by Tracy Brown
“Hi,” she said. “Officer King, right?”
He nodded, flattered that she remembered his name.
“What did I do now?”
He laughed, shook his head. “No, you didn’t do anything.” He looked around as if he had something painful to admit. “I looked up your license plate number and got your address. I’m not supposed to do that, so I hope you’re not planning to rat me out.”
Camille frowned. “Why?” Her paranoia made her wonder if he was a stalker, or if perhaps he was part of a larger investigation into her husband’s illegal operations.
“I thought about you after that night at your husband’s … at his um…”
“Girlfriend’s house.” Camille saw no point in beating around the bush.
“Yeah,” Officer King said, laughing uneasily. “Anyway, you’re a beautiful woman.”
Camille smiled involuntarily.
“And I just couldn’t help noticing that. I think your husband is a fool.”
Camille found herself reluctantly flattered by the lengths this man had gone to in order to tell her this.
“Wow,” she said, otherwise speechless. She realized that she hadn’t been complimented by a man—her husband more specifically—in months. It hadn’t occurred to her until now how much she had missed that.
“So…” He seemed like he hadn’t thought his plan out this far ahead. “I’m sure you’re not looking to get involved with somebody new right now, but I just wanted you to know that I’m available for friendship.”
Camille giggled a little.
He smiled again. “I have great credentials for friendship. I make a good listener, I won’t borrow money.” He stopped joking around and got serious. “If you want to go and get something to eat or something, I would be honored to—”
“Officer King,” she interrupted.
“Elijah. You can call me Eli.”
She smiled despite herself. He was cute. “Eli, I’m broke, so there’s no going Dutch. Is this your treat?”
His smile broadened. He assumed, based on the opulence of her million-dollar home, that Camille was joking about being broke. “Absolutely.”
She nodded, grabbed her keys and her bag. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Misa sat with her legs crossed, her hands folded in her lap as casually as possible. Her shoulders were relaxed, her gaze was steady and she didn’t fidget, not even once. Her voice was firm, and the chignon in her hair gave her the illusion of being an innocent young mother. Her attorney Teresa Rourke was impressed. She decided then that Misa would make an excellent witness. The two of them had spent the past two hours going over grueling testimony, practice cross-examinations, and things to avoid doing in front of the jury. Misa had gone over her story step by step by step and it all added up. Everything could have happened exactly the way Misa said it did.
The only problem was that Steven wasn’t alive to tell his side of the story.
“I think you’re ready,” Teresa said. “But when we step into that courtroom next week, you have to know that every eye in that room is going to be on you. They’re going to attack your character, your parenting, and even your family’s reputation. So, you have to be blind and deaf to all of that and stick to the facts at hand. You believed he was molesting your son.”
“He was molesting my son.” Misa wasn’t going to allow anyone—not even her own attorney—to question what she knew in her gut to be true.
Teresa nodded. “Okay. And you confronted him, armed to defend yourself in case he got violent. He lunged at you and you shot him in self-defense. To your credit, you didn’t run or try to elude the police in any way. You have a good case, Misa.”
Misa was glad to hear that. Still, she felt a “but” coming on.
“But I want you to know that they’re going to question whether or not Steven was truly guilty of what you say he did. He didn’t admit it, according to your story. In fact, he denied it.”
“I don’t give a fuck what he said!” Misa was vexed and her voice loomed larger than she was. “He did that to my son! And anybody sick enough to do that shit deserves to die.”
“See?” Teresa shook her head, her long hair bouncing as she did so. “You can’t do that on the witness stand. That right there will make a jury turn against you.”
“Why? Because it’s true?” Misa was sick of all this judicial bullshit.
Teresa sighed. “No. Because it sounds as if you made yourself judge and jury that night. You didn’t call the police, Misa. You went over there and killed him. Self-defense is the only way this is a winnable case.”
Misa understood that. But it was hard not to erupt in anger whenever anyone suggested that Steven was somehow a victim in all of this.
“If you give off the impression that you planned this, they will convict you. We want them to see you as a scared young mother who only wanted to protect her baby, to protect herself.”
“Okay,” Misa said, and she knew her attorney was giving her good advice. But in her mind, she wondered if she could really sit silently and watch them paint that devil as a saint in court. She nodded, apologized to Teresa for her outburst, and prayed for a miracle.
* * *
It was Grammy night, and Dominique felt like such a grown-up. Tonight, she could party guilt free until the wee hours of the morning for once. She had been spending every spare moment of her time with her daughter in order to make up for lost time. She enjoyed her child’s company, but she was eager for a night to let her hair down and be a grown-up! Octavia was safely accounted for at Toya’s house for the night while Dominique had been at L.A. Reid’s Grammy party to celebrate the success of some of the label’s biggest acts. But all the dancing had taken its toll on her. The loud music and louder outfits worn by the entertainers and their entourages was enough to make Dominique feel like an old lady. She wanted to be anywhere else but here.
The party was jumping. R&B sensation Kiara was performing and Dominique was seated at a table with three of the five nominees for best new artist. Sangria and conversation flowed nonstop. Dominique sucked on a piece of fruit from the bottom of her glass and glanced at her phone to see what time it was. It was 1:54 A.M. She took a chance and text messaged Archie.
Are you still up?
After a few minutes, a reply flashed across the screen. Yeah.
She smiled, encouraged by the alcohol in her system and typed a reply.
Can I come over?
She thought about Jamel and his constant phone calls lately. He was full of apologies and excuses for why he’d gone back to selling drugs, back to his baby mama, back to everything he swore he was finished with. He had even resorted to passing messages to her through his mother, hopeful that hearing how sorry he was might soften Dominique’s determination to hate him forever. She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. To her, he was a scared little bitch, deceitful and full of shit. There were two things she hated more than anything—liars and cowards. Jamel fell into both categories.
Minutes more passed, with Dominique second-guessing herself. If Archie didn’t respond or if he said no, she’d be humiliated. Then she felt her phone vibrate in her bag and looked at the screen.
Of course.
Dominique was overjoyed. She spent another few minutes at the party before hurrying out and hitting the FDR. Traffic was surprisingly light and it wasn’t long before she parked her car outside of Archie’s apartment building and refreshed her lip gloss. She climbed the stairs to his apartment and knocked. Archie quickly opened the door.
Ushering her inside, he noticed that Dominique was teetering slightly on her four-inch Louboutin boots.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She stepped into the living room, stripped out of her black leather jacket, and grinned. “Nope.”
Archie smirked, caught off guard. “You are not all right?” His accent was so thick and so sexy to her.
Dominique shook her head. “I’m a little tipsy,” she admitted before slumping ont
o his love seat and crossing her legs.
Archie smiled and joined her there. “So you shouldn’t be driving.”
She knew he was right. “I know. I just didn’t have the patience to sit at the party till I sobered all the way up.”
He nodded. “I guess you had fun tonight?”
She smiled. “Yes. I was drinking sangria … Delicious!”
She kicked off her boots and regaled him with some details of her evening rubbing elbows with the music industry’s elite. Together, they watched an old Eddie Murphy movie on cable and before long, Dominique had sobered up somewhat. Archie didn’t want her to be too tipsy tonight. He didn’t want her to forget what he was going to do to her.
Laughing at one of Eddie’s jokes, Archie leaned close to her. With little room between them, and their faces merely inches apart, their kiss happened easily. Archie pulled her onto his lap and she straddled him as they tongued one another passionately. Firmly, and ever so carefully, Archie palmed her ass and stood up, lifting her easily in his arms as he carried her slowly toward his bedroom. Their kiss uninterrupted as he walked down the long corridor, Dominique wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. She felt herself melting into his arms, feeling so safe there and so wanted. Finally, they entered his bedroom. Gently, he placed her on his bed and shut the bedroom door behind them.
Archie stripped her out of her clothes and she helped him, eagerly pulling her Rachel Roy dress over her head. Climbing out of his pajamas, he mounted her, stroking her face and sucking ever so softly on each of her breasts with an erotic mixture of pleasure and pain. Their lovemaking spanned hours and sounded nearly animalistic as she came over and over again. He palmed her ample ass in his big hands, kneading it as he grinded into her and felt her wetness engulf him in a creamy tidal wave. Finally, after nearly two hours of alternating positions and unparalleled pleasure, Archie came. Sweaty and out of breath, he collapsed on top of her, his long dick still lodged limply within her sugar walls, and fell asleep, cradling her in his arms. Dominique smiled, feeling more content than she had in all her years of fucking with bitch-ass Jamel, and drifted into a peaceful and euphoric sleep.
It was four o’clock in the morning when she awoke to Archie spooning her. Her hair was a mess, the sheets were wet from a mixture of sweat and secretions and morning breath had crept up on them both. Still, Archie pulled her close to him from behind, her ass resting against his hard dick. Slipping on a condom, he entered her sideways, stroking her to paradise once more.
She didn’t recall falling asleep again, but apparently she had. It was now after ten o’clock in the morning and Dominique hadn’t even bothered to check in at the office. True, it was Friday and it was unlikely that any real work would get done the day after the Grammys. But it was so uncharacteristic of her to play hooky so boldly from the job she cherished.
She pondered going into work, and it seemed as if Archie read her mind. As he stirred awake, he noticed her sitting up in bed and pulled her back down beside him. Wrapping her in his strong embrace he kissed her neck.
“Don’t leave yet,” he said. “I don’t have anywhere to be today.”
Dominique was tempted. His voice seemed to pull her toward him, but she resisted. “I have some things I need to do.”
He frowned. “What you have to do?”
She thought about it. There was really nothing that warranted her immediate attention. Still, it seemed odd for her to remain there with him in the daylight hours. She shrugged. “I don’t know. But I don’t do this,” she said, gesturing at the bed in which they lay.
He pulled away slightly and smiled at her. “You don’t do what? Relax?”
Dominique was caught off guard by that.
“You don’t really relax, do you?” he pressed. “Every time I see you or talk to you, you are going somewhere or doing something.”
She thought about it. It was true. She felt as if her life was in a constant state of self-imposed “fast-forward.” “You’re right.”
“So stay. Relax.”
Dominique took a deep breath and thought it over. Fuck it! She settled into the crook of his arm and draped one of her legs across his. Archie grabbed the remote to the large-screen TV perched on his bedroom’s far wall and turned on a Showtime series on demand. He explained the premise to her and before she knew it they’d watched five consecutive episodes. With their bodies intertwined, they napped off and on throughout the day. They’d wake up and have long conversations, their faces merely inches apart.
One such discussion involved her relationship with Jamel.
“So, your man is home now, no?” Archie asked.
Dominique rolled her eyes. She shook her head. “Not for long.” She looked at him with an expression that showed her disdain. “He came home a month ago, got right back on the block and right back in his baby mama’s bed.”
Archie scoffed at that. “With a good woman like you behind him?”
Dominique nodded. She knew she was a good woman and that Jamel was too dumb to realize it.
“Well, he’s a fool, then. If he couldn’t see that he had a good thing, it’s his loss.”
Dominique agreed. “I just feel kinda dumb, you feel me? I should have known better,” she said. “He ain’t shit, and everybody realized that but me. It’s just a matter of time before he winds up right back in jail.”
Archie listened as she blamed herself for her ex’s shortcomings and rubbed her feet as they lay in bed. “Well, you learn lessons as you go along. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
Dominique grinned. “I think the lesson is to lock my heart away inside a fortress.”
Archie smiled. “I don’t think that’s it.”
“What is it then?” Dominique propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him for the answer.
“You have to peep the warning signs sooner next time. You can still love. Just make sure you’re gettin’ the same love and respect in return. And just because one man doesn’t appreciate you don’t mean that no other man ever will.”
Dominique thought about it as she massaged his chiseled chest. Archie gave her some purple kush to puff on while she relaxed. It felt blissful and the entire day passed with them lying there that way. The sun had risen and gone down again without either of them bothering to stray too far from the comfort they found in Archie’s big bed.
From time to time, they checked their cell phones and noticed missed calls relating to each of their businesses. They responded to the quick fixes and ignored anything that would separate them for an extended period of time. For the first time in far too long, Dominique felt like a man not only appreciated her presence but cherished it. He made her feel so good that she wanted to make sure she did all she could to make him feel the same way.
At last, at nearly 7:00 P.M., Dominique gathered her things, kissed Archie for endless moments as she bid him a reluctant good-bye, and headed home to get her heart in check.
* * *
“So you’re pregnant?”
Eli didn’t hide his disappointment, and then felt badly for that. “I don’t mean it like that. I mean I’m happy for you, but … damn.”
Camille had to admit that this was pretty tough luck—that she would meet a handsome, single man who liked her right after she’d discovered she was pregnant by her philandering husband. “I think I’m in this by myself, though,” she said, sadly. “My marriage is over, so I gotta move on. New year, new start, you know?”
Eli knew she was trying to sound optimistic, and he felt sorry for her. It had to be hard watching her marriage fall apart before her eyes. “I hear you,” he said. She ate her grilled chicken sandwich and Eli watched her as she chewed. He thought she was adorable.
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” He took a bite of his quarter pounder and thought about the other things she had told him. “So you said you’re staying in Long Island now?”
She nodded. “Yeah, with my mom. I needed to get away from it all.” Camill
e didn’t elaborate.
“I live in Queens. That’s not so far away. Since you’re pregnant, you’ll probably be hungry a lot over the next few months. I can meet you at your neighborhood Mickey D’s. Cheer you up every now and then.” He took another bite.
Camille stared at him for several seconds and then frowned. “Why?” she asked. “I mean why to all of this? You live in Queens. So on your day off you drive all the way out here to Staten Island to ring my bell and ask me out … all because you thought I was cute when you kicked me out of—”
“I didn’t kick you out,” Eli corrected, his mouth half full. “I was very nice.”
“Whatever.” Camille was confused. “You came all the way out here for what?”
“To ask you out,” he said. “It is my day off, but I had to go to court downtown this morning to testify in a case. Afterwards, I thought about you. Like I told you, I had your address and I decided to stop by and take my chances.”
“You came all that way to find me because you thought I was cute?”
He nodded and Camille twisted her face into a doubtful expression.
“You must think I’m younger or dumber than I really am.”
Eli shrugged. “I was curious,” he admitted. “Your husband is laid up with his mistress in a multimillion-dollar Upper East Side town house. You got on a coat worth more than what I make in a month, driving the brand-new Range. And despite all that obvious wealth, I thought you seemed … sad, really sad and kinda fragile. So I was intrigued. I kept thinking about you and I wanted to find out more, to see if you were willing to give a guy like me a chance with a woman like you.”
Camille wasn’t buying it. “A woman like me. You don’t even know me.”
“I’m trying to get to know you.”
“And now I tell you that I’m pregnant by my husband and you still want to hang out with me. Why?”
Eli finished chewing and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He looked at Camille and figured he had nothing to lose by leveling with her.
“I’ve only been a cop for two years, but I see women like you all the time,” he said. “Battered women with beautiful faces and expensive homes.”
