Hudson leaned forward. “This guy might know you took Keisha, but why would he surface all of a sudden …. now?”
“Maybe he heard I was getting nominated for the superior court.”
“You don’t even know you’re being nominated for the superior court.” The whites of his eyes rolled into a huge circle. “Are there any more scorned lovers I have to hear about? If so I’d like to get through them before dinner. My stomach can’t take much more.”
26
Trevelle
Chills ran up and down Trevelle’s arms. She’d hoped the hot shower would help calm her nerves but her humiliation and anger could not be tamed, thinking about that Venus woman attacking her in broad daylight and getting away with it. She wrapped her robe tighter, unable to stop her teeth from clattering. “Get it together,” she whispered to herself. She leaned across the marble hotel sink and wiped the fog, clearing the mirror. She stood cleansed of makeup with her hair pulled back. The dull lines around her eyes revealed a hard life. Sadness. Regret. Anger. Right now she was more furious than she was sad. Still there was no ignoring the heaviness of her heart.
She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer, asking for lightness of heart. When she opened her eyes all she saw was bitterness. Years of hurt and anger that reared its ugly head during her most weak and vulnerable times.
The knock on her suite door shook the entire room. Trevelle knew it was Airic, tired of waiting. He’d demanded they talk about what transpired. She told him later, after they’d both calmed down. What she meant was, after she’d calmed down. She could care less about his insipid anger. He had no idea of the fury burning, itching and clawing to get out. She would have said things she couldn’t take back if they’d carried on their conversation from the car.
The knock again. Trevelle took a deep breath, splashed water on her face and realized the cold had gone away, eerily replaced by heat radiating around her body. She tossed the robe aside and stood naked, shaking her arms as if to peel the suffocating cloak away.
“I’m coming,” she finally said, lifting the robe back over her shoulders.
Airic stepped inside, still dressed in his Sunday worst, still wearing those awful white shoes. “Where do you want to start?” he asked, pacing the floor.
“We can start with you disrespecting me. An apology would be nice,” Trevelle said.
“I didn’t call you a ‘bitch,’ I said you were acting like a bitch. There’s a distinct difference.”
Trevelle leaned close to his face. “There is no difference. You let that word fall from your lips again there better be a pack of wild female dogs at your feet.”
“All right, I’m sorry,” he said. “Can we focus on the real issue? I told you it wasn’t a good idea to touch Mya’s hair, her clothes. Didn’t I tell you that? No, you wouldn’t listen. We had them. Right here.” He slapped his palm. “Now—”
“Now what?” Trevelle asked. “So I tried to comb the child’s hair, it’s not a crime. But I’ll tell you what is.” She walked over to the desk and picked up a manila folder. “Let’s see, ‘Venus Johnston-Parson arrested October 20, 2004, Los Angeles, California. Disorderly conduct. Assault on a police officer. Resisting arrest. Unlawful protesting.’ Then not more than six months later, Jake Parson arrested March 2005, indicted for murder.” She enunciated the word. “Murder. It doesn’t get worse than that. Then let’s top off this delightful meal with the crème de la crème. Venus Johnston-Parson held in a psychiatric hospital for a suicide attempt. These facts speak for themselves. The judge has to make a choice: put Mya in a home with two good Christians or leave her with two parents with arrest records.” She dropped the folder on the coffee table in front of Airic. “There is no fight. This is what’s called a KO.”
He shook his head. “Maybe they’ll pull up the fact that you used to be a prostitute.”
“Oh please,” Trevelle weakly scoffed. “My life is an open book, literally. The difference is that was thirty long years ago. These people are acting like fools in present day with a child in their care. There’s nothing they can do.” Trevelle became resigned, sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly overtaken by exhaustion. “Are we done?” She lay down on the soft pillow and closed her eyes. Airic remained in the room.
She could hear Airic open the folder and flip through the police records. Nothing money couldn’t buy these days. She’d paid for the initial Internet search the very day Airic informed her that he had a daughter he hadn’t seen since birth. She asked Airic all the pertinent questions, who this terrible woman was who wouldn’t let him see his God-given child. She listened with a sympathetic ear. Within days she knew everything about both Jake and Venus Parson, credit scores, driver’s records, income, and the prized criminal reports. Eventually she took it to the next level and hired an old friend, Eddie Ray, a private investigator, to find anything she might have missed. That’s when Eddie announced the last and final straw, Venus had been hospitalized for a suicide attempt by overdosing on antidepressants. Trevelle had counseled enough lost souls to know one had to be deeply unbalanced to attempt to take their own life. That poor child, that poor sweet child. Don’t worry, Mya, we will save you. She opened her eyes, wondering if she was hearing correctly, the distinct sound of a zipper and belt buckle knocking together.
“Airic. I have a busy day tomorrow. We both do.” Her way of telling him it was time for him to leave.
“Yeah, right.” Airic walked straight to Trevelle’s bed.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to bed, just like you said, we have a long day tomorrow.”
“Go to your room.”
“I’m in my room.”
“Airic, not now. I don’t feel like playing any games.”
“I’d have to agree with you. I’m tired of playing games, too.” He pulled the covers back and slid between her cool sheets. “I sit and listen to you preach about being there for your husband, your family, I just want to hold you tonight. Is that all right?”
“No. Not tonight. Trust me, now is not the time.” Most likely she was hurting herself more than him. She’d probably feel so much better with him inside of her, losing herself to his control. Instead she kept her steely glare on Airic until he finally relented, rising from the bed in defeat.
She wanted to be a good wife, the kind that closed her eyes in the comfort of her husband’s safe arms. She would if it were possible. Her greatest fear was falling into a deep sleep, Airic beside her and waking to the sound of her own screams. Always the same nightmare. Once her eyes closed, the hands squeezing her could have belonged to any of the hundreds of men who’d used her flesh for their pleasure.
“Let’s not have this discussion again. Not now,” she said, near tears. “I’m tired. We’ve had a long day to say the least and I don’t have the strength to fight with you.”
Airic rose and slipped his pants on. He stroked a comforting thumb across the tear as it rolled down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He kissed her gently before leaving. “I’ll give you some peace.”
If only it were that easy. She slipped into the covers and placed the silk lavender-scented mask over her eyes. She said a gentle prayer, then relented. Not even she could pray away the maddening visions. “Come and get me,” she said to the darkness of her closed lids. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Cain was the host of her dreams but he wasn’t the culprit. He’d never once had sex with her in the traditional form. Never once slid into anything besides her mouth. He’d never wanted her that way, only delivering her for someone else’s taking. “Just like a virgin,” he’d say, grinning. “Feel that tight pussy.” He’d grip her between the legs in the middle of the street, like she was a slave on the auction block. If there weren’t enough takers, he’d lower the price. “Five dollars extra and you can take her from behind.”
Trevelle squeezed her eyes tight. The tears ran down the sides of her face. Even in her dreams she felt th
e pain.
27
Right May Be Wrong
Normally Delma would take the next case, keep them coming fast and in a hurry to clear her calendar. Not this time. Delma saw the names that were next on her docket and decided a break was necessary. “Hudson, taking ten.” Delma fanned her hands to show all ten fingers. Hudson gave a knowing nod.
He probably thought she was going to go find her wig, spread on a little blush and lipstick. He was wrong. Delma was going to pray, something she wasn’t too familiar with. She depended on man’s laws. Real laws that kept people civil. If not for laws, the entire world would run amok. But this was bigger than what was right or wrong, or written in black or white. She had no control over the outcome. She needed strength to face Trevelle Doval, wondering when the glass house she’d built so carefully was going to shatter in a million pieces. Someone had already made it clear this was no coincidence. Someone’s got a secret. Then the second part the caller spoke raised the bar on the teasing. You should’ve given her back, the caller said before hanging up last night.
She heard Hudson’s knock before he entered her chambers. He silently walked behind her chair and let his hands rest on her shoulders. He rubbed lightly as if testing the waters. “You’re going to do fine.” He massaged and squeezed, taking her silence as license to dig in.
“I should take myself off this case.” Delma’s shoulders had fallen, not with the weight of Hudson’s hands, but with her own impending doom. The worse thing a judge could do was have a recusal on file without a legitimate cause. She couldn’t very well tell that she knew Trevelle Doval from the past without incrimination. Speculation would haunt her spotless record, barring her from her lofty dreams of a seat on the Supreme Court, or a posted position on one of the administrative boards. “I keep thinking she’s behind this whole setup. She could’ve easily found out I was the one that helped her that night. Now she’s back to right the wrongs of the past. Maybe she expects me to just hand over that little girl to her and her new husband because of my guilty conscience.”
“Sounds to me, she was in no condition to remember names. I think her being in your courtroom is simply a coincidence.”
“I flashed my district attorney’s ID to the receptionist at the hospital,” Delma said. “I don’t think anyone wrote anything down though. Everything happened so fast.”
“But she wouldn’t have known you went back for the baby, anyway …. a presumably dead baby. I think it’s time you put this out of your mind. Pray about it, do a forty-day fast, but let this thing go. It’s eating you up.” He reached in front of her, brushing his rib cage against her back. The warmth of his body against hers caused a brief shudder. He picked up the wooden gavel with her name engraved on the curved handle. “Judge Delma Hawkins, you are an excellent judge. I admire your dedication and your honesty. Bottom line, you’re going to do right by this child, like you always do. Children first. Parents, stepparents, and regrets be damned.” He handed the slim gavel to her. “This case has nothing to do with the Trevelle Doval of thirty years ago.”
Delma shook her head. She has everything to do with it.
He gave a final pat and squeeze on her shoulders that felt like love. “Put the past out of your mind. You have a job to do.”
“You’re too good for me,” she said with new confidence.
“Good afternoon,” Delma said, sidling up to her judge post. She plopped in her chair. The leather chair felt too low and sunken. Her first thought was to get a new one. Her second thought was of the sweat dripping underneath her hot robe. She took a sip of water and scanned the room. The mother of the child was almost as uncomfortable as Delma.
“Well, let’s get started. The matter of Johnston and Fisher regarding minor child Mya Fisher.” She spoke clearly for the recorder’s sake but her mind was miles away. She searched all the faces in the courtroom to see if anyone present could’ve made the cryptic phone call. Someone with a knowing glare or an ominous smile. Somebody’s got a secret. She took another sip of water. “Mr. Young, Ms. Michaels, have you two introduced yourselves?”
Georgina Michaels gave a short polite smile. “Yes, we have met, your honor.”
“Could I be so lucky that you all have come to an agreement?”
“Not so lucky, your honor.”
Another sip of water. “Who wants to go first?”
“I’d like to go first.” Mr. Young took the bait. He rubbed his narrow chin before standing up.
“Standing isn’t necessary,” Delma said. “I can hear you from here.”
He sat back down, an instant blow to his potential success. Trevelle rolled her eyes and let her hand fall to the desk with a slapping sound.
Delma would have taken offense to the obvious show of disrespect. Seeing as how she’d made Trevelle invisible she couldn’t very well notice such a thing, now could she? The only way she’d get through the proceedings was to pretend Trevelle Doval didn’t exist.
“Please continue,” Delma said politely.
“This past weekend my client, Mr. Fisher, visited with his daughter. During the course of the day, they went for an innocent stop for ice cream, encountering the mother who became enraged and physically attacked Ms. Doval in front of the child for absolutely no reason.”
Georgina raised a well-manicured hand. “I object. She had specific reason, your honor. Ms. Doval took the child to a hair salon and altered her appearance.”
“I did not.” Trevelle almost smiled. “I simply put a comb to the child’s head. Is that a crime?”
Mr. Young continued. “This kind of behavior sends a clear message of the instability of the mother. She’s clearly unfit and we have record that she’s been hospitalized in the past for mental incapacity. Furthermore, with her arrest record, and that of her husband it’s clear these two people are without boundaries and should not be trusted a minute longer with the responsibility of taking care of this child when there are two respectable loving adults waiting with open arms.”
“Praise him,” Trevelle Doval sang out, her eyes closed. She swayed gently to a tune no one else could hear.
“Speaking of two loving adults,” Delma spoke into the microphone, “where is Mr. Parson this afternoon?”
Georgina leaned forward and cleared her throat. “Mr. Parson is on his way from clear across town. He’s run into a bit of traffic. He’ll be here as soon as he can,” she offered. “Make no mistake, he’s dedicated to the well-being of Mya and is working very hard to get here.”
Mr. Young continued. “I’d like to file an immediate motion for removal of the child from the home until a psychiatric evaluation can be presented.”
“My child isn’t going anywhere.”
“Please, have a seat, Ms. Johnston,” Delma instructed. I got this, her eyes said. “Mr. Young, motion is denied. Secondly, do you have a police report on the alleged attack?”
“Yes …. I have an incident report right here, your honor.”
“So that would be a no. An incident report is a far cry from a police report for an arrest.” Delma slammed her gavel down for effect. “Let’s move on.”
“My clients filed a formal complaint the very same afternoon.”
“I’m sure the district attorney is going to get right on it,” Delma said smugly. “In the meantime, let’s deal with the facts. Mr. Fisher had a visitation with his daughter. Did you enjoy your visitation, Mr. Fisher?”
“Yes,” he answered meekly. “I did up until the time Venus attacked my wife.”
“Tell me how that started.” Delma leaned back with her arms folded under her ample chest.
His lawyer touched his sleeve and spoke for him, “It’s all explained in the incident report, your honor.”
“I can read, thank you, Mr. Fisher. Please, I’d like to hear your interpretation of the events.”
Airic Fisher cleared his throat. “I didn’t hear the exact words exchanged. I was sitting in the car and saw Venus lunge toward my wife. I ran inside and stepped between th
em, since her husband seemed to condone her irrational behavior.”
The doors creaked open and Jake Parson entered. He took a seat next to his wife. Delma noticed she didn’t turn to greet him, instead stared straight ahead as if he didn’t exist at all. There was real tension between them. Common at this point. Delma knew it was never easy on a relationship. Tempers. Emotions. Finger-pointing.
“So you’re saying you have no idea what prompted your ex to attack your wife?” Delma did her best not to suck in one side of her jaw. Hudson pointed out the small tic when she felt obvious disbelief. Instead she covered her hand against her face and tapped her cheekbone. “Okay, Ms. Johnston, why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“May I stand?”
“Yes you may.”
“First, I’d like to apologize to Airic and Trevelle for the outburst. I was upset and shocked. When Airic picked my daughter up she was wearing a cute little top, jeans, and sandals. My daughter actually picked out her clothes. I mean, I want her to feel empowered with her choices, you know. Same goes for her hair. I don’t straighten her hair with hot combs or try to slick it down with a whole jar of grease because I think it hurts a black child’s self-esteem.”
“Excuse me, your honor, I don’t see how this is getting to the facts,” Mr. Young interrupted.
“Go on, Ms. Johnston,” Delma said.
“I spent my life feeling pressured to wear my hair the way society expected me to wear it. I made a promise to myself I would never do that to my daughter. I wanted her to learn to accept her natural beauty and not have her self-esteem determined by her hair.”
Nappily Faithful Page 14