by A. C. Arthur
He looked stricken, she thought. Standing there in his dark jeans and gray polo shirt. He’d removed his shades when he’d come into the house and now held them in one of his hands.
“First of all, Jenise and I met right after I started modeling three years ago. I never thought about it until this very moment, but she probably only knows me as Amber McNair,” she said wondering now how this would affect her and Jenise’s friendship.
“And, you never said her name, Brandon. You spoke about a woman, a gold digger and a manipulator, but you never said her name. Even when you talked about her son you said ‘him’ or ‘her son’. When you and your family talked about the situation I left the room because that was your business and I didn’t want to intrude.”
“You were in my freakin’ house! How could you say you didn’t want to intrude? We were sleeping together and building something…or having a relationship…or, hell I don’t even know what we were doing. I just know it was all a lie.”
Amber jerked back as if he’d physically struck her.
“Was it?” she asked him.
“It had to be,” he replied. “Because you’re her niece. You just said you saw her this morning and yet your family insists they don’t know where she is now. You’re still lying, Amber! And the worst part is that I never did anything to you to deserve this. I never mistreated you or lead you on the way my uncles did with her.”
Amber couldn’t believe what was happening. First, this morning with her aunt appearing in her bedroom and calling her too fat to be loved and now this. Brandon was really standing here acting as if he were the wounded and wronged one, like he absolutely believed she’d come into his life as a result of some trick or plan on her aunt’s behalf. She could only shake her head at how incredulous this all was.
“You’re right, Brandon. You didn’t do any of those things to me. But you know what, it might have been better if you had,” she said as she came down the two steps to stand in the walkway just a few feet away from him.
“What are you talking about?” he asked dragging a hand down his face.
“I’m talking about dishonesty. Yeah, the same thing you’re accusing me of. You’re guilty of it too. Because you’ve been waiting for this moment since the first time you approached me on that pool deck. The moment when this would all fall apart.” Amber shook her head, dismayed by how this was unfolding.
“Remember when you told me about the girl who took someone else to the dance after she’d promised to go with you. I imagined how bad that moment made you feel. What I didn’t realize was that was the moment you began to harden your heart. You want to know why you always have the right thing to say? It’s because you’re always thinking that you have nothing to lose so you can say anything. See, someone like me, who has had her heart broken and stomped on, I wanted to be a little more cautious. I wanted to ask the questions and take the time away to think about where this was going, because I didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.
“But you’re nothing like Billy was. He abused and cut me to the quick with his words each and every day we were together. As a physical trainer, he thought it was his duty to tell me I needed to be on this diet, or try this exercise regimen. He had me working out until I was actually bruising my muscles instead of toning them. I was malnourished—yes a two hundred plus pound woman can be malnourished—and having nightmares and trouble breathing on a daily basis. I was unhappy and confused and thought I was in love.”
The look he was giving her now was a mixture of rage and pity and Amber dismissed both. At this point she didn’t give a damn how Brandon was feeling or what he was thinking.
“But I walked away from him, Brandon. I finally found the courage to say it was enough, to claim that I was too important to my family, and to myself to continue being abused. Through all of that I can look back now and say that at least Billy was there. He was in the relationship for whatever the reason and regardless of how he chose to act. You, on the other hand, have always been on the outside looking in. You know what type of relationship you want, you even know how to act like you’re working to get to that point. But you were never really there because you were always waiting for this moment. You were waiting for me to mess up or walk away so that you could say, ‘Yeah, it happened again. Just like it always does.’ Then you could put on your shield of armor and stand tall and whisper, ‘But I know how to keep it moving.’.” She blinked back tears.
“I believed you, Brandon. I believed every word you ever told me. You do know how to keep it moving and to try again with the next one. Because you don’t have the capacity to stick it out with a true one, to put in the time and the effort to make it work and last. And all of that is just fine. It works for you. Now, I’m going to do what works for me and I’m going to walk away, because I’m too important to stick around for anymore of this bullshit.”
With that said, Amber turned and walked back into the house. She closed the door behind her and refused to shed one measly tear.
Chapter 17
Brandon couldn’t move. He couldn’t think and he dared not blink for fear of yelling out loud. Amber had lied to him, hadn’t she? This was all a part of Roslyn’s big plan to break his family, wasn’t it?
He admitted that at this point he actually had no idea. And when his phone vibrated in his pocket he wanted to take it out and toss it across the street. Instead he walked the rest of the way to the car before pulling the phone out and answering.
“The DNA results are in,” Trent said from the other end. “We’re going to meet first thing tomorrow morning. My brothers and I are flying in tonight. Brock and Noelle were out here meeting with Linc about the casino’s overseas expansion, so they’re going to come with us.”
“Fine,” Brandon said before opening the car door.
“Is everything alright with you? What did you find out from Ausby’s family?” Trent asked.
Brandon couldn’t find the words. He had to think about all that had happened today, had to figure out how it had all come to this.
“I’ll tell everyone about it tomorrow. I’m heading to the airport now.”
“Okay, is Len still with you?”
“Yeah,” Brandon answered begrudgingly.
“I know you don’t like it, but until that woman is behind bars and this whole mess is settled, it’s necessary,” his cousin said.
“I hear you,” was Brandon’s only reply.
“You sure you’re alright?” Trent asked again.
“I’m just dandy. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Brandon told him before hanging up.
It was a lie of course, but he would be fine. Just as he always had been, Brandon would get through this and he would be alright. That’s the way the world worked. Wasn’t it?
#
The next day they were once again in the conference room at the Four Seasons in downtown Houston. This time their little get-together had more attendees.
Henry and Beverly were there along with Bernard and Jocelyn, Albert, Brandon, Bailey, Brock and Noelle, Trent, Linc and Adam.
“So you’re saying she has a severe mental condition that none of us knew about?” Henry asked.
Brandon nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Her parents died a year before she met you and I guess that made her mentally and emotionally vulnerable.”
He’d spent some time last night after returning to Houston, studying the different types of personality disorders online.
“You promised her everything she thought she’d lost when her parents died and then you reneged on that promise,” Brandon told his uncle.
Jocelyn waved a hand, her huge diamond wedding ring reflecting off the sunshine that poured through one of the large conference room windows. “Oh come on,” she said. “He broke up with her. Every woman has been dumped before. We don’t all run out and sleep with the guy’s brothers and then claim to have a baby by one of them.”
“And unfortunately, Aunt Jocelyn, we don’t all have complete contro
l over our actions either. Do you know how many people in this world suffer from a mental disease? And how many of those people go undiagnosed and/or untreated?”
“Really, Brandon, tell me you didn’t fall for that family’s sob story,” Jocelyn continued. “Its families like theirs that don’t do what’s necessary for their sick children when they need to that should be jailed when those sickos go out and shoot up a school or bomb a building.”
“That’s enough,” Beverly said. “Now is not the time for this and I’m not sure any of us are equipped to intelligently discuss mental illness any way.”
“But discussions are needed,” Brandon offered. “Especially within black families. Part of the reason the illness goes undiagnosed is because of denial and secrecy.”
Nobody in the room liked that word but Brandon had given up caring. They all knew why they were there so trying to sugarcoat the obvious was pointless.
When Dane walked in, the already tense room seemed to fill with apprehension.
“Good morning,” Dane spoke as he came inside and closed the door behind him.
Linc stood and removed the envelope he’d brought with him from his inside jacket pocket. Dane did the same.
Bailey came to stand between Brock and Brandon and Brandon reached out to take her hand. There was a laptop open on the table with Keysa and Ian sitting on the couch in their living room via a Skype connection. Albert sat near his brothers and their wives.
Linc and Dane opened the envelope at the same time and silently read the results. Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath as the two men then looked up at each other and remained silent for another second or two.
“Who is it already?” Jocelyn yelled, slapping her palm down on the table.
Linc nodded to Dane as he refolded the piece of paper and slipped it back into the envelope. Dane walked towards the end of the table where all three of the brothers sat. Every eye in that room followed him as he moved, wondering what he would say and who he was going to say it to.
“No!” Jocelyn screamed when Dane stopped in front of Bernard.
She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “No! It is a lie! We want a re-test!”
Dane dropped the sheet of paper on the table in front of Bernard and said simply, “Have a good day.”
“If you’re not the one behind these attacks then it’s your mother,” Bernard said as Dane turned away from him. “She still needs to be jailed for murder and extortion and who knows what else.”
It was a quick motion, one that held everybody speechless as Dane turned back and leaned across the table to put his face in Bernard’s.
“Go near my mother and I swear you’ll be sorry,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Your mother is a nutcase and she’s killing people and causing a lot of unnecessary drama. Are you telling me you want to stand by and let that happen?”
“I’m telling you that my mother is my concern. This,” he said with a wave of his hand around the room. “Is over. We all know the truth now, so it’s done. We walk away and don’t look back.”
“Is Roslyn going to walk away?” Linc asked.
“I have it under control,” Dane told them as he stood up and straightened his tie.
“You’d better,” Trent told him.
Nobody spoke. Nobody knew what to say as Dane left the room.
Bailey’s fingers clenched in Brandon’s hand. When Dane had stopped in front of Bernard she’d wavered, until Brandon hadn’t been sure if she were going to remain standing or not.
“Jocelyn,” Aunt Beverly said slowly. “Try to remain calm.”
“No, you remain calm Beverly because that child is not your husband’s! You sit there all regal and diplomatic even though it was your man that put this all into motion because he wanted to toy with a sick girl’s emotions,” Jocelyn continued to yell. “We’re getting another test because this cannot be possible. It just cannot be true.”
Brandon looked at the computer screen then and saw that Keysa was openly crying, Ian trying desperately to console her. Brandon walked to the table and closed the laptop, effectively ending the connection. His cousin was in no condition to witness her stepmother’s outrage, or her father’s disgrace.
Albert held his head low, his shoulders sagging with relief and Henry simply shook his head.
“Let’s go, Jocelyn,” Bernard said as he snatched the paper off the table and stood.
“Go? Go where? To another lab to get you re-tested I hope,” his wife said as she stood.
“We’re not getting another test,” Bernard replied quietly. “It’s done.”
“It’s not done,” she continued. “It’s not over!”
Bernard simply took his wife by the hand and led her out of the room, while the others watched, all of them probably thinking the same thing.
Was this nightmare truly over?
#
Dane left the Four Seasons in the same black SUV that he’d arrived in. He returned to the garage of the Westin hotel where he was staying. During the ride he’d changed out of his suit, slipping into jeans, tennis shoes, a Texas Rangers hoodie and fitted cap. Dane stepped out of the back seat of the SUV along with the driver and another man—who both matched Dane in size and build and also wore the same outfit as him. The SUV had been parked at the farthest, darkest end of the garage. All three of them walked to the front of the SUV, out of the line of sight. After a few moments, they all came around to stand at the driver’s side of a Toyota with Texas tags. Dane slipped inside the car.
He was on the road in minutes, using the burner phone he’d purchased to call Enrique, his private investigator.
“Did you find her?” he asked the moment the man answered.
“No,” was the reply. “She’s not back in New York. The maid has been to her penthouse every day to clean and Roslyn has not returned. I don’t think she’s in Houston either. Not since the night those bombs were thrown through the window at that Donovan guy’s house. That was the last time we had eyes on her.”
Dane scowled as he turned a corner. “What about her aliases? Have you cross-referenced those with the hotels?”
“I did and came up with nothing,” Enrique replied.
“Fine. Keep looking,” Dane said, cursing as he disconnected the call and hurriedly made another.
After a few rings she answered.
“Where is she?” he yelled into the phone.
“Don’t raise your voice at me,” she snapped back. “If you would stop sniffing up those Donovans’ asses, you’d know where our mother is.”
“Now is not the time, Jaydon. I told you and mom this before, that bullshit plan she hatched to get you to marry one of them and try to work them from the inside didn’t work. And neither did her blackmail threats. There was never any real proof that she killed those other people, but I still suspected she had. But bombing his house after I explicitly told her that I was taking care of this situation that was the last damn straw! Now tell me where she is!”
Jaydon laughed at him. Dane hated when she did that because she sounded too much like their mother.
“You think you’ve won now because they finally told you who your daddy is.” She made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Poor, delusional Dane Donovan. I don’t care whose sperm created you, those arrogant bastards are never going to accept you. The same way they never accepted me. We’re outsiders and we’re always going to be that to them. Unless we take them out of the equation.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You’re the delusional one, you and mom if you think I’m going to sit back and watch you continue down this path of destruction.”
“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing you don’t know where we are, so you don’t have to sit back and watch a damn thing, brother dear. You can simply enjoy your life as a Donovan. That’s what you’ve always wanted after all” she said in a snide tone.
When she hung up, Dane closed his eyes. Roslyn was on shaky ground by herself.
Teamed up with Jaydon, who had shown her true nature when she’d killed Giovanni Morelli and climbed into Dane’s truck telling him she’d just dropped off some contracts for the director to sign and that her car had broken down, made them a very dangerous combination.
He didn’t have a clue what the two of them were up to and if he didn’t know, it was going to be hard trying to stop them. That meant the Donovans were in more trouble than ever.
Chapter 18
One Week Later
It was a beautiful spring day in Houston with the high temperature expected to reach eighty-four degrees, with sunshine and mild humidity. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky which should have gone a long way to make Brandon’s mood just a little brighter.
Dane Donovan was not Albert’s son. He should have been elated.
He was not.
He could hear the gentle trickle of water moments before he turned the corner of the paved trail to look upon The Donovan Mausoleum in Brookefair Park Cemetery. Brandon didn’t bother to look back before walking further because he knew Len wasn’t far behind him. Walking with one hand in his pocket, the other carrying a huge bouquet of flowers, Brandon started up the elevated walkway, admiring the natural looking waterfall with its huge boulders that had been moved over and over again, until it was decided that they were in the perfect spot. The scene was meant to be relaxing, calming maybe. It was, to Brandon, the first sign of nature and its mighty hand in the universe.
Behind the waterfall was the actual mausoleum, a stone structure with high walls and lush green landscaping surrounding it. Between the waterfall at the entryway to the building was a black iron gate with the Donovan crest and its prominent letter “D” in the center. For endless seconds, Brandon simply stood staring at that marking.
The Donovans, he thought, were a family. No matter what they would always be a family, that’s what that crest represented. The strength and longevity of their people and the enduring hope for their future.
