Just Too Good to Be True

by E. Lynn Harris

  CHAPTER

  35

  Barrett’s Ready to Roll Again

  Barrett was all packed and ready to leave when the doorbell rang. She thought it was her driver, so she didn’t look through the peephole, just opened the door.

  “How did you get up here?” Barrett asked when she saw Maybelline standing there puffing a cigarette.

  “It seems that your little doorman is from New Orleans and we know some of the same people. Hmm, it looks like we’re going on a trip,” Maybelline said as she walked into the foyer of the condo.

  “I didn’t ask you to come in,” Barrett said as she followed Maybelline closely.

  “I don’t need an invite from a tramp like you. We just got a little business to conduct and then you can be on your way.”

  “What kind of business?” Barrett quizzed.

  “You’re going to give me five thousand dollars,” Maybelline said frankly.

  “The hell I am,” Barrett said.

  “Okay, suit yourself. When I get through talking with your little make-believe boyfriend and tell him who and what you are, you’ll think giving me what I asked for was the wise thing to do,” Maybelline said.

  “You don’t know anything about Brady and me,” Barrett protested.

  “I know you’re running a scam and he doesn’t know how old you are. I know that.”

  “Get out of my house, you skanky bitch, or I’ll call the police.”

  “Call ’em. I’m sure they will be just as interested to know where you live, just like that basketball player. You see, your mama, God bless her, told me everything. I saw her a couple of weeks ago when I went back to New Orleans to check on some things. After a few vodkas, Lita can’t shut her trap. She told me she had even thought about telling that basketball player Chris where you were, but she didn’t want to have blood on her hands in case he came here and killed your ass.”

  “Lita doesn’t know anything about my life. She’s just an old delusional drunk who’s jealous of me because of my looks. No one will believe anything she has to say,” Barrett said.

  “I believe her. Now, let’s talk about that five thousand dollars, and don’t even think about giving me a check. May-Jean wouldn’t take a check from Oprah, so you know what I think about any piece of paper with your name on it. Damn, you don’t even remember what your real name is.” Maybelline produced a pack of cigarettes and lifted one out.

  “I should slap your face,” Barrett said.

  “Come on, bitch. You feelin’ frisky? Slap me, but let me warn you. stitches might not look good on that pretty little face.”

  “You better be glad I know it’s against the law to hit old people. I’ll need some time to get the money,” Barrett said.

  “You got twenty-four hours. Meet me this time tomorrow at the pancake house near the campus. And please don’t keep a lady waiting. Or else I might have to make a few calls back to New Orleans myself,” Maybelline said, looking down at Barrett before walking out.

  After Maybelline left, Barrett rushed to the kitchen and was happy she’d left a bottle of wine in the fridge. She poured herself a glass and then called Nico. When he didn’t answer, Barrett left a message telling him that she had accomplished what she’d been sent to do and was ready to come home.

  Barrett paced nervously in her living room. She had tried to get in contact with Nico several times on his cell phone, without success. Barrett didn’t want to call his home, because she knew his wife hardly ever left there. I mean, why would she leave her huge mansion when she had a staff to provide her every need? But Barrett knew that was going to end soon when she became the new lady of the house. Nico had promised her that.

  In the huge mansion Barrett would be protected from people like Maybelline and Chris.

  Barrett tried his cell one more time, then grabbed her red leather bag with the small silver triangle on it and pulled out an amber bottle of pills. She took one of the pills, popped it into her mouth, and chased it with a glass of wine.

  She poured herself another glass of wine, then picked up her cell phone and dialed Nico’s number again. After a few rings, Nico’s answering machine came on. This time Barrett decided to leave a message: “Hey, Nico, I did what you wanted. Now you got to come through for me. I got Brady’s signature. So now do your thing. Get that woman out of my house. I’m scared Chris might know where I am or Lita might tell him. I’m leaving here first thing tomorrow. My work is done. Call me.”

  CHAPTER

  36

  Carmyn’s Blast from the Past

  I was staring at the phone again, agonizing about Brady, wondering when, if ever, he was going to call me back. I had called him three times this morning, once at home and twice on his cell phone.

  I left him a message saying I would explain everything. I didn’t want this mess between us to spoil Senior Day. We’d both waited so long for that day. But his not calling me back made me think that maybe he didn’t want me there either.

  Tears came to my eyes, and I had to cry at the thought of not being there for my son on the day we had both talked about and dreamed of for so long. But I told myself to toughen up.

  I picked up the phone again and was preparing to call Brady to let him know just what the deal was going to be, but then I set the receiver back down. Maybe it was best that I surprise him. That way he would have no choice but to hear me out. I would tell him everything that happened, why I never told him about his father, why I lied.

  But I sat there a moment and wondered what Brady’s reaction would be. Would he tell me how much he had missed out, how his life could have been different if he had only met his father? Then I would say something like “Yes, different. But who’s to say better?”

  All of a sudden, I picked up the phone and started dialing Sylvester, thinking that maybe it wasn’t too late to find Brady’s father. Whoever Sylvester said he could hire would have to work hard and fast, but maybe Brady’s father could still be found before Senior Day. But I couldn’t let Sylvester pay for it. He didn’t have that kind of money.

  As I punched in the first number, the doorbell rang. I reluctantly hung up the phone and went to answer the door.

  I looked out the peephole and was surprised to see Sylvester standing there. I smiled, swung open the door, and said, “Speak of the—” but the last word hung in my throat when I saw who was standing beside him.

  The first thought that ran through my head was It can’t be.

  “There’s someone I want you to meet,” Sylvester said.

  I stood there in shock, my eyes bulging wide, my mouth hanging open. “That’s not—”

  “It’s Woodson, Carmyn. I said I would locate him for you and I did,” Sylvester said as he urged Woodson forward.

  He was as handsome as I remembered him. His skin was still as smooth, his eyes as bright. But there was a maturity in him now that he didn’t have then. A calmness that a college boy could never possess.

  “Carmyn,” he said, speaking my name like he had done twenty years ago. I was transported back. I heard the melancholy love songs of my college days. Back to the way he loved me, the way he made me feel. But then the memories of that night came back, and afterward, when he abandoned me and broke up with me in a hate-filled letter.

  Tears welled up in my eyes and threatened to fall. An anger started to burn in the core of my body. “No, I don’t want to see you,” I said as I stepped back in and slammed the door shut.

  “Carmyn,” I heard Sylvester calling through the door. “If you knew the trouble I went through to find him, you’d at least hear him out.”

  “I said I don’t want to see him. Get him out of here, Sylvester,” I said as tears poured from my eyes. I slid down and sat with my back to the door.

  “Sylvester,” I heard Woodson say through the door. “Let me talk to her alone.”

  “Are you sure?” Sylvester said.

  “If she doesn’t let me in, I’ll catch a taxi back to my hotel.”

  “Just call me
on my cell. I’ll come back and get you.”

  “Thanks, brother,” Woodson said.

  “No problem. I hope you two can work this out.”

  “Call me on my cell if there’s anything I can do.”

  After that, I listened but didn’t hear anything for a moment.

  “Carmyn,” I heard Woodson say all of a sudden. His voice was strong and very clear, like he was leaning on the door, pressing his mouth to where he thought my ear was. I could see him doing that, because that’s what he used to do twenty years ago when he would come to my dorm-room door and I was mad at him. “You know I never meant to hurt you.”

  “But you did!”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to find you to apologize. There is something I need to tell you.”

  I wiped the tears from my face with the sleeve of my blouse and opened the door.

  “You tried to find me?”

  “Carmyn, please. Let me in, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  “Okay,” I said as I opened the door.

  Woodson walked in as I stepped back from the door with my arms folded over my chest. It had been over twenty years since I’d seen him, but like Sylvester, he’d aged well. He looked like he could still fit in his burnt-orange and white football uniform.

  “Carmyn, it’s good to see you,” he said.

  “Where did Sylvester find you? How did he find you?” I asked.

  “He tracked me down on the Internet and then he just called me. The first call, I blew him off because I thought he was a nut. I didn’t know anyone named Carmyn Bledsoe. The Carmyn I knew was Carmyn Marie Johnson. The girl everybody called Niecey. That’s the Carmyn I knew. Did you get married?”

  “No. It’s my mother’s maiden name. I couldn’t be a Johnson anymore, since my father and mother were so embarrassed by me,” I said.

  “Can we sit down and talk?”

  I reminded myself that I had been cleansed by my talk with God in the Labyrinth and even though I had released the demons from my past I could at least give Woodson a chance.

  “Let’s go into the breakfast nook,” I said.

  Woodson followed me through the family room and kitchen into the small area off the kitchen that leads to the deck. I didn’t know if I should offer him something to drink or how long this conversation was going to last.

  We sat down, and for several moments and I avoided looking into his eyes. I looked instead at his hands and noticed the gold band.

  “So you’re married,” I said as I finally looked into his eyes.

  “Yes, for fifteen years. I met her in Seattle when I was playing for the Seahawks. We have a set of twin girls, Madison and Miller, who are nine, and Andrea, who just turned thirteen. Sylvester tells me I might have another child.”

  “He had no right to tell you that. I’m not certain Brady is your son,” I said.

  “His name is Brady? Is it Brady Bledsoe? That couldn’t be,” Woodson said in disbelief.

  “Yes, my son is named Brady Bledsoe.”

  “Does he play football?”

  “Yes, at Central Georgia. He’s a senior.”

  “And a very fine football player. He’s at the top of our draft board,” Woodson said.

  “Your draft board? What are you talking about? “

  “I’m an executive vice president and in charge of scouting for the Houston Texans. That’s your son? He could be my son. That’s wild, because a few weeks ago I was coming to see him play against Texas Tech but my plans changed at the last minute,” Woodson said, shaking his head.

  “After what happened that night, I can’t be certain he’s your son.”

  “What do you mean, what happened?”

  “You know,” I said.

  “Carmyn, that’s why I’ve been hoping for years to find you. I got the story wrong,” Woodson said.

  “What story?”

  “Carmyn, a few years ago I got a visit from Daphne. She had just survived a bout with breast cancer and had a “come to Jesus” moment. Daphne told me she had a secret from all those years she wanted to share with me. She told me that when she got to the hotel that night you were already drunk and passed out. She had the guys put you in bed, but she took off all your clothes. Then she convinced all these recruits to lie and tell me that they had sex with you. Daphne was trying to get me back and would do anything. It was all a big lie. She set you up, Carmyn. She hated you and thought you’d stolen me from her. She promised me she would find you and tell you. I didn’t know anything about you having a kid.”

  “Why did you stay away so long that night? And didn’t you want me to sleep with them?”

  “Hell no. Why would I want my girl to do that?”

  “You told me to be nice,” I said.

  “Come on now, Carmyn, I would have never asked you to do something like that. Back then, you could be a little tough on guys. And as far as being gone so long, I had stopped by my line brother’s house and had a couple of drinks and watched a little football. I didn’t want to get stopped for drunk driving, so I waited until I sobered up. I fell asleep.”

  So many emotions swirled through my head. All these years I had carried this secret shame with me when all I had done was get drunk and pass out.

  “Are you sure about this? Do you believe Daphne is telling the truth now?” I asked Woodson.

  “As sure as a man can be, and yes, she’s a different woman. I’m sure she tried to get in touch with you.”

  “Then Brady has to be your son. You and I made love right before the party. I’ll never forget that. I didn’t sleep with anyone after I left Austin. I was too upset. If what you’re telling me is true, then you have to be Brady’s father,” I said as tears began to stream down my face.

  “I’ll take a blood test and do whatever you want me to do. Does he know anything about me?”

  “I told him his father died in a motorcycle accident.”

  “So you had me in mind,” Woodson said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Carmyn, don’t you remember my motorcycle and how you and Coach used to get on me all the time about riding it? When can I meet him?”

  “I don’t know. He’s not speaking to me now,” I said.

  “Why? Don’t you two have a good relationship?”

  “We’ve had a wonderful relationship until this girl he met told him that his father might be alive. I don’t know how she found out. All I know is that Brady has wanted a father all his life and he feels that I took that from him.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Twenty. He turned twenty-one in October.”

  “A twenty-one-year-old son. Wow, that’s crazy,” Woodson said.

  “I have to be sure,” I said. “He’d kill me if this wasn’t true.”

  “I understand that. Besides, I need to talk to my family as well. I have seen press photos, but do you have a picture of him when he was a little boy?”

  “Yes, in my office. Let me go and wash my face and I will bring you his picture and his baby book,” I said.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Do you want anything else?” I asked.

  “It looks like I might be getting a son soon. I think that’s quite enough for one night.”

  CHAPTER

  37

  Brady Bledsoe . . . Private Investigator

  Late Thursday night, I found myself in the one place my mother always prayed I would never be: I was at the Scarlet Springs police station. I couldn’t find Barrett. I didn’t see her at cheerleader practice, and when I asked her coach where she was, he told me no one had heard from Barrett.

  When I got home, I called her cell every five minutes, to no avail. Finally, I got in my truck and went to her condo and convinced the doorman to let me go up. There was no answer as I rang the doorbell for about ten minutes. I started knocking on doors and calling out her name. I even looked in the windows, and still no signs of Barrett. I looked in the parking lot and her car was gone.

  I went back to my
apartment and convinced Delmar to come to the station with me, even though he thought I was making too big a deal of this. He told me, “Bitches do crazy shit all the time. She’ll be back. That bitch is a gold digger for sho.”

  We got to the station closest to campus and I went to the information desk.

  “How can I help you, young man?” asked a thin, white, uniformed woman with wire-rimmed glasses.

  “I need to file a missing persons report,” I said.

  “Who’s missing?”

  “My girlfriend, and I’m really worried,” I said.

  “When is the last time you saw her?”

  “Last night around nine-thirty.”

  She looked at her watch and said, “Well, it hasn’t been twenty-four hours. Do you think she could be avoiding you? Maybe you two had a fight or something?”

  “No, we didn’t have a fight, and she has no reason to be dodging me,” I said. This was making me mad. Something bad could be happening to Barrett and this woman was making up things that weren’t true.

  “We can’t file a missing persons report until after forty-eight hours. Is she a student at the university?”

  “Yes. And forty-eight hours might be too late.”

  “Did you contact campus police?”

  “No, she lives off campus.”

  “Why don’t you go home and keep trying to reach her. If you don’t hear from her, then come back tomorrow,” she said.

  “That’s not good enough. Can I speak to your supervisor?” I asked.

  “Suit yourself,” she said. Then she got up and went through a door behind her desk.

  I walked over toward Delmar, who was leaning against the wall drinking a bottle of water.

  “What did she say, fam?”

  “Some crap about having to wait forty-eight hours,” I said.

  Delmar shook his head and smiled. “Boy, oh boy. That girl got you whipped something bad. Look at you, sweat popping from your forehead like bullets from a gun. Four months ago, you didn’t even know this girl. Damn, four months ago you didn’t know what good pussy was.”