Slick 2

by Brenda Hampton

  “It depends. But considering that this is how it all went down the last time, with him and his first wife, I don’t know if you would want to be that person to interfere again.”

  “Okay, I’ll make this easier for you. If you were about to marry a woman who was cheating on you, wouldn’t you want to know? No matter who delivers the message, wouldn’t you still want to know?”

  He was silent for a moment then nodded. “I guess I would. But pray on this and make sure it’s the right thing to do.”

  I was thankful to Brian for our discussion. And while he didn’t stay the night with me, by morning my mind was made up. I was going to tell Jonathan what the private investigator had passed on to Crissy. I was sure there was more, so I waited until more information could be shared.

  Sure enough, when Crissy came back to the office, she filled my ears with more things about Lesa. The private investigator had been following her for weeks. During her separation from Jonathan, she lived with her lover. She still visited him, mainly during the morning hours, and she had also been kicking up a new relationship with another model who lived in New York. According to the investigator, they hooked up after one of her fashion shows, went to dinner, then had sex the same night. Crissy also shocked me when she told me he saw her visit an abortion clinic. Days later, she returned to have the procedure done. This was enough for me to change Jonathan’s mind about making her his wife. I was eager to share the news.

  The following day, I put my game face on and headed to his office. I wanted to see if he could schedule a day and time to talk to me, but when I got there, his secretary informed me that he had left for Vegas last night.

  “Last night,” I said in a high-pitched tone. “What time?”

  “Around nine o’clock. He won’t be returning for a few days. He asked that I take all messages. Would you like to leave a message for him?”

  My heart sank to my stomach. What if he was already married? What if I was too late? Damn. Damn. Damn. I rushed to my desk but halted my steps when I saw Crissy standing by the boardroom, waiting to go inside. She was talking to another staff member. I hated to interrupt her.

  “Do you have a minute?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she said then followed me into the hallway and into the staircase. “What’s going on, Sylvia?”

  “Jonathan. Jonathan left to go get married. I have to stop him, Crissy. I can’t let this happen. I need to go. I need to get on a plane as soon as possible and go. Help me, and please tell me that I’m doing the right thing.”

  “Look, you know how I feel about Jonathan, but do what’s in your heart. If you want to go, then go. Just let me know and I’ll call the airport to make arrangements for you.”

  “Would you really do that for me? I know this must seem crazy, but you know how much I love him. I can’t let him make the same mistake again.”

  “I’ve never been in love before, so I wouldn’t understand. Stop trying to explain this to me, and get out of here. I’ll send you a text with the boarding information. Be sure to contact me when you get to Vegas, and I’ll see if I can get detailed information regarding his whereabouts from his secretary.”

  “Please do. I have no idea what hotel he’s at or anything.”

  “I’ll find out.” Crissy gave me a hug. “Be careful and go. Go now.”

  I rushed out of the office building then made my way to my car. Within the hour, Crissy had hooked up everything for me. She sent me a text message, letting me know where Jonathan was. I even had the room number. I boarded the plane in fear of what would happen in Vegas, but wishing that Jonathan would see the light and finally dump Lesa.

  The entire plane ride, I couldn’t stop thinking about all that we’d been through. I was sure his heart would be broken, but just like the last time, I intended to be there and help him get through this. I reflected back to when my husband was killed many years ago. Jonathan was the one who had been there for me. Dana was considered my best friend, but technically it was Jonathan who had my back. He encouraged me to live on. Offered me a job, just so I could have enough money to pick up the pieces. My husband didn’t have insurance, so Jonathan was the one who had paid for his funeral expenses. He gave me money to settle our overwhelming bills, and he purchased a new vehicle for me after our car had been wrecked in the fatal accident my husband had. My history with Jonathan was deep. I had so many reasons to love this man, and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t give up on us.

  I arrived in Vegas a few hours later. Not knowing if Jonathan was already a married man, I hurried off the plane, flagged down a cab, and asked him to rush me to the hotel where Jonathan was. It was already almost three o’clock in the afternoon. I prayed that I wasn’t too late. With him being in a private suite, I was delayed even more. I had to persuade one of the bellhops to take me to the floor where Jonathan was. After I offered him one hundred dollars, he was more than willing.

  “Down the hall and straight ahead,” he said. “And please don’t tell anyone I did this for you. I could lose my job.”

  I thanked the man, telling him I wouldn’t say a word. Nervous as hell, I walked to the door with my legs trembling. I wasn’t looking my best, but I didn’t have time to change clothes from earlier. The plain linen dress I wore had numerous wrinkles. My hair needed to be brushed, and my makeup had all sweated off. In addition to that, my peep-toe heels were hurting my feet.

  I tapped lightly on the door, but when no one answered, I knocked harder. There was a DO NOT DISTURB notice on the door, but I didn’t travel this far to abide by it. I could hear someone on the inside coming toward the door.

  “Room service,” I said. “May I come in?”

  The door swung open. My heart dropped again.

  “I didn’t . . .” Jonathan paused when he saw me standing there. He was dressed in a burgundy cotton robe, and house shoes covered his feet. His forehead was lined with thick wrinkles, and much anger washed across his face. “What are you doing here?” he said. “Sylvia, please don’t do this. Not now.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to, Jonathan. Is Lesa in there? We all need to talk, and I want her to confess to something.”

  I seemed to have Jonathan’s attention. He widened the door, allowing me to enter the immaculate suite that was designed for the rich and/or famous. There were beautiful chandeliers hanging, a baby grand piano in the far corner, a wet bar in another, and a sunken living room area that displayed a circular, white leather couch. Many windows surrounded the suite, and the view of Las Vegas was breathtaking.

  “What exactly is she supposed to confess to?” he questioned.

  “Is she here? I’ll let her tell you.”

  “No, she’s not here. She’s at a spa. Now, tell me what in the hell is going on right now. Does this have something to do with the stalker?”

  I swallowed the huge lump in my throat and began to spill my guts. “No, but Lesa has been lying to you. She’s involved with another man. They’ve been together for a long time, and she recently started seeing someone else who lives in New York. Also, she had an abortion a few weeks ago. I believe it was right before she moved back in with you. She’s not being real with you, Jonathan. I couldn’t let you go through with this, without knowing the truth.”

  Jonathan stared at me with a hard gaze. He was so still that I couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. His brows were arched inward and his right hand had tightened into a fist.

  “Don’t you dare come in here and lie to me like this!” he shouted. “Oh, my God, Sylvia, why would you do this? It’s over, baby. I’m so sorry, but it is over! You’ve got to accept this.”

  “No!” I shouted back. “I don’t care if it’s over! I’m telling you the truth. I wouldn’t come this far to lie to you, and you know I wouldn’t!”

  “Where’s your proof? I need evidence. Show me something or get the hell out of here!”

  Unfortunately, I didn’t bring anything with me. I had rushed out of the office and forgot to ask Crissy fo
r pictures, notes, anything the private investigator had given her. “I don’t have proof. All I have is my word.”

  He broke it down to me loud and clear: “Your word don’t mean shit.”

  My heart dropped to my stomach. His words stung. Stung so bad that I felt as if my heart had been ripped from my chest. “Jonathan, please don’t say that. You have to believe me. You know me, and you know I wouldn’t lie about anything like this. If you don’t believe me, call Crissy. Ask her. She’ll tell you. She’s the one who hired the private investigator to check things out.”

  He wasn’t buying what I was selling, so I reached in my pocket for my cell phone. Thankfully, Crissy answered. I calmed down to speak to her. “Please tell him about what the private investigator told you. He doesn’t believe me, and I need for him to believe that I didn’t come all this way to lie.”

  Crissy told me to give Jonathan the phone. He snatched it from my hand and listened to her tell him what she’d told me. He didn’t budge. Didn’t say one word, just hit the END button then tossed the phone like he was a pitcher, throwing a baseball. It smashed into a lamp, causing it to hit the floor and break.

  “Damn!” he said with tightened fists. “I’ll be fucking damned!”

  My heart raced. I witnessed how upset he was. Been here, done this before. I wasn’t sure if I should speak up or allow him to say what was on his mind.

  “I can’t believe this shit! Why in the hell do I keep—”

  He paused when the door came open. In walked Lesa, looking all dolled up in a bright yellow dress, a big straw hat and strappy heels that made her taller. Her smile quickly vanished as she saw me standing there. She observed the evil look on Jonathan’s face.

  “Answer this,” Jonathan shouted with his finger pointed at her. “Are you seeing someone else, and did you have a got-damn abortion?”

  Her mouth opened wide. She stepped farther into the room, shaking her head from side to side. “No!” she replied then looked at me. “Are you kidding me? Is that why you’re here? Did you tell him those lies?”

  “Do not talk to her,” Jonathan barked. “I asked you a question. I need some answers right now!”

  She turned her attention to Jonathan. “I already answered your question. I said no. I’m not seeing anyone else, and I haven’t had an abortion. I can’t believe that you’re standing there asking me this. This is bullshit, Jonathan, and you know it!”

  Lesa was good. She stood her ground, even when Jonathan threatened to call Crissy and the private investigator who had been watching her.

  “You do whatever you have to do!” she shouted. “And if this so-called private investigator has something on me, show it to me. The only thing that he may be able to present is exactly what I told you already. I almost gave in to somebody who was interested in me. We . . . He performed oral sex on me and that was it. The only reason I gave him permission to do that was because you were screwing this bitch!”

  “You didn’t tell me that he performed oral sex on you, so get your lies straight! I’m glad it’s all coming out now, and who in the hell’s baby were you carrying?”

  Lesa stepped closer to Jonathan with gritted teeth. I wanted him to punch that bitch in her face for lying, but I suspected that he wouldn’t put his hands on her. I stayed back, nervously watching this all play out.

  “I just told you that I wasn’t pregnant! But if I was, I would surely get rid of the baby. I damn sure wouldn’t want to be pregnant by a damn fool like you, and any nigga who believes everything his ex tells him is an idiot! She can have your limp-dick ass. I’m so glad that I didn’t marry you! Sooo glad, and you will never have to worry about me again!”

  Lesa reached up and slapped the hell out of Jonathan. The smack was so loud and hard that I thought she had slapped me. I wanted him to lay her ass out, but he wasn’t that kind of man. He reached for her arm and shook her real hard.

  “Don’t put your hands—”

  He was interrupted by the spit she released in his face. He shoved her backward, causing her to stumble. She hopped on one foot to keep her balance then she removed her heel. The real Lesa showed up, and I was glad that he got an opportunity to see who she really was. As she charged at him with the shoe, he pushed her backward again. This time, she skidded across the marble floor, landing right at my feet.

  “If you touch me one more time, you will be arrested,” he said. “Now, get the fuck out of here, and chalk up your losses.”

  “My losses.” She laughed then peeled herself off the floor. “Nigga, please. You’re the one who lost out. You just don’t know it yet.”

  She gawked at me, as if she was coming for me next.

  “Think before you act,” I said. “I am not Jonathan and I will do exactly to you what you’re contemplating doing to me.”

  Lesa mean mugged me then removed her other shoe. She threw it at Jonathan, but he ducked to avoid it. As he charged our way, she rushed to the door. She knew that spitting on him was the last straw and she was about to catch hell. Before leaving, though, she paused to share a few words with me.

  “Bitch, I’ll see you around. This is not by any means over with.”

  The door slammed, causing me to sigh a little from relief. It was good to know that Jonathan hadn’t already married her, but I wasn’t sure about his current state of mind.

  “Well, I guess we now know who was responsible for everything that happened. I bet she had someone she knows do that crap, probably her lover,” I said.

  Jonathan walked to the door and opened it. “I need some time alone, Sylvia. Give me some time.”

  “Sure,” I said, walking to the door. “I’m staying at the Venetian, if you want to talk later. And I’m not leaving until tomorrow night.”

  He didn’t respond. I walked out, anticipating that everything would be okay.

  CHAPTER 20

  LESA

  I couldn’t believe how things had ended between Jonathan and me. The second I walked into that hotel room and saw Sylvia standing there, I knew things wouldn’t be good. She definitely wasn’t there to sell us Girl Scout cookies, and at first I wasn’t sure about her purpose. That was until Jonathan opened his big mouth. He had no right to yell at me that way. He should have told her to leave, and then questioned me. Half of the crap he’d mentioned was false, and Sylvia had to have lied to him about a private investigator. I would know if someone had been watching me, simply because I was the kind of person who always paid much attention to my surroundings.

  Nonetheless, Sylvia showed up and ruined everything. From day one, she ruined everything. Jonathan allowed her to have her way, and I wanted to choke the life out of her. Maybe not as much as I wanted to hurt him for his betrayal. How dare he treat me that way? How dare he disrespect me in front of her? Why in the hell would he believe her over me? Whether I had been having sex with anyone, he would never know. It wasn’t relevant, because what had occurred between me and Lance only happened because of what I witnessed between Jonathan and Sylvia.

  I was willing to forgive him for several specific reasons. First, I had to admit that, prior to this setback with Sylvia, Jonathan was the best. He treated me well. Put me in a comfortable situation where I was more than happy to accept his proposal and eventually become his wife. Two, sex between us had been off the chain. He had mad skills in the bedroom, and every woman wanted a man who knew how to please her. It was almost as if he had gone to school to know every part of a woman’s body and perfect how to please her. I’d had no complaints until recently. Third, he was loaded with money. Only the people close to him knew his net worth. It was nothing to sneeze about. He was definitely in a position to offer me a lifetime of stability and security. I was certainly looking forward to it, and having access to his money was a plus.

  With or without his money, I was on the right path with my fashion design career. I still wasn’t where I wanted to be financially, but that didn’t matter to Jonathan. As long as I had a promising career, that’s all he cared about.
I’d moved in with him to save money. My previous apartment cost almost two grand a month. It felt good to bank that money, especially now when I needed it the most. It also felt good that during our time together Jonathan had been giving me money, too. I didn’t want for much, and I was able to buy pretty much anything I wanted. He never questioned how much money I spent on things, nor did he complain about what I’d bought. I had much freedom in our relationship. It was almost like a dream come true for me. That all changed now that Sylvia was permanently back in the picture. I hated her, and I hated him, too.

  I paced the floor in my apartment, thinking of a million and one ways to break Sylvia’s neck. She crushed my big dreams in a major way. I wanted to slice that heifer’s throat while in that hotel room; and the smirk on her face as Jonathan and I argued made me cringe.

  I guessed that the two of them were now back together. He probably escorted her to one of those little chapels in Vegas to exchange I do’s. The thought of it made me sick to my stomach, but there wasn’t much that I could do about it at this point. I had shown my ass. Spit on the man and called him a nigga. He would never forgive me for that, but I didn’t care. I hated to be accused of things by someone who was just as guilty as I was. Jonathan had no right to treat me that way, and one day, he would regret losing me.

  I didn’t like to be so ugly, but the more I thought about it, maybe things had turned out for the best. If I had married Jonathan and all of this came about, it wouldn’t have been pretty. Grits wouldn’t have been the only thing I was cooking—maybe something with poison in it. I was seconds away from tossing those grits on his ass that night, but then I decided against it, only because I honestly wanted things to work. But marrying him would have put me in a different place. As his wife, I wouldn’t have tolerated his mess. I very well would have plotted his demise and buried him with no regrets. After that, I would have happily cashed in on his money as a grieving widow and lived happily ever after, probably with another man who was willing to do right by me. But things didn’t get that far. He was lucky. She was lucky. The way I saw it, I was lucky too.