“All right,” I said, the moment I opened my bedroom door.
His eyes met mine and the sip of wine that he was about to take was arrested as he held the glass on the edge of his lip.
Moving with a model’s stroll, I said, “Let me really work those knots out.”
It was as if his eyes were stuck on me. He didn’t even blink.
“Wow, you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said, immediately moving behind him before he changed his mind. But after just a couple of seconds, I said, “I’m not getting as deep as I want to; let’s move back to the couch and you can stretch out.”
He stood, but he hesitated. “I think . . . I mean . . . I’m m-much better now,” he stammered.
Of course he was, but I wasn’t finished. “Nonsense,” I said, keeping my voice light. “Will you come on?”
His steps were slow, timid, but he finally lay across the sofa, head down, eyes closed.
I felt the victory and I straddled him, pressing the center of me into his lower back. I hadn’t even touched him and he moaned.
The moves were perfunctory now; I’d done my job, his body was nothing more than a noodle. But my touch made him groan and moan, filling the air with the desire for me that he hadn’t yet acknowledged.
I leaned forward and with my hands still moving on his back, I grazed his neck with my lips. He surprised me—there was no resistance, just deeper sighs.
When I leaned back, he turned over. Our eyes locked and without saying a word, I told him what I wanted. I wanted to lose myself in him. And for a moment—this moment—I just wanted him to make me forget the pain of Trent and my mother. Anthony pushed himself up, brought me closer to him, and when he covered my lips with his, he told me what he wanted, too.
I pressed myself into him and now his moans were filled with his yearning. In just two seconds I was out of my dress. Less than thirty seconds after that, he was out of his pants.
Then I was the one lying on my back. Anthony took over. And any love he had for my mother was momentarily replaced with unyielding lust for me.
CHAPTER 34
* * *
If sex was a helluva drug, guilt was some kind of hangover.
And I’d been racked with guilt. I hated that I was, but I was.
As much as I wanted my mother to hurt, she would never know what I had done. I’d resolved that last night. While the sex—as lackluster as it was—had brought me momentary satisfaction, I woke up this morning feeling like crap.
I’d slept with a married man.
I’d slept with a married man who had slept with my mother.
What the hell was wrong with me?
My phone vibrated, shaking away my guilt and snapping me away from my drama and back to Nina’s. Her record label was threatening to drop her unless she issued a public apology for the boyfriend-dousing incident, but she was adamantly refusing to do so.
The phone continued vibrating. I ignored it and said, “So what do you guys think of the statement?” Both Nina J. and her assistant, Amiya, had been reading over the statement, which I had spent the last two hours crafting.
“It sounds good to me,” Amiya said.
“It sounds like a load of crap to me.” Nina tossed the paper back onto my desk. Then she picked up a copy of Essence magazine and began casually flipping through the pages.
I let out a heavy sigh. “Please, Nina. Is this worth losing your career?”
“I’ll bounce back.” She didn’t bother looking up. Her nonchalant attitude about something so serious was working my nerves. Amiya shook her head, giving me a look to know that Nina J. was my problem now.
“You have worked too hard to build your name,” I said. “Just give the apology. Everyone will know you don’t really mean it.”
“Then why give it, if I don’t mean it?” She didn’t even look up as she spoke.
“To play nice,” I pleaded.
She closed her magazine and looked at me. Her green contacts were off-putting, but other than that, and her fiery blond hair, she was one of the most gorgeous women I’d ever seen. “That’s what’s wrong with America,” Nina said. “We let everyone do us wrong.”
My phone vibrated again.
“Do you need to get that?” Nina J. asked. “Because whoever it is ain’t letting it go.”
“I’m sorry. Give me a minute.” I pressed ACCEPT on the number, which I didn’t recognize.
“We really need to finish talking,” my mother said. “Please don’t hang up.”
“How’d you get my number?” My hand shook, wondering if she knew about me and Anthony.
“Alex.”
I turned my chair around, away from Nina and Amiya. Of course my mother didn’t know. He wouldn’t have told her. “We’re finished talking. You said what you needed to say. I don’t have anything else to say to you.” I tried to keep my tone as professional as possible.
“Brooke, I understand you don’t want to have anything to do with me but we can’t end things like that.”
I cut her off. “That’s the way you would like it, right? For me to just go away and not upset your perfect little lie?” I remembered my clients and quickly said, “I will call you later.” Then slammed the phone down.
“Hmph, seems like I’m not the only one that needs to throw some boiling water on someone,” Nina said.
I rubbed my temple. “I’m so sorry about that. That is so unprofessional.”
She dropped the magazine in her lap. “Girl, no.” Nina J. leaned forward and for the first time since she stepped into my office, I had her undivided attention. “For real, though. That’s the problem. We let people do us wrong and we don’t do anything about it. High road, my ass. We all can’t be Michelle when-they-go-low, we-go-high Obama. Sometimes you have to get in the gutter with folks so they’ll think twice before hurting you again.” She paused. “So what was that about?”
I was a professional. I was not about to have this discussion with a client, let alone one I just met. So I just said, “Family drama.”
Nina was relentless. “Obviously, whoever that was on the phone has pissed you off. What are you doing about it?”
“I’ll have a discussion with her later.”
“A discussion?” Nina J. shook her head like I was a charity case. “Sometimes you need to back your words up with some actions.”
If only she knew.
“Nina . . .”
“I’m just saying. My boyfriend screwed my stylist and you think I was supposed to let that slide? Plus, throwing that hot water made me feel so much better. Try it. You might like it.”
Amiya said, “I’ve been trying to get through to her. First Peter 3:9, says, ‘Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.’ ”
Nina rolled her eyes and waved her off. “Girl, bye. I live by the Muhammad Ali philosophy: You kill my dog, you better hide your cat.”
“Revenge is a confession of pain,” Amiya said. She seemed wise beyond her years, but it was obvious Nina wasn’t trying to hear any of that.
“You know what? I’m not having this conversation with you,” I interjected. “Can we get back to business?”
Nina threw up her hands. “Fine if you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m telling you, peace of mind is a beautiful thing and sometimes revenge is the only way to get that peace of mind. And then the person that wronged you knows they’d better think twice before doing it again.”
I smiled. “Let’s take that you-don’t-play attitude and channel it into getting you out of this mess.”
“Not mess. Situation.” She stood and threw her three-thousand-dollar Louis Vuitton hobo bag over her shoulder. “But that’s what I pay you for. You figure it out. I’m good with that last statement. Come on, Amiya. I need to go to the mall.”
I stopped her right before she got to the door. “Nina, thank you for the advice.”
I weighed her words as she left. Before he left last night, Anthony had asked to come over again after work today. I’d agreed because at the time I had no idea sleeping with Anthony wouldn’t give me the personal satisfaction I had hoped it would. And I couldn’t help but wonder if anything ever would.
No. I’d done my dirt. I was ashamed, unsatisfied, and my heart still hurt. So that secret would go with me to my grave.
CHAPTER 35
* * *
Revenge is a confession of pain.
The words of Nina J.’s assistant had swirled in my head all day. And now they were front and center, fighting off the desire to run to my mother and beg her to forgive me for what I’d done with her husband and let me back into her heart.
That’s the first thought I’d had when I pulled up to my condo and saw my mother sitting in the bistro chair near the front door.
I parked, then slowly made my way up the walkway as my mother’s eyes remained on me. I tried desperately to read behind them so I could determine how I needed to approach her.
My mother’s voice shook as she said, “Hi. Sorry to just show up here, but I got your address from Alex, too, and well, I just want to talk to you.”
No matter how much my heart wanted to be angry, I could only say, “Fine,” as I walked past her and unlocked the front door. I was tired. Tired of the games. Of running after her. Tired of the losses. I would hear her out, then I would let her go.
“Thank you for agreeing to talk to me,” she said once she had followed me in.
I didn’t reply as I removed my jacket and set my purse down.
She didn’t bother sitting and just started rambling. “Brookie, I mean, Brooke,” she corrected. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. And I understand your anger. But please don’t hate me.”
I just stared at her. She had the nerve to have tears in her eyes. I couldn’t muster up an iota of sympathy.
“I don’t expect you to understand why I did what I did,” she said.
“Glad you don’t expect me to understand, because I never will. Do you have any idea how many tears I shed because I thought you were dead and—”
“That was your father’s decision,” she said, interrupting me.
I jumped in her face, causing her to flinch. “I told you, you don’t get to say anything about my father! He was just trying to help me cope with the fact that my mother threw me away like yesterday’s trash.”
She took a deep breath. “That’s not what I meant. Look, I understand that you’re bitter.”
I calmed down, took a step back. I did not want to get worked up. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“Brooke, I really did love you. And your father. In my own way.”
“You don’t love anything but this fake-ass life you created,” I said, exasperated. “After twenty-five years, you finally see me and that was your first concern, whether I was here to let everyone know what a liar you were.”
“I know I did not respond correctly when I saw you. It’s just, that, well . . . I just freaked out.”
My doorbell rang as we faced off. I didn’t even think as I headed to the door. I just welcomed the reprieve, hoping it would calm me down. I felt like this was the now-or-never conversation with my mother, and me being all angry and flustered wasn’t going to help.
I guess I was flustered because I didn’t bother looking out the peephole. I just swung the door open.
And there stood Anthony.
“Hey, sexy,” he said, a wide grin over his face.
My stomach turned a backflip. I completely forgot that I had told him he could swing by after work.
He didn’t give me time to reply as he took me into his arms and kissed me. All of the reservation he initially felt was gone.
He hugged me as he said, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. I don’t know what kind of magic good stuff you put on me yesterday but . . .”
His words trailed off as his eyes made their way past my shoulder and into the middle of the living room.
“S-Sarah?” he stammered.
He almost knocked me down as he raced over to my mother, who was standing with a look of sheer horror across her face.
“Sarah! Oh, my God. What are you doing here?”
I closed the door, and fought back the bile that was rising in my stomach.
This. I didn’t want this.
“No, Anthony,” my mother said, her voice quivering as her eyes filled with tears. “No . . . no . . . no. Please, no.”
“Baby, I . . . I can explain,” he stammered.
Tears spilled from my mother’s eyes. “How could you do this?” she cried, looking between the two of us. I wasn’t sure which one of us she was talking to.
“No, I can explain, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. It’s not how it looks.” Every time he reached for her, she jumped away.
“You’re sleeping with her?” my mother asked, still in disbelief.
“It’s not like that,” he pleaded, his voice reeking of desperation.
“I heard you. Just now, I heard you.” My mother glared at me. “Why would you do this? How could you be so low-down?”
“What?” I asked, trying to shake off my own shock and horror. Of course she would direct all of her venom at me. I was nothing more to her than an inconvenience from her past.
The anger I had been feeling was back and had become a full raging inferno.
“Are you really asking me that?” I took a couple of steps in her direction. She backed up as if she thought I was about to hit her. “So, now I’m the low-down one?”
Anthony turned to me. “You told me to come over. Was it so you could set me up?”
I spun on him. “No, I told you you could come back over after you asked,” I corrected. “I had no idea your wife was just going to pop up at my place.”
Anthony turned to my mother. “Why are you here?”
The irony of those words brought me momentary satisfaction. I could see the lies churning in my mother’s head. I stepped in before she let them come out of her mouth. The come-to-Jesus moment was here.
“Yes, tell him why you’re here, Mommy Dearest,” I calmly said.
“What?” Anthony said. He looked back and forth between the two of us. “Do you know Meredith?” he repeated, since my mother was still standing there silently sobbing. It was obvious she wasn’t going to answer him, so he turned back to me. “Do you know my wife?” he demanded.
“Oh yeah. I know her.” I nodded, and folded my arms across my chest. I hated that it had come to this but I was dumbfounded that even up until the last moment, my mother was going to continue to deny me. “She’s the first person I ever knew,” I said.
Anthony’s confusion was on full display now. “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on here?” he shouted.
I kept my eyes focused on my mother. “Shall you explain or should I?”
“You. Slept. With. Her,” my mother said, ignoring me. She gazed at her husband. “Why would you do this?” she sobbed. “How could you do this? You promised . . . I thought we had gotten to a good place . . . I thought we had a good marriage.”
“We do.” He was back to being apologetic. He reached for her and once again, she backed away. “I am so sorry. I will spend my life making this up to you.”
“How long have you been having an affair with her?” my mother snapped.
“It was just one time,” he cried. “Baby, let’s go home and talk about this,” Anthony said, deciding to focus all his attention on his wife and forget about me.
Just as my mother had done.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” my mother said, bolting toward the door.
But I wasn’t about to let her off that easy. I jumped in front of the front door, blocking it.
“Oh no, ma’am. You’re not running away again,” I said.
> “Little girl, if you don’t get out of my way . . .” my mother hissed.
“Little girl? Yeah, I was a little girl when you left.” I stepped so close to her that our tears could’ve mixed. “But I’m a grown-ass woman now.”
Her shoulders dropped in defeat. Her voice was just above a whisper as she said, “Do you hate me that much, to do something like this?”
“Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” Anthony yelled again. “How do you know my wife?”
I kept my eyes on her as I said, “I knew your wife before you knew your wife.”
I had felt guilty about my tryst with Anthony. But not anymore. My mother had rejected me for the last, the final time. Now she needed to know pain like I knew pain. Revenge wasn’t so bad after all.
I turned to Anthony. “How does it feel to have made love to a mother and daughter?”
“Huh?” He looked at my mother. She turned away. “What is she talking about, Sarah?”
“Yeah. Tell him what I’m talking about, Mommy.”
He spun on me. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing or why. But my wife only has one child,” Anthony said.
I waved a finger at him. “Ahh, ahh, ahh. That’s where you’re wrong, Deputy Mayor. I’m your wife’s first child.”
His eyes bucked.
“Oh, let me guess, she didn’t tell you anything about me?” I asked.
He looked at Sarah, a mixture of shock and hurt across his face. “You had a baby you gave up for adoption? Why didn’t you think you couldn’t tell me that?”
“Yeah, that story,” I tsked. “That’s probably how she would have liked to have believed it went, but she didn’t give me up for adoption at birth. She abandoned me when I was seven years old.”
“What?” he exclaimed, now sounding like a broken record with a chorus of whats.
Seeking Sarah Page 18
