Gabrielle laughed as she sat back down, writhing her hands now. “Paris Simmons? We’re talking about Paris Simmons-Holyfield.”
He chuckled. “That’s praying for miracles, but it’s worth a try. You never know. God has been known to move in mysterious ways. His wonders to perform.”
“Why don’t you just tell her everything, Andrew? Tell her we knew each other back during the time she put me out of her apartment all those years ago. Tell her I stayed at your place with you and your mother for ten days, almost two whole weeks. Tell her you’ve agreed to represent me against her. Tell her.”
“And then you can prepare for the fight of your life. Because then this will become about even more than her trying to take this child from you. Then it becomes a personal vendetta to make both me and you pay.” Andrew nodded. “Had I told her in the beginning when she asked if we knew each other, I can’t sit here and assure you that we wouldn’t be in this exact same place right now.”
“You mean you representing me against your wife?”
“Absolutely. When Paris gets a thing in her head, the truth doesn’t deter her. It may slow her down, but it doesn’t stop her. I know; I’ve seen her. She doesn’t care what anybody says. It could be her father, her mother, me . . . she’s going to do what she wants to do, regardless. So you and I just need to figure out how to put this to bed once and for all. We need to drive a stake in it. And I need you to help me do that.”
“So you want me to tell you everything?” Gabrielle leaned in closer. “Everything?”
“Please.”
“Okay.” She sat up straight in her chair. “For starters, Jasmine. . .”
“Yes.”
“Jasmine is my child. She’s my daughter.”
He tilted his head slightly and sighed. “I know this already. As far as you’re concerned she’s your child . . . your daughter. I get that. But legally, that’s not so.”
Gabrielle stood up and wrung her hands as she paced a little. “You’re right. Legally, it’s not so. Legally, she’s not mine. Not anymore anyway. I signed that right away a little over nine years ago.”
“Excuse me? You want to run that by me again?”
Gabrielle sat down and looked squarely in Andrew’s eyes. “I’m Jasmine’s birth mother. I gave birth to her and I gave her up for adoption. Jasmine is my biological child.”
“Gabrielle, don’t play with me now. We don’t have time to play games.”
Gabrielle sat up straight. “I’m not playing with you, Andrew. When you found me walking down the street, picked me up that day, and took me home with you, I was pregnant with Jasmine. Jasmine is my daughter. And whatever I have to do, I’m not going to lose her again. I’m not. I’m not giving her up again. I won’t.”
Andrew fell back hard against his chair. “Wow! Wow! Well, I’ll be John Brown. Who knew?”
Gabrielle laughed. “You’ll be John Brown?” She laughed again. “I haven’t heard anyone say that in like . . . forever. Wonder who came up with that and why?”
He shook his head. “Give me a minute here. I’m trying to soak all of this in. Jasmine is your daughter. You were pregnant with her and I didn’t even know it.”
“Nor did your mother. That’s why I left like I did. I knew your mother would figure it out soon enough. Morning sickness and a growing belly will give it away every time. I didn’t know what to do. So I went to a place for unwed mothers-to-be, had her, then gave her up for adoption.”
“So how . . . If . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t get it,” Andrew said, clearly having a hard time grasping all of this.
“Jasmine needed a bone marrow transplant. Jessica Noble, Jasmine’s adoptive mother, was desperate to save Jasmine’s life. So she did what any caring, loving mother would do. She put away pride and man-made technicalities, and she found a way to save her daughter. Now, it’s my turn to do the same.”
“Does she know? Jasmine, I mean... does Jasmine know who you are to her?”
Gabrielle shook her head. “No. She knows she was adopted. I just recently revealed that to her about two months ago. It was something Jessica asked me to do before she died, so I told her. She seems to be coping okay with that knowledge. I’ve been told by a professional that when she’s older she may have some setbacks in dealing with it. But to answer your question: No, I haven’t told her that I’m her birth mother. I should have, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. What if she hates me for giving her up? There’s too much going on right now for me to let her know all of this in one whack. I do plan on telling her; just not at this point. I want to get this adoption finalized first, and when the time is right, I will.”
Andrew shook his head. “Well, this is a bombshell for sure. Something like this will most definitely give you a leg up in court. But I think we should tell Paris and see if this information will avert battling it out in court all together.”
“No. I don’t want to tell Paris this.”
“But if she knows, I truly believe she’ll back off.”
“Okay, let’s think about this. What if we do tell her? She already thinks you’re keeping something from her about us. What if she learns we in fact did know each other back then? Knowing Paris, she’ll start accusing us of having slept together. Before you know it, she’ll be declaring that this child is possibly yours.” Gabrielle shook her head. “I don’t need that drama. Not at this point in the game.”
“But since you and I both know that’s not the case. . .” He paused, then looked at her. “Jasmine isn’t mine, is she?”
Gabrielle laughed out loud. “Boy, stop playing. You know me and you never were together in that way.”
He smiled. “I don’t know. You might have drugged me or something, then took advantage of me.”
Gabrielle smiled. “You always did know how to make me laugh.”
Andrew nodded. “But on a serious note. You do know who the father is, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“The father is irrelevant at this point. He’s not trying to get Jasmine. I’m not looking for child support. He didn’t care back when I was pregnant with her, and I can assure you with pretty much certainty that he doesn’t care now. I’m the one trying to get custody of Jasmine. That’s all you need to know. Let’s just keep the focus on me.”
“You know Paris is going to want to know. If for no other reason than to see whether you actually did sleep with her boyfriend Cedric at the time, just like she accused you of doing.”
Gabrielle thought about it. She didn’t know what all Paris knew. She could see Paris thinking like that. But what if Paris put things together and figured out that Jasmine was her father’s child. Gabrielle didn’t want to go that route or take that chance.
“If there’s any way you can argue my rights without Paris finding out that Jasmine is my biological child, I would appreciate it.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Although as I said: Paris’s lawyer is good, really good.”
“Yeah. But I’m counting on my lawyer being even better.”
“For you, I’ll be at my best.”
“That’s all I’m asking for.”
“But if this information has to come out—”
“Then it will just have to come out, and I’ll deal with the fallout. We’ll deal with things as they come.”
Andrew nodded, then stood to his feet. Gabrielle stood up as well.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said as he shook his head, then, as an almost whisper under his breath, said, “I’ll be John Brown.”
Chapter 33
But they that will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition.
—1 Timothy 6:9
Paris was fit to be tied. She paced back and forth like a caged lioness. “He’s representing her!” Paris said as she wrung her hands. “Her!”
“I know, and that stinks to high heaven,” Darius said. “But you have to
stay focused. We have this event tonight in that ballroom. We’ve worked hard all day getting things ready. I need you focused, Paris.”
“I don’t care about that! I don’t even want to go to this stupid function tonight, not now.” She stopped pacing and stepped right up in Darius’s face. “I find out he’s representing her against me. And on the same day, I also learn that Gabrielle is actually Jasmine’s birth mother! Really, Darius? Really? I mean: It doesn’t get any worse than this! And all you can think about is some silly event with a bunch of losers who likely can’t wait to get wasted? Well, I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are.”
She clenched her teeth as she spoke. “No . . . I’m . . . not!”
He grabbed her up by both shoulders. “Yes . . . you . . . are. Your father will be speaking there, and he and William need to see what a great job we’ve done. This is like the playoffs at this point. We have to bring our A game. We can’t quit now.”
She jerked away from him. “You might not be able to quit now, but I can. I don’t care anything about this election. Either my father is going to do what he needs to do to win or not. Most of these folks we’ve already signed up and gotten to say they’ll vote for him in November aren’t going to even bother to show up at the polls. You know it, and I know it.”
“Paris, pull yourself together. We’ve come this far; we’re going to finish this. So let’s just put this in a mental compartment for now, go do this event tonight, and tomorrow, you can put your gloves on and fight another round.”
“Why is God doing this to me? Why does He always seem to let Gabrielle win? I don’t get it. I’ve always been a better person than her. I know God knows that. I let her stay at my apartment when she had nowhere else to go, and what does she do? She steals my boyfriend. I run into her while seeing about a friend’s sick child and what does she do? She steals my husband and makes him her lawyer against me.” Paris started crying. “My own husband who wouldn’t represent me and my interest made a conscious decision to be her lawyer against me. Her lawyer! How do you explain that? And when it looks like I might have a chance to win, then what happens? I learn that the anointed Gabrielle Booker . . . yes, I said Booker because that’s her real name with her phony conniving self!”
“But she changed it to Mercedes,” Darius said, adding fuel to a fire he clearly saw burning hot out of control.
“I don’t care what she changed it to! She’s still a Booker as far as I’m concerned. According to you, she was going by . . . What was her stripper name again?”
“She was an exotic dancer. They didn’t call them strippers; it was exotic dancers. And her moniker was Goodness and Mercy.” Darius put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him.
“Goodness and Mercy. What a stupid name to call yourself. I’m surprised she didn’t change her last name to Goodness. Gabrielle Goodness. She may as well have; it looks like God treats her like she’s goodness or something. The wicked . . . the evildoers always seem to win.”
“You’re just upset.”
Paris pulled away from his embrace. “You’re right! I am upset! I’m over here looking like a complete fool while she gets to waltz away completely unscathed.”
“You don’t look like a fool; Andrew does. Because he can’t see the great woman he has right in front of him. But you can’t blame him.”
“Why not? He’s a grown man with a mind of his own. Gabrielle didn’t force him at gunpoint to represent her. That was something he chose to do. And he did it to let me know that he’s the boss in our family. He did it to put me in my place.” Paris made a snorting sound when she breathed in too quickly. “Well, I’ll show him. You’re right. I am going to this function tonight. And I’m going to show my father what a great job you and I have been doing. And you know what else?”
Darius smiled, then cut it off to look dead serious before she caught him grinning and appearing otherwise. “No. What?”
“I’m going to have a good time. And don’t you dare try and stop me. I’m not going to worry about Andrew or any of this. I’m done thinking about other people before I think about myself. I’m done putting other folks ahead of me. Done, do you hear me? D-O-N-E, done!”
“I hear you. So what time do you want me to pick you up tonight?”
“It starts at seven. Everything is set up and ready. Five thirty will give us plenty of time to do one final walk-through. But I can drive myself. I don’t need you to pick me up. It’s not like when we go to a nightclub or way off somewhere.”
“I’ll be at your house at five thirty.”
“You just don’t trust me to show up?”
“Nope. So be ready when I get there. And please, if your husband gets home before you leave, don’t say anything to him about any of this. Please. Just wait until this event is over tonight, and then you can go at it with him all you want. Okay? For me? Promise?”
She pouted her lips. “Okay.”
Darius picked her up as promised. After her father and William left the event a little after nine o’clock, complimenting them both on how well everything had turned out, Paris was true to her word. She let her hair down and drank and drank, and Darius didn’t dare stop her.
Everyone was to be out of there by ten o’clock.
Darius called home a little after ten. “Hey, babe. I wanted to call and let you know that I won’t be coming home tonight. This event has us on the other side of where I thought we were going to be, and dare I say that this is turning into a longer night than originally planned. The campaign is putting us up in a hotel for the night. And because I’ll be working so late, I’ll likely not see you in the morning before you leave for work.”
“Oh, okay. You’ll have to tell me all about it when you get home.”
“What’s to tell? It’s work. Work is always work.”
“I still don’t get why you don’t want me to tell anybody what you’re doing and who you’re working for. They would be so impressed. At least, I think so,” Tiffany said.
“Nobody cares what I’m doing or who I’m doing it for. Most folks hate politicians. Trust me, your friends don’t care nor do they need to know who my employer is. And if they’re not in his district to vote for him, what’s the point? All it will look like is that you’re bragging for bragging sake.”
“I only wanted to tell Gabrielle and Fatima and maybe a few other friends. None of the ones I want to tell are like my other friends you’re thinking about. But I suppose you have a point.” She sounded disappointed.
“Well,” Darius said. “I have to go. As they say: A man’s work is never done. But you can believe I’m getting paid. And when I get paid, that means we get paid.”
“And as you say: That’s all that counts these days,” Tiffany said. “I’ll see you later. Be good now.”
“Always,” Darius said. He clicked off the phone and walked back into the ballroom, locking his eyes on Paris, who was gulping down another drink. “Always, my dear wife.” He strolled toward Paris with a grin.
“You’re back,” Paris said with a smile and clearly having had one too many to drink.
“Yes. I just called my wife and told her I wouldn’t be home tonight.”
“Why not? Where are you going?”
“Taking you somewhere to sleep this off,” Darius said.
Her words were slurred. “I’m great. I’m having the time of my life.”
Darius helped her to her feet. “You might be great right now. But if you go home like this, who knows what you’ll say to your husband. I have too much invested to let you ruin things when we’re so close to the finish line.”
“You mean Mr. Traitor? My hus . . . hus . . . husband the traitor.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.” Darius walked her toward the doorway and out into the hallway. “Come on.”
They walked to the hotel lobby adjoined to the ballroom areas.
“My name is Darius Connors. I’m with the Lawrence Simmons reelection campaign. I’d like
a room, please. I believe they have one already booked.”
“Yep,” Paris said. “Because I booked it, and we used it when we were here earlier today setting things up.”
The person at the counter looked at Paris, then to her computer. “Actually, we thought you were finished with it.”
“Well, it looks like we’re not,” Paris said. “Choirboy here thinks he’s my babysitter.”
The woman behind the counter smiled. “No problem. I’ll get your key. Will that be one key or two?”
“Two,” Darius said.
“Whatever,” Paris said with the wave of her hand. “He’s not my daddy and he’s definitely not my traitor of a husband.”
“But I am responsible for you,” Darius said. “And you’re in no condition to go home right now.” He looked at the clerk. “I think it may have been something she ate.”
“Of course.” She handed him a small holder with two plastic keycards inside. “Checkout time is at eleven.”
Darius nodded, then doll-walked Paris over to the elevator.
Chapter 34
Surely as a wife treacherously departeth from her husband, so have ye dealt treacherously with me,. O house of Israel, saith the Lord
—Jeremiah 3:20
“Wake up, sleepy head,” Darius said as he stood over her. Paris grabbed up the covers and pulled them completely over her head.
“Come on now; you need to get up.” He sat down on the bed next to her and pulled the covers off her head.
She made her way to a sitting position, refusing to open her eyes. “My aching head,” she said, pressing the palms of her hands tightly against both sides of her face.
“I told you you were going to feel this way when you got up, but you didn’t want to listen,” Darius said.
She kept her eyes shut, turning her head in the direction of where the voice was coming from. “What are you doing here? Did I oversleep or something? Where’s Andrew? Did he let you in?” She slowly opened her eyes, then nippily looked around. “Where am I?”
The Other Side of Dare Page 18
