And then there was the situation with Kendrick Wilshire, that dirty little lying scoundrel.
I cleared my head of that for the moment, trusting that Sissy would take care of it. I reached into the bottom drawer of my desk and pulled out the huge book of white pages.
Over the past fourteen days, I had already drawn lines through half a dozen Eric Reeds confirming that none of them was my brother, but there were still at least another dozen to call in this city alone. I didn’t want to think of how many there were left in the rest of the country.
Pressing a finger to the next phone listing, I picked up my office phone and dialed the number. I got a recording informing me that the number was no longer in service. I drew a line through that name and dialed the next number.
“Hello,” I said, after a woman picked up the phone. “May I speak with Eric Reed, please,” I said, hoping his name hadn’t been changed as mine had been.
“Who’s calling?”
“My name is”—I stopped myself. “My name is Everette Reed,” I said, using my pre-adoption name.
“May I ask why you’re calling, Mr. Reed?”
I swallowed hard. “I have a brother named Eric, but I haven’t seen him in thirty years. I’m trying to find him, and—”
“My husband doesn’t have a brother.”
“There’s a chance he wouldn’t have known about me. Can I please speak to him?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Reed, but Eric has been dead a year now. Car accident,” the woman said, her voice low.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I really don’t mean to bother you, but can I please ask you a few more questions? Just so I’ll know.”
“Yes.”
“Eric was my twin. I’ll be turning thirty-four in three weeks.”
“My Eric was forty,” the woman said.
“Oh,” I said, feeling as though my brother would be lost forever.
“I hope you find him, Mr. Reed. Good-bye.”
After work, I was exhausted. I went home, took a nap on my living room sofa, and awakened half an hour later to the ringing of my home phone.
I had been dreaming about my childhood again, something that seemed to happen now each and every time I closed my eyes.
In the dream, I was sixteen. It was not long after my father had found me and the boy, Steve, in the garage. Since that day, it seemed my father had very little to say to me. He gave me instructions when he needed to, like “Make sure you’re packed for tomorrow’s trip,” but simple, everyday conversation between a father and son was no longer there.
Because all I wanted was the love of my father, I did what he told me to do. I had stopped seeing Steve and did the same with all the other boys I called friends at school. I had little interest in girls, and besides my sister, I was basically alone.
I could not be who I really was, and despite how much I tried to be what my father wanted, he would never accept me as that person either. I was damned either way.
The dream shifted to a memory of me pushing through my parents’ door, and gently shaking my mother till she awakened.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” she asked.
I stood there in the dark room, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I . . . I . . .” I wasn’t able to speak.
My mother hurried out of bed, wrapped her arms around me. My father didn’t wake, didn’t budge. She walked me down the hallway to my bedroom. Sympathy in her eyes, she begged, “Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”
“I don’t . . . I don’t know if I can do it anymore,” I said, sniffing. “Nobody understands. Nobody cares.”
“Don’t know if you can do what, Cobi? Nobody understands what?”
“Me, Ma. Me! And I don’t know if I can live.”
My mother leaned away from me as if wondering who this strange boy was. Then she noticed what I had in my fist. Her eyes focused on the orange plastic bottle with the childproof cap. She snatched it from my grasp. “Cobi, what are you doing with these?”
They were her sleeping pills.
I didn’t answer, just kept crying. She scanned my room and saw the tall glass, filled halfway with water. She quickly put two and two together. Her eyes ballooned. “No! You didn’t!”
I hadn’t. But five minutes earlier I had been on the verge.
I was scared and lonely and felt as though no one really understood me. But my mother had always been open and honest with me. I thought the least I could do was tell her what I was considering before I actually went through with it.
She shook me out of my thoughts. “Did you take any of these? Answer me!”
“No, Ma. I didn’t,” I cried.
She threw the bottle of pills across the room and yanked me close to her.
Fully awake now, I sat up and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“I’m at the gate. Buzz me in,” a deep, throaty voice said.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I was in the neighborhood. I tried calling your cell a few times before coming over. You didn’t answer. Were you asleep? Is this a bad time? I can come back.”
“No, no, I wasn’t sleeping.” I lied. Wiping sleep out of my eyes, I triggered the gate out front.
When I opened the door, Tyler stood before me, wearing a gray pin-striped suit. He hugged me.
Tyler and I met a year ago at a One Hundred Black Men social downtown. I was standing near the bar, holding a beer, when he walked up. “Cobi Winslow, right? State’s attorney and heir to the Winslow hair care fortune. My name is Tyler Hayden Stevens,” he said, extending a hand. “State senator from Illinois.”
I looked down at his hand, saw the Rolex Milgauss peeking out from under his cuff and then the platinum wedding band on his finger.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I said. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I was watching you since you walked in the place. Just thought I’d come over and say hi.”
“Are you a stalker? On the way home, should I be worried that I’ll look into my rearview and see you following me?”
“Only if you want me to,” Tyler said with that dapper smile. “Say that you want me to.”
“You’re married,” I said.
“I am.”
“Wouldn’t that be a problem?”
“Only if you made it one. Will you make it one?”
I blushed a little. “Not at first. But I need to let you know up front, I’m going to want more than what you’re looking for.”
“What do you think I’m looking for?”
“Wild, sweaty, no-strings-attached-sex with a handsome man.”
“Yup,” Tyler said, showing a beautiful smile again. “That’s what I’m looking for.”
I closed my front door and walked back into my living room.
“How are you?” Tyler asked.
“I’m managing, but it’s rough, you know. I still expect Mom to step into the room and ask me if I’m hungry or walk in on Dad up in his study.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Me, too.”
“Have you found out any more about your brother?” he asked, mercifully changing the subject.
“I mailed a letter off to the Social Security Administration yesterday, like the lady said.”
“You’re going to get through this.” Tyler had a seat on the sofa. “And like I said, you know I’m here for you.”
“Are you?”
“Cobi,” Tyler shook his head as though he didn’t want to start with this discussion. “I told you—”
“I’ve been having nightmares. If I wake up at two in the morning and wanted to call you, or come over, could I?”
“You know you can’t. I have a wife and children. You know that.”
“Yes, I do. You have a wife and children. You don’t have time for this, for me.”
“Don’t say that.”
“We’ve been doing this a year. I told you when we first met, this wasn’t what I was looking for,” I said.
“I know.�
��
“When my father was alive, I had an excuse for not seeing you as often as I wanted. But now he’s gone and . . . I want someone who can be here for me.”
“I’ll do better.”
“Will you?”
“I will. I promise.”
“I need for you to be telling me the truth, for you to be serious about this.”
“I am, and I will,” Tyler said, pulling me to him. “I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know. I just missed you.”
“I missed you, too. But I need for you to keep your promise and—”
Tyler leaned in to kiss me softly on the lips. He was about to pull away, but I wrapped my arms around him, kept him there, only then realizing just how much I missed him.
After our kiss, Tyler said, “It’s been too long. I want you.”
I laughed sadly. “If you knew how much I wanted you too . . . but I’m worn out. It would be a waste of two minutes.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll do all the work,” Tyler said, pressing his hand into my chest, and pushing me back onto the sofa. “You need to take it easy anyway,” he said, lowering himself to his knees, spreading my thighs, and moving between them. “All I want you to do is relax, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, laying my head back, closing my eyes, and taking this time to forget about all that plagued me.
10
Two days later, halfway through reading the sports section, I heard the front door open. My sister called out. “Anyone home?”
“In the family room, Sis.”
She walked in wearing a suit and carrying her briefcase. She set the case down at the door, walked over, and lowered herself onto the sofa next to me. I could tell by the blank, sad stare on her face that she had bad news.
“We have to pay off Kendrick Wilshire, Cobi.”
I shot up from the sofa, waving my hands hysterically. “No! No!” I shook my head. “I told you no! I did nothing wrong, and for us to lie down and take this from that little lying, manipulative mofo—it’s not going to happen.”
“Okay, Cobi,” Sissy said, her voice very low and calm. “What do you think will happen if we don’t pay him?”
I paused for a moment, having not thought that far into the potential, dark future. “I’ll file charges against him for blackmail.”
“Okay, I’ll play,” Sissy said. “So do you have proof that you didn’t sexually harass him?”
“Does he have proof that I did?”
“Does he need it? Or will the accusation be enough to have people suspecting that you’re gay, something that you have not admitted. But worse, it will have people questioning whether you are an at-work sexual predator. Then what happens to your future plans to one day be attorney general?”
My sister stood and took me by my elbow. “I know this stinks, and if karma is really real, that little fucker will pay dearly at some point in his pathetic life. But for now, let’s just save ourselves the anguish of it all and pay the fool the fifty thousand dollars he’s asking for. I’ll have a confidentiality agreement drawn up protecting you from any more of his bullshit.”
“Fine,” I said, agreeing but still not wanting to. “But he comes to us, and I’m the one handing him the check. Understand?”
“As you wish,” Sissy said.
Two days later, Kendrick Dunstan Wilshire walked on crutches into my sister’s office at Winslow corporate, wearing a jacket and tie, like he was about to be picked for the NFL draft. That would never happen, because he was wearing a knee-to-toe cast protecting, as I had read on ESPN.com, a career-ending injury. I guess Sissy was right, and karma was not only real but swift.
Beside him stood his attorney, a woman named Lilith Banner. Coincidentally, she had been a year below me in law school; she now worked for a small firm out of Orland Park.
She had a copy of the confidentiality agreement we had sent to her office. She acted as though she didn’t know me, and I played along.
Lilith set the contract on Sissy’s desk.
Kendrick hobbled over on his crutches.
Lilith pulled a pen from her suit jacket pocket, gave it to Kendrick, and instructed him where to sign.
He glanced up at me with what I once thought were eyes the color of a beautiful green sea but now looked like the color of infant diarrhea. He signed the page, gave the pen back to Lilith, and rose up smiling.
“Mr. Winslow,” Lilith said.
I walked over while Kendrick stumbled his crippled butt out of the way and signed the contract as well.
“Excellent,” Sissy said, in an overly cheery voice. She grabbed the cashier’s check that had been made out to Kendrick for 50K and gave it to me.
I stepped up to Kendrick, leaving not a foot between us. He beamed, obviously excited about his payday. I gave him the check, then held out my hand.
He took it, and we shook.
“Sorry about your injury,” I said. “You would’ve gone high in the draft, maybe even number one.”
“It’s okay,” Kendrick said, confident. “I’ve still got the legal profession.”
With a vengeful smile, I said, “I hope you don’t intend to practice here or anywhere else in the country. I put the word out about you. Have a nice time trying to find a job.”
11
Over the past three weeks I had devoted almost all of my attention to finding Eric. I had been checking the mailbox every day for any information from the Social Security Administration. Nothing. I had been on the Internet, night and day, searching for any clues. I had even been actively searching obituaries.
It seemed like a hopeless cause.
Last night I told my sister what I had been doing. She was appalled.
“You don’t even know this man. What if he’s crazy, or worse? What if he’s poor?” my sister said, pacing back and forth in front of me. “You’re part of Winslow Products. What do you think it would look like for you to have a homeless brother, living on the streets?”
“Who said he was homeless? He could’ve accomplished what I have. He could be a physician, the head doctor at some hospital somewhere. Maybe a teacher or something.”
“Cobi, just drop it. Please. We have other much more important things to take care of, like finding you a wife.”
“How’s that going?” I said, still not certain if what Sissy was suggesting was the right way to go.
“I found someone in serious financial need. I hear she’s not quite as cultured as many of the society women I know, but she might have to do. You know Priya Parks, formally Priya Parks-Frazier. Married to—”
“Winston Wallace Frazier, the investor that swindled all that money?”
“Yes. The one they call the black Bernie Madoff. She’s the one.”
“But I thought they were very well off.”
“They were, till the feds came and took all of their money and threw Frazier in prison. The poor woman is lucky she didn’t go, too. Now she’s broke and looking for someone to save her. The meeting is tomorrow. Let’s hope that someone is you, Cobi.”
The next day, I was trying to appear as though I was not staring at Priya Parks as she sat in my living room across from Sissy.
Priya was much more attractive than the pictures I had seen of her in the newspapers and tabloids. Her hair was long and parted down the middle. She had a small mouth, big eyes, and wore a diamond stud in her nose. She wore a dark dress, as if just coming from a funeral. She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, listening to my sister.
“No one can know that this marriage has been arranged. You will be free to divorce only after two years, and you must live here at the Winslow Chicago residence for the duration of your marriage,” Sissy said. “Any questions?”
Priya Parks glanced over at me. I quickly looked down at my hands. This was the most ridiculous idea I had ever heard.
“You said there would be financial compensation?” Priya asked.
“Yes,
” Sissy said. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars annually. Plus room and board. All your expenses will be taken care of, to include a car if you need one, so the full five hundred thousand will be yours to do with as you please.”
Priya chuckled a little as she sat up in her chair. “I thought I heard something about his inheritance being twenty million dollars. I’m sorry, miss, but you’re going to have to do a little better than that.”
I wanted to laugh at how shocked my sister looked.
“Really, Ms. Frazier, all you’ll be doing is lying around here collecting a check.”
“No, sweetheart. There won’t be much lying around, considering your brother over there is gay. And didn’t you say something about me not being able to see other men?”
“No, you can’t see other men,” Sissy said. “How would that look if you got caught?”
“How would it look if you caught me jackin’ off on a vibrator every night. A woman has her needs, and the dick is one of mine,” Priya said with a snap of her fingers. She stood, grabbed her purse, and straightened her dress. She walked over to me and held out her hand. “I’m sorry that I can’t be the one, Mr. Winslow.”
I was smiling, almost laughing. “Me, too. But I appreciate you coming out. Is there anything you need for your time and trouble?”
“No. I’m fine. But thank you.”
Still holding on to Priya’s hand, I added, “I trust this will remain between those in this room.”
“After what I went through with my husband, having my business put out in the streets for all to hear, I would never think of doing that to another human being. Your secret is safe with me, honey.”
I walked Priya Parks to her car. When I stepped back in the house, Sissy was standing in the middle of the room, her arms folded, looking betrayed.
No One in the World Page 4
