The Playboy's Redemption

by Vanessa Miller

  “I don’t have nothing to do with that crazy chick.”

  “Whatever, Shawn. Just tell all of your girlfriends to leave me alone.” Lily hung up as tears that she promised herself, would never be shed over Shawn again, traitorously poured down her face.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Hey Shawn, what you know good?” a woman asked, who was clad in a white spandex jumpsuit that clung so tight, that every person who met her felt as if they knew her intimately.

  Shawn had known the dark eyed beauty in the most intimate way possible. He had dated Jules Moore before he met Lily. She’d been cool people, but once he’d gotten to know Lily and moved her into his house, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with other women. So, he’d lost touch with Jules. Now that Lily wouldn’t listen to the truth and wanted nothing to do with him, Shawn saw no reason that he should be some good little choir boy. “I know I haven’t seen you in a while. Where you been hiding?”

  Jules flashed him a smile that made most men want to pay her rent. “I’m not the one who’s been hiding. If I remember correctly, you came to me with lovesick starry eyes and told me that you were getting married and couldn’t hang out with me anymore.”

  Shawn shrugged his shoulders. “Things change.”

  “Tell me about it,” Jules said. “Me and my man just broke up, too.”

  “So, you might need a night on the town to get your mind off that sucka, huh?”

  “Something like that,” Jules said, trying to remain cool. Shawn had broken her heart when he stopped seeing her a few years back, so she didn’t want him to know just how much she really did want to go out with him again.

  Shawn hoisted his duffle bag onto his shoulder. He pointed toward the stadium where practice was being held. “I got to get in there and handle my business, but I’ll give you a call later on and set something up.” Shawn walked away feeling good about the smile that was on Jules’s face. But then he thought about the way Lily used to smile at him and wished he could see that again.

  Shawn was running his last scrimmage when trouble descended on him. Tito, their biggest linebacker was trying to block him. Shawn misstepped, Tito tackled him and then Shawn went down on the same knee that had been giving him trouble since his first year as a pro. He let out an explicative as he laid on the field, holding his knee, thinking about how life kept turning sour on him.

  “You all right, man?” Tito asked as he stood over him.

  “Naw man, I’m hit. Tell them to get the stretcher. I don’t want to walk on it.”

  They brought the stretcher and then took Shawn into the locker room where Dr. Hank was working on Roy Carter, the team’s wide receiver and all around do-gooding saint of the year. He was the type of player who got on his knee and crossed himself with his head lowered in praise to God after making a touchdown. Shawn steered clear of him.

  “Let me go get some pain meds for the both of you. I think I might need to get a few X-rays,” Dr. Hank said as he stepped out of the room for a second.

  “Hey Shawn,” Roy said with a huge smile on his face.

  “Hey Roy,” Shawn returned the greeting without so much as a grin.

  “Lawrence O’Donnell has an organization where people can help buy desks for school children in Malawi. It’s called the KIND fund or something like that. You might want to check it out. You can go to www.LastwordDesks.com to donate.”

  Here we go with the do-gooder crap. “Man, are you trying to tell me that school kids in Hawaii don’t have desks?”

  “Not Maui. I’m talking about Malawi. It’s a republic in Africa and the children are sitting on the floor holding paper and pencils in their hands, trying to do their school work. I just figured you might be interested since you’re starting that foundation for your dad.”

  Dr. Hank came back in the room and handed both Roy and Shawn some pain medicine. Once Shawn took his meds, he sat up and hung his legs over the side of the bed as he told Roy, “Look man, I don’t really believe in all that ‘give and it shall be given back to you’ stuff that my daddy is on.”

  “But your father gave you the money, so you might as well use it to do good, right? And those kids could really use your help. I donated to them last night.” Roy said, with a hopeful expression on his face.

  “I gave the money back to my father. I’m just not a do gooder like you and the rest of my family.”

  “I didn’t know that you gave the money back,” Roy sounded disheartened now.

  “What? Please… I told the old man that if he wanted to put some paper in my hands, then I needed it to come with no strings attached. I mean look at me. My knee is all busted up. Who’s to say how many more years I have before I’m forced to retire. That was supposed to be my money, and he wants to just give it away—well then, he can do it without me. I’m not wit’ it.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I think you passed on an opportunity to make a real difference in other peoples’ lives.”

  “Forget the world, and all its occupants. I’m still waiting on someone to make a difference in my life.”

  After that lovely speech, Shawn and Roy were taken to X-ray. Roy didn’t bother Shawn again; however, Shawn felt the man’s disapproval of him. But Shawn didn’t care. He wasn’t about to spend his life pretending that he was in love with the idea of giving away money that should have belonged to him. He wasn’t made like that, and his daddy, the great and wonderful Joel Morrison should have known him by now.

  After the X-ray, Shawn limped his way toward his pure black, SLR Mercedes Benz with light brown, Nappa leather interior. As he reached for the door handle, a man and woman walked over to him, took out their badges and asked, “Shawn Morrison?”

  As if they didn’t know. “The one and only.”

  “I’m Detective Ron Jones and this is my partner, Marcie Henderson.” Detective Jones pointed to the woman standing next to him. The look on her face was all business.

  “What can I do for you?” Shawn asked.

  “We need to speak with you down at the station about Paris Holmes,” Detective Jones said.

  Shawn opened his car door and threw his duffel bag in. “I don’t need to go to the police station. This will be a quick conversation, because I don’t have anything to say about Paris. I’ll let my lawyers deal with her in court.”

  “Your lawyers won’t be dealing with Ms. Holmes,” Detective Henderson said quickly.

  “Oh trust me; I keep a guy on retainer to handle groupies like Paris. I’m not worried.”

  “What Detective Henderson is trying to tell you is that Paris Holmes is no longer your problem, because she’s dead.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Eric held the phone in his hand tightly, as he closed his eyes and prayed that this conversation would go the way he needed it to.

  Isaiah rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “It’s five in the morning, what do you think I’m doing?”

  Eric took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for waking you up so early, but I need your help.”

  On full alert now, Isaiah sat up. “Is something wrong with Linda?” His sister-in-law was a recovering alcoholic and Isaiah and his wife, Ramona had been praying fervently for Linda, especially since she was now pregnant.

  “No… no, nothing’s wrong with Linda. At least not in the way you might be thinking.”

  “Well then, why would you call me at five in the morning?” Then Isaiah’s head began to ache, he had just talked to his father last night and the elder Morison seemed in good spirits and health, but he was getting ready to turn eighty-five in a few weeks. “Did something happen to Dad?”

  “Isaiah, will you please calm down and let me tell you what’s going on?”

  Ramona pushed Isaiah and pointed at the door. “I’m trying to sleep,” she said groggily.

  Isaiah got out of bed and went into his home office, while holding the cordless phone to his ear, listening to his brother.

  “One of us needs
to get down to Louisiana and help Shawn before Dad finds out what’s going on,” Eric said.

  Isaiah rolled his eyes heavenward. His youngest brother was always getting himself into some kind of trouble and the rest of the family came to his rescue without question. But Isaiah was through running to Shawn’s rescue. After discovering that the brother he trusted had slept with his ex-wife… Isaiah was done. “What has Shawn gotten himself into now and why do we have to help him?”

  “The latest woman who accused him of fathering her child was stabbed to death and the police have taken Shawn in for questioning.”

  “And?” Isaiah asked, figuring that there had to be more to this story. If all the police were doing was questioning Shawn, why did they need to be concerned?

  “One of my friend’s within that police station called me. Shawn isn’t cooperating.” Eric answered.

  “That figures. Well, if that bonehead won’t help the police find the killer of the mother of one of his kids, why should we lift a finger to help him?”

  “I don’t know what’s going through Shawn’s mind right now, but I’m worried that if Shawn gets arrested and word gets back to Daddy… I’m not sure his heart can take something like this.”

  Hadn’t he just been having the same thoughts about his father? “Okay, you’re right. So, what do we need to do to help this bonehead?”

  A brief hesitation, and then Eric said, “One of us needs to go down there and talk some sense into Shawn.”

  “So why are you calling me? Why don’t you go and see about your brother?” Isaiah asked defiantly. He was not in the mood to help Shawn with anything. Two years had passed since discovering his brother’s treachery and Isaiah had truly been praying about forgiving his brother. But so far, his heart still wasn’t in the forgiving business.

  “Linda’s doctor just put her on bed rest. After having those two miscarriages years ago, she’s nervous about being on bed rest. I can’t leave her right now. You understand that, don’t you, Isaiah?”

  He did understand. Those miscarriages had caused Linda’s drinking problem in the first place. And drinking problem or not, Isaiah knew that he wouldn’t leave Ramona if she were six months pregnant and had just been placed on bed rest. “Why don’t you call Dee Dee? She would go down there and knock some sense into Shawn’s thick head.”

  “Dee Dee’s shooting a film in Italy right now. Drake and Natua are over there with her.”

  Elaine and her husband were on a mission’s trip in Mexico, so they wouldn’t be able to go either. Isaiah wished he had some good excuse to bail on Shawn also, but he didn’t. So he lowered his head, said a quick prayer and then told Eric. “Let me talk to Ramona to make sure that she and Erin will be okay with me being gone for a day or two and then I’ll make my flight arrangements.”

  “I knew I could count on you, bro. Thanks for helping out.”

  “Don’t thank me, you and Shawn need to be thanking God, because if I wasn’t ‘sho nuff’ saved, I’d leave that boy to fend for himself.”

  “Well then praise the Lord,” Eric shouted.

  “Oh, and Eric, I don’t know if I expressed this clearly enough to you last week, but Ramona and I thought you should have won that race.”

  “Don’t worry about it, bro. I didn’t get to be governor; but I did get my family back, and that means more to me than any political office. And besides, Linda and I are already working on our strategy for my next campaign.”

  Isaiah shook his head. “Just don’t go into congress. You know them psychos only have about a nine percent approval rating.”

  ***

  “Look Shawn, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The question is: How bad do you want to play in the next game?”

  “I don’t have anything to say to you. If you’re going to arrest me, then bring on the handcuffs,” Shawn said while staring at the wall. He had been held in this interrogation room so long that he’d lost track of time. But that didn’t matter. They could keep him in this room for a year or more, and he still wouldn’t tell them anything about the day Paris was murdered.

  “We already know that you went to see Paris the day she was murdered. The apartment complex had a surveillance tape. We saw you coming and going. You were mad going in, but whatever that woman said to you inside her apartment just got you hotter, because smoke was blowing out of your ears when you left.”

  Shawn still said nothing.

  “Paris was stabbed numerous times. This was obviously a crime of passion. The only reason we haven’t arrested you yet, is because that same surveillance tape shows Paris leaving her apartment about an hour after you stormed out. So, what happened? Did you call and ask her to meet you somewhere? The woman was trying to take your money for that kid she just had… it’s understandable that you would be upset.”

  Shawn didn’t care how much these detectives talked or how long they kept him in this small room. They could arrest him if they wanted, but he still wasn’t about to say jack about the day Paris got herself killed.

  There was a knock on the door and Detective Jones opened it. “Can I help you?”

  A man in a brown pinstriped suit stepped in and put his briefcase on the table. He held out his hand to Shawn as he told Detective Jones, “I’m Melvin Cotrell, I have been hired to represent Mr. Morrison and I need to know why you decided to detain my client for over thirty-six hours?”

  Jones started stuttering. “I-I wouldn’t say tha- that we’ve detained him. I’ve been trying to get Shawn to answer a few questions so we can find the person who killed the mother of his child. But he isn’t interested in helping us, which causes me to wonder why.”

  “You can do all the wondering you want, but if my client isn’t being charged with anything, then we are leaving this instant.” Melvin Cotrell took out a business card, handed it to Jones, and then said, “The next time you’d like to have a chat with Mr. Morrison, please notify me first.”

  Melvin put his hands on Shawn’s shoulder and directed him to stand up.

  “Don’t get lost, Morrison. I may need to speak with you again about this,” Detective Jones said, as Shawn and his attorney walked out of the interrogation room.

  For the first time in thirty-six hours, Shawn smiled. “Did you see the look on his face? That was priceless. Man, who hired you… my dad?”

  “No, your father doesn’t know anything about this, and I’ve been instructed to keep it that way. We are going out the back door so we can avoid any nosey reporters. Come with me.”

  Shawn’s knee was still bothering him from practice, so he limped along as he followed Melvin through the police station. “If my father didn’t send you, who did?”

  They stepped out of the back door. A black sedan with tinted windows was parked and waiting for them. “Your brother,” Melvin said as he opened the back door and motioned for Shawn to get in.

  As Shawn walked toward the car, all he could think about was the lecture he was about to get from Eric, Mr. Do-the-right-thing. “How did Eric find out that the police had me hemmed up?” Shawn asked. He was just about to put his hand on the car door and get into the car.

  But Isaiah poked his head out of the car and yelled, “Boy, quit all this yapping and get your bonehead self in this car.”

  The shock of seeing Isaiah caused Shawn’s hand to slip off the car door. He lost his footing and went tumbling down, falling on his already injured knee.

  Isaiah jumped out of the car and helped Shawn up. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  “I’m all right. I guess I was just a bit shocked to see you here,” Shawn said as he attempted to walk, but his knee caved in on him. “Not again,” Shawn said without thinking.

  “Not again, what?” Isaiah asked.

  “Nothing, it’s cool.”

  Melvin and Isaiah helped Shawn get into the car. As Melvin drove, Shawn kept inhaling and exhaling as if that action could relieve his pain.

  “Sorry for yelling at you, bro. I certainly didn’t want you
to injure yourself,” Isaiah said and meant it.

  “Don’t worry about it. Maybe if I’m injured so badly that I can’t play anymore, you’ll consider us even.” But as Shawn said the words, he knew in his heart that nothing Isaiah could do to him would ever take away the sting of what he had done to Isaiah.

  Shawn had a lifetime of regrets. He just didn’t know if he had enough time to make up for any of his transgressions. But he had at least started paying Lily back for everything he’d ever done to her as he sat in the interrogation room and kept his mouth shut.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Rushing around the house like a mad woman, Lily got her kids dressed, packed lunches and called Shawn in fifteen minute intervals. When it became abundantly clear that he wasn’t going to answer his home or cell phone, Lily called her hair stylist.

  “Hey girl, what’s up?” Barbara asked as she picked up the phone.

  “Sorry to be such a flake, but I need to cancel my appointment for this morning.”

  “Daddy-O never showed up, huh?”

  Barbara had been doing Lily’s hair for ten years, so she’d been around for the entire seven years of Shawn-drama. And she’d simply stopped pretending that all was right in her world. “He was supposed to have the boys today. Little Shawn has a pee-wee football game in about forty-five minutes and I haven’t heard from Shawn.”

  “He’s normally pretty good about his weekends with the boys, isn’t he?”

  “I’ve always been able to count on Shawn when it came to the kids. But things change, and I’m not about to disappoint my children just because Shawn has forgotten that he’s a daddy today.”

  “I hear you, girl. So, do you want to come in on Tuesday?”

  Since she started attending church with her mother, Lily liked having her hair done on Saturday so it would be fresh for Sunday service. But like Judge Judy told countless women who came on her court show complaining about some guy who’d done them wrong, “you picked him”. Lily had not only picked Shawn Morrison, she’d done everything but shine his shoes in order to get him to notice her. And since she was now doing this salvation thing with Jesus, she had been spending a lot of time telling herself the truth as she saw it. So she’d had to admit that she’d gotten pregnant with her first son to keep Shawn Morrison in her life.