Need Me (Truthful Lies Trilogy Book Three)

by Dunning, Rachel

  “Lawd knows I wouldn’t have accepted yo ass back if I was her! She must really love you. And you gotta respect that, Deck.”

  There’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s trying to say more. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugs. “Just sayin. ’Cause a girl like that don’t come along more than once in a lifetime. If that. So what’s your Plan B for this Tatiana broad?”

  “Plan B?”

  “Yeah, Plan B. Going the court route is Plan A. It’s a bad plan. Because you know that would ruin your career, no matter what the ruling. And if you pay her the four mil, well, that just sucks seeing as you didn’t do nuthin worse than what chicks and dudes been doin since forever. She could have kept her legs closed. Am I right?”

  “I guess.”

  “Well, it’s ten seconds left on the clock and if you miss the touchdown you’re out the team, out the league, and out the sport. You can’t expect Blaze to hang around with you if you miss on this one. I know she loves you, but she deserves the good things in life. Currently, you can provide that stuff. If your name gets dragged through the mud, people will never stop looking at her as ‘that girl with that sex offender.’ In fact, I’ll be there to tell her to leave you, bro. Because you owe her. You fucked up, but I think you know that. So I ain’t gonna ram it down your throat. But because you fucked up, you can’t give her no shitty life with you. You owe her to make this go away, and to give her the life she deserves, know what I mean?”

  “You talk as if I’m gonna marry her.”

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  He’s got me. I feel my lips tug upwards, but I just look down at my beer.

  “Thought so. So, Plan B. What is it? Because we have to win this fucker. And don’t think throwin a Hail Mary’s gonna cut it. We need more, Deck. We need an actual to factual honest-to-goodness freaking Plan that will make this go away without you wasting your fortune (which should be spent on Blaze, I believe) and without having your names dragged through the mud. Notice? I said namezzzz. Because Blaze’s name will go down with yours.”

  So much for not talking about the bad things during the holidays. “You got any ideas?”

  “I do. Three of them illegal, another two legal. The illegal ones would screw with your ability to provide for Blaze as well. I know that shit happens in the movies, but this ain’t the movies. The legal ideas, well, you might not like them.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Well, shoot is illegal idea one. So let’s skip that altogether. But, the legal ideas: One. See the wife. Wives have an uncanny ability to find out more things about their husbands than anyone else. This Lerrington is married, isn’t he?”

  “Justin said he is, yes.”

  “Well, go see her. Directly. And talk to her. Tell her you suspect her man is sleeping with someone. She might bawl you out, but if he is doing it—which we know he is—she’ll put two and two together and then, after she’s over the initial shock, come down on him. That could end it right there.”

  “M-hmm. Sounds like a good plan.”

  “I only come up with good plans, homes.” He takes three large swigs of his non-alcoholic beer. “Now, number two. You ready?” He waits.

  I look at him. “What?”

  “Go see the bitch yourself. In a public place, of course. Appeal to her humanity.”

  “Tatiana!?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s nuts.”

  “All genius plans are.” He uncrosses his leg and sits forward. “It’s worth a shot, homes. Very few people approach ‘Hitlerian’ in their personalities. I’m not saying she’s not as batty as he was. But if she isn’t, you might just make this all go away with one good conversation. Maybe there’s some humanity buried deep down inside her. You need to appeal to that.”

  “Can I stick with option one only?”

  “Actually, Deck, I think you need to do both. If option one works out, she might just try something else in the future. She’ll keep coming at you until she has you. And if she can’t get your money, which it’s clear she wants, she’ll just aim for ruining your life. The press doesn’t need evidence, just people who’ll say things. Then it’s those people who are the responsible parties, not the reporter reporting it. And public opinion is swayed very easily, especially the more scandalous the story. Welcome to America, baby.”

  “Fuck.” I run my hand through my hair.

  “You can say that again. But, honestly, I think it’s your only real option. This legal route, nah, forget it. Lawyers get paid too much to swindle things through a flawed system as it is.”

  He’s right. And I know it.

  The girls come out holding mouth-watering turkey. We sit at the large table and Trev carves up the first slice. Blaze sits at my right, hand on my knee. Jacinta’s across from her. She smiles at Blaze, then at me, then back at Blaze. She runs a hand over her growing belly, then pipes up, “You two look good together. And it’s not just the riot of color on both your arms.” Blaze laughs melodically.

  “Thank you,” Blaze says. She puts a hand on my cheek, pulls me down to her and kisses me, smiling.

  Everything forgotten.

  Not a problem in the world.

  And today, this afternoon, it’s true.

  -2-

  We’re all on the couch watching some RomCom the chicks picked out. It was three against two on the vote (“Three-and-a-half! My baby boy votes on his momma’s side!” Jacinta had said.) Trev and I had wanted to check out the latest Denzel Washington Boom and Crash action flick. No go.

  I’m a little bored out of my skull when my phone buzzes and starts playing Blaze’s single. I added it as a ring-tone yesterday. She smiles at me and I say, “Whoops! Sorry! Gotta take this,” without even looking at who’s calling, too desperate to get out of the movie torture.

  I step out onto the chilly balcony, looking down over Prospect Park, Brooklyn’s own Central Park. Tiny flakes of snow meander quietly down, just remnants of the mini-blizzard we had earlier. I finally look at my phone. I have one of those ever-growing contact lists where I never delete anybody’s number.

  I see Gina Moretti’s calling me...

  I close the balcony door behind me. Blaze is looking at me, smiling, but her smile dies the moment she sees the seriousness on my face. I try smile back regardless, and yet I get the feeling she can see right through me.

  I take the call. “Gina. What’s up?”

  “Deck, honey, how are ya?” Gina’s from Jersey.

  “I’m, uhm, OK. How’s...” (I think of asking her how her brother is, but, yeah, her answer would probably be something like “still incarcerated.”) “...life?”

  She giggles. “‘Life’ is fine, thanks to you. And Dino is also OK, in case you were wonderin. They have a good rehab program inside.”

  I sure hope so...

  “Deck, uhm, look...” Pause. “...don’t read anythin into this. Uhm, it’s not like I don’t read the news... You know, that Blaze tattoo, and the girl?” Gina says girl like goyirl.

  “Uhm, yeah.” I kick some snow off the balcony and through the railing, watch it float timidly down the twelve stories to the ground. I turn and see Blaze is looking straight at the TV and not at me.

  “Well, look, Deck, y’know, because it’s Christmas and all, I...well...like I said, don’t read anything into it—but could you and me do coffee some time?” Coffee comes out as cawhfee.

  “Coffee?”

  “Yeah, look, Deck, please, I’m not tryin to get into ya pants or anythin. I just...look...I owe you a lot and...I was just wonderin, y’know...”

  Christ. Why can’t these chicks just leave me alone! “Look, Gina, I...uhm...” I can’t say it. Why wouldn’t I grab a cup with her? She was out of her mind for years. I helped her get back. Surely there’d be some sort of friendship there that we’d maintain.

  But you also fucked her, Deck. And before she lost her mind she was a siren, pulling you down by her seductions.

  “Gina, I can’t. I’m sor
ry. I just...”

  “Deck, here’s the deal, sweetie: I...I owe you my life, babe. I know we’re not datin. Oh, I’m engaged by the way.”

  Engaged!? “Wow. Who?”

  “Dude from night school. You know I had to get my basic High School diploma after leaving Dymphna’s.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, anyway, I met him there. We been seein’ each other for some years now. And, anyway, about three months ago he popped the question. I love him, Deck. He’s a good man.”

  “I see.”

  “Look, Deck. You and me’s always gonna have a special place for each other. OK, lemme rephrase that. I’m always gonna have a special place for you, and I’m not talkin about before. I’m talkin about what you did fuh me, at the home. Y’know, bringin me back an’ all.”

  “M-hmm.”

  “I’d like us to be friends, Deck. If that’s OK wichoo.”

  Somehow, me being around other females privately just never works out and always gets me into shit. “Gina, I’m sorry, I—”

  And then the balcony door opens, and Blaze is suddenly next to me, her pixie gold hair being blown across her eyes. I stop talking and put the phone to my shoulder. She smiles wanly. When she sees I’m uncomfortable, she starts going back inside. I grab her arm, shake my head. I mouth the words, It’s Gina!

  Her eyes go wide, then she frowns, confused. She whispers, “Gina?”

  I nod.

  She shrugs, like she doesn’t care. She starts going in again, but I hold her back. I don’t want to have any secrets. If Blaze came out here she’s welcome to stay if she wants. I put the phone back to my ear. “Gina, like I said—”

  “No, it’s cool. It’s cool.” Gina’s voice is despondent and defeated. “Deck, I just want you to know that, when I was pulling out of that black hole I was in, I clutched onto anyone who was near me, anyone that could keep me tethered to solid earth. And, well, some of that got confused in my mind as being a romantic connection, maybe even a sexual one. And, well, you happened to be there. And”—she laughs—“well, you’ve always been, uhm, attractive to women, so... All I’m sayin is that I’m sorry that my actions pushed you away. I’ve moved on, Deck. That was a rough time for me. And I needed our conversations more than you can imagine. There were nights—”

  Blaze blows me a kiss, and then starts walking in the door. I try and grab her, try and keep her here because I don’t want to be left alone where maybe I’ll screw something up but she just keeps walking! Once inside, she turns to me, smiling, makes a motion with her hands for me to keep on talking, and then shuts the glass door.

  I’m left looking after her, Gina still talking away in my ear (and I’ve missed all that she’s said since Blaze started walking away.)

  “—and thought I was sinking back, falling forever and...well, I could always count on you being there. If you’d missed one of our visits, I...I don’t think I’d be spending Christmas with my family is all. You understand?”

  “Uhm, yeah, sure, yeah.” I don’t tell her I missed a bit of what she said.

  “Anyway, I wanted to tell you more, wanted to really thank you...for everything...but...I understand. Give Blaze my regards. If you want to, of course.”

  “No, that’s cool. I’ll tell her.”

  “OK, Deck.” She hangs on the line.

  “OK then.”

  “Th—thanks again.” We linger for a second. I hear a deep sigh. And a sob? And then I click off the phone. Finality.

  It breaks my heart, sure. She’d been a friend, sure. And maybe she’s “normal” and moved on and in love now and all those goody things, sure.

  But I can’t risk it. Sacrificing a potential friend’s momentary pang of sadness for being with Blaze is a no-brainer. I had no hope left when I was with...That Other Woman. I have hope now.

  I shiver once as the cold gets the better of me. I look down below at the forming slush in the corners of buildings and on the sides of trashcans. I take in a deep breath. No-brainer.

  No-brainer.

  I walk inside into the warmth. Jacinta and her mom yammer over at me, “Fuh Gawd’s sake close that damn door!”

  I close it.

  I slide on over to where Blaze is, put my arm around her, kiss her once on the cheek and then nibble her ear. “I love you,” I say.

  Trev looks over at me, gives me the evil-eye, the one which says, Don’t fuck this up, homes. I smile back at him.

  Blaze rubs her hand up and down my thigh, looks up at me with her lush green eyes. She puts her head on my shoulder, and we watch the rest of the RomCom.

  The story’s about a guy making a choice between a sexy and rich girlfriend and his old high school sweetheart.

  Suddenly I appreciate the story a little more than before.

  -3-

  Trev and I pull out a deck of cards and start playing Gin Rummy. The girls go back into the kitchen and start gossiping like incipient wildfire and I suddenly feel a little nervous about how well Jacinta and Blaze get along. Jacinta will tell Blaze all my dark secrets. Jacinta has known me as long as Trev has—which is practically my whole life. She’s like an older sister to me.

  “They’re gettin on like a house on fire,” Trev says. He’s put on one of those old-style dealer hats and is dealing cards out to both of us. Laughter and shrill cries pour out from the kitchen, the kinds of cries you expect when people see photos of when you were three and had your finger up your nose or something.

  “Hey, your mom doesn’t keep any photos around of when I was a kid, does she?”

  Trev shrugs. He looks at his cards, peeks up at me from behind them. Says, “You taking it?” and looks down at the upturned card.

  I look at my cards, hear Blaze screaming, “Oh no he didn’t!” Then I hear Jacinta, “Oh yes he did! He came up behind me, put his hands”—laughter laughter laughter—“on my stomach like this...” My skin goes cold. I remember that day, then Jacinta elbowed me and my nose started bleeding.

  “Deck, the card, you taking it or not?”

  Muffled, from the kitchen: “And he moved his elbow—”

  Blaze: “Oh no.”

  Jacinta: “Oh yes! He moved his elbow.”

  Me: “Christ, I can’t concentrate.”

  Trev: “Are you taking the damn card or not!”

  “No!”

  “Oh God that’s hilarious!”

  It’s Blaze’s voice. I crack up as well. Trev takes the card, discards one from his pile. “Your turn.”

  I put all my cards down, look up at him. He rolls his eyes. “What!”

  “Gina called. Just now, during the movie.”

  He tilts his cards back so I can see his nose from behind them at least. “That was Gina on the line?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What she want?”

  “To hook up for coffee.”

  “Dude! What is it with you?” He shakes his head. “I mean, do you spray doggy-scent sex hormones on yourself in the morning or what?”

  “Huh?”

  “What is it with you and women? We can’t go in a bar without them falling over each other dripping for you. I can damn near smell the cum on their seats every time we leave!”

  “Very romantic image there, Trev. Thank you. Thank you for that. I’ll never be able to walk into a bar again without...uhm...thinking of that.”

  “Well, it’s true. Put a leash on it, homes. Rein that baby in, damnit!”

  “The only difference between me and you is that my escapades make front-news gossip. How you hide yours is beyond me.”

  He smirks, doesn’t deny it. “I go for girls with more style than you. Honky-tonk bitches like yappin their mouths over at the newspapers.”

  “More ‘style’? What, like high-class escorts?”

  “You know I’ll whip yo ass, don’t you?”

  I pick my cards up. “Although, lately, I can’t be sure you’ve been gettin any yourself for, what, six or seven weeks?” I peek over my cards at him suspiciously and see him sw
eating.

  He plays it cool, plays the tough guy. “Da fuck you talkin about?”

  “Since Washington.”

  He swallows, covers his eyes with the cards. “You talkin a lotta bullshit, boy. Now take the damn card or forfeit your turn.”

  I take the card, let Trev play one hand. When it’s my turn again, I say, “What’s her name?”

  Trev’s cards lower, revealing his hazelnut eyes. He looks at me for a second, considers ignoring me, folds his cards up, swallows, moves his lips, then sighs. Defeated. “Cyiarra. And I’d appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut about her. How’d you know?”

  I smile impishly. “Homes, I known about her since Day One. You’ve had that lovestruck glare in your eyes since the Redskins whipped our ass nineteen to forty-three.”

  “Which is precisely why I didn’t want Coach getting any funny ideas about her, thinking my mind was on pussy instead of on the game.”

  “Was it?”

  His lip twitches up. “I wouldn’t put it so crudely as that...”

  “But your mind was on her.”

  “Maybe.”

  “And that’s why we lost?”

  “Nah, we lost ’cause we played like shit. But you know how Coach is: whenever we lose he always blames booze or women. Nothing else. Which says a lot for him lettin Blaze into those training sessions every day. He must think she’s some crazy talisman for you or something. Anyway, Cyiarra and I did hook up in Washington, but it had shit to do with us losing the game and, well, if he’d told me not to see her I’d tell him where to shove it. And then he’d suspend me. And that wouldn’t be good, so I decided to leave it off everyone’s radar. ... What da fuck you smilin at!”

  “Nothing, I just thought no one would ever tame you!”

  “She hasn’t tamed me.”

  “You been with anyone else since you met her?”

  He does that whole swallowing mouth-moving thing again. Sniffs. “Uhm, n—no.”

  “And how long have you gone, oh, let’s say in the last year, without being with a woman, before her?”

  He clears his throat.