“Oh. Well I’m borrowin’ yo’ toaster, honey. Tell the ’ministration to pay me for you. I mean you for me. Ah, hell ask for yourself, they parked right there on the corner,” Mona called out over her shoulder, pointing as she jogged down the street, toting my brand new toaster under her arm. She stopped at the corner next to a black Altima and I watched her tap frantically on the window. It rolled down and a woman threw out a few bills that fluttered wildly into the street. I ran to get a better look out the front door but it sped off with the tires squealing and smoking. Mona was there and gone so fast I thought I might have imagined her.
If Mona could get in and out, hell, anybody and they damn momma could. Lord, I needed help some kind of bad right now. Who the hell was that in the car? It had VA plates; she could have rented a car, it couldn’t have been her. Did Mona tell her anything? Who would believe Mona? That woman acted about as nutty as Momma. Nutty or fiending and willing to sell someone out . . .
I went back to Momma’s room and closed and latched the window. When I pulled to make sure it was secure, it wouldn’t budge.
She must’ve used something to get it open. This house, this arrangement, just wasn’t gonna work. I needed to find us all a place fast.
“Trey, baby, don’t slurp the noodles; you’re gettin’ sauce everywhere. And eat your toast. You asked for it, so eat it.”
I’d made spaghetti for dinner because it was quick and easy, but with the mess the kids were making I immediately regretted it.
“This not toast, Mommy. You put it in the stove, and toast go in the toaster. Oun’t like it,” he whined, dropping it square in the middle of the table.
“No nost. No. no. no nost, No no no no no,” Lataya chimed in singing and banging her empty sippy cup on the table. She was all grins with spaghetti sauce all over her little cheeks and chin. I tried to get her to at least stop clanking the cup. Trey was frowning tapping the table with his fork.
He’d barely taken one bite out of it and was already complaining. I always made garlic bread in the oven, which he didn’t like, so I’d make him buttered toast instead. Without my damn toaster I had to make Trey’s buttered toast the old-fashioned way.
“Boy, it’s still butter on a piece of bread. So eat it before I butter that ass. Your sister’s eatin’ hers without a problem.”
“Eat, eat, eat. Eat . . .” she sang, silencing herself with a fistful of spaghetti.
Trey dropped his fork and slumped back in his chair. “G-ma and the walls said she not my sister and when my daddy—”
“Lord, help me,” I actually groaned out loud. This boy and all his G-ma talk; and when did he decide to shorten grandma to G-ma? I didn’t even know. I wanted to wring both her and Trey’s necks at the moment. He was saved by my phone.
“Ms. Laurel? It’s Dr. Harrington.”
I smiled into the phone, thankful for the distraction before I snatched Trey up from the table. I’d been secretly hoping he’d call and ask if I’d reconsidered. My nerves were still on edge from dealing with Mona and that car. An adult conversation would take my mind off things, even a brief one; it would make me feel so happy right about now. Even though I’d coached myself over and over to tell him no, I could feel the cogs spinning in my brain.
“Yes, this is she,” I replied sweetly.
Damn, I’d need a sitter. Maybe he’d consider a child-friendly date. No, that would be awkward. Trey would ask too many questions and Lataya would get fidgety. We wouldn’t get any kind of conversation in. I didn’t have anything to wear. We couldn’t even do happy hour anywhere because I didn’t know who to trust with the kids. Not after that car earlier. No one knew I was back in town. I could have called one of my girls from the bank. But if Honey was having me followed they wouldn’t know what to do if confronted—
“Your mother’s had a small stroke. She’s stable and asking for you.”
His words sank into my ears and settled in the pit of my stomach with the rest of the gloom that seemed to be hovering over my life, and my shoulders slumped. “I’ll be right there,” I replied, disappointed and worried about Momma.
The hospital took up the first two floors. They’d obviously had enough drama with patients self-inflicting wounds, having heart attacks, and enough seizures to require one on site and for that I was thankful. It was also a relief not to go through half the security I went through on my last visit. I felt naked leaving my gun in car and if I’d known it was going to be so lax I would have kept it in my purse.
Dr. Harrington was waiting beside the front desk when I arrived. I had to admit he handled the transition from rugged brute to sexy intelligence extremely well. His lab coat was most likely a size too small on purpose. His biceps completely filled out the sleeves and I was pretty sure if the man so much as sneezed he’d completely rip his way out of it.
When he glanced down at the floor clearing his throat I realized I’d been staring and I finally opened my mouth. “How . . . How’s Momma doing? Is she gonna be okay?”
“She’s asleep now. It was minor; they don’t see any permanent damage. She was lucky she was here taking it easy and not at home alone.”
“Good. Well, I don’t wanna wake her up. I’ll just get the kids—”
“The kids will be fine in the playroom. Come sit with me, have a drink. Someone gave me a bottle of Cîroc Amaretto. It’s been sitting in my office and you are gonna be my guinea pig. You can even talk my head off for free.”
“Who says I want to talk? And I have to drive. Plus I’ve got the kids.”
He flashed that disarming smile of his before answering me. “You show me a woman who doesn’t like to talk and I can guarantee it’s because she’s mad, or she can’t stand the person she’s sitting next to.”
I was trying hard to keep from laughing. Call it a control thing, but I knew he wanted to make me laugh and I was just refusing to do it. The result was a crooked, twisted-mouth smile. He did have a point, because I couldn’t count how many silent dinners I’d sat through because I was mad or Larissa was pissed off. I finally answered once I had my humor fully contained. “Touché, you got me. I will drink to that. Just one though.”
The sound of ice clinking into two crystal glasses was the background music to the look of me in awe. His office was impressive. It was about half the size of a hotel ballroom and breathtakingly masculine. Several rich walnut bookcases lined one of the deep blue diamond-patterned walls. One was filled with volumes of psychology books and journals; the other one had a signed football by Redskins players, and his various degrees. Two large flat-screen TVs were mounted to the far back wall facing his desk, which was made of the same cherry finish as the bookcases.
That would be just like a man. Who in the world needed two TVs?
The sun shot golden glittered arrows off the corners of buildings as it set. I stood in front of monstrous floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a view of downtown from the top floor. He handed me a glass and leaned beside me on his oversized mahogany desk.
I smirked. “So what kind of doctor doesn’t need a computer?”
“Aren’t we the observant one. It’s all wireless and the flat screen on the right is my computer screen; the one on the left is my TV. Even though I will have two games goin’ if I’m stuck in here on a slow day, don’t tell anyone though.”
He nodded toward them and I was in “wow” for a moment. I needed that all up in my life; working with the guys and staging the houses usually kept me up to date on those types of things.
I have definitely been slacking on my techie game something serious, and that is so not like me.
“So, Harrington, what’s your first name? And don’t tell me it’s Doctor.”
“That’s a good one. I’ll have to remember to use that. It’s Devon.”
I sighed. “Well, Devon, I’m in the wrong damn line of business. I’ve got a company in Florida and my view was just the Realtor’s ass in front of me.” I pouted. “It wasn’t a good look, trust me. He was a big boy, al
ways managed to have a ‘man camel toe.’” Seeing Devon’s confused look I clarified, “You ever seen a fat guy in really tiiiiight pants? Now imagine him bending over and his balls—”
“No! I refuse to picture any dude’s sac in any format.” Devon made the “blech” face along with sound effects.
“I’m just sayin’. I looked directly at it once by accident. It’s like a freaking solar eclipse. You know you shouldn’t stare but you can’t look away. The vision still hasn’t been fully restored in my left eye.” I did a dramatic hiccup sigh.
“Aww, there there. I’m a doctor remember. Let me have a look at it.” He playfully took my chin in between his thick fingers and stared curiously into my eyes.
Our gaze locked and I instantly became hypersensitive to everything. Heat waves rose from his hand, radiating into my skin, making me wonder if they could do that everywhere. He had the thickest curliest lashes I’d ever seen on a man. I wanted to laugh and ask if they came that way out the pack, insinuating that they were fake, but I couldn’t stop looking at them . . . at him.
Mmm, and what gorgeous eyes you have, Doctor . . .
Suddenly uncomfortable I blinked, ending the transmission and locking him out of my head. Oh no, sir, you ain’t about to glamour me googly-eyed with your Dr. Wonder Sex Care Bear stare down. Tighten up, girl. One drink and carry your ass.
Frowning, I shooed his hand away, clearing my throat. “You ain’t even an eye doctor. You might break it.”
“Why are you so guarded?” His voice was low and pensive.
“I’m not guarded. I’m just careful. If I told you even half of what I’ve done or what I’ve been through, you’d probably have me thrown out of the hospital.” I took a sip from my drink to try to cool me down. He needed to turn on some AC.
“And she actually murdered my wife. Did you hear me? Murdered her and the guy I was seeing. Not seeing like cheating, because we were about to divorce anyway, I think. It was bad. But, honestly, would you ever drug your own wife?”
His drink stopped midway to his lips and he stared at me, wide-eyed.
“Don’t answer that you’re a damn head doctor. You’d probably have just as well had us all strapped to your bug zapper downstairs.” With the attitude of a queen dismissing her court, I waved off any excuse he was about to try pitching in my direction. “Anyway, so this cop comes along; next thing I know I’m tied up living out my worst nightmare. Traumatized me, trust no one.”
I’d started with how I met Rasheed all the way to how I ended up staying with his mom. Devon sat completely motionless. The only things that moved on the man were his eyelids. He blinked, and finally sat up like he was coming out of a trance.
I gasped. “Oh fuck, you’re probably thinking I’m like the worst kind of person. I’m really not. I can’t believe I told you all of that. Am I gonna have to kill you now? The way my luck has been going you’re probably gonna try to kill me or just randomly die and I . . . I don’t even know.” I sobbed into my hands.
A sip had obviously turned into me having a drunken meltdown moment. I could hear him laughing and I frowned, peeking at him from between my wet, teary fingers. This fool was sitting there just grinning, running his index finger back and forth across his bottom lip, looking conceited as hell.
“So, I take it that you like me, huh? Because that was quite a bit of talking,” he asked in between grinning and biting his bottom lip. He was referring to our conversation downstairs.
I shot daggers at him with my eyes.
Devon looked down at his watch. “Why don’t we take the kids out and do something fun while Mommy sobers up? I’m sure they’re hungry by now and unless a DUI is on your bucket list? I don’t know. Let me see if I can remember you saying anything about that in your adventures.” He couldn’t stop laughing, and I couldn’t stop feeling mortified.
Okay, so I could add funny and disarming to the list. I had to give him points. He could have taken advantage of my emotional breakdown and tried to get me butt-ass naked on his desk. Hell, he could have let me sober up in the visiting area with a pot of stale coffee and pretzels after everything I’d told him. Maybe there were some good guys out there, because not once had he been anything less than a gentleman when I’d been doing all the mental Olympics.
Even if he is a good guy, then what? Ugh! I think I think too damn much. Sloths are fast but choose to move slowly. Maybe it’s time to stop being so damn smart all the time.
Chapter 13
Almost Doesn’t Count
“You sure this is Rasheed momma house?” I asked, looking out the corner of my eye at Big, trying not to get irritated. He hadn’t stopped eating since we got in the car. This fool was the textbook definition of a stress eater. It took all of my willpower not to open my mouth and point out that that’s probably how his butt got big in the first place. If he wasn’t stressing about how much money he might lose without Angelo as an investor in Miami, it was only because his mouth was full. Every time we passed a rest stop or a gas station, he was out the car looking for tuna salad, Swiss Cake Rolls, and Jujubes. It didn’t matter how many times I explained and re-explained, Angelo was not worried about him. If anything, I needed to be worried. I’d managed to get on everyone’s list on both sides of Angelo’s family. He wasn’t gonna want anything more to do with Big and had enough money to not be pressed about the chump change he’d loaned him.
“Yeah, girl, I’m sure. All the homies pretty much grew up here hanging out with him. It’s the one right there with the burgundy shutters.” He spoke around a mouth full of Hot Pocket.
“Why ain’t the porch lights on? There ain’t even a car in the driveway. What time is it? eight forty-three p.m. on a Thursday; someone should be home this late, Big.”
“Maybe she took her to Bingo. His ma was always crazy about that shit.”
The car was smellin’ like a stuffy mobile canteen. Since it was last minute the only thing at the rental place was a compact Prius hybrid. I’d had to do most of the driving since Big was obviously on his man cycle. Y’all ain’t know men had cycles? Shit, they get moody, pissy, sentimental, and be all touch me, touch me not. At one point he actually tried talking me into turning around because he didn’t properly tell his fish good-bye. We made it to VA just in time. He would’ve contracted some kind of deadly food poisoning eating all those random gas station snacks, or I’d have killed his ass. We could have flown but the chance of being spotted by Don Cerzulo or any of Angelo’s people was just too risky. Besides, I didn’t want any more people questioning me about that Angel of Death business.
I gave Big a wary look, patting his shoulder. “Okay so, you just stay in the car and um, guard your snacks. I’m gonna go look inside and see if they’ve been here.”
I parked far enough away that no one would notice the car and got out, pulling the hood of my jacket over my head. I walked around the side of the house, glad all the windows were low to the ground. There was one around the back of the house that didn’t have a screen on it. I pressed in and pushed up on the glass. When it slid up I celebrated and waited to see if an alarm or anything went off. When nothing happened I pushed the window up and climbed through, landing on an old, musky quilted bed. The house was pitch black. Sliding my phone out of my pocket I used the flashlight app for light and cracked the bedroom door open. If I’d had a weak heart I’d have died on the spot. She was standing there like a damn ghost. Reflexes made me drop to the floor drawing my little handgun out of my pants leg.
“Who the fuck are you?” she whispered down at me with her pistol aimed at my nose.
“Desivita, and your ass?” I snapped back, my gun pointed at her gut.
“Oh shit, the little murder actress. I’m Towanna.” She put her gun away, reaching out her hand to help me up.
I took it, brushing myself off, looking at her warily, and asked, “Why are you hiding in here in the dark, Michelle fuck you over too?”
Hey eyebrow went up and I realized where I’d messed up befo
re I could even fix it.
“Too? How does Michelle know Desivita Dulce’ and how she fuck you over?” she asked, and I wasn’t answering I’d already said too much.
“A’ight, well I think she saw me. I was out in front watchin’ the house and a crackhead come out the house through the window you just came in, and straight out to my car. Carryin’ a damn toaster. Anyway, Michelle came to the door so I pulled off in a panic. When I came back the house was empty.”
No, no, no. I started shaking my head back and forth. This hit-or-miss, “a day late and a dollar short” bullshit had to stop eventually. Tears shimmered in my eyes and I sat down right there in the hallway. I actually had a breakdown in somebody else’s house. I couldn’t think of what I was supposed to do next or where I was supposed to go. My life was all fucked up and the only thing I wanted was with the one person who fucked everything up in the first place.
“She’s mine, Towanna, and I’ll miss her first words. I ain’t never heard her laugh or kissed her check and it’s tearing me up inside. How do I walk away? If someone could just tell me how, I’d do it. Michelle took her from me, and I just want her back.”
Towanna surprised me when she didn’t ask any questions. She just sat down beside me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. She leaned her head against mine and rocked back and forth with me.
I leaned my head back against the wall, staring up at the dark ceiling. Teenage Rasheed probably had all kinds of nasty little girls up in this house when his momma wasn’t home. The metal upper half of a pull-up bar was stuck to one of the doorframes and I immediately knew that was his bedroom.
My chest got tight and the hole in my heart with Rah’s name carved around it slowly started to ache. I had to get my mind off him and on to something else. What me and Rah had won’t nothin’ but a stripper’s dumb fantasy. When I got him out of prison, I saw him for what he really was with my own eyes. I took a deep breath to calm my thoughts but something Towanna said made me pause.
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