by Jacki Renée
Bryan gets the girls tucked into bed early and turns in too.
Jessica, Nancy, and I sit by the fire in the family room with a bottle of wine. They entertain me with stories of Bryan, the overachieving, competitive sports fanatic who had female and several male classmates falling all over him. Some things never change.
Close to one in the morning, we call it a night and I drag myself upstairs. Bryan is hugging one of my pillows.
I wash up and pull on a sleep shirt and panties. I slide in next to him and pull the pillow from his arms, replacing it with my body. He holds me close like he’s never letting me go. I close my eyes happy to bask in the warmth of him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
With shoulders slumped, Kourtney sits on the side of the bed when I come out of the bathroom.
“Good morning, sweetie. How did you sleep?” I ask.
“Morning, Mom.”
I frown. “Did you sleep like a baby?”
Her shoulders rise and fall in one fluid motion.
“Did you eat breakfast?” I ask.
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“Kourt, what’s wrong?” I sit next to her.
“Is Dr. Hawk going to live here too?”
“No, he’s visiting for a little while.”
“What’s a little while?”
“They’ll be here for a week.”
“Do we have to stay while he’s here?”
“Not if you don’t want to. Talk to me, sweetie. What’s wrong?” I cup her chin.
Her lips tremble and tears roll down her cheeks. She climbs onto my lap.
I wrap my baby in my arms. “Do you want to tell me how you’re feeling?”
“I’m sad.”
“Can you tell me what’s making you sad?”
“I heard Dr. Hawk say mean things about you.”
“Was it the truth?”
She shrugs her shoulders.
“What’s one thing he’s said that makes you sad?”
“He said you’re a gold digger.”
“Do you know what a gold digger is?”
“I thought it meant someone who digs for gold, but I don’t think that’s what he means.”
I kiss her temple. “You’re right, one definition is someone who digs for gold like when we went to that ghost town in Arizona. Do you remember?”
Kourtney nods.
“The other is a way to define a person who pretends to love or care about someone that has a lot of money or valuable possessions.”
“Why would he call you a gold digger?”
“I don’t know. We just met yesterday. What’s another thing he said that makes you sad?” I hug her tight, hoping the next thing out of her mouth isn’t a racial slur.
“He said you’re a whore.”
I was more prepared for the racial slur.
“Do you know what that means?” I count back from fifty. No seven-year-old needs to know the definition of a whore regardless of their IQ.
Kourtney shakes her head.
“That word is used to define someone who sells their body for money. And it’s an inappropriate thing to say about anyone.”
“I heard Dr. Hawk say he bets you’re a whore off the street who needs money to support your kid. A gold digger after Bryan’s money. I don’t want to be here if he’s going to say those things about you.” She sniffs.
“We can go back to our apartment if that’s what you want.”
“Is the apartment safe?”
“We can go to a hotel if you don’t feel comfortable staying in the apartment.”
“Can my sister come with us?” I rock my baby girl, letting her cry it out. I want to absorb her pain and replace it with the courage to overlook ignorance.
An internal conference is going on between my heart and mind. Dr. Hawk is ruining my daughter’s holiday.
Once Kourtney’s calm enough to slide off my lap, I wipe her tears and cup her cheeks. “I’ll get dressed and go downstairs to tell Bryan we’re going to a hotel. You go pack.” I kiss her nose.
She leaves the room, the door closing behind her.
To kill him is predictable. He is Bryan’s father so I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m going to hurt him really, really bad.
I stomp my way into the closet, surprised the house isn’t quaking with each step. My butt-kicking clothes are yanked from a suitcase. Foregoing the body-moisturizing regimen, I get dressed.
The boxing gloves stay in the gym bag. I want fist to skin contact. They’ll be able to recognize him. After the swelling goes down.
When I’m done, Dr. Bryan Kendal Hawk the third will think twice before saying anything derogatory about me loud enough for my baby to hear.
Twisting my hair around a scrunchie, I leave it in a high, messy ponytail on top of my head. I grab the tape from my gym bag and start wrapping my hands and wrists. My mind filters through quick, effective combinations meant to do hurt, but not do too much damage.
The roll drops to the floor.
The bedroom door slams behind me as I stomp my way to the stairs. In repetitions, I ball a fist then relax my fingers, testing the strength of the tape.
Bryan reaches the bottom step the same time I make it to the landing.
“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” I jog down the stairs.
“I’m not stopping you. Just give Emm time to get in the family room before you have a talk with my dad.”
I stop two steps in front of him, which puts us brown eyes to hazel eyes.
“Did you hear what he said?”
“No. Emm asked me what a whore is.”
“She heard him too?” I try to duck under his arm.
He blocks me from getting past.
“The offer still stands.”
“This is your home, Bryan. I won’t ask you to make your family leave.”
“Our home,” he corrects. “If Mom and Jessi want to stay, I’ll drive them back to Colorado Springs when they’re ready.”
“Kourtney doesn’t want to stay here. We’re checking into a hotel.”
“Baby, do you mind if I talk to Kourt?”
Emma calls out, letting us know she’s in the family room.
He steps back.
I stretch my arms.
Bryan follows me down the hallway, mimicking the roar of a crowd and talking like an announcer at a boxing match. “Looking sexy in black, black. Leggings, leggings. And red, red tank top, top, top. Firm round ass, ass, is the undisputed Featherweight Cham...”
I stop in the doorway of the kitchen. Bryan walks into me, ending to his announcement of the fight.
Marie’s chasing Dr. Hawk around the kitchen table with an old-fashioned, wooden rolling pin in her hand and circling above her head. “How dare you call Danielle a gold digger whore, you old fart!” She’s moving fast and her Southern roots are more pronounced. “I’m gonna knock some sense into that hard head of yours!” She’s rounding the table in hot pursuit. Boy is she angry. If she wasn’t so hell bent on clobbering Bryan’s dad, I’d laugh at how her drawl is distorting her words.
“Son, control your housekeeper.” He scurries around the table like the rat he is.
Bryan’s hands pat my shoulders. “Sorry, Dad, that’s the lady of the house’s job.”
Marie takes a swing at the rat from across the table. He squeals. Nancy and Jessica stand back laughing.
The seriousness of what’s going on in the kitchen calms me down me down enough to take control of the situation. I step in Marie’s path. She stops chasing, but does not holster her rolling weapon.
“Why are you here? You’re off until the first?” I pull at the tape, unwinding it from my wrist and hand.
“I left my scarf yesterday. I heard Emma ask what’s a whore,” she huffs and scowls at her intended victim. “I knew that knucklehead said it loud enough for them to hear.”
“Thank you for coming to my defense, Marie. I can take it from here.” I look across the table. “Have a seat, Dr. Hawk. You and I need to talk. One
on one.” I turn to everyone else in the kitchen. “Can you give us a minute, please?”
Marie takes another swing before storming out the back door still holding the baking utensil and speaking in a dialect similar to French. She forgets her coat and scarf, and leaves the door wide open. She’s rounding the side of the house. I bet the snow’s melting from the heat emanating from her body.
“Bryan, please go give Marie her coat before she gets sick.”
He kisses me, then grabs her things off the hook and runs out the back door. Also leaving it open.
Nancy and Jessica laugh their way down the hallway.
“Okay, Dr. Hawk, what’s on your mind?” I walk over and close the door, then plop down in a chair, balling the tape in my fist.
“I know your kind and I want you to leave my son and granddaughter alone. Find someone else to sink your claws into.” He sits in the chair across from me, breathing like he ran ten miles in under a minute. Oh wait. He did.
“Dr. Hawk, do you know me? Do you work at one of the two banks I have active accounts with? Do you sign my paychecks? Do you have access to my credit information? Do you have hidden cameras in my apartment?”
He shakes his head, still breathing hard.
“You met me yesterday. How do you know I’m a whore off the street? A gold digger? Have you been sleeping with a whore? Perhaps you have a gold digger as a side-piece and you can’t get rid of her.”
He gawks. “Of course not!”
“How else do you explain your qualifications to define me as a whore off the streets who needs money to support my kid? A gold digger after Bryan’s money?” I keep repeating his words so he understands just how demeaning his remarks truly are.
“How long have you known my son?” The indignation is evident in his tone.
I have to be careful how I answer this. “Long enough to know his place in our lives.”
“You’ve known him a few months and now you and your daughter are living here. That’s awfully fast, don’t you think?”
“You have a valid point, Dr. Hawk. But I still don’t see how you’ve come to the conclusion I sell my body and am in need of your son’s financial support.”
He glares at me the way a parent looks at their child, waiting for a confession of guilt.
To gain the upper hand, I give him what he wants. “Yes, it is awfully fast. But it’s a decision the four of us made. Besides, don’t you think your son is intelligent enough to spot a gold digging whore when one crosses his path?”
“My son is thirty-four years old. Dr. Edwards. He’s never exposed his daughter to one of the notches on his belt. Nor has he introduced us to one. Not even Emma’s mother. Why would he change his ways for you?”
“Would you feel better if I told you Kourtney and I don’t need your son’s financial support?”
“Show me proof and I’ll rest better.”
He’s a dad looking out for his son and granddaughter; I respect that. The rage now replaced by mutual parental understanding.
“If that’s what it takes, fine. The papers I need are upstairs.” I leave him at the table and go upstairs to Bryan’s room.
My safe is in the back of the closet. I punch in the code and take out two files. A photo falls to the floor. I pick it up and open a file. Taking a moment, I look at the loose pictures. A jolt of sadness shocks my heart and I blink away the tears. He was so happy and I was coming around. We were making plans. Three years later, he was gone.
Where’s the other photo? There should be three pictures of us from that day. One is missing. With the back of my hand, I wipe away the tears.
I don’t have time to do a thorough search. Dr. Hawk is waiting. Dropping the two photos in the safe along with Kourtney’s official birth certificate and social security card, I close the top. It automatically locks, and I push the safe back in its spot.
I return to the kitchen and sit next to Bryan’s father.
“I’m a private person but willing to make an exception because I would never want to come between you and your son. Before I give you these, may I ask you a question?”
He raises a questioning eyebrow. So that’s where Bryan gets it.
“Does the color of my skin affect your opinion of me?”
“Hell no!” He genuinely sounds offended. “You are a beautiful, attractive Black woman, Dr. Edwards.”
“There is one thing you must trust me on, since there’s no other way to prove it. Kourtney’s father is the only man I’d been intimate with and I was nineteen at the time. My husband and I were childhood friends, yet I waited until after I was married to have sex.” I hand him the files. “Kourtney receives monetary support monthly. Every penny goes into a trust account I set up. I’ve worked since I was sixteen years old and learned to save my money. My husband spent only what was necessary and put the rest away for a rainy day. There was a good amount of money in his savings when he died. I owned my home in Arizona. You will see, it sold in August and I invested part of the money. I’m a licensed working therapist by choice, Dr. Hawk.” I rise from the table, walking out of the kitchen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Bryan, Kourtney, and Emma are about to walk out the side door.
“Where are you three going?” I ask.
“We’re making a snowman,” Emma answers.
“One bigger than Uncle Vinny.” Kourtney smiles up at me.
“So we’re staying?”
She nods. “Bryan made me feel better.” She’s holding his hand.
“You guys have fun.”
Nancy jumps up from the sofa as I walk into the family room. “Are we hitting the sales, ladies?”
“We should have been at the mall at five this morning.” Jessica folds the sales paper in her hands.
“There’s some work I need to finish, so I’ll pass.” I’m not in the mood to shop. I know I have that appointment, but I’ll reschedule.
“Work!” They snort.
“Come on, Danielle. Go shopping with us,” Jessica whines. “When’s the last time you went shopping with just the girls?”
Does Maxie count?
“You’re going with us,” Nancy demands. “Bryan will look after the girls.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“My son Bryan. Now go change into comfortable shopping clothes. Come to think of it, what you’re wearing is fine. Jessica takes sale shopping to the extreme. We may have to jump in when she fights other shoppers or the sales clerks. And don’t bring a big purse.” She turns me by the shoulders and pushes me in the direction of the door.
It would be fun to go shopping with them.
“Danielle?” Dr. Hawk walks into the room, handing me the folders. “I can see it’s not just your beauty that attracts my son. You’re smart. Independent. And financially savvy. I’m ashamed of the way I spoke about you. Especially knowing your little girl and my granddaughter overheard me. My children are adults, but I still want to protect them from the world. You’ll understand when Kourtney is an adult. Please accept my sincerest apology.”
I hold out my hand right hand. “Truce?”
He takes my hand in both of his, then kisses my knuckles. “Truce. And please call me Bryan.”
“You wouldn’t believe he’s the Superintendent of Schools in our city district from the way he’s been acting,” Jessica comments.
“I’ll help entertain the girls. I owe them an apology too.”
Feeling accomplished, I run upstairs, laying the folders on the nightstand and going into the closet to change. My clothes are still in suitcases. I open the big one and scramble through the mess until I find a pair of jeans and a heavy sweater to wear.
After I put in my gold stud earrings, transfer my driver’s license, credit cards and cash to an across the shoulder wallet-purse, I grab my keys and cell phone.
On my way down the stairs, I hear Willis yelling, his voice booming from the family room. I fast walk in that direction, but Nancy and Jessica catch me under each arm, pulling me in the
opposite direction.
“Wait, let me tell Bryan I’m leaving.” I walk across the hallway to the side door and step out onto the deck. “Hey, I thought you guys were building a snowman.”
Bryan is ducking behind the Christmas tree while the girls throw snowballs at him from behind the giant lawn ornaments.
“I thought so too,” he laughs throwing snowballs back at them.
“I’m going shopping with your mom and sister.”
“Have fun.” He ducks out of the way of a precisely thrown snowball.
The smile of pride on Bryan’s face can’t be missed. His daughter’s got a good arm.
Nancy and Jessica wait for me inside the garage. “Let’s go shopping, ladies.”
***
Nine hours later, tired and hungry, I turn onto Bryan’s street.
“I can’t believe I spent that much money.” Nancy looks over her receipts for the tenth time since we left the mall. “He’ll kill me when he opens the credit card bill next month.”
“Dad will fuss, but he’ll never lay a hand on you.” Jessica smacks her lips. “My little brother will lay hands on Danielle. And other things. I can’t believe the guys paid to have the store shut down for you.”
“I thought it was a joke until the manager locked the doors.” I peek at Jessica in the rearview mirror. “Your girlfriend’s going to love what you bought.”
During the shopping spree, Jessica told me about Samantha, her long-term partner.
“Hey, I’m not the one who purchased sheer lingerie. At least most of my lady parts are covered. Bryan can rip off your flimsy stuff with one good tug,” she laughs.
I’m not sure this is an appropriate conversation to have in front of your boyfriend’s mother. But she bought racy underwear too. She even picked out a few pieces for me.
“I have to find somewhere to hide my bags before your dad sees them.”
“Let’s go in through the back.” I suggest. “We can sneak upstairs and no will notice. Hide your packages in Jessica’s room.”
I pull up to the curb in front of the house. Like a professionally trained special ops team, we infiltrate the house. Undetected. Each carrying shopping bags in both hands. At the top of the stairs, they go to the right; I go left.
