“No. But I didn’t bet on the judge awarding joint custody, either.”
“Yeah.” She said, “Kyle, I’m sorry. Really, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll let you and Torino deal with this.”
“No, it’s fine. You’re Kyle Jr.’s stepmother now. You should be involved.”
“Yes, I am that.”
“And by the way, I’m sorry for all those years I was upset with Torino. That was some stupid, unnecessary mess.”
“Hey, that’s life.”
“I must say I’m glad you and Torino got together after all those years of being Mercedes’s friend. You and him were like oil and water years ago. I never would’ve guessed you’d end up together. You guys are down for each other like four flat tires. Bonnie and Clyde.”
She snickered. “Believe me, we didn’t predict it either.” A server walked by with an empty tray and Sequoia saw someone trying to flag him down for a drink. “Kyle, I’m gonna finish seeing to everything here. You enjoy yourself.” She then saw Yasmin coming over. “And, I see your date is coming back.”
“Okay.”
Sequoia gave it one last shot. “Nice meeting you, Yasmin.”
“You too.” Brief eye contact. No smile. No nothing.
“Bye.” Sequoia just stepped away and handled her business.
~~
Hours went by and Sequoia kept an eye on the setup, main course of squash quiche, scallops, ginger beef sticks, and salmon spinach salad. The Sonoma Brut champagne and sparkling water flowed.
The engaged couple, him tall, though dark, unlike Kyle, but with the same eyes, and her, a biracial beauty with a short pixie cut and brown eyes, danced along with the guests, celebrating their upcoming nuptials.
Kyle danced as well, but not with his date. He danced with Mrs. Brown and her friends, who were in heaven from his attention. His date watched him from the sidelines.
It was eight o’clock and Sequoia made sure her assistant had everything under control. She said her goodbyes, excused herself and headed out the door while talking on her cell.
“Honey, can you believe Kyle was here with his new girl?”
“What?” Torino said. “He told me something about his brother’s engagement party. I had no idea it would be the one you were headed to.”
“Well, did you know he had someone already?”
“He told me.” Torino sounded unfazed.
“Wow. Okay, listen, I’m headed home. See you soon.”
“Okay. TJ’s been asking for his mommy.”
“Awww. Tell him mommy’s on her way.”
“See ya.”
As Sequoia hung up and walked down the street, she looked down a side street after hearing a door close. She saw a heavyset woman from behind with golden hair walking toward a black SUV. Sequoia still had her eyes on the woman as Sequoia got in her Rover. The woman got inside and started up her truck. She pulled up to the stop sign, turned toward the Brown’s house, parked one house down and there she sat.
Sequoia watched her for a minute and called Torino back.
“Your ex is up to her old tricks again. She’s sitting outside of my client’s house, just watching.”
“Watching what? Don’t tell me.”
She said, “Torino, she’s watching for Kyle. I’ll tell you one thing. Having her back in our lives is gonna be a stone trip.”
23
Mercedes
“. . . tipping his cap in her honor . . .”
It was a celebrity golf tournament on a bright Saturday at the spectacular eighteen-hole golf course situated atop coastal cliffs that towered above the blue cyan Pacific Ocean. The golf course oasis at Torrey Pines was nestled in the hills with breathtaking views and row upon row of palm trees. It was so impeccably kept and the grass on the fairways was so green, it looked like emerald outdoor carpeting.
It was a sight to see on a beautiful fall day with a whisper of a breeze that blew ever so slightly.
It was the very course in San Diego that Mason played on when Mercedes and Star watched him on TV, noticing a shapely woman with candy-apple red hair in a tight fitting skirt on the day that Mason’s infidelity was verified.
Mercedes adjusted the gear of her brain from the past to the present and gave full focus to her young, talented son, Rashaad. He looked just like his dad. He was handsome, athletic, and bowlegged.
He started the day ahead by three strokes into the final round, but he had lost some ground and now, it was his last shot of the final hole.
Mercedes couldn’t help but scan the faces in the crowd every now and then to see if perhaps Mason had decided to show up and support his son. It seemed Mason made more trips to visit Star than Rashaad. He said he didn’t want his son living in his shadow, following in his footsteps. He wanted him to make his own way. So in an effort to not take away Rashaad’s limelight, Mason would watch from the comfort of their family room at home. Today though, Rashaad had invited him personally. And Rashaad invited Mercedes, as well.
Rashaad, wearing blue and white with a white Nike fitted, stood next to his caddy, Winton, his dad’s former caddy, and they spoke close to each other’s faces, sizing up the next shot. The ball was a short distance, maybe six-feet from the cup. The putt should have been easy. But nothing was ever easy in the game of golf. One shot one minute could change up the next minute. That was the exhilarating part of the game because nothing ever stayed the same.
Winton handed Rashaad the shiny, golden PING putter and gave him a supportive nod, stepping back to move the golf bag away enough for Rashaad to have his space. Then Winton headed to the hole, standing by it just in case.
The crowd was quiet.
Mercedes looked on as if she was holding her breath and fighting to stay calm. Watching her son play always made her a nervous wreck.
Rashaad eyeballed the distance between the ball and the cup, envisioning his stroke and the angle of the ball while imagining the exact trail of the ball necessary to make this a birdie for the win. His fixed, brown eyes looked down toward the ball and then to the cup, down at the ball and again to the cup, over again until he sealed the precise journey in his head.
He then remembered something his dad taught him when he was only eleven. Mason had told Rashaad that the best way to make a putt, the no-nonsense way, was to never look at the hole, and also to close his eyes and listen to the sound of the ball dropping into the cup. He had taught Rashaad to do that as a form of practice, but never in a tournament. Rather he told him that in a tournament, he should keep his eyes down toward the green. But for some reason, today Rashaad was feeling both a little brave and a little nostalgic.
He looked up at the sky and placed a kiss onto his index and middle fingers, aiming his hand up into the air, took his stance positioning himself in line with the flag, gripped the shaft of the club, leaned his torso forward and bent his knees slightly. Then he distributed his weight, relaxed his body, closed his eyes and gave a good solid putt, hitting the ball, all the while keeping his eyes closed.
He listened.
The little white ball rolled with a curve and then cut back toward the exact location of the cup. Winton raised the pin with the blue flag slightly blowing in the subtle wind, and even without touching the circumference, the tiny ball sank right inside the middle of the cup and disappeared. It made a clunk, click, swooshing sound, an old familiar sound to Rashaad’s ears. His eyes popped open, lighting up like lanterns even in the glaring sun.
Rashaad’s pecan skin looked flushed as he jumped up and down with excitement and vigorously removed his golf cap amongst the roaring cheers of onlookers, tipping his hat to the sky, and then looking over at his mom. He tipped it to her, too, and put it back on. He walked over toward his mother. Standing right behind her without Mercedes even knowing was Mason, stunned, chin to his chest, face beaming.
Rashaad hugged Mercedes who was in disbelief. Her eyes were welled up with tears. He then reached back and put his hand on his father’s shoulder.
&nbs
p; “I can’t believe you remembered that,” Mason said, voice shaky.
“I remember everything you taught me. You’re the reason. Without you, I wouldn’t be in this game. Thank you, Dad.”
Mason enthusiastically rubbed the top of Rashaad’s head. “Congratulations, Son.”
Mercedes turned around toward Mason and they embraced. Then she looked forward and saw Rashaad getting drenched with champagne as he walked like he was a rock star, with a swarm of reporters and fans all around him. He headed toward the tent to receive his trophy and his check for seven-hundred-fifty-thousand dollars, half of which would go to charity. His charity of choice was The Alzheimer’s Association. By the time Mercedes turned back around again, Mason was gone.
A brunette, exhilarated female ESPN reporter stuck a microphone in Mercedes’s face and asked in an instant, “Mrs. Wilson, you must be thrilled to death that your son was able to pull off this win today, right?”
“I am. I’m in shock.” She turned back again to check for Mason once more, and then back toward the reporter. “Um, it was pretty close for a minute. The other celebrity golfers gave him a run for his money, but I’m glad he was able to keep his concentration and pull it off.”
“Yes, he did. I wanted to ask you, we’ve never seen him look up to the sky like that, almost praying. It also looked like he actually closed his eyes while he hit that putt. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She said, still in awe of the reality of the moment, “You know, Rashaad was just doing his thing. I saw him look up at the sky, and I’m sure it was a tribute to his grandmother who passed away recently. And the closing of his eyes was what his dad, Mason Wilson, taught him to do when Rashaad was little. I just, I mean, I’m so emotional right now, and so thankful. Looking forward to celebrating with my son. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Wilson. Your husband and son are real pros.”
Mercedes tried her best to make it over to Rashaad near the tent when a tournament organizer came over to guide her for the rest of the way. Mercedes stayed one step behind the man, trying to tame her rush of emotions.
She quickly put on her white sunglasses and gave permission for her tears to fall. Not so much from the thrill of the moment with Rashaad winning the tournament in such a beautiful and unique way, but also for the fact that she couldn’t even stand next to her husband as a couple and share in the moment as proud parents. She couldn’t help but remember that her life, even in the midst of the moment, was falling apart.
~~
It was dinnertime. The lavish A.R. Valentien on North Torrey Pines Road was known for its fine dining.
Mercedes and Rashaad wore dressy attire in the elegant, private V.I.P. room. They sat at a round table with crystal chandeliers overhead, draped off by ivory chiffon curtains for privacy so they would not be interrupted by Rashaad’s adoring fans.
It was a special occasion.
Mercedes said to Rashaad, “I still can’t believe what happened out there today.” She was done with her meal, having devoured her swordfish and scallops.
Rashaad took his final bite of lobster after dipping it in garlic butter, but still spoke. “It was special. I’m glad you were able to be there. And Dad.”
“Where is he?” she asked.
“I invited him.” He sipped his iced tea. “And Mom, I told him I wanted you two to talk. That I would go back to my room so you two could have dinner alone together.”
She gave him a look like he should not have. “No, this is your night. This is about you, not us.”
“That would be what I’d want. You two can’t go this many years and then just let things fall apart.”
“Rashaad, it’s about you right now. I told you, we’ll work it out.”
“Good. Then you two need to do that tonight. For me. Right here. Now.”
Mercedes took a sip of water. “Let’s just enjoy our dinner together. You and me, and then when your dad comes, we’ll see what happens.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “But in this family, it takes all of us. Even Star.”
“I love you, Rashaad. I can’t remember being more proud.”
“Thanks. I love you, too, Mom. Thanks for being here.”
~~
No more than a half hour later, they left.
No Mason.
Rashaad called his father but he was already on his way home.
He said he had a meeting early in the morning so he went ahead and drove back to L.A.
Rashaad was disappointed.
Mercedes was not surprised one bit.
24
Venus
“There’s nothing everyday about us.”
The late morning air smelled like summer rain, even in the fall. The clouds that filled the sky had not yet shed their precipitation, but it looked like things could change at any moment.
Venus had just walked in the house from the Ralphs grocery store around the corner. It was barely noon. Skyy was still at school and Venus had much to do before picking her up from after-school care.
Cameron had spent the night out again. He did have a long, intense father-son conversation with Claude and promised to be more aggressive in looking for a job. He even applied for admission to U.C. Irvine. Once again he had gone to Penny Heinz’s house and wasn’t home yet.
Today, Venus planned to head back out to the Home Depot to look for some toffee-colored paint for her and Claude’s bedroom, and she had planned to strip down and stain a bookshelf in Skyy’s room so that it matched the color of Skyy’s new pink walls.
Wearing jeans and a violet cropped sweater, she went back and forth from the bags of groceries she had set on the counter, to the walk-in pantry, and had just put away the pancake mix and box of cereal when her phone rang a few times. She missed it. It was in her purse along the island. It rang again and she grabbed it.
“Hi, Claude.”
He jumped right in. “Venus, there’s a letter for you.”
“What? Where are you? Are you mobile?” She walked back to the counter to gather the empty grocery bags.
“I went by the office and then by the house to pay the guys who worked on the floors. And I checked the mailbox.”
“Okay. I’ll see it when you get home later.”
“It’s from the California Men’s Colony.”
She paused, then gave a breath and asked, “Oh? Why? I mean why does Owen Chambers think he can keep writing me all of a sudden?”
“I guess we’ll find out. Find out when we read it together.”
She laugh subtly. “I can read it. It’s just nonsense anyway.”
“We can read it. You got a problem with that?” His tone began to change.
“No. But Claude, I mean we’re talking about a letter from a maniac murderer here.”
“A maniac murderer writing my wife as if the two have a history together.”
She stuffed the bags into the under cabinet. “We don’t.”
“We’ll see.”
She said, “No, there’s no we’ll see. I’m telling you.”
“Venus, I’m being cool about this. Don’t start acting like this is everyday life for anyone. Not many men have to deal with their wives getting letters from a man serving twenty-five to life in prison.”
Venus simply stood in place. “Not very many men dated a woman who cheated on him with a man who’d end up killing her. Not very many men then married the woman’s best friend. There’s nothing everyday about us.”
He said nothing.
“Just come home later. We need to get him to stop once and for all.” She walked to the sink and turned on the water.
“I plan to.”
“See you when you get home.”
“Yep,” he said with an edge.
Venus just ran the warm water along her hands, turning up the hot water, and stared out of the kitchen window.
~~
A few hours later when Venus returned from more shopping, she pulled up and saw Cameron’s car parked in the garage.
He still drove his mom Fatima’s old Lexus.
She went inside and immediately yelled, “Cam! Can you come down here, please?”
“Yeah!” he yelled back.
Venus put down her keys and purse and went into the formal dining room and took a seat, leaning back against the high back chair. She crossed her legs.
Cameron walked in. “Yes.”
“Hi. Sit down please, would you?”
“Sure.” He pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “What’s going on?” He had on a sky blue Hugo Boss dress shirt and black pants. His shirt was unbuttoned.
“Cam, I wanted to tell you that I set up an interview for you.”
“With who?”
“I had a conversation with my old boss at Make-A-Wish.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. She knows you studied finance. They need an assistant to the CFO. I’ll email you the info but I want you to make sure you give her a call. Her name is Ann Howard.”
“Okay.”
She checked out his expression. “You look hesitant.”
He squinted like he just couldn’t see it happening. “It’s in Westwood. I don’t want to drive that far.”
“You don’t? You know, sometimes you’ve gotta sacrifice to get ahead.”
“I want to work in Orange County or go to school out here.”
“What have you done to make that happen?”
“Oh, no. Not you, too. I already had a job interview today over at an insurance company in Mission Viejo. Penny told me about it.”
“That’s good. I’m glad. And me asking you to call Ann about the Make-A-Wish job is simply a referral. I want you to follow-up.”
“I’ll call, but I just don’t want to drive sixty-five miles each way. I mean, didn’t you quit when we moved out here?”
“I quit because your dad and I agreed that it’s better for me to be home with Skyy. That’s the only reason.”
Hot Girlz: Hot Boyz Sequel Page 15
