“I’m back,” Renee sang out. The little dogs were as always, happy to assist with whatever their human was up to, and she was happy to inform them.
“First, we’re going to put these lovely wreaths on the doors. See? Nice big pink velvet bows, aren’t they pretty? And then, we’re going to set these poinsettias out. I like the pink ones best, don’t you? So much more sophisticated, yet traditional.”
Patti and Chaka barked their approval as Renee arranged the flowers and quickly dispatched the wreaths to their new homes.
“Now, we are going to fix a lovely dinner for Andrew. We’re having red-pepper bisque for a first course, then deviled crabs and a nice little filet mignon with those tiny red potatoes and spinach salad to follow. Doesn’t that sound yummy?”
It sounded way better than Puppy Chow, apparently, as the eager terriers tried in vain to beg some of the food from Renee. She ignored them as she quickly put the meal together. It had the dual advantage of being a beautiful and tasty meal as well as one that could be prepared ahead. While she cooked, Renee put several albums of Christmas songs on the multidisc carousel of the stereo system and sang along. The feeling of release and freedom had also imbued her with a sense of joy that she had not felt in a few weeks. She felt so blessed in so many ways; she had a man who loved and supported her, friends and family who cared for her and her well being and a career that was exciting, fun and rewarding. She had been so bound up by guilt and fear for so many years that she had forgotten what was really important in her life, in anyone’s life-- love, friendship, and family.
Well, I won’t be forgetting again, she vowed. I will have that attitude of gratitude that makes for a grateful spirit. I’m a lucky woman and I am going to make Andrew feel like a very lucky man tonight. But, as the poet once said, the best-laid plans can often go awry and tonight was no exception. Whatever Renee had been expecting, it was not to see her handsome Andrew leaning on his brother Adam in the kitchen doorway. He was wearing an extremely silly expression and was obviously three sheets to the wind. Renee raised an eyebrow and looked to Adam for an explanation.
“Well…we had a kind of a, well…I guess we were celebrating,” he offered lamely. “Andrew will explain everything tomorrow, I’m sure.”
Andrew in the meantime had transferred his weight from Adam to Renee and was trying to kiss her when he could get her face in focus. “I can explain now,” he said grandly. “I’m not as think as you drunk I am,” he added in the precise, lofty speech of one who isn’t used to heavy drinking.
“Ye gods and little fishes,” Renee said with asperity. Her lovely reconciliation dinner would have to wait now, plus, here was her poor fiancé sloshed to the gills. “Well take him upstairs, Adam; he can’t sleep on the sofa, his back would be in knots. And I certainly can’t get him up there by myself.”
With a bit of bobbing and weaving, they managed to walk Andrew upstairs and deposit him on the bed in Renee’s room. After assuring him that she could handle things from here, Renee walked Adam downstairs. She looked at him carefully to make sure that he was sober before turning him loose.
“Renee, I only had one and that was hours ago. And I have a feeling that Andrew is going to feel like hell in the morning since he really doesn’t drink. But tonight, well, he...he’ll explain everything tomorrow,” Adam said for the second time. Adding to her mystification, Adam suddenly grabbed her and hugged her hard. He gave her a big kiss on the cheek and said, “Love you, sis,” before leaving.
Renee stared at the back door for a few moments before putting away the food from the postponed dinner. Things are getting stranger and stranger around here. What was all that about?
Chapter Twenty One
The next morning, Andrew was almost sure he was dead. His head seemed to be encased in cement and sharp pains were stabbing him all over his chest. Worse yet, he was apparently bleeding from unseen head wounds as he could feel a warm, wet stickiness over his face. He moaned loudly, which caused keen yipping sounds to penetrate his thudding eardrums. A final warm, wet swipe dangerously near his mouth was the thing that made him force his eyes open. He peered into the happy smiles of Chaka and Patti and groaned. Their little toenails provided the stabbing chest pains and their drooly little tongues accounted for the wetness on his face.
“How did you two get in here? Where is Renee? And what happened to my clothes?” he asked plaintively as he realized for the first time that he was naked under the rumpled bedclothes. Renee appeared in the doorway, the answer to his prayers and his questions.
“I put them in here to wake you up. And I took off your clothes when Adam brought you home last night, drunk as the proverbial skunk,” she said cheerily. She was carrying a tray, which she sat on the upholstered bench at the end of the bed. “Drink this,” she said briskly, with no apparent concern for his fragile state. She thrust a glass of Alka-Seltzer at him and the look in her eyes dared him not to consume it. He pulled himself to a sitting position and drained the glass, grimacing at the horrid taste. Handing the empty glass to Renee, he noticed that she was dressed for work. And she looked fabulous, as always. Her hair had grown quite a bit over the past months and soft tendrils caressed her neck and face, while the rest was artlessly arranged in loose curls. She was wearing a festive cream sweater with sequins and a mid-calf red wool skirt that had an enticing slit up the back. Just the sight of her made him drool; he was about to compliment her when the seltzer kicked in and the result was a huge belch. He was terribly embarrassed, which was sweetly endearing to Renee.
“Renee, I am sorry. Please forgive me,” he began, stopping when he was cut off by a wave of her hand.
“I appreciate the apology, Andy, but bodily functions are a fact of life and something we have to get accustomed to from each other. I plan to stay married to you until the last breath leaves my body, so I am sure that you will have occasion to see me in a state that is somewhat less than my best,” she said graciously. She neared the bed and made as if to kiss him, but he pulled away hastily.
“Dog spit,” he explained, wiping at his cheeks. And some lethal halitosis. My mouth feels like I’ve been licking the bottom of a hamster cage.”
“Well, you’d better go brush before you drink this,” she suggested, holding up a big glass of tomato juice. The juice was as vibrant as her skirt and the mere thought of it made Andrew squirm.
“Oh, you’ll drink every drop,” Renee assured him silkily. “This will put you right back on your feet. And perhaps when I return from work you can give me an explanation for last night’s performance, amusing though it was. I’ve got a long day at the salon and since I’ve been gone for two days, I have a whole heap of work to catch up on.” Blowing him a kiss, she returned the glass of tomato juice to the tray and was about to leave the room when Andrew remembered the reason for his drunken tear.
“Renee, there’s something I have to tell you. It’s about yesterday and it’s something you need to know now,” he said uneasily.
“Baby, it’s gonna have to wait—I’ve got to get to the salon. I’ll be leaving there at about 8 tonight and I’ll come straight home. Unless you want to meet at your place.”
After Andrew agreed to come to the house, she made another passionate kissing sound at him and was gone before he could protest. Andrew lay down with a groan and stared at the ceiling. After the confrontation with Donovan Bailey, he and Adam had gone to their favorite dive bar and he had proceeded to get roaring drunk, something he never, ever did. By instinct, Donnie knew where they would be and he brought Clay and Martin as well as Andre and Alan and they had made quite a party of it. Adam had thoughtfully stayed sober to play chauffeur and had apparently brought him here last night, although Andrew was fuzzy on those details.
One thing was clear, though. He had broken his word to Renee and she was going to have a raving, screaming fit when she found out. Regardless of her anger, though, he knew he had done the right thing. It had to be done; someone had to derail the Donovan Bailey express.
It was a moot point now; it was all over but the shouting and when Renee calmed down, she would be able to see it that way. At least he prayed that she would. Glancing at the bedside clock, Andrew groaned and threw his long legs out of the bed. He had to shower and get to the hospital. With a truly contrite heart, he drank the tomato juice laced with lemon and Worcestershire sauce. He shuddered and gasped, but by the time he got out of the hot shower, he really did feel better. If Renee could cure his hangover she could do anything, including forgive him. God, I hope so
***
It was the kind of day Renee loved at the salon; the customers never stopped coming and the sound of Christmas music added an air of festivity and warmth to the atmosphere. Renee was running her legs off as she always did during these harried days. She was assisting everyone wherever she could; roller-setting patrons, combing out others, shampooing when a stylist was getting backed up and even helping out the nail technicians. Renee’s skills were never rusty, thank goodness, as this was the time of year when everybody just had to have sparkling nails in red and gold and platinum. Naturally, a few wanted some cute holiday design airbrushed on a nail or two.
She made sure there was a catered lunch every day during the busy season since it would have been next to impossible to leave for a lunch with so many customers in the house. She was getting ready to leave the salon to make a run to the bakery for more of the tiny holiday cookies to which her patrons were addicted. She took off the smart smock that protected her clothes and was giving Maurice, the evening manager, a few last minute instructions before she scooted out the back door.
“Mrs. Henley should be dry in about 5 minutes. Sabrina is running late, her baby is sick and she has a color and a relaxer coming in. Someone can section them off...”
She stopped speaking when Maurice took her by the arm and guided her to the door. Maurice was somewhat of a rarity in the business--big, muscular, arrow-straight and a genius when it came to hair. “Renee, we can handle it. Just get those cookies and get back here before these women take a bite out of me. You’ve got them so spoiled that they think everything in here is edible,” he said cheerfully.
Renee was still laughing when she reached her Mercedes, but the laughter died when she was grabbed from behind.
“You dumb black bitch,” a familiar voice hissed. “You stupid, ignorant black bitch! I warned you to keep your mouth shut, but you couldn’t, could you? You had to shoot off your damned mouth, didn’t you?” Donovan Bailey had a grip on Renee’s throat that cut off her breath. Her Fendi bag fell to the ground as she clawed frantically at his hands to no avail--the leather gloves she was wearing protected him from her fingernails.
“I told you to keep your mouth shut and everything would be fine, but you had to shoot your mouth off, didn’t ya, bitch?”
Renee couldn’t get a sound from her constricted throat and was beginning to slip into unconsciousness when she heard a loud grunt from somewhere and miraculously, she was free. The sudden loosening of his hands made her lose her balance and she would have fallen, but a strong pair of arms caught her. It was Maurice, who’d been wondering why her car hadn’t left the lot.
“Maurice,” she gasped, “thank God you came. Oh God, he could have killed me!” she whispered in horror.
Maurice continued to hold her as she tried to control her breathing. “I’m not the one you should be thanking, Renee. If he hadn’t come up when he did, it might have been too late.”
Renee turned puzzled eyes to the stranger who was standing over Donovan Bailey’s unconscious body. He was tall, about 6’4”, with oddly exotic features. He had short coarse dark blonde hair and olive skin that was taut across his high cheekbones. His eyes were an eerie dark gray-blue. His features seemed distinctly Caucasian, but when he spoke, his ethnicity became a bigger puzzle, due to the deep richness of his voice. He might not look like a brother, but he sure sounded like one. In answer to her unasked question, he told her his name was Titus Argonne.
“I’m here to keep an eye on you, ma’am. I think you need to go inside and get warm. I’ll take care of this,” he said with a nod to another man who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Renee had no choice but to re-enter the salon, especially after Titus said he had contacted the proper authorities. Maurice’s large body shielded her from the view of any patrons or employees. In minutes she was shivering uncontrollably in her private office while Maurice made her a cup of Earl Gray tea.
Maurice was raging about carjackers and muggers and fuming about how they might need a security guard after all, despite the relative safety of the neighborhood, but his words were falling on deaf ears. The authorities. Good God, does that mean police? Renee had her hand on the phone to call Andrew when she was distracted by the television. It was tuned to E, the entertainment channel, and there was some late breaking story that was of earth-shattering importance to judge by the look on the animated Barbie doll delivering the news.
“A ripple that could be measured on the Richter scale went through the annals of the cable industry today when word got out that the new cable news network forming it Atlanta has fired its newest executive,” the chirpy newsbunny trilled. “For months now the buzz has been that Cochran Communications, based in Detroit, and The Deveraux Group headquartered in Atlanta, are forming a partnership to produce an African-American cable news network. With Donovan Bailey as the executive vice-president, there was no way it could fail, given the expertise of the principals. Now we have received word that they plan to go ahead with the network, but without Mr. Bailey. This is a move that can only mean that the entire enterprise is on shaky ground,” she purred. “Neither Cochran Communications or The Deveraux Group would offer any comment.”
Renee was sickened to her heart. Not only by the obvious thrill that the little skank was getting from spooning out such delicious gossip, but also by the sure knowledge of how it had come about. Andrew told. He had told them everything. The thin china cup dropped from her hands and crashed to the desk, spilling its contents. Renee never heard a thing.
***
When Andrew arrived at Renee's house, he found her sitting quietly in the living room. The little dogs were asleep on the throw pillow next to her, and she was as motionless as a statue. Having gotten a phone call from Martin, he knew that the jig was well and truly up; there would be no sidestepping of the issue. In fairness, he didn’t know that Martin had hired the private investigator to keep an eye on Renee while he dug up dirt on Bailey, but he was profoundly glad he had when Martin informed him that there had been an incident. The words that Martin had spoken to him were still echoing in his head.
"Look, Andrew. Titus Argonne just called me. He's a private detective that I hired to protect Renee as well as dig into Bailey's background. And it's a damned good thing I did. The bastard waylaid her in the parking lot of her salon today."
Andrew almost dropped the telephone but instead he cursed a blue streak. Martin could sympathize completely. "Titus and I go back a ways. He's the best there is and he and his men will make sure nothing happens to her. But it's obvious that this isn't over. I have a feeling that Bailey has leaked something to the press, so you'd better be prepared when you see Renee. We all know you did the right thing, but I doubt that she’s going to see it like that." The two men talked a few more minutes, then Andrew checked in with Donnie before heading over to Renee's. He stood in the doorway to the living room, watching her for a moment before making his presence known. It seemed as though he could feel her pain from across the room. He entered the room slowly and went to stand in front of the fireplace.
"Renee, I doubt that it will do any good for me to say that I'm sorry, but I am. I just didn't see any way out of this except to let Donnie and Clay know what he had done. I don't suppose you will be able to forgive me, but I was trying to protect you," he said quietly.
In an equally quiet voice, Renee responded, "So now you're thinking for me, too? I don't even have to open my mouth and you know what I'm going to say? That's some
medical degree you've got there Andrew."
The sarcasm and anger were evident in her tone of voice. And so there would be no mistake about what she meant, she stood and crossed the room to stand in front of him. "How dare you come in here looking like a whipped dog and tell me how sorry you are? There was one thing I asked you not to do and it appears to be the first thing you did. I don’t really care at this juncture what your motivation was; the fact remains that you betrayed my confidence. You told them my personal, private business! You knew how much it meant to me and you just waded in there with both feet, didn't you?" Renee's voice was shaky with rage and she was tensed all over.
"Renee, listen to me, it wasn't like I was just blapping my mouth off for no good reason. Donnie and Clay wouldn’t have gone into business with that rat bastard if they knew what kind of slime he is. They were on the verge of signing a contract with him! How would it have made them feel if they had been legally tied to the bastard?" he reasoned. His conciliatory tone did nothing to assuage her anger; in fact, it seemed to stoke her fire. She tightened the belt on her ivory robe and lit into him once again.
"It might interest you to know, Andrew, that I had come to that very same conclusion before you opened your mouth. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night since you came in here like a backslider from AA that the reason I went to Cleveland was to talk to my mother and let her know what was going on. I came back here yesterday intending to tell you that you were right and it was time to get rid of Donovan Bailey once and for all," she stormed.
Andrew's mouth dropped open and before he could speak she flung up a hand to stop him. "But no, you had to take over. And with disastrous results, I might add. If you hadn't taken matters into your own hands, this might not have happened," she threw at him as she opened the neck of the robe to expose the dark bruises surrounding her neck.
Until the End of Time Page 27