I are subpoenaed by Granville. I know you’re somehow involved with this shooting. I just can’t prove it!”

  Why in hell was he yelling? If he knew so much, why did he come here? Why not call or text? Or continuing to ignore me would’ve sufficed.

  I yelled back, “Keep it down!” Then I lowered my voice. “My daughter is sleeping.” I frowned, trying to make sense of what was his purpose.

  Shaking my head, I whispered, “What do you want from me?”

  “Oh, wow. I think you know the answer to that question. Did you do the right thing for my brother believing he’d leave his wife? I think you just always need somebody to take care of, but your motives are all screwed up.”

  I was tired of this conversation and him. “Just leave, Chaz.”

  He said, “Yeah, Madison—”

  Before he spoke another word, and before I realized what was happening, the bottle in my hand was in motion toward his head. Chaz swatted the bottle away and grabbed my bicep. The glass shattered against the travertine tile.

  “Ow! Let me go!” Now I was the one screaming.

  Thankfully, the door was still open. I prayed my baby didn’t come downstairs. I yelled again, hoping Tisha might hear me if her windows were open.

  “You want me to hit you? I’m not that kind of guy. But if a man were to beat your ass, I’d understand. You’re not worth it, Loretta. You need professional help. I don’t know what sick games you’re playing, but stay the fuck away from me, my brother, my family, and the stadium . . . or I’ll get a restraining order against you,” he said, letting me go.

  I followed Chaz outside. “Go fuck Madison for real this time!”

  He got into his car and drove off. How did confrontations escalate out of nowhere? Could this have been dealt with in a respectful manner? Maybe, if Chaz hadn’t shown up at my front door, already angry.

  Another car pulled into my driveway. I didn’t recognize the driver or the vehicle. A tall, handsome man dressed all in black strolled up to me.

  “Loretta Lovelace?” he asked in a serious tone.

  “Yeah” was all I said.

  He pulled papers from his back pocket, then handed them to me. Oh, I get it. Chaz is in on whatever this is. Maybe. I couldn’t be sure, but I refused to reach for the papers.

  I yelled at him. “What? Is she suing me? Or is this from my baby’s daddy and his bitch?” I wanted to hit this arrogant guy, who was staring down at me.

  Suddenly I realized that I’d offended so many people, this could be from a number of individuals. If Chaz hadn’t blocked my blow, he could’ve left in an ambulance.

>   My body felt like a pot of bubbling water on the verge of erupting into a vigorous boil. Scalding water would be more effective in peeling away this guy’s layers than my scratching his eyes out.

  Dropping the papers at my feet, he said, “You’ve been served.”

  “Fuck you too!” I yelled to his back before picking up the papers.

  I read the subpoena in disbelief.

  Was he serious?

  CHAPTER 27

  Madison

  “That demon has got to be destroyed.”

  “Loretta is a nice girl. I can’t believe she’d do such a thing.”

  “Papa, you’ve got to trust me. I wouldn’t lie about something like this. I’ll text you a picture.” I pressed a few buttons and sent a photo of my swollen eye.

  He sighed. I knew he didn’t believe me. Anyone who knew Loretta from a distance couldn’t imagine violence had become part of her fake Christian character.

  “Roosevelt hasn’t called me. He didn’t come by yesterday. Did you meet with him yesterday? Did you give him my message?”

  “Of course,” Papa said. “Some guy came into the restaurant after our meeting and handed Chicago and Chaz some papers. Maybe he had other business to ’tend to. Sweetheart, what really happened to you?”

  “I’m telling you the truth. She did this to me.”

  “Hey, babe. Who are you talking to?” Roosevelt asked, entering my room. He glanced around. “Better yet, who are you talking about?”

  “Papa, let me call you back.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you were on the phone,” Roosevelt said.

  My dad continued, “Your mother and I will be there later to bring you home.”

  Somehow I doubted he’d show up. Why was he avoiding talking about what had happened to me? “I told you, I’m going to stay at Roosevelt’s.”

  “Sweetheart, that’s not what he—”

  “I know. He’s here. I’ll call Mama when I get settled in, and then you guys can come over. Bye, Papa.”

  “I love you, sweetheart.”

  “Love you too. Bye.”

  “What in the hell happened to your eye?” Roosevelt asked, touching my cheek.