Just Too Good to Be True

by E. Lynn Harris

  “Dude, shut the F up,” I said as I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. I looked over at the desk and saw the woman and a tall policeman. She pointed toward me and I walked back to the desk.

  The male officer extended his hand toward me and said, “I’m Sergeant Fontana. How can I help you, young man?”

  “Yeah, my girlfriend is missing and I’m worried. This is not like her,” I said.

  “That’s what Officer Mathis tells me. We really can’t do anything until forty-eight hours,” he said.

  “There’s got to be something you can do. I’m really worried,” I said.

  “What’s your name, young man?”

  “Brady. Brady Bledsoe.”

  “Are you the Brady Bledsoe?”

  “I’m the only one I know,” I said.

  “Don’t you play running back for the Jaguars?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “Man, you sure can run that ball. My son and I go to all the Jaguar games, and you’re his favorite player. Can I get you to sign an autograph, or better yet, take a picture with you?”

  “Sure we can do that. But do you think you can help me out?” I asked. I figured I might as well use my local celebrity for something good.

  “Where does your girlfriend live?”

  “In Jaguar Gardens.”

  “That’s a pretty nice condo, and I just happen to know the resident manager because she and my wife are sorority sisters. Let me give her a call and see if she’ll go inside the apartment. What is your young lady’s name and her apartment number?”

  “Barrett Manning, and she lives in apartment two thirty-nine,” I said.

  “And you have tried to reach her on her cell phone?”

  “Yes, sir, I have.”

  “Okay, give me a few minutes. Why don’t you take a seat over there and I will be back in a few.”

  “Thank you.”

  I walked back over where Delmar was standing and tried to reach Barrett once again. This time her cell phone was full and I couldn’t leave another message. Maybe her parents were looking for her as well.

  About twenty minutes later, Sergeant Fontana walked over to me carrying a camera.

  “I don’t think I have any good news for you, young man. She went into the apartment and said there wasn’t anybody there. She said there was furniture in there but no clothing or personal items. Did your girlfriend drop out of school and maybe not tell you?”

  “That can’t be,” I said as I shook my head in disbelief.

  “What did you say your girlfriend’s name was?”

  “Barrett Manning.”

  “I thought so. My friend said the place was owned by a Nico Benson. Does that name sound familiar?”

  “Nico Benson? That’s the agent out of Atlanta who tried to sign me last year,” I said. What was going on?

  “If you don’t locate her by tomorrow, then come back and I’ll see what I can do. Now can we take that picture?”

  I stood there in a daze for a few moments, wondering why Nico would buy a condo for Barrett. How did she know him? Where were all her clothes and all the other things I knew she treasured?

  “Brady,” Sergeant Fontana called out, breaking me from my trance.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. Let’s take the picture,” I said.

  CHAPTER

  38

  “Ugly Barrett”

  Barrett lay in bed watching Ugly Betty in a sumptuous Ritz-Carlton suite. The Ritz in Buckhead was her favorite hotel, with its unsurpassed service, five-star dining, and every spa-related service she could dream of. It was about time she got back to living the way she was accustomed to, she thought.

  Barrett sat up as Nico walked back into the bedroom wearing nothing but black silk pajama bottoms.

  “I’m still mad about having to give that bitch five thousand dollars,” Nico said.

  “Yeah, I know, but we really need to blame Lita for opening her damn mouth,” Barrett said.

  “We need to do something about Lita. Her crack whore ass is getting out of control,” Nico said.

  “Is there any way we can get her committed? Then Wade could come and live with us,” Barrett said.

  “That might be difficult. We should think of something to do with the both of them.”

  “I will take care of Wade,” Barrett said firmly.

  “If that’s what you want,” Nico said as he got out of bed and rolled the room-service cart and dirty dishes from the dinner of lobster and steak they had just finished into the living room.

  He crept back into the bed with Barrett. She wore just a thin, thigh-length, silk purple nightie. He crawled up and over her body like a panther and held himself there, looking into her eyes, his lips almost touching hers.

  “Now that dinner is over, I think it’s time for dessert.”

  Barrett wanted him, could feel that he wanted her by the way his manhood throbbed against her thigh, but dimple or not, she would not be a fool for him until a very important matter was taken care of.

  “Is she gone?” Barrett asked.

  “Is who gone?”

  “Your wife. Did you tell her you wanted a divorce?”

  “Barrett, it’s not that easy. I told you that,” Nico said as he lowered himself all the way on top of Barrett and tried to press his lips against hers.

  “Get up. Get up!” Barrett insisted.

  Nico rolled off of her. Barrett jumped out of the bed, grabbed her robe from the chair, threw it on, and tied it at her waist. “You said when this job was done we’d be together. You told me to get Brady and you’d leave your wife. Do you know that if that guy I ran into tells crazy-ass Chris where I am, I could get beaten up or, even worse, killed?”

  Nico stood. “I know, but I want you to ask yourself a question,” he said as he stepped toward her.

  Barrett extended her arm, raised her palm. “I can hear you fine from there.”

  Nico stopped. “Fine. But ask yourself, do you really want to marry me, or are you just in love with the fairy tale? Barrett, to be honest with you, what I have with my wife is shit. What you and I have is beautiful. We understand each other. We work so well together.”

  “If what you have with your wife is shit, why won’t you divorce her?” Barrett said, crossing her arms over her breasts.

  Nico didn’t answer her, just stared, then said, “Don’t ruin this. You’re so good at what you do. What? The money isn’t good enough? Places like this and a different house every year?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Do you want a nicer place next time? You want me to buy you more clothes, a better car? Name it, I’ll get it for you,” Nico said.

  “None of that,” Barrett said. She was so frustrated that she was near tears. “I’m tired of sneaking from place to place, changing names, and telling lies. I can’t keep expecting people to believe that I’m twenty years old when I’m almost thirty. I don’t want to keep on having sex for money when I want something else. I might as well go back to how I was living with my fucked-up mother. I don’t want that life anymore.”

  “What do you want, Barrett?” Nico said as he approached her again.

  “I want real love. And I want it from you.”

  Nico halted in his tracks.

  “You said you’d give that to me when this was over. You said you’d leave your wife. Now I want you to do it,” Barrett said.

  “What about one more job? There’s a running back at Arkansas—actually, there are two. Darren McFadden and Felix Jones. I haven’t decided which one yet. That will be our last job for a while. I’ll be the biggest black sports agency and they’ll be lining up to sign with me.”

  “Hell no! You want me to do two at one time. Oh, hell naw, I’m not moving to fucking Arkansas. I’ve done my last college town.”

  “All right, baby. You got me. I’ll do it,” Nico said, smiling that dimpled grin that would normally have Barrett melting, spreading her legs. But now she didn’t budge. “Let’s just make love tonight, and
I’ll break the bad news to my wife tomorrow.”

  “Hell no,” Barrett said, grabbing the phone receiver from its cradle off the nightstand. She held it out to Nico. “If you’re serious, call and tell her now. I want to hear you say it.”

  The smile disappeared from Nico’s face. “Hang up the phone, Barrett.”

  Barrett didn’t listen.

  He walked over to her, took the phone from her hand, and set it down in its cradle. Then he turned to her and said, “Look, this is what it is. It’s a nice situation. You really can’t beat it. Now, I said I’d leave my wife and be with you, and I meant it. I don’t need you telling me when that has to happen. It’ll happen when I say so. Right now, I want you to crawl in that bed, because I want some ass. If you ain’t feeling this anymore, if you can’t stay with the program, you can pack your little shit and get the fuck out. Otherwise, lie down and we’ll talk about this marriage business another time. What’s it gonna be?” Nico’s arms were crossed over his bare chest.

  Barrett looked at him and saw that he was serious. This was not the situation she wanted to be in, not how she wanted to be treated. She thought about the love that Brady had tried to give her, the way he treated her better than any man she had ever met. Now a part of her wished she could go back to him, go back to being his twenty-year-old, cheerleading sweetheart. But that could never be, because it never really was. That life was a lie. Her life was a lie. The life that was in front of her now—Nico, the bed he wanted her to crawl into, the money he would give her tomorrow—that was her life, what was real for her now.

  So when Nico said, “You in or out?” Barrett slid the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, let it drop to the floor, said, “Yeah, I’m in,” then crawled into bed as she’d been told.

  CHAPTER

  39

  Carmyn Breaks Up a Play

  Well, this is a surprise,” I said as I swung open the door. “What are you doing here?”

  “Get dressed. I need to take you to dinner,” he said. Lowell didn’t look happy.

  “Where?”

  “Let’s go to Morton’s,” he said.

  “Are you all right? I mean, I didn’t even get a hug,” I said.

  “I’m sorry,” Lowell said as he hugged me halfheartedly. I could feel the tension in his body.

  “Lowell, what’s going on? You just decided to drive to Atlanta to take me to dinner on a school night? Is everything all right with you? Is Brady okay?”

  “Yes, he’s fine, but it’s a little bit of both,” Lowell said.

  “Why don’t we go in the den and talk? If you still want to do dinner after we talk, then fine. I have something I need to tell you as well.”

  We moved into the family room and took a seat on my avocado-green sofa.

  “So tell Carmyn what’s the matter,” I said as I patted Lowell on the knees.

  “I can’t believe I’m this old and stupid,” he said.

  “Is it something about…what’s his name, Kilgore?” I asked.

  “How did you know?”

  “It’s all in your face, hon,” I said, touching his smooth cheek.

  “I owe you a huge apology,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Come on, Lowell, talk to me.”

  “I know how Barrett found out about our conversation. A couple of nights ago, I was awakened in the middle of the night when a metal device fell from the ceiling and just missed my head. It was so weird and it scared the shit out of me. I turned on the light and saw what I would later find out was some high-tech listening device. Kilgore was there, and when I asked out loud what it could be, the look on his face told me he had something to do with it. I mean, no one else has been in my place but you and Brady, and I know you’re not trying to wiretap me. I got up and poked around my house and found three other devices—in my living room, office, and in the breakfast nook where we had brunch the day you told me about Woodson.”

  “Who do you think put them there?” I asked.

  “Oh, it was Kilgore. I got him to admit it.”

  “Why’d he do it?”

  “Apparently, I’m not the catch I thought I was. It seems some agent hired him to seduce Brady because his celibacy might be a cover for being gay.”

  “What? Are you making this up?” I asked in amazement.

  “I know it sounds like the CW network gone Lifetime, but it’s true. An agent hired this kid whose name turns out to be not Kilgore, but James. They call themselves runners and they insinuate themselves into the lives of top players, become friends or lovers with them, and then convince them to sign with a particular agent. When the agent found out Brady was straight, he sent in Barrett and left Kilgore there to seduce me, because he knew I was Brady’s godfather and thought I might be good for information or influence.”

  “Tell me you’re kidding. This is something else! Barrett was sent to seduce Brady?” I asked. At first I was angry, but then I felt a sense of relief that I had been right about Barrett. She was a little bitch.

  “Yeah, James spilled the beans when he thought he might be able to get some money out of me for being so loyal. When I found out as much as I could, I kicked his ass out and told him I was going to turn him in to the authorities. It seems they got false college transcripts for Barrett and Kilgore and they’ve been doing all kinds of shit just to get Brady to sign with a particular agent.”

  “I knew there was something about that girl I didn’t like. Have you told Brady?”

  “No, I haven’t. I wanted to talk with you first and see if you wanted to tell him,” Lowell said.

  “Is she still with Brady? I still haven’t talked to him—I didn’t want to distract him any more than he’s been distracted, but I really need to speak with him soon because I have some news for him,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I found his father!”

  “Carmyn, that’s great news! How?”

  I knew now was the time to come clean about everything, and that included my relationship with Sylvester. I took a deep breath as one beat of silence passed and then started talking.

  “It turns out I didn’t do what I thought. Remember I told you about my boyfriend Woodson?” I said.

  “Yes,” Lowell said.

  “Well, it turns out he was the only person I slept with. Woodson is Brady’s father.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m pretty sure, and Woodson has agreed to take a DNA test. But Lowell, if what he told me is true, then it turns out I didn’t sleep with a bunch of guys but only the man I was so in love with.”

  “Brady will be excited enough for this to ease the blow about Barrett. He was pretty close to falling in love with this girl,” Lowell said.

  “I hope that little witch hasn’t ruined my son,” I said. I noticed Lowell blink his eyes and then look away.

  “What was that look for?”

  “What look?”

  “Lowell, I know you. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  “I think you need to talk with Brady. When are you going to tell him about his father?”

  “I’m waiting to see when Woodson can come back to Atlanta, and then I’ll take him to Scarlet Springs. He needs to talk to his wife and family in Houston. He also travels a lot with his job, but I’ll be able to tell Brady real soon,” I said. “Oh and get this: Woodson works for the Houston Texans, so he knows all about Brady.

  “How did you feel seeing him after all these years? Were there any sparks?”

  “At first it was a little strange, but after we started talking it felt fine and no sparks. What we had was good, but it was just a case of young love. Woodson seems very happy with his life, and I’m finally beginning to feel good about my life. Every aspect of my life.”

  “So did you go to Houston? I mean, how did you find him?”

  I told Lowell about Sylvester and how I’d been seeing him undercover for over a year. I shared how sup
portive Sylvester was and how much I enjoyed having him around.

  “You little tramp. All this time you’ve been pretending you weren’t interested in getting a little loving,” Lowell said, and laughed.

  “Yeah, I guess I’ve been pretending about a lot of things in my life, but that is going to change,” I said.

  The next morning when I got to the shop, Maybelline was waiting outside the door. She was wearing a new wrap dress as colorful as the early days of autumn. Her Mary J. Blige-like transformation continued, with Zander at the helm.

  “Maybelline, what are you doing here so early?” I asked as I gave her a quick peck on her cheek. I noticed that her makeup was so light you could barely tell she was wearing any.

  “I got an appointment with Zander, and you know how he is. Don’t want him getting mad at me and sending me packing,” Maybelline said with a laugh.

  “Come on in,” I said as I opened the shop. When I got inside, I looked at the book and saw that Maybelline’s appointment was at eleven o’clock. I knew Zander’s clients didn’t risk being late, but four hours was a bit extreme.

  “Can I be honest with you?” Maybelline asked.

  “Sure. About what?”

  “I really need to talk to you,” Maybelline said.

  “Okay. About what?”

  “That woman your son is dating.”

  “You mean Barrett? Oh, honey, that’s over,” I said.

  “Good. By the way, her name is Raquel and she is bad news. I know I should have said something sooner, but I wanted to be sure it was her. To call her a ho would be showing disrespect for women who work hard at being a ho, but in many ways she can’t help herself.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “I knew her mother from my ‘hosting’ days back in New Orleans. We used to work together. A part of the past I’d like to forget. But I lived it, so I have to claim it,” Maybelline said.

  “I knew there was something not right about her when I first met her.”

  “Like with me?”

  “Maybelline, I misjudged you. I thought we were over that.”