Can I Get a Witness?

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  Vanessa navigated the page until she reached the “pending charges” box of the account section and saw the charge for the Lansing Hotel. Her heart sank when she realized it was across the street from the Galleria Mall, where Henry had seen Thomas with the other woman. Was that where he was taking her?

  Vanessa quickly logged off and shut down her computer. Then she jumped into her car and raced across town to the Lansing Hotel. She didn’t know how she would find Thomas’s room, but she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach and she couldn’t just sit around and let it fester. She thought about their anniversary. The great lengths Thomas had gone to cook her a nice meal. The fact that he’d turned down a trip to Brazil so he wouldn’t miss their anniversary. And she’d totally blown him off. She inhaled sharply as she fought back tears. Had she gone too far this time?

  It took her less than twenty minutes to reach the hotel. Vanessa wanted to die when she saw Thomas’s black Range Rover parked prominently in the valet section.

  Vanessa valet-parked and made her way inside the lavishly decorated hotel. Expensive artwork adorned the walls and the furniture was definitely first-class. Leave it to Thomas to pick the nicest hotel in town.

  Vanessa headed toward the front desk, then lingered back when she saw the tall white man wearing a manager’s tag. She pulled out her cell phone and acted like she was on it until she saw the man walk to the back. Then she hurried over to the front desk.

  “Hello,” she told the young, perky girl working behind the counter. “I’m Judge Vanessa Colton-Kirk. My husband and I are staying here, and I locked myself out of my room.” Vanessa flashed a smile at the clerk and then spoke into the cell phone. “Yes, honey. I’m on my way. I’m going to grab your tie and I’ll be right over. I just have to get a key from the front desk.” Vanessa pretended to listen, then continued. “What? Hold on, baby.”

  The clerk smiled at the domestic scene. “Yes, Mrs. Kirk, what room are you in? And do you have any ID?”

  Vanessa fumbled in her purse for her driver’s license. She pulled it out while she continued to pretend she was on the phone. “Yes, I’ll get that, too.” She leaned in toward the clerk. “I don’t remember what the room number is.”

  “Ma’am, I really need to know the room number since your name isn’t listed specifically on the room.”

  “Hold on, sweetheart,” Vanessa said, adding a touch of wifely exasperation. “Look, I’m a judge. My home is being remodeled and we just checked in, so I don’t remember the room number. I come here all the time, just look in your system. Mr. Thomas Kirk, that’s who the room is registered under. 5312 Canyon Creek Drive. You see the same address right there on my driver’s license.” She pointed at the laminated card. “We are heading to the governor’s private reception and really, I don’t have time for this,” Vanessa said, though adding a smile. “Thomas, do you remember what the room number is?” she said into the phone. “Thomas? Thomas?” She huffed, then snapped her phone shut. “His battery went dead. This is ridiculous. Where’s your manager? Better yet, please get my personal friend, Arthur Lansing, the owner of the hotel, on the phone.”

  The girl looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “I’m sorry. I was just following our company policy.” She quickly pulled out a key card, activated it, and handed it to Vanessa.

  “What’s the room number?” Vanessa snapped, trying to act irritated.

  “It’s 1213,” the clerk said.

  “Thank you.” Vanessa snatched the key and headed across the elegant lobby. She couldn’t believe she had stooped to that level. But that queasy feeling in her gut was getting worse as she thought of her husband lying up in a hotel room with another, younger woman.

  Vanessa caught the elevator up to the twelfth floor. Storming down the hall, she stopped in front of 1213. She was just about to use the key and go inside when she stopped.

  “What are you doing?” she asked herself. What if he’s in there with another woman? She quickly shook off that thought. Thomas wouldn’t do that, would he?

  Vanessa was still contemplating what she should do when the door to Room 1213 swung open, startling her. Thomas was laughing, an ice bucket in his hand. His smile instantly faded when he saw his wife.

  Vanessa crossed her arms and glared at her husband. Yet her heart felt like it was about to jump out of her chest. She was deathly afraid of what she’d see inside.

  “What are you doing here?” Thomas asked, stepping out into the hallway and letting the door close behind him.

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “This is where I’m staying.”

  Vanessa looked toward the door. “By yourself?”

  Thomas rolled his eyes. “Don’t even go there, Vanessa. As a matter of fact, just go home. Or to one of your political receptions. Go woo some voters.” He stepped around her and began walking down the hall.

  Vanessa followed right after him. “Is there a woman in there with you, Thomas?” she demanded. “You better tell me the truth.”

  Thomas spun around, a smirk across his face. “I didn’t know you cared.”

  “Don’t play with me. Are you lying up in that hotel room with some tramp?”

  “You’re a trip.” He shook his head and walked into the small ice room.

  No he wasn’t trying to blow her off! She was not about to let him or some two-bit tramp make a fool out of her. Vanessa stomped back down the hall and inserted her key into the door. She braced herself for the bimbo she was sure was lying across the bed in a skimpy negligee. She just needed to see it for herself. She had to see that her husband was indeed a cheating dog.

  “What are you doing?” Thomas called out as he saw her unlocking the door.

  Vanessa ignored him and swung the door open. She stormed inside. ESPN blared from the twenty-seven-inch TV. The bed was completely made up, with Thomas’s Architectural Digest open on the spread. But other than that, the room was empty.

  Vanessa marched to the bathroom. “Don’t try to hide, you home wrecker!” She pushed the door open. It was deserted. The almond tiles sparkled to let her know that the bathroom hadn’t been touched.

  When she came out of the bathroom, she bumped into Thomas. He looked at her with disgust. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  He turned and loudly set the ice bucket down on the dresser.

  Vanessa glanced at the window to see if there was any way someone could have made a run for it. There wasn’t, unless they were willing to jump twelve floors. It finally dawned on her that Thomas truly was alone. She instantly felt like crap.

  “Thomas…”

  He held up his hand. “Save it, Vanessa. You see I’m alone. Just like I’ve been the entire five years I’ve been married to you. Now please, just go home.”

  Vanessa wanted to stay and beg her husband for his forgiveness, to tell him she was sorry and that she would be a better wife. But she was so embarrassed by the way she had acted, she couldn’t find the words to say what she felt.

  “Thomas, I’m sorry.”

  She looked up at him, trying to find a hint of sympathy. The full force of how low her suspicions were hit her like a blow.

  She turned and headed out the door, too ashamed to face him a moment longer.

  Chapter 6

  Vanessa felt like crap. And Aunt Ida’s constant nagging wasn’t making things any better.

  “Umm-hmmm. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” Ida shook her head, her pink hair rollers close to falling out. “I’m sure you looked like a plumb idiot.”

  Vanessa rubbed her temple. “Auntie, please. You’re the one got me all hyped up in the first place, telling me to go find Thomas.” She was so stressed out, she’d headed straight to Rosolyn’s, hoping to talk to her sister about her marriage. Vanessa had completely forgotten that her aunt was staying there while her kitchen was being remodeled.

  Rosolyn sat at the kitchen table, looking sad for her sister, who was pacing back and forth across the room. Although Rosolyn
was the quiet one of the family, as the oldest, she always felt protective about her sisters. Vanessa could tell Rosolyn wanted their aunt to go back to bed so the two of them could talk, but like Vanessa, she knew it would be pointless to try.

  Ida pulled the belt around her robe tighter. “I was just telling you to get your man to come home, not go out there like you Nancy Drew or somebody.” She sighed heavily. “And why are you back here anyway? Didn’t you tell him you’re sorry?”

  Vanessa didn’t respond as she plopped down in a chair across from her sister. Ida walked over in front of her, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “Well, didn’t you?”

  Vanessa glared at her aunt. “No, I just left, okay?”

  “No, it’s not okay.” Ida threw up her hands in amazement. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with you young folks!”

  “Everybody ain’t you and Uncle Louis,” Vanessa retorted.

  “Do you think me and Louis didn’t have our problems? Your uncle loved him some booze, but you know what? I’m a praying woman.” She patted her heart lightly. “I knew Louis would give it up. Not on my time, but God’s time. And guess what? He did just that. And I was right there when he did.” She leaned over the table, emphasizing her point. “I prayed my man through his storm. I didn’t give up and run away. That’s what you and all them people that come through your court do. Lord have mercy. Whatever happened to the sanctity of marriage?”

  “I’m not running away,” Vanessa protested. “I’m just…just…”

  “Just not facing the fact that you messed up. How long did you think Thomas was gonna play second fiddle to your career? How long you think a man is gonna take not feeling like a man?”

  Vanessa felt tears welling up in her eyes.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this,” Rosolyn added, covering Vanessa’s hands with her own, “but I agree with Aunt Ida. You think I’m too submissive to Henry, but a man needs to feel like he’s a man—even if you’re just making him think that he is.”

  “I know it’s late, but you march right back to that hotel and fetch your husband,” Ida demanded. “Matter of fact, y’all just stay in that room and do nasty thangs all night long.”

  Vanessa smiled for the first time that evening, though her sight was sparkly with tears. “Auntie, you are so nasty,” she said, wiping her eyes.

  “Ain’t nothing nasty about getting some good lovin’—as long as it’s from your husband.”

  Rosolyn gave Vanessa a reassuring hand squeeze. “Girl, go get your man.”

  Vanessa squeezed her sister’s hand back, then stood and kissed Ida on the cheek. “Thank you, Aunt Ida, for helping me realize what’s important.”

  “Any time, baby. Any time.”

  Vanessa grabbed her keys and headed out the door.

  Twenty minutes later she was back at the Lansing Hotel, standing outside of Room 1213. Vanessa ran her fingers through her wavy honey-brown hair and took a deep breath. She fluffed out her gray floor-length knit skirt and pulled down her sweater over her hips. She was casually dressed, but the way the sweater stopped right at her cleavage made her look sexy. Vanessa hesitated, then knocked three times. I’ve got to get him to forgive me, she thought.

  Vanessa heard the lock on the door turn, and she mustered up a smile. But her smile quickly faded when the door swung open and a pretty, young, petite, chocolate-colored woman opened the door. She looked like she was in her early twenties. Her jet-black hair was hanging to her shoulders. She was a little on the heavy side but otherwise looked like she belonged on someone’s runway.

  “Yes?” the woman said, pulling the hotel’s oversize bathrobe tightly around her body.

  Vanessa leaned back and looked at the room number again. “I’m sorry. I must have the wrong room.”

  “Alana, is that room service? Hurry up. I’m starving.”

  Vanessa’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach at the sound of her husband’s voice. The woman’s eyes widened and she quickly attempted to close the door, but Vanessa put her arm up to stop her, then almost knocked the woman over as she walked in. She was amazed at her own strength, but right about now she was probably capable of anything.

  Thomas jumped up off the bed as Vanessa entered. He was fully clothed, but the small pink duffel bag resting at the foot of the bed told her he wouldn’t be clothed for long.

  “Vanessa!” Thomas exclaimed. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

  “You bastard!” Vanessa felt her chest heaving up and down as she tried to keep her anger from boiling over. “I don’t believe you could be such a liar!”

  “L-let me explain,” Thomas said as he dove across the bed away from her.

  “Explain what? You cheating, low-down—”

  The woman was standing there with her hands on her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Thomas. I wouldn’t have opened the door, but I thought it was room service.”

  Her high-pitched, squeaky voice set Vanessa off even more. “You tramp!” The woman jumped out of the way just as Vanessa lunged at her. Vanessa caught the belt on the woman’s robe as she scurried out of the way.

  “Vanessa, calm down! It’s not what it looks like.” Thomas grabbed Vanessa from behind as the woman’s robe fell open, revealing a huge stomach.

  Vanessa felt as if time were standing still. Her eyes took in the woman’s belly, its full roundness. She wasn’t heavy, she was pregnant, at least seven or eight months.

  “Let. Me. Go,” Vanessa said. She never took her eyes off the woman as she closed her robe back up.

  “If I let you go, you need to be rational,” Thomas pleaded.

  Rational? This fool must be on drugs. What woman could possibly be rational in a situation like this?

  “Fine, Thomas, just let me go before I scream at the top of my lungs.” Vanessa’s breathing was still heavy and tears were streaming down her face, but she had calmed down.

  Thomas slowly released her. “We need to talk about this,” he said gently.

  Vanessa turned around to face her husband, then reached back with all her might and slapped him across the face. “You’re cheating on me with a pregnant woman? How low can you get? You are disgusting, you sick piece of sh—” She caught herself. She was not going to let this two-bit skank see her act a fool any more than she already had. “And you,” she said in disdain. “In here with my husband, while you’re pregnant.”

  Thomas rubbed his cheek, bright red from her smack. “Vanessa, stop.”

  She spun toward him. “No, you stop. You made me feel so bad earlier. How could I suspect my loving husband? But my hunch was right all along. You’re up in here, boning some trick.”

  “Just stop it, Vanessa,” Thomas snapped. “I’m not boning anyone. And Alana—Alana is not some trick. She…she’s about to be the mother of my child.”

  It felt like someone had taken a baseball bat and hit a grand slam into Vanessa’s stomach. She stared at Thomas in disbelief. Then she looked over at Alana, who diverted her gaze to the floor.

  Vanessa opened her mouth but no words would come out, so she did the only thing she could: she ran from the room before she threw up.

  Vanessa frantically punched the elevator buttons, hoping it would come before Thomas followed her out. She glanced down the hallway, waiting on the door to his room to open. Of course he was going to come after her, try to explain how he could do this to her.

  The ding of the elevator door opening snapped Vanessa out of her daze. She stood staring into the elevator. The young couple inside shot her a funny look. “Umm, are you getting on?” the girl asked.

  Vanessa eyed the room again. “Oh, umm, no, go ahead.” She took a step back. The girl huffed and punched the button to close the elevator doors.

  Vanessa felt a wave of tears overtaking her. The door to Room 1213 still didn’t open. He wasn’t coming after her. She weakly punched the down button again. Her hand was trembling. Thomas had betrayed her and was now twisting the knife even harder by not bothering to come after her.
/>   Chapter 7

  Vanessa cringed as the morning sun shot through the blinds and hit her in the face. She sat up, groggy, her head feeling like she’d been partying with Jack Daniel’s all night long.

  But Vanessa hadn’t taken a drink. The last thing she remembered was coming home and trashing her room. She looked around the large master bedroom at the evidence of her rage. All of the dresser drawers were hanging out. Clothes were flung all over the room. And every single picture of Thomas was ripped into a million pieces.

  Vanessa felt the tears trying to build again as the sinking feeling returned to her gut. The reality of what had happened last night set in again. Dionne had called just as Vanessa was returning home, and she’d told her everything because she just wanted to vent to someone. That hadn’t helped, though, because Dionne was more fired up than she was. So Vanessa had unplugged her phone and tried her best to calm down.

  Vanessa was about to plop back down in bed and throw the covers over her face when she heard the chime signaling the alarm was being deactivated.

  Vanessa threw back the gold down comforter and raced down the stairs. “I know Thomas does not have the nerve to show his face here,” she hissed. She caught a glimpse of herself as she passed the beveled mirror in the hallway. She looked a hot mess. Her hair was matted to one side of her head. Her eyes were puffy and swollen. Vanessa took a moment to brush her hair down before turning the corner to find Thomas fumbling in the hall closet.

  “You must have a death wish,” Vanessa snarled.

  He turned toward her, sadness etched across his face. “Vanessa, I don’t know what to say, except I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry? Is that the best you can do? You’re sorry you screwed another woman? You’re sorry you got her pregnant? Or are you just sorry you got caught?” She folded her arms across her chest and rapidly tapped her right foot. It was taking everything in her power to keep from going off.