Suddenly, Kristina understood. "Oh, no! My phone!”
"Yeah."
“No! I mean, I wasn’t ignoring your calls. Carmela has my phone. I’d put it on silent because of dance rehearsals. She probably doesn’t even realize she still has it. Pam, I am so sorry. I didn't realize I’d left it behind.”
Pam threw her hands up in exasperation. "And what in the world were you doing for all those hours that you didn't even realize you’d left your phone?"
"She was with me."
Pam stood and looked past Kristina to the man standing in her office door. Her eyes narrowed and she stepped forward. "Omar? Omar Williams?”
Pam looked from Kristina to Omar and back to Kristina again.
Omar came into the room. "I'm sorry Pam. I really am. The time got away from us."
Pam put her hands up and shook her head. "Wait a minute. Time got away from you? What are you—when did you two even—“
"Tamia contacted me. She told me about Xavier and that he wanted to meet me. I thought maybe Kristina and I could reconnect before he got here."
Pam stared at them in stunned silence. "Is that so?"
She said it softly, but Kristina knew Pam well enough to know she was seething. But as usual, Pam remained polite.
"I appreciate you bringing Kristina home. But there are a lot of things we need to catch up on due to her being absent today, so…" She motioned toward the door.
Omar got the message and touched Kristina's elbow. "Tamia has my number. Feel free to call."
Kristina nodded and he left.
Pam folded her arms and stared at Kristina, saying nothing.
"I know. I know."
“Stay out of stressful situations. Avoid any emotional triggers. Take on only what's necessary. Isn't that what you were told?"
Kristina remained silent.
"The tour, the reality show and a son you didn't even know existed wasn't enough? You have to add Omar Williams on top of that?"
"He's his father—“
"Yes! His father. I'm not denying the boy should know him, but that has nothing to do with you. The Omar we knew was from nearly twenty years ago. Twenty years, Kristina. You have no idea what kind of baggage he’s carrying now. And you already have plenty of your own. Why in the world do you want to take on more?”
Kristina wanted to argue with her sister. To explain the way it felt to be around him again. But she couldn't deny that Pam had a point. Kristina had always gone after what felt good at the moment, be it drugs, alcohol or men. And it never worked out well. As good as she felt being around Omar, maybe feeling good wasn't enough.
"Please." Pam put her hands together as if she were praying. "If Xavier wants to get to know Omar, let him. But you focus on what's in front of you: the tour, fulfilling your contract with the production company and most importantly, your sobriety. Omar can wait."
Chapter 10
"Hey, doesn't the Princess come home today?"
Brock and Omar had just returned to the house after their workout and, as usual, Brock was eating his way through Omar’s pantry as Omar made a protein shake.
"Actually, Chloe and Marisa got back into town yesterday. She's bringing her over today and that's why I called you here."
Brock tossed a couple of honey roasted peanuts in his mouth. “Me and Marisa in the same room? Not one of your best ideas, my brotha.“
"Normally? No.” Omar said as he sliced a banana. “But I need you to be on your best behavior. I’m starting to think there needs to be a witness whenever she’s here.”
Brock's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa. I know we haven't had time to catch up this past week, but that sounds like something big went down."
"Well, you know how she showed out just before Chloe's party?"
Brock nodded.
"I think I know why. Like I told you before, that was the same day I got the mysterious Langston call."
Brock nodded again. "Yeah, yeah."
“Turns out it wasn't a wrong number. It was Tamia."
"As in, Kristina Langston’s sister, Tamia?"
"Yep."
Brock put his fist over his mouth. "You got to be kidding me! Why? How do you know? Did she call back?"
"She came over. But get this, she did leave a message. But it somehow disappeared from my voice mailbox.”
Brock narrowed his eyes. "Just when Marisa happened to be alone in your house?” He shook his head. "What did she say when you confronted her?"
"I haven't."
"Why not?"
"She’d just deny it. Besides, I’ve got too many other things to deal with right now. As much as I missed my baby, it worked out that she and Marisa were gone this week. It's taken me that long just to wrap my head around this whole situation. That call? It was to tell me I had a son."
Brock's eyes grew wide and he nearly choked on his peanut.
"Kristina had a baby, man. I have a son that just turned eighteen.”
Besides being a ladies man, there was something else Brock was known for—his mouth. But for the first time in all the years Omar had known him, he was speechless.
After a few moments of dumbfounded silence, he recovered and asked, “What's he like?"
"I haven't met him yet. We talked on the phone for a few hours but I won't see him until he gets to town on Friday. We’re all having dinner together. Me, Chloe and Xavier. Maybe Kristina, too.”
“Whoa. You’re having dinner with Kristina Langston? Now see, I woulda thought you’d be swinging from the chandeliers about now. You’ve been pining after that woman for as long as I’ve known you. So why you looking so worried?"
Omar shrugged and shook his head. "Maybe it's nothing. But I spent some time with Krissi and—“
Brock straightened up from where he’d been leaning on the counter. "Wait. Rewind. Are you telling me you met up with your Number One?" He was grinning from ear to ear. He reached out and smacked Omar on the shoulder. "And you didn't lead with that, man? Tell me! What happened? How did it go?"
"It was better than I ever could have imagined. But…"
"But what?"
"I don't know. I just thought she would’ve called by now. I'm trying not to overthink it. It's just, I thought we'd reconnected. But now…"
"Isn't she supposed to be touring soon? I can't listen to the radio for more than thirty minutes without hearing the announcement featuring her Atlanta dates. Maybe she's just busy. And she knows she's going to see you for dinner, so—“ Before Brock could finish his sentence, the doorbell rang.
The moment Omar opened the door, Chloe tackled him with love. He swooped her up in his arms and kissed her all over her face. "I've been waiting for this all day!"
Chloe kissed him back. "You missed me?"
Omar made a face at her. "Are you really asking me that? Of course, I missed you!"
Chloe put her finger up. "Okay, daddy. I promise I'll spend time with you. But first I need to go check on my castle, okay?"
Omar laughed. "No problem."
He put her down and she ran toward the back of the house, stopping only to give Brock a high-five as she went.
Marisa sauntered in, walking past Omar without so much as a hello. When she saw Brock, she turned to Omar and said, "I thought I told you I didn't want that man around my child."
"Our child. And I thought I told you he's her godfather and nothing’s changing."
Brock followed Omar and Marisa into the living room, a grin on his face. "Long time, no see, Marisa. By the way, your daughter's birthday party was beautiful. Too bad you had to miss it.”
"Go to hell, Brock."
"Hey!” Omar looked toward the back patio, checking for his daughter. “Both of you need to act civil. Chloe’s just outside.”
"Whatever." Marisa dropped down on the couch, crossing her legs.
“How’s your family? Did you two have a good time?"
"Of course, we did. Chloe always has a good time when she's around her family. I heard you had a pretty eventfu
l time yourself."
Omar and Brock exchanged glances.
“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean. What did you hear and who did you hear it from?”
“Oh!” Marisa covered her mouth and feigned surprise. “We’re gonna play that game? Okay. Cool. Forget I said anything.” She took a stick of gum from her purse and put it in her mouth. “So what did you call me here for that you couldn’t just say over the phone?”
Brock snorted. “Wow.”
She cut her eyes at him. “You got something to say?”
Brock ducked his head and sat in one of the chairs. “Naw. I was just trying to figure out why you always got such a bad attitude.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I guess. But just in case you’re wondering, it’s probably the reason you can’t keep a man.”
Omar could’ve sworn he felt the temperature drop as Marisa glared at Brock.
“Look!” Brock motioned at Omar. “She’s not even gonna deny it. Self-awareness is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?”
Inwardly, Omar groaned. He wasn’t in the mood to play referee today. “Come on, now. Settle down, man.”
“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Marisa leaned forward, her elbows on her lap. Her voice was low and even. “One day, you gonna push me too far, Brock.”
He leaned forward and matched her deadly tone. “And then what?”
“And then,” she said, leaning back and stretching her arms over the top of the couch, “Omar might finally get to see what a lowlife he has for a best friend.”
The cocky grin Omar wore only moments before, faded. He sat back in his seat, gutted.
Marisa kept her eyes on him, savoring the sudden shift in his mood. “That’s it. Down, boy.”
“Marisa!”
But neither she, nor Brock, looked at Omar. Their gazes remained fixed, one on the other, like predator and prey. Omar just wasn’t sure which was which.
Brock chuckled. “Naw, man. Don’t sweat it. You know how she is.”
The way they stared each other down made Omar uneasy. They’d never gotten along. That was old news. But something had changed.
“What is this? What’s going on with the two of you?”
Marisa shrugged and put her hand up to check her manicure. “Revulsion. Disgust. The usual. Now, are you gonna tell me what I was summoned for or not?”
Omar looked at Brock, but Brock avoided eye contact. Whatever was going on, they obviously didn’t want to elaborate. That was fine with Omar. He already had enough drama in his life.
"This week I want Chloe to spend Friday night with me. It shouldn’t be a problem since—”
"Why?" Marisa popped her gum and gave him a sidelong glance.
Omar immediately pushed down the annoyance he felt come up at her question. He never once asked her to explain herself when she wanted to change up the schedule. But while he didn’t appreciate her aggressive tone, he didn’t need to start a fight with her either. So for the sake of keeping the peace, he decided to ignore his aggravation and answer as simply as possible.
But before he could, Brock said, “To meet his son."
Marisa stopped swinging her crossed leg and narrowed her eyes at Omar. "Son?” She stood and folded her arms. “What son?"
Omar wanted to punch Brock in the face and gave him a look that said as much. He would deal with him later.
"This is not how I wanted to tell you, Marisa, but last weekend I learned I have a son from a relationship I was in as a teenager."
Marisa’s face crumpled and her shoulders dropped. "From when you were a teenager?"
He nodded, unsure of what to make of Marisa’s reaction. He knew she’d be upset, but hurt? He didn’t even know her back then.
She smiled, though her chin quivered and tears sprung to her eyes. "Wow. Okay. Now I get it."
"Get what?"
Marisa marched toward the doors to the back patio. ”Chloe!"
Omar got up and followed her. ”Marisa—“
She turned on him and jabbed her finger in his face. "You're not taking my child around some stranger I've never even met."
"Stranger? He's my son, Marisa. Her brother. And he's a good kid. He has a right to meet his sister."
Brock came to where they stood. "Yeah, Marisa. He has a right to meet his sister."
Omar didn't understand what happened next. All he knew was that only a split second passed before Marisa charged Brock and hit him in the face.
Before Omar even had time to react, Brock grabbed Marisa’s wrist, yanked her toward him, twirled her around and put her up against the wall. Marisa scratched at Brock's hand as he held her up by her throat.
“Brock! Stop!” Omar grabbed him from behind and pulled at him, but Brock didn’t budge.
Omar saw the terror in Marisa’s eyes as she struggled to breathe. No matter how hard he pulled, he couldn’t get Brock to let go. He was like a man possessed and Omar had no doubt that if he didn’t do something, Brock was going to kill her right then and there.
Omar let go, came around and punched his friend in the side and face, causing Brock to release his grip.
Marisa stumbled to the side for a few steps, using the wall to hold herself up. Brock was leaned over, his hand holding his busted lip.
"Are you okay?" Omar asked Marisa.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
Omar turned her chin to the side to get a better look at her neck. But as he did, he noticed her eyes grow wide. He turned to look over his shoulder and saw Chloe standing there, still as a statue, frozen with fear.
He rushed to Chloe and picked her up. She felt like a little bird, trembling in his arms. He pushed her head down on his shoulder and rubbed her back, rocking her gently. "It's okay, baby. It's okay."
He turned around to see Brock coming toward him, his hands up in surrender and his eyes full of desperation. "I'm sorry. I don’t—“
"You need to leave."
"But I—“
"I said leave."
Brock took a couple of unsteady steps backward and nodded his head. He turned around to leave, but slowed as he neared Marisa.
His voice was barely above a whisper and Omar was sure he’d intended for no one but Marisa to hear him. But it didn’t matter, Omar did.
"I swear to God, if you cross the line, I will, too. And you know exactly what I mean."
Instead of some kind of reaction that made sense, Marisa looked at Brock as if to challenge him to make good on his threat. Omar couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Minutes ago, Marisa appeared as sure as Omar that Brock was going to kill her. Now, her eyes didn’t hold an ounce of fear.
After Brock left, Marisa silently gathered her keys, handbag and phone.
"What was he talking about?"
"Chloe, kiss your daddy. We gotta go."
"Marisa."
She motioned for Chloe to come to her, as she picked up the girl’s My Little Pony backpack.
"Marisa!"
She aimed her finger at him. “Don't raise your voice to me in front of my child!" She came to where he stood and snatched Chloe away, dragging the girl with her as she walked to the door.
"I'm so sick of this. All of this. You're going to have to meet your bastard by yourself, because you're not taking my daughter with you!"
Chapter 11
Although Tamia visited Xavier in Dallas every chance she got, she still felt like a giddy little girl when she finally spotted him amid the sea of travelers arriving at Hartsfield–Jackson.
She used to say her two favorite people on the planet were her sisters. But both had been unceremoniously bumped down to second and third position since she'd been reunited with her nephew. Xavier was her best friend and, occasionally, her partner-in-crime.
"I can't believe you're here!" Tamia said, her arm hooked in his, as they made their way to her MINI Coupe.
"I know, right!” Xavier was smiling even harder than she was. "And now you can finally give me all the details on this Omar and
Kristina situation.”
Tamia opened her car trunk and Xavier dumped his duffle bag inside. She went to toss his carry-on, as well, when he stopped her.
"Not that. I'm keeping it with me. There’s something in there for y’all."
Tamia unlocked the doors.
"What is it?"
Xavier got in and reached for his seatbelt, shrugging. "I have no idea.”
"How you gonna tell someone you brought them something and then say you don't know what it is?"
Xavier grinned. "I'll explain later. First, tell me what's up with these wayward bio parents of mine."
Once they were out of the parking garage, Tamia launched into the story thus far.
"Okay, so first of all, there's definitely some sparks there. I saw them myself. But don't mention none of this in front of Pam. She’s been in a mood ever since she found out.”
"Because they might get together? Why would that put her in a bad mood?"
"I guess she's worried if it doesn't work out, Kristina will relapse."
"Oh."
"But I don't think she would. She’s so different now. You'll see. Even better than when you saw her in New York. She’s more stable than I can ever remember her being.”
"Man, you don't know how good it feels to hear that. I just want her to be okay.”
"Me and you, both."
"So…"
Tamia stole a glance at her nephew. "So, what?"
"Are you dating anyone?"
"And how in the world did we get on this subject?"
Xavier chuckled. "I don't know why you're acting so surprised. I ask you every single time I see you. And every single time I ask, you find a new way not to answer."
"And see, one would think you’d get the hint and stop asking."
"The sooner you answer, the sooner I will."
Tamia groaned. ”Okay. Fine. But first, tell me this: why do you want to know so bad?”
“There might be someone who's interested."
Then Sings My Soul (The Langston Family Saga Book 2) Page 6
