The sudden peal of her phone intruded on her thoughts. She eyed the screen through narrowed eyes and was prepared to let the call go to voicemail if Vangie was calling. An unfamiliar number appeared on the screen. Out of curiosity, she answered on the second ring.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Nivea. Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”
“Who is this?” she asked, though she recognized the voice.
“It’s Malcolm.”
“How’d you get my number?” She managed to sound offended despite feeling flattered.
“I have access to all the members’ records.”
“That’s stalker behavior.”
“It could be interpreted that way, but I have something that belongs to you.”
“Oh, yeah? What might that be?”
“Someone turned in a gold, seashell necklace to our Lost and Found department. I recognized it and decided to give you a call. Hey, I’m just doing my job, and I’m not looking for a reward…that is unless you want to reward me by going out with me.”
Nivea was so relieved that she didn’t have to fire Odette, she wanted to jump up and shout with glee. “Okay, I’ll go out with you,” she said, surprising herself.
“Really? Wow, I wasn’t expecting you to accept. Uh, are you free Saturday?”
“No, I have plans Saturday but Sunday afternoon is good—you know—for getting ice cream.”
“That works for me. But I had something else in mind.”
“Oh, yeah?” Nivea said suspiciously. Malcolm was a typical man and she wasn’t the least bit surprised that he would try to finagle his way into her panties again. But she had news for him. Any sexual acts that happened between them would be strictly on her terms.
“I had plans to go skydiving Sunday and I was thinking maybe you’d like to join me.”
“Are you out of your mind? I’m not risking my life, jumping out of an airplane.”
“Calm down, I was only inviting you to accompany me. Free falling through the clouds at a hundred and twenty miles per hour is not for the faint-hearted. Afterward, we’ll go get that ice cream.”
“I don’t know about ice cream; I’m watching my weight.”
“Then, how about a salad?”
“All right,” she agreed.
“I knew I’d find a way to your heart. I guess I’m going to have to load up on romaine, arugula, endive, escarole and all types of leafy greens to keep you satisfied.” Malcolm laughed and Nivea couldn’t suppress a smile. Malcolm certainly knew his varieties of lettuce, and there was something about the sound of his laughter that warmed her inside.
“So, I take it, you’re an alpha male—a daredevil type that won’t be satisfied until you wind up breaking every bone in your body.”
“I’m an adrenaline junkie, I admit it. But skydiving gives you a rush like nothing else can. When you face the power of terminal velocity and walk away victorious, you’ll discover that all your typical daily challenges pale in comparison.”
“Hmm.” She couldn’t think of any kind of response to what he’d said.
“I don’t fear much of anything, and I welcome challenges…like you,” he said in a lowered tone that was filled with masculine sensuality.
Nivea blushed and fiddled with her hair. She was grateful Malcolm couldn’t see her. She’d have to learn to keep a straight face around him, and be on guard for his unexpected flirtatiousness.
HARLOW
Her gynecologist confirmed her pregnancy and recommended Dr. Carmen Talbert, one of the top obstetricians in Manhattan. Harlow quickly made an appointment and didn’t blink at the astronomical cost of a first visit with the celebrated doctor. She would spare no expense to make sure she and her child received the best possible care.
And now, Harlow was finally ready to share the wonderful news with Drake. Filled with a sense of wonder and immense joy, it seemed she would literally burst if she didn’t hurry and tell Drake they were going to be parents. The problem was, she couldn’t locate her husband. She’d been calling and texting him all day, trying to get an idea of what time he planned to come home. Drake kept odd hours, coming home anywhere from seven in the evening until after midnight. But he almost always gave her updates, phoning or texting if a business dinner or a meeting with a client was taking longer than anticipated. But today, the most important day since their wedding, Drake was uncharacteristically missing in action. She told herself not to worry, but she couldn’t help it; it wasn’t like Drake to allow hours to elapse without checking in with her.
Suppose he had a car accident. He could be lying in a hospital, unidentified and clinging to life. Suppose he’d gotten robbed and shot—it happened every day on the cruel streets of New York. The terrifying thoughts that crowded her mind were too scary to dwell on and so she focused on her pregnancy.
Harlow lifted the lace camisole and stared at her abdomen in the mirror, looking forward to the day when she had a baby bump to show off. She ran a hand over the flat surface of her tummy and lovingly caressed the area that showed no outward signs of the beautiful life that was forming within. Hello, sweetheart. Thank you for finally coming into my life; I feel so complete now. You have no idea how much I love you.
The door chime sounded followed by the computerized voice from the alarm system, which announced, “Front door, open.”
She lowered her camisole and gave a quick prayer of thanks that Drake was safe and sound and finally home. Tonight had been the first time she could recall ever being concerned about Drake’s well-being while he was away from home. Although she needed her husband like never before, she hoped being pregnant and having raging hormones didn’t turn her into a constant worrier.
Harlow assessed her appearance in the mirror, fluffing her hair, and giving it a sultry, tousled look. A few sprays of her favorite fragrance, and she was ready to greet her man with a tight hug and a kiss. This was one of the happiest days of her life and she couldn’t stop smiling as she waited to hear Drake’s footsteps.
But he was taking a long time to come to their bedroom and greet her. Impatient to share the good news, she swept along the corridor and peered into the living room. The expansive room was semi-dark and Drake wasn’t anywhere to be found. “Drake?” she called, heading for the kitchen. She clicked on the light switch in the massive chef’s kitchen and then ambled in the direction of his study. The door was closed but she heard movement inside. “Drake?” she said again, tapping softly before opening the door.
She uttered a startled sound and then covered her mouth in shock. Drake had filled his silver-plated briefcase with stacks of money. He froze when Harlow opened the door. For a moment, he stood there unmoving, with a guilty look on his face.
Her stunned gaze roved from Drake’s face to the safe that was set inside the wall with its door wide open. This safe that she had no knowledge of had been camouflaged by a large oil painting of a Caribbean seascape. The painting was on the floor, leaning against the wall.
Harlow felt immediately ill. “What’s going on, Drake? Are you leaving me?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then, what are you doing?”
“I, uh…” A glint of annoyance flickered in his eyes, and his jaw tightened. “Why are you still up? I thought you’d be asleep by now.” His words came out in an accusing tone.
“I was waiting up for you…I was worried.”
“I’m a big boy, no reason to worry about me.”
“Answer me, Drake. What’re you planning to do with all that money?” She cast a wary glance in the direction of the safe and gestured toward it. “And how long has that been here?”
“Long before we were married.” He closed the lid on the briefcase, closed the door to the safe and rehung the painting on the wall. “I have to go back out and take care of some important business.” He took steps toward her and kissed her on the forehead. “Babe, this has nothing to do with us. You have to trust me on that. Now, go back to bed…get some sleep.”
“Please don’t question me about matters that don’t concern you.” His tone was icy, reminding her of the brusque way he spoke to her right after their wedding when she’d questioned him about shooting Ronica. This callous version of Drake was disturbing, causing Harlow to question whether she knew him at all. She searched his face, hoping for an assuring smile…a spark of love in his eyes. But his eyes were devoid of emotion. It was amazing that the person she was looking at didn’t seem to be her husband. She squinted, trying to find something familiar in his eyes, but it was like staring into the eyes of a stranger.
His gaze flickered down to his Rolex. “I don’t have time for this; I have to go,” he said, brushing past her clutching the briefcase that was filled with stacks of hundred-dollar bills.
“Drake!” She clasped his arm. “Don’t you think I’m entitled to some kind of explanation?”
“No, I don’t,” he said calmly as he eased his arm from her grasp.
“But this is totally crazy! I haven’t heard a word from you all day. Do you realize how upsetting it was for me to not be able to get in touch with you?” She turned her gaze on the briefcase and frowned. “Where are you taking all that money?” On the verge of crying, Harlow shuddered involuntarily.
Drake put down the briefcase and hugged Harlow. He pulled her close and gave her a tight squeeze. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m in a tight spot right now. I need you to trust me. Please. I promise, we’re going to get past this.”
“Get past what, Drake? Talk to me,” Harlow pleaded.
“I can’t,” he said and released her.
“Drake,” she said in a shrill voice. “Tell me what’s going on.”
As if steeling himself for combat, his expression hardened and his eyes went cold again. “It’s best that I don’t discuss business with you, Harlow.”
“Under these circumstances, I feel I deserve an explanation.”
“Just enjoy the benefits of my labor, and don’t ask questions.” He picked up the briefcase and strode past her.
Harlow dropped her head in defeat. Sniffling, her shoulders shook from the effort of fighting back tears. The door chimed, announcing that Drake had exited the apartment. He was off into the night with a briefcase stacked with money. Anxiously, she padded through the sprawling apartment, going from one luxurious room to the next, taking in the exquisite furniture, plush Persian rugs, sculptures, and gilt-framed artwork. To the people who knew her, her life appeared to be a success story—a fairy tale. Former foster child and daughter of a crack addict had grown up and married well. But her picture-perfect life wasn’t as idyllic as it appeared to others.
Feeling a tremor working down from her shoulders and traveling through her body, she hugged herself, struggling to hold it together and contain the storm of emotions that were bottled up inside. For the baby’s sake, she couldn’t feed into the panic, the fear, and the overwhelming suspicion that threatened to knock her off her feet. In the living room, she gripped the arm of a chair that faced the picturesque view of Central Park and carefully lowered herself into it. Staring out the window usually brought her peace, but not tonight.
Drake was in some kind of trouble. She could feel it. And tonight…the park, the sky, the bright moon, the stars, and the silhouettes of the towering buildings in the background didn’t provide the usual comfort. She was finally pregnant, but with her marriage on the rocks, she couldn’t bask in the joy. Repelled by the idea of bringing an innocent child into a world filled with turmoil and uncertainty, Harlow dropped her face in her hands and cried.
VANGIE
With her attorney by her side, Vangie left the courtroom, infuriated with the outcome of her attempt to strip Shawn of visitation rights.
“You were recommended as the best, and I paid you twenty-five-hundred dollars to represent me, but I might as well have flushed that money down the toilet,” Vangie spat as she and her attorney, Clyde Wortham, walked to the bank of elevators. She groaned when she saw the crowd of people that were already waiting. “God, we’re never going to get out of here,” she complained.
“I presented your case to the best of my ability, but you gave me inadequate information.”
“I gave you the information I had.”
“I based my motion on the fact that you didn’t want your son spending weekends in a dangerous housing project. You never mentioned that your son’s father and his girlfriend are cohabitating in a lovely home, outside Philadelphia, in a safe, suburban neighborhood.”
“I can’t believe those two morons were even capable of blindsiding me like that. Quite frankly, I don’t believe it. I think they’re lying. Anyone with half a brain can print documents off the Internet. Neither one of them has a real job with pay stubs! He cuts hair and gets paid under the table and she’s on welfare. You tell me how those two derelicts could possibly have a high enough credit score and enough money to make a down payment on a decent home?” Vangie waved her hands around in frustration. “I mean…Shawn is a bum! A well-dressed, handsome, bum! He’s been living in his mother’s basement since the day I met him! He’s a hood rat and hardly ever leaves North Philly. I simply can’t imagine him having the wherewithal to make a major move to Thornbury, Pennsylvania. Hell, I never even heard of Thornbury, Pennsylvania. Sounds like a fictitious town from a fairy tale.”
“It’s in Delaware County. A beautiful area with great schools,” Wortham added as if he represented Shawn.
Vangie sucked her teeth. “Whatever. I still don’t believe it.”
“He provided the court with documentation that proves his new address is in Thornbury, and in my legal opinion—”
“Your legal opinion sucks!”
The attorney cleared his throat and continued. “I suggest you find a way to get along with your child’s father.”
“Why should I?”
“He alluded that your home was an unsafe place.”
“That’s bullshit!” Vangie blurted, her outburst drawing attention to her and the attorney.
“Please try to compose yourself,” Wortham said with his eyes darting around in embarrassment.
“If Shawn can afford to buy a nice home, then he can afford to pay more child support. He gives the court bogus pay stubs, pretending to only make minimum wage. I’m sick of him and his tricks.” She pointed a finger at Wortham. “You need to do your job and get me a decent support check from that deadbeat!”
“We weren’t in court for child support,” he reminded. “That’s a totally different case. If you want to file for more child support, you’ll need to pay—”
“Are you serious? You want more money out of me?” She sucked her teeth. “I’m not paying you another dime!”
An elevator arrived and the throng of people squeezed inside, packing it. Left to wait for the next one, Nivea sighed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“As your attorney, I think you should quit while you’re ahead.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Asking the judge to increase your child support payments is only asking for trouble. Your ex’s attorney gave me a heads-up. He told me if you bring his client back into court, he’s going to have your son testify against you.”
“Against me?”
“According to your ex, your son has told him that he’s being exposed to guns and allowed to handle them while in your care.”
“Shawn is such a liar! I can explain that. My son asked a friend of mine, who’s licensed to carry a gun, if he could hold it. My friend removed the clip before he let Yuri touch it. And it only happened on one occasion. I realize that allowing a young kid to touch a gun wasn’t a very wise thing to do, but Shawn is blowing this thing way out of proportion.”
“If the judge deems your environment as unsafe, you could lose custody of your child.”
“That is the most ridiculous thin
g I’ve ever heard; my environment is totally safe. Shawn and his ghetto tramp are trying to get under my skin, that’s all.” Vangie folded her arms and turned her back to Wortham, but she quickly whirled back around when she saw Shawn and Jojina approaching. Vangie seethed silently while Shawn and Jojina joined them in front of the elevators. Wearing a gloating smile, Jojina entwined her hand with Shawn’s.
“Can we finally end this, Vangie?” Shawn asked. “Don’t you get tired of dragging me to court? All we’re doing is lining the pockets of our attorneys. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of throwing away money.”
Vangie stared at the screen of her phone, ignoring Shawn as if were invisible.
“Seriously, Vangie…why can’t we handle this like two adults?” he said, releasing Jojina’s hand as he moved closer, violating Vangie’s personal space.
“Get out my face, Shawn, all right? I don’t have anything to say to you—not now—not ever. If you have anything to say to me, then have your attorney call mine!”
Jojina tugged on Shawn’s arm. “Forget about that low-budget bitch; you can’t reason with her dumb ass.”
“Who are you calling low-budget and dumb? You’re nothing but ignorant, welfare-receiving, ghetto trash!”
“You’re the one who lives in the ghetto. I live in a big, beautiful home sitting on a bunch of acres, baby. I got the picket fence, kids, the dog, and I’m planning a big wedding. You better step up your game and getcha life, wench!” Jojina held up her ring hand and then flung her long and flowing weave with the other.
“Excuse me,” Vangie’s lawyer said, looking embarrassed. “I have to speak to a few of my colleagues.” He pointed to a group of suit-and-tie-wearing men who were chatting outside one of the courtrooms. “I’ll give you a call later this week,” he said with a sheepish smile as he fled the scene where tempers were flaring and harsh words were being exchanged.
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