Ding dong. It rang again. Whoever it was wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe Armand forgot his key. It was unlikely but not impossible.
Ding dong.
“I’m coming!”
She headed down the hall and around the corner to the front door. The back entrance, where she’d run into Armand’s playmate earlier during the week, did not have that obnoxious doorbell. “Who is it?”
“I have a package for a Ms. Lewis,” the stranger’s voice announced. Michelle didn’t remember ordering anything.
“Just a minute.” She felt the back of her jeans for her iPhone and quickly signed into her security account. Sure enough, there was a delivery truck parked outside her stoop. No sedan in sight. Michelle turned the lock and opened the door.
“Sorry for the trouble, but this was my third and last attempt this week. There were express instructions for it to be delivered. Will you please sign here?”
“That’s fine, Karl,” Michelle said, straining to read his name tag in the evening light.
“Thank you.”
“It’s a little late for you to make deliveries, isn’t it?”
“Like I said, ma’am, there were express instructions for it to be delivered.”
Michelle took the envelope and closed the door behind her. She wandered over to the chaise and opened the package. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She got the feeling that this may be something she needed to share with Brianna immediately, but she’d do a little legwork on it first. No need to get her hopes up if it’s nothing, but if it’s something . . . It could change everything.
Again.
Chapter 6
Frank did not understand what was happening. He felt his world closing in on him. Saturdays were supposed to be his time with Brianna, but now he would have this on his mind. Lisa had betrayed him. Next to his daughter, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he did not want to believe she had done this. Frank realized he had fallen short of her expectations as her husband, but he loved her with everything he had. There were things he had done, a few, in particular, he had kept from his wife. But all that he had done was to prevent his family from crumbling in his hands. He had gone to great lengths to preserve it. Eventually, it would all come out, but Frank had tried to kill this one.
It had cost him millions of dollars, and this woman, whom he loved with all his heart, might have just undone everything he tried to do. He sat down on the leather couch in the white room of his Highland Hills home, meticulously looking through the paperwork he’d received by messenger. He was so caught off guard by the sight of his bank statements that he didn’t even notice the photographs of his wife in various compromising situations. Being honest with himself, he didn’t need to see any photographs to know that Lisa had not kept their vows. Frank was not a foolish man. He had been aware of her transgressions for a while, but this was worse.
Frank was on the verge of tears. He could feel his blood boiling, his body warming as his anger surged. His bank account was nearly empty. Millions were missing. He never checked the books himself. He trusted his wife to handle the finances. He only reviewed the bank statements, but nothing had ever seemed unusual; nothing that would have suggested this. He returned the documents to the manila envelope and placed them in his safe. It didn’t make sense. Frank had recently reviewed the bank statements, and there was close to $10 million there. He walked into his office and sat down to look over the papers his wife had given him. He preferred his physical world to the virtual one, so he never bothered to sign in and check the online account that Lisa created, a fact he quickly started to regret. Sure enough, the statements read as he had remembered them, and as he would have expected.
He combed through them looking for any irregularities. He didn’t stop with the most recent statements but continued to sift through each statement from the last several months, noticing huge, glaring errors. The errors were not exactly little things he would not have noticed if he had not been looking. Perusing through the statements with more vigor, he noted large monthly withdrawals for the same dollar amount, every single month. Frank was in shock. What was she doing with the money? She charged everything to her American Express Black Card; never used cash. Despite the large consistent withdrawals, the balance never teetered below the $10 million threshold. He was certain that was not by accident.
Confusion swept over him. He felt his body began to shake. He couldn’t breathe and felt he might faint. He grabbed the corner of the desk to support his now heavy body weight. His vision blurred, and the room circled around him. He heaved and battled to give his lungs the air they so desperately needed. He tried to focus, but he only felt worse with each passing second. He couldn’t believe he was leaving like this, with so many loose ends. He would die without his baby girl, Brianna, ever knowing the truth. This isn’t the way it was supposed to be. Not what he had planned, but it didn’t matter. It was too late. The room faded to black.
Chapter 7
Brianna tapped her fingers impatiently on the table. She had been waiting twenty minutes for the meeting to begin. She was extremely annoyed, and if the 508 Park Avenue Project wasn’t so close to her heart, she would have walked out twenty minutes ago. She ran across an article about it, contacted the sweet souls spearheading it, The Stewpot/Community Ministries of the First Presbyterian Church of Dallas, and offered her marketing services. The piece reminded her of the 1986 film, Crossroads, which was inspired by the larger-than-life blues guitarist, Robert Johnson. Legend had it that Johnson sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his musical genius.
The 508 Park Avenue building’s third floor held audience to numerous musicians in June of 1937, including the wicked stylings of Mr. Johnson. Brianna could hardly believe it. A remarkable piece of musical history right there in Dallas. According to the article, the plan was to renovate the building, and Brianna jumped at the opportunity to be a part of it. Javan Harris worked for Good, Fulton & Farrell, the architectural firm in charge of the renovations. The end game proposed that 508 Park Avenue would house a Museum of Street Culture, Open Art Program, and a Community Garden.
She was so excited about the project that she provided her marketing skills completely free of charge. She did everything on her own dime. These meetings were for the companies contributing to the renovations, unrelated to marketing, but Javan had insisted she be there. Normally, she didn’t mind doing as Javan asked, but today, her patience was especially thin. Her mind was at her parents’ house, hoping that package Michelle’s friend had sent didn’t arrive there without her. Brianna wasn’t privy to its contents, but she didn’t want her dad seeing it first. Brianna was ready to go. This was the worst possible way to spend her day off.
“Javan, I need to leave.” Javan looked at her and shook his head.
“Brianna, I told you I need you to be here.”
“Yes, but why? What does any of what you have to say have to do with marketing?”
“That will be covered once we begin.”
Brianna’s irritation mounted.
“We are already twenty minutes past the start of this mandatory meeting, Mr. Harris.” The words failed to hide her frustration. Her tone was unprofessional, but she could not have cared less at the moment.
Javan looked around and noted the empty chairs. He walked to the end of the table and sat down beside Brianna.
“Bria, why are you being difficult, woman?”
Brianna grabbed Javan’s hand underneath the table and squeezed it gently. It was their private conversation. Remembering the last time they found themselves alone in the boardroom, he felt his johnson thicken. He moved her hand up until it rested on his inflamed groin. He wanted her to touch him. He prepared to reenact the movie playing in his head and relished the feel of her thin fingers gently gripping the hardness barely covered by thin nylon polyester fabric of his dress pants. Brianna knew what he craved, and her eyes gave her away.
Javan felt he might burst as he watched her tongue trace the o
utline of her bottom lip. He felt his chest tighten as she bit down softly. Damn, she was too beautiful for words, and her every movement sent him closer to the edge. His body was on fire as the physical memory of their last time together overwhelmed his senses. He leaned in to kiss her, to taste the cotton candy-flavored lip gloss she often wore, but she resisted even this small measure of mercy. Left him in agony. Hungry. She had always been this way with him. Brianna was a tease in the worst way.
“Window-shop. You may not buy, Javan,” Brianna prodded seductively.
Javan buried his face in the nape of her neck. “How about I lease with an option to buy?”
“Boy, you’s a window-shopper . . . in the candy store lookin’at ish you can’t buy . . .” Brianna teasingly rapped the lyrics to the rhythm of one of 50 Cent’s biggest hits.
Javan let out a light chuckle. “Woman, you make me crazy. Why you got me like this in the office? Highly inappropriate.”
“I did not do this.” She slowly removed her hand from his body and placed it back in her lap.
Javan was the lead architect and thus, responsible for ensuring the renovations progressed on schedule. They met one day when Brianna stopped by the Stewpot to speak with Reverend Buchanan about the marketing direction as Javan concluded his meeting and was headed out. She thought she felt some static as they passed by each other in the hall. Her instincts proved true when she found him waiting for her in the parking garage an hour later. The two spent the next hour working out in Javan’s Mercedes, and the rest is, as they say . . . history. Javan smiled knowingly and shifted in his seat, trying to suppress the urge to take her right there on the table.
“Bria, just a few more minutes, okay?” He cleared his throat hoping it would help him clear his mind that was suddenly full of her nakedness.
“Javan, where is everyone? This is infringing on my personal time.”
Her facial expression masked the internal smile she wore at seeing his discomfort. His blanket need for her sweetness was so strong, she could see it visibly trapped inside of him, and it gave her a rush that could not be compared to anything else. It was exhilarating.
Javan would never admit it, but there was never a meeting on the schedule. He had only told her that so that he would have an excuse to see her. The weekends were usually her time, and in the four months they had been seeing each other, she had not recanted. Their allotted few days a month would sate him, but Brianna had been preoccupied even more than usual. While he had scarcely seen her over the last few weeks, he hadn’t bothered asking her why. Brianna was the type of woman that shared the information she wanted to be known, and what she kept to herself was for her. He believed that woman could keep the Atlantic from touching the Pacific if she so desired. Javan couldn’t handle the separation. She intoxicated him. He needed and accepted whatever agreement she offered, as long as it meant that he could have her.
“I’ll give the others a few more minutes; then I’ll call it.”
This situation didn’t sit well with Brianna. She didn’t like that Javan had ignored her question, and it was beyond odd that no one had bothered to attend a mandatory staff meeting. Had it not been for his insistence, she would have skipped it herself. Something was off.
“Javan this is my time. I’m not getting paid for this.”
“This was unexpected. What do you usually do on the weekends anyway? Why can’t I see you?”
Javan regretted the question as soon as it left his lips and even more so when he saw the annoyed look on Brianna’s face. He was not sure which question had upset her, but at this point, it didn’t matter; the damage was done.
“Last I checked your little swimmers had nothing to do with my presence here. Therefore, my life is none of your business. If I wanted you to know, I would tell you.”
She didn’t answer the last question. Perhaps she hadn’t heard it. He considered asking a second time but thought it would be best to leave it unanswered.
Brianna had remained single to avoid those questions. She did not appreciate Javan taking advantage of the situation. He was getting a little too comfortable with her. Maybe she needed to put some distance between them. She could tell that this was no longer a mere fling to him; he was serious. This was exactly why she was going to hire the PI. She needed to know if he was seeing anyone else and from the way he had been acting lately, it looked like she didn’t need the PI after all. It was only a matter of time before he dropped the L Bomb.
She needed to cut him loose completely before that tragedy happened. Javan was a good guy . . . most of the time, but he wasn’t consistent. He could be a real jerk sometimes. It was almost like he were two different people. Too messy. Too complicated. Overall, too much damn work. She had enough on her plate with the situation with Michelle.
* * *
After Javan called the meeting, Brianna made her exit. Saturday mornings were daddy/daughter time, and she cherished them. She was definitely a daddy’s girl. He could do no wrong in her eyes. That was part of what made this predicament so painful. She couldn’t fathom him lying to her, and the thought alone was too much to bear. As a child, he had made sure that Brianna never went without by giving her any and everything she desired. She adored him and would do anything to protect him. Her mom, on the other hand, was . . . different.
She did not trust her and would not have been a bit surprised if she had something to do with it. Brianna loved her mom, but there were times when she would feel like her mom was being less than genuine. She knew she was hiding something, and her behavior as of late had only increased her misgivings. It wasn’t always this way. Before Brianna started school, back when the family would travel, things were better. They were happy. Typical. Ordinary. After that, things changed.
Over time, their family transitioned from the three musketeers to the dynamic duo. Her mom spent more time away from home and, on occasion, would disappear for weeks at a time. Out of the blue, she would just show up and go on like she hadn’t been MIA for as long as she was. It never made sense to Brianna that her dad would simply let her return without any questions. His brave face failed to mask the pain Brianna sensed he felt. She initiated their Saturday morning routine so that he would know that at least one of the women he loved still loved him.
He always seemed to be in decent shape, but lately, his health seemed to be deteriorating, and Brianna was worried about him. He kept everything inside, and the weight of it all was surely killing him. Brianna thought for certain that her dad was dying from heartbreak. She wanted to evade that at all costs. It was plain luck that her avoidance would uncover a truth that irrevocably altered her life forever. If she had not been trying to spy on Javan, her life would be as she had always understood it. She was not sure what to think anymore.
Michelle’s presence was bittersweet. Bria was overjoyed to have a sister but devastated by the possibility of her father’s betrayal. She was not very receptive initially, but she began to warm up to Michelle. They were so much alike, it was uncanny. Over the past few days, the shock receded, and their bond forged immediately. On some level, it felt like they had never been apart. Neither of them could imagine their lives without the other. Besides her father, whose status in her life was questionable, at best, Brianna realized Michelle was the only other person she could trust.
Watching her father fall apart as a result of her mom’s distorted expression of love left her on the defensive. If she had been willing to look past Javan’s control issues, seeing that synchronized chaos between her parents was enough to discard the idea. Brianna finding Michelle had completely nullified any progress he made. Bria had no use for him. She sympathized with him, but it stopped there, and she had plenty to distract her. Presently, her mind was on that package at her parents’ house. She was extremely worried about its contents.
Michelle took complete control of the situation, spearheading the search for their birth parents. Since Michelle lived off of a monetary gift she received from her mom after graduating from
college, she could afford to take time off and concentrate her energies. Michelle’s friend had come across something useful about her parents, and so Michelle had suggested that he send it directly to Brianna. The staff meeting had forced Brianna to cancel the exchange, and the friend overnighted it, insisting that she had to have it this morning. She hoped it wasn’t too bad. She considered the possibility that her dad could be involved in something shady, but it seemed more befitting of Lisa. She hoped it was not anything criminal.
Chapter 8
“Frank? Franklin, are you home?” Although Lisa enjoyed Saint Maarten, it did feel good to be home. After a long week with Charlie, she was looking forward to some alone time with her husband. The house felt unusually cold, though. Her body was still warm from the Saint Maarten’s rays. She walked into the bedroom and dropped her bags down on the floor. Frank was probably in his office. To be unemployed, Frank spent a ridiculous amount of time in there. She was anxious to see him, but, always the lady, decided to bring Frank to her. Her welcome home was one of the few things Lisa looked forward to enjoying.
She powered on the media system and listened to the soft tunes travel through the speaker system and pour into all five bedrooms of their home. Their bedroom was her favorite spot in the house. She savored the feel of the velvet carpet on the soles of her feet when she walked. It would be at least another hour or so before Frank joined her, and since Maxwell wasn’t the only one with a “Bad Habit,” Lisa used that time to cleanse herself of hers. Frank always appeared less than enthusiastic when it came to satisfying Lisa, but after a long separation, he managed to drum up some energy for her.
Lisa showered and dressed, but Frank still had not come to see her. She was peeved. Maybe he wasn’t home, but where would he be? The hour had lapsed twice. She left the bedroom and went looking for him. This was typical of Frank to disappoint her, but something felt wrong. It was too quiet. No television chatter, phone conversation, no sign of Frank. The kitchen was empty except for what looked to be the beginnings of a sandwich on the island. The living area and den were vacant. Lisa yelled out for him. “Franklin! Franklin, where are you?” She quickened her pace and searched her memory. She thought back to the small table in the foyer, where they left notes regarding their whereabouts, but there was nothing there.
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