She looked up at me and sighed. “You say you weren’t living at your house when she was there. Where were you staying?”
“In my office mostly. Sometimes I’d get a room.”
“So you didn’t screw her while she was there? Not once?”
“Hell no! Sasha and I were over long before I even met you. Shit, we were over before we were over.”
“What difference does that make? We weren’t a couple in Virginia and you screwed the hell out of me.”
“Sasha is not you. Not by a long shot.”
She dropped her eyes again. “What about the money?”
“I offered it as an incentive for her to take the paternity test, and it worked because all she’s ever cared about is my money. We went to the clinic together. When they called me back, they told me she wasn’t even pregnant. She was in the doctor’s office crying, saying all this crazy shit about how much she loved me and would do anything to be with me. She’d taken that fake stomach off, and it was lying on a chair next to her. Greer, I was in shock. I mean, I knew she could be manipulative, but this was past that. Sasha is mentally ill.”
I walked over to her, squatted in front of her, placed my hands on her knees, and said, “I made her move out that day. I don’t know where she went, but I told her to take the check and cash it and check herself into a psychiatric center. She needs help.”
She didn’t speak or look up at me.
“Baby, you’ve got to believe me. I’m telling you the truth. Sasha is not pregnant. She’s crazy, and she’s just trying to make my life miserable. I don’t know how she even knows about you.”
“Facebook.”
“What?”
“She says she saw a picture of us on Facebook. That damn Facebook just keeps ruining my relationships.”
“No, not this time. Not if you believe me. I love you and I am not lying.”
She finally looked me in the eye. “But you did lie...by omission. She was living in your house, and you never told me. You said you had no kids when you weren’t even sure of it. You kept me in the dark on purpose.”
“Because I didn’t want to lose you. And I’m so sorry for that.”
“So am I. If you’d just told me, maybe...”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe we could be together. Maybe I’d believe you. Right now I don’t know what to believe.”
I clutched my chest. “Believe me, baby. I messed up. I see that now, but I’m telling the truth.”
“How can I believe you, Derek?”
“I know I still got your heart. Your heart believes in me. Trust it.”
As tears rolled down her cheeks, she said, “I can’t. I’m tired of being made a fool of.”
“Please, Greer don’t do this. Don’t let her do this to us.”
“You did this, Derek. You should’ve been up front with me about everything. Now please just go.”
“Greer—”
She pushed against me, almost knocking me to the floor as she sprung to her feet. “Go! Get out! Get the fuck outta my house now!”
I stood and approached her cautiously. “Baby, please...”
“Out! Now!”
“Baby, please. You know I love you. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”
“Anything including paying off your baby’s mother?”
“She’s not pregnant! I’m telling you, she’s not!”
“I don’t believe you! Get out of here now!”
I squeezed my eyes shut and realized there was no use, at least not right now. So I left, and she slammed the door behind me so hard I was surprised it didn’t break.
Once inside my rental car, I pounded my fist against the steering wheel. “Fuck!”
36
Derek Hill possessed a level of persistence I had never witnessed before, and I honestly didn’t know how to fight it. When he wasn’t calling, he was texting. When he wasn’t texting, he was emailing. Flowers were delivered to my apartment nearly every waking hour of the day. My place looked like either a florist or a wedding chapel. It had been two weeks since I left him, and I was no closer to getting over him than day one, because he was always present in some form. I suppose that was his strategy—to overwhelm me with these gestures. He was succeeding.
This was CEO Derek, a calculated, relentless strategist—the man behind the success of Sable Inc. This was the same man who kept Lloyd on for the benefit of the company despite the fact that he didn’t like him as a person and who saw Lloyd’s treatment of me as his good fortune. This was bottom-line Derek Hill, and the bottom line was he wanted me back, and just like anything he set his mind to, he wasn’t giving up until he attained his goal.
And his goal was me.
And I wanted him to win this contest for my heart as much as he did.
That was the sad part. As badly as I wanted to be angry at his persistence or annoyed by the attention, I couldn’t be. I wanted to be convinced I’d made a mistake. I wanted to see irrefutable evidence of his innocence.
Because I loved him.
And I missed him.
And I was totally and completely miserable without him. I wanted to believe him. I wanted that more than I had ever wanted anything in my entire life. But how could I? How could I believe him? What woman in her right mind would believe that someone, and someone as attractive as Sasha, would go to the extremes he claimed she had to...to what? I wasn’t even sure what her purpose in all this was supposed to be. To trap him? Put him on child support? Get him to marry her? It just didn’t make sense, and in my mind, senseless things were usually far from being true. Weren’t they?
He sent a different type of flower every day. Today it was tulips—huge, gorgeous bouquets of tulips in multiple colors, all with cards attached which held the same message:
I love you. I’m sorry.
I sighed as I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of my couch. I hadn’t blogged or even been on the Internet except to watch Netflix. All I’d been doing was sitting around here staring and crying and wishing I never met Sasha Porter, and when I wasn’t wishing that, I was wishing I’d never met Derek Hill.
The buzzing of my phone pulled my attention away from my sorrow for only a second, as I realized it was probably Derek calling. The sensible thing to do would be to change my number so he wouldn’t be able to call anymore, but then he wouldn’t be able to call anymore. If he couldn’t call, he couldn’t leave anymore voicemails. No more voicemails and I wouldn’t be able to hear his voice.
I needed to hear his voice.
To my surprise it was Denise, who had moved back in with her mother because my apartment was just too small to share comfortably. “Hello?” I answered.
“Hey, I know you’re not feeling all that well, but I need your help.”
“What is it? Did you hit your mom?”
“No, not yet. It’s Trevia. I need you to come help me calm her down. She’s got a gun and is threatening to shoot Wesley.”
*****
Trevia lived in a nice house in a nice neighborhood, a house the grandfather who raised her left her after he passed. Trevia also drove a nice car and made good money from her boutique. She was smart, money-savvy, and beautiful, so why she kept risking her freedom over a bum like Wesley was beyond me. Yes, he was fine, and from what I saw at the fated strip show where all three of us met him, he was super well-endowed, and I had no doubt he was skilled in bed. But damn, this relationship was a train wreck and she knew it. Just how much aggravation and humiliation was she willing to take to be with this man?
I walked up to her front door and knocked. Denise answered it with a disgusted look on her face. “You two bitches are gonna kill me with your relationship drama.”
With a deep frown, I asked, “What’s going on?”
“Hell, come in and see for yourself.”
I followed Denise through Trevia’s foyer into her spacious, all-white living room to find Trevia sitting on the couch looking…well, like a wild woman. She wa
s hugging herself and rocking back and forth. Her huge afro was unkempt and she was wearing a wrap-style dress that hung so loosely from her it resembled a cheap robe, and Trevia didn’t do cheap. Ever. She’d obviously lost quite a bit of weight in the weeks she’d gone MIA on us again. What on earth was going on? What the shit had Wesley done this time?
“Trevia?” I said softly, as I cautiously approached her and took a seat beside her. “Trevia, you okay?”
“Hell naw she ain’t okay! Can’t you see that?” Denise yelled. She was pacing in front of Trevia’s white brick fireplace.
I shot Denise a look.
“What?” Denise asked, stopping in her tracks with both of her hands upturned.
I sighed and noticed the hot pink gun on the coffee table. “Will one of you tell me why there’s a Hello Kitty-ass gun sitting here? Trevia, what were you planning to do with it?”
Trevia just kept rocking back and forth, and she was beginning to scare me. We’d all seen each other through some wild things, but I’d never seen her like this.
I looked up at Denise with raised eyebrows. “How did you know she was like this?”
“You know I’ve been trying to get in touch with her. I held off on using my key because I didn’t want to walk in on something, but today I decided to take that chance. This heifer was headed out the door, gun in hand, ranting about, and I quote: ‘Popping a cap in Wesley and that grimy bitch’s ass.’ Now, I don’t know who said grimy bitch is, but I’m sure Sherlocka Homegirl here done dug up some stuff she can’t handle, and I knew I needed some reinforcements if I was going to talk her off the ledge. I was barely able to get her back into the house. Bitch swung at me.”
If Trevia called the woman a bitch, then this was definitely serious. Denise and I were the main cursers in our group. Not that Trevia didn’t curse, but for her to use the word bitch? Well, she reserved usage of that word for highly stressful occasions.
“Okay…” I turned back to Trevia. “Trevia, I know you’re upset, but can you please tell me what happened to make you want to go to prison for the rest of your life?”
“Don’t you see she’s catatonic? She ain’t gonna answer you,” Denise offered, now standing directly in front of me and Trevia.
“‘Nise, shit! Sit down and hush!”
Denise huffed and sat on the other side of Trevia.
I sighed. “Trevia—”
Trevia stopped rocking and looked at me. “He has a wife.”
“What?” Denise and I said in unison.
“Wesley is married, has been for six years.”
“What?” only Denise said this time.
“And he has two kids, boys.”
“How—what?” I asked.
“I knew he would disappear from time to time. Like for weeks at a time. This time he was gone for a month. I thought he was out shacking up with some random chick, not a wife.”
Denise glanced at me and asked, “How did you find this out?”
“I followed him to her house, their house, one night after a show. Sat my stupid ass out on the parking lot of the Chocolate Playground for hours to see where he would go, because I knew he wouldn’t come straight home after work. He never does, even when he’s not pulling one of his disappearing acts. Anyway, I followed him there and waited until it was apparent he was spending the night, and then I came home. Went back the next day, but no one was home so I checked the mail, saw mail in his name and in his wife’s name—Yolanda Anderson. At first I thought maybe she was some random relative or something. Well, I guess I was just hoping that was it, but it wasn’t. I left a note in the mailbox asking her to call me around 11:00 PM, when I knew he’d be at the club.”
“And she called you?” I asked.
She nodded. “She did, a week later, and it seems the joke’s on me. She’s known about me all along. She said they make fun of me because I help Wes with his bills and stuff.”
Denise shook her head. “You’ve been paying his bills?”
That was news to me, too. I knew she liked to buy him things, but paying his bills? Wow.
“Yeah, he told me things were slow at the shows and he wasn’t making the tips he used to. He was down, scared he was going to lose his car; he was behind on his credit cards, and I helped him because I loved him and I thought we were working toward something. I feel so damn stupid.”
I held up a hand. “Wait, so the wife knew he was with you these three years and she was okay with it?”
“Apparently so,” Trevia said through a sniffle. “After she called me a damn fool, she hung up on me.”
“When was this call?” Denise inquired.
“Last night or this morning, actually.”
“Then why are you trying to go shoot them now?” I asked. “That conversation was hours ago.”
“Because Wes called shortly before ‘Nise got here yelling at me on the phone about disrespecting his wife. He talked to me like I was a dog, like I have done anything to him besides be good to him, like I knew who this woman was and knowingly slept with her husband. I’m not like that. You guys know I’m not.”
Denise and I agreed with her.
“And his wife was in the background yelling about how he’ll always be hers. I’ve met his mother, his brothers and sisters, been to family gatherings, and no one in three years thought to tell me this man was married? I just don’t understand.” She dissolved into tears and both Denise and I embraced her. I had no idea how bad things were between her and Wesley, and judging from the look on Denise’s face, neither did she. Sure, the cheating was evident, but him disappearing for weeks and all that other stuff? I had no clue.
“I’m done. I’m done with him! I’m not taking this crap anymore!” she yelled through her sobs.
I really hoped she meant it.
37
“What kind of flowers will you be ordering today, Mr. Hill?”
I rested my elbows on my desk and rubbed my forehead. “Um…I don’t know. What do you suggest?”
“Well, let’s see. We can do another variety of roses. Maybe some miniatures?”
“Yes, whatever you think.”
“Okay, and you still want me to vary the colors of the bouquets every hour for twelve hours?”
“Yes.”
“Great, we’ll get it done.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I hung up the phone and dug through the side drawer of my desk for a bottle of aspirin. I had to do something about this headache before I passed out or something. By the time I had the aspirins in my hand and was ready to toss them in my mouth, there was a knock at my door.
“Shit,” I mumbled, then in a louder voice, grunted out, “Come in!”
Naima, my administrative assistant of more than five years, walked into the room with an expression on her face that read fear and apprehension, but I didn’t care.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Um, here are the contracts you asked me to revise.” She just stood there holding the folders in her hand.
“You wanna give them to me or am I supposed to read them from here?”
“Oh…yes, sir.” She extended the papers toward me, and I snatched them from her.
I tossed the aspirin into my mouth and took a swig from my water bottle, then noticed she was still in the room. “Is there something else, Naima?”
“No…well…yes, sir. Are you okay? I mean, is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No,” I said, my eyes now glued to the contracts.
“Okay. Well, if you need anything…”
I didn’t bother to look up until I heard the door close, and then I shut my eyes and reclined in my chair.
It’d been nearly a month since she left me. She wouldn’t return my calls. She wouldn’t answer my texts. She’d erased me from her life and moved on, and it hurt like hell. Here I was, not sleeping, barely eating. I was a wreck and an asshole to the people around me, and I knew it. Brandon reminded me of it every day, said I was going to run all of our empl
oyees off. I didn’t care. I was miserable, fucking miserable without Greer, and the hardest part was that I’d always been a fixer. I could come up with a solution to almost anything business-wise. And I thought I had fixed that mess with Sasha. I gave her money, because I knew that was what she wanted, but the whole thing backfired on me. She took my strategy and used it against me.
Never in a million years did I think she could be that conniving or that she could want to hurt me that deeply, but she did. She ripped my world apart, took away the most important thing in my life, left a damn hole the size of the continent of Africa in my heart. But why? Was she really that upset about us breaking up? Had I underestimated her feelings for me?
I thought about something my father told me when I was a kid. He said if a woman who once loved you tries to kill you, nine times out of ten it means her love was deep, deeper than maybe you even knew. Was that it? Did Sasha love me to the point that she’d want me to hurt like this? Or was she just a twisted crazy person?
I glanced out the window, let my eyes drift to the couch, and saw myself sitting there in the dark with Greer on my lap. Heard the sounds we made together, felt the heat of her body, smelled her perfume. And when the memories were too much, I grabbed my jacket from the back of my chair and left, informing Naima that I wouldn’t be back. I had to fix things once and for all.
*****
When she arrived, I fought not to get angry at the sight of her flat stomach. I had to keep my cool and fix this as best I could. I had to do whatever it took to get Greer back.
She slid into the chair across from mine and placed her purse on the table, crossed her long legs just enough for her short skirt to ride up her thighs. Same old Sasha. “Wow, I can’t believe you actually came,” she said.
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