When I’m With You (Indigo)

by LaConnie Taylor-Jones

  “Great. I—”

  “Marcel, darling.”

  They both turned to stare at the long-legged woman with light-brown skin who’d stood at their table. Marcel’s square jaw grew rigid, but he stood out of courtesy. “Tiffany.”

  Tiffany gave Caitlyn a slow perusal, then shifted her gaze to Marcel. “I didn’t know you like them so young and…” She took a step closer, tapping her long fingernails on the table’s edge. “Let’s see, how should I say it?” She shot an evil look at Caitlyn. “Dark.”

  The napkin in Marcel’s hand landed in the center of the table. “Tiffany, I believe you owe Ms. Thompson an apology.”

  Tiffany raised her brow. “Oh, Ms. Thompson, is it?”

  Steam rose from the back of Caitlyn’s neck. Marcel had told her about Tiffany and the brief time they had dated, but she’d had no idea the woman was so vain or so rude. She was as pretentious as her full, stay-in-the-beauty-shop-all-day weave. So what if she was dark-skinned? As long as Marcel liked it, that was all she cared about. She didn’t want to embarrass Marcel or herself, for that matter, but she was ready to dust Tiffany from one end of the restaurant to the other. This was her man, and no woman was going to disrespect her in front of him.

  With a wry smile, Tiffany glanced first at Marcel, then Caitlyn. “Surely Marcel could have found someone with a little more class. Honey, you’re so…tiny. You aren’t a midget by chance, are you?”

  “Tiffany.” Marcel spoke in a warning tone. “That’s enough.”

  “Oops.” Tiffany mockingly covered her mouth with her hand. “My apologies.”

  With a gentle pat on Marcel’s arm, Caitlyn, who never took her eyes off Tiffany, declared with warrior confidence, “I got this one, baby.” She stood. “No need for an apology. No doubt it would be as fake as you are.”

  A red blotch appeared on Tiffany’s cheeks, and her eyes widened. “Now listen here—”

  “No. You listen.” Caitlyn’s finger took dead aim front and center in Tiffany’s perfectly made-up face. “You have until the count of three to move away from this table.”

  Tiffany rolled her neck. “And if I don’t?”

  “Then your narrow behind and that fake piece of hair are going down. Understand?” Caitlyn started her count. “One…”

  Tiffany was outraged. “Marcel…”

  Marcel lifted his chin proudly. “You heard the lady.”

  Caitlyn continued counting. “Two…”

  Tiffany turned and made a beeline for the door.

  “That witch. She ruined my appetite.” Caitlyn took her seat and scooted her chair up toward the table.

  Marcel’s grin stretched from ear to ear.

  “And you…” Caitlyn chided with a half grin of her own. “…can put a check on that over-active ego of yours.”

  “That’s my boo.” Still grinning, Marcel placed a kiss on her cheek.

  “That’s right, and don’t you forget it.” Palming his face with both hands, Caitlyn swiped his mouth with a thorough kiss that left no doubt in either of their minds as to her status—his woman.

  * * *

  Marcel looked down and smiled at the woman snuggled securely at his side. He shook his head and wondered how someone so little could snore so loudly. He relished the sound and looked forward to hearing it every morning for the rest of his life. The ringing of his private line snapped him back to reality. Not wanting to disturb Caitlyn, he reached over and picked up on the first ring.

  “Yeah.”

  “B, what are you still doing in bed at this hour? What’s going on over there?”

  Marcel chuckled at the question his best friend posed and looked down at Caitlyn who was sound asleep. “Robinson, when you find the right woman, you’ll understand.”

  “Oh, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you guys. Listen, B, I’ve finally been able to track down the information you wanted and I know who was in Caitlyn’s apartment.”

  “Talk to me, Robinson.”

  “Naw, man, this isn’t a conversation we need to have over the phone, especially with Caitlyn there. How about lunch this afternoon?”

  “All right. Why don’t you swing by the office, and I’ll have something brought in for us?”

  “Sounds good. Oh, B, by the way, I don’t do sushi. I’ll leave that dish to you and Caitlyn.”

  Marcel chuckled. “I get your message loud and clear. I’ll have Marilyn order sandwiches.”

  After Marcel disconnected the call, it dawned on him this was the second time someone had called him on his private line and interrupted him while Caitlyn slept contentedly by his side. Once was okay, but twice? He didn’t think so. The phone didn’t disturb her because, as he’d come to realize, she could sleep through a tornado whirling through the house. But it did disturb him. So, without a second thought, he reached over, grabbed the cord, and with one powerful jerk, ripped it away from the wall jack.

  Chapter 15

  Alex arrived at precisely noon and walked straight into Marcel’s office. Marcel was on the phone and motioned for Alex to take a seat. After he hung up, he smiled. “Hungry?”

  Alex nodded stiffly. “Starved.” He lifted a thick binder from his briefcase and placed it in the middle of Marcel’s desk.

  “Damn, Robinson, I swear you could find a snowflake in a pile of salt.” Marcel leafed through the papers without really reading anything and placed the binder back on the desk. “That’s the Hollywood premiere, but you’re going to give me the two-minute trailer, right?”

  With his face drawn, Alex offered a bogus smile. “Yeah. Let’s eat first, all right?”

  They polished off a couple of submarine sandwiches and washed them down with lemon-flavored Snapple. Alex finished first and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Okay B, what order do you what to hear things?” He touched one index finger to the other as he named them. “Mazzei, rival for the dealership, or who was in Caitlyn’s apartment?”

  Marcel stiffened. His best friend’s question was an easy one to answer. Somebody had dared to frighten his woman. He wanted to know who and why. “What do you think?”

  Alex stood, fished a tie clip out his pants pocket and handed it to Marcel. “Look familiar?”

  “It’s Ken’s.” Marcel’s eyes flared as he stared at the sterling silver tie clip with an onyx stone that he and Alex had designed, along with a pair of matching cufflinks, for Ken’s sixtieth birthday. He snatched his head up at Alex. “Where did you find it?

  “Underneath that little vanity table in the corner of Caitlyn’s bedroom where she keeps her jewelry box. I almost missed it myself, so I can see how Oakland police overlooked it.”

  Marcel’s eyes narrowed and he shouted out, “What the hell was Ken doing over there in the first place?”

  Alex shrugged. “Partner, only Ken can give us the answer to that question.”

  Marcel slipped Ken’s tie clip inside his shirt pocket and patted his hand to it. “Oh, you can be damn sure I’ll get the answer from him.”

  Despite his fury at Ken, which he somehow managed to control, Marcel settled more comfortably in his chair with his left index finger braced to his temple. “All right. Let’s open doors one and two.”

  Alex scooted to the edge of his chair. “One and two are connected, B.”

  “How?”

  “Does the name Louis Hennings ring a bell?”

  Marcel appeared deep in concentrate for a moment. “No. Why?”

  “Hennings is the one behind the bidding war for the dealership.”

  “Okay, so how does Hennings connect to Mazzei?”

  “Mazzei is trying to nab some high-powered position with Hennings’s firm.” Alex paused, then cleared his throat. “B, I got word this morning that another woman filed a complaint against him, too.”

  Marcel’s back became rigid and he sat upright. “Did he stalk this woman, too?”

  Alex nodded. “Not only that, she alleges that he raped her.” He shook his head sadly. “She got cold feet and dropped th
e charges. Looks like our boy walks away scot-free again. He’s one lucky dog.”

  Marcel narrowed his eyes. “Why do you say that?”

  “The woman who filed the charges against Mazzei is the daughter of a prominent judge. Word on the streets is that daddy dearest wants friend under the jailhouse, but his hands are tied because he can’t talk his daughter into re-filing the complaint.”

  No good bastard. Marcel felt his stomach plummet and swallowed back the lump in his throat because he knew in his heart the woman’s allegations were true. This woman no doubt wanted Cole out her life at any cost, the same way Caitlyn had. He agreed a thousand percent with the way they felt, but if Cole wasn’t stopped now, some other woman would suffer the same fate later down the road. “Do you think this woman’s father believes the allegations?”

  Alex nodded. “Based on everything I heard, I’m positive he does.” He lifted his brow. “B, are you sure you’ve never heard the name Louis Hennings before?”

  “No, Robinson, I haven’t. Right now, the only thing I want to know is why this Hennings character has been so relentless in going after our bid.”

  “Apparently, Hennings hasn’t always lived in New York. He’s from New Orleans.”

  “A homeboy, huh?”

  “Right. But before he moved to New York, he got convicted of a crime down there he swears he didn’t commit.”

  Marcel shook his head. “I’m still not making the connection.”

  Alex swallowed hard. “B, Hennings and Alcee know each other. They went to college together at Dillard University. From what I can gather, there was never any love lost between them. Anyway, after they graduated, Hennings went to work for one dealership, and Alcee went to work for another. The owner of the dealership Hennings worked for got busted for financial fraud right about the time Alcee and Angelique moved to Oakland.” Alex leaned forward. “The owner where Hennings worked lied and implicated him. They both went up in smoke. Seems like the one person who could’ve cleared Hennings was Alcee.”

  “I’m certain that if Pop knew Hennings needed him to clear his name, he would’ve done it.”

  Alex ran his hand across his face. “I’m almost certain word never got to Alcee. Anyway, Hennings did some time at a federal prison. After his release, he moved to New York.”

  Marcel laced his hands behind his head. “Does he still have connections in New Orleans? Friends? Family?”

  Alex released a weary sigh. “Not exactly.”

  “Not exactly?” Marcel spread his arms out above his head. “Come on, Robinson. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “He has a half brother.”

  “Well, who is he? Where is he?”

  Alex gave Marcel a long, penetrating stare before he answered. “The brother lives here in Oakland. B, his brother is Alcee.”

  “Oh, shit.” Marcel bolted from his chair and paced behind his desk. Suddenly, he whirled and faced Alex. “Pop has never mentioned a thing to any of us about having a brother.”

  “Listen, man, I about came out of my chair when word came down to me. Hennings and Alcee had the same mother, but different fathers. My sources are good, and from what they passed along to me, they never got along.”

  “Why not?”

  “That one, I can’t answer.” Alex cleared his throat. “Listen, partner, there’s more.”

  “Talk to me, Robinson!”

  Alex nodded at the chair. “B, you need to sit down.

  “What now?”

  “Another PI has been making inquiries about Caitlyn.”

  Marcel’s eyes flared. “Who?”

  “Friend of mine. Name’s Charles Perkins.”

  “Well, who the hell hired him?”

  Alex swallowed hard. “Alcee.”

  Marcel stood straight up, his body shaking. “What the hell for?”

  “Alcee hired Perkins to determine who Caitlyn’s father was.”

  “Why would Pop want to know who Caitlyn’s father is? He already knows who Caitlyn’s mother is. She told me herself he asked her. So why in God’s name would he need to know who her father is?”

  Alcee shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

  Marcel gripped the back of his chair and stared at Alex as his eyes filled with an emotion that bordered on sheer agony. “Dear God.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his mind racing a hundred miles an hour at the harsh possibility. Was his father Caitlyn’s father, too? If that were so, then the woman he loved more than life itself could be his…He willed himself not to let the bile he felt rising spew out.

  Marcel stared blankly at Alex. “Do you think Pop is…Caitlyn’s father?”

  “B, I honestly don’t know.”

  “Robinson…” Marcel’s voice became feeble. His knees buckled and he sagged to his chair.

  “I know, man. I know. I would have given my right arm not to have to tell you this.”

  “Caitlyn could be my…”

  Alex walked around the desk, squatted next to Marcel’s chair, and lifted a comforting hand to his friend’s shoulder. “Listen, partner, don’t jump to any conclusions yet. The first thing you need to do is talk to Alcee and find out the facts.”

  * * *

  Marcel sat alone on the front pew of the chapel and did something he didn’t do often enough.

  He prayed.

  He had stormed out of his office and headed straight to his father’s house. But once he arrived, he learned from Mama Z that Alcee wasn’t home. He was a man with everything money could buy, yet, money couldn’t buy the one thing he needed most at the moment: the truth.

  He felt hollowness so deep inside nothing mattered to him anymore. His head fell back in frustration, and a deep rumble in his chest made its escape in the form of a wail. The only thing he could do was pray. Pray he and the woman he loved more than his own life didn’t have the same bloodline. His hands shook as he ran them down his face. God, how could this be? What had he done in life to deserve that fate?

  Marcel went to the altar and knelt before it, making the sign of the cross. He prayed as if his life depended on it—because it did. He wept so hard his shoulders quivered. He knew there was a God somewhere, and at that moment he needed Him to answer only one question: Was Caitlyn his sister?

  Marcel prayed for strength. He prayed for guidance. But above all, he prayed for the truth.

  * * *

  “Why did you hire a PI to investigate Caitlyn?” Marcel slammed the door so hard the walls vibrated. As he stalked to Alcee’s desk, he loosened the knot in his tie and slipped the top button of his shirt. “Pop, start talking,” he demanded. When Alcee hesitated, Marcel’s voice escalated. “Now, dammit. Now.”

  “Son…please,” Alcee pleaded.

  “ ‘Son, please’ is not what I want to hear, Pop.” Marcel braced his hands on the desk. “You better talk—and fast.” He straightened with his eyes narrowed. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I found out you’d hired a PI to snoop into Caitlyn’s background?” He threw his hands in the air. “Why?”

  Alcee stood. “I did it for Ken.”

  “For Ken? I don’t understand.”

  “Marcel…” Alcee’s voice was a mere whisper. “Both of us had to know the truth.”

  “Know what?” Marcel bellowed. “Are you Caitlyn’s father?”

  Alcee stood and shook his head vigorously from side to side. “No, Son. I’m not her father.”

  Marcel had held his breath as he waited for the answer, and when he heard his father’s denial, the air inside him escaped so fast, he sounded as though he were having an asthma attack.

  “What makes you sure you’re not?”

  “I never had a relationship with Caitlyn’s mother.”

  Marcel’s eyes bulged at the thought that hit him right between the eyes. He’d been so consumed with the horror that Caitlyn might be his sister that he’d blocked everything and everyone from his mind. “You mean Ken…”

  Alcee nodded. “Yes, Son. We both believe Caitlyn is Ken’s child.�
�

  “Did you know Ken broke into Caitlyn’s apartment?”

  “No, I didn’t know that, but I’m not the least bit surprised.”

  “Why?” Marcel stopped pacing and faced his father, then told him what Alex had discovered about the break-in. “That little stunt scared the shit out of her, Pop.”

  “I’m sure that was never Ken’s intention.” Alcee walked around the desk and stood in front of Marcel. He patted him on the shoulder and motioned to the sofa. Once Marcel sat, he sat next to him. “Remember the night we were in your office and Caitlyn came to meet you for dinner?”

  Marcel nodded.

  “The moment I set eyes on Caitlyn, I thought I was seeing a ghost from the past. Then I noticed the bracelet she had on and knew who she had to be. There was little doubt in my mind that the Della who was Caitlyn’s mother was the same Della Ken had fallen in love with almost forty years ago.”

  “Ken popped in that night, too.” Marcel gasped. “I introduced him to Caitlyn.”

  Alcee nodded. “Tell me about it. After you and Caitlyn headed out, Ken came down to my office white as a sheet. We talked about how much Caitlyn resembled Della. He hadn’t noticed the bracelet Caitlyn had on, but I told him about it. That’s when he began to suspect that Caitlyn was his child.”

  “B-But the bracelet?” Marcel looked confused. “What’s so significant about Caitlyn’s bracelet?”

  Alcee smiled. “Ken gave that bracelet to the Della he fell in love with. She was a friend of your mother.”

  In the past few hours, so much had been thrown at him, Marcel felt as if he were on information overload. Nothing made sense at that moment. He braced his arm along the back of the couch. “Okay, start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

  “I’ve never told any of you kids…but I have a half-brother, Louis. We are only eighteen months apart. My biological father died when I was just three months old. Mama didn’t have any skills and took whatever jobs she could just to keep food on the table.” Alcee paused to gather his thoughts. “I’ll go to my grave believing that she didn’t love Louis’s father, that marrying him was a means to an end.” Shaking his head at the irony of it all, he added, “It was a way to make sure I didn’t go without. Anyway, she died in my arms. I was fifteen, and my world turned upside down. That’s when the real trouble started. Seems like overnight, nothing I did was good enough. Ben, Louis’s father, never let me forget that Louis was his flesh and blood and me…I was just some other man’s child he had to care for. That’s when the beating started.” Alcee stared at Marcel, and his eyes were filled with pain. “I took it for as long as I could.”