Blood Relations

by Michelle McGriff

  He strolled in, looking around at her décor—the African prints and animal print throw rugs. He then caught sight of her anklet on the visual downswing. It was a thin row of diamonds—a gift from Chance nearly twenty years earlier. Finding it in an old jewelry box a couple of years back, she’d never taken it off. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry and never failed to catch a glance or two—even from Chance.

  “Yes, Ms. Duncan. I needed to talk to you about a former client of yours.”

  “Client? I thought you wanted to talk about my car.”

  “No. I’m not interested in your car ... really. I’d like to discuss Allen Roman.”

  “Oh my God, Allen. Yes, he was a client of mine when I had my practice. But I haven’t done therapy in years. Besides, he’s dead.”

  “Yes, I know. I know a lot about you,” he said, causing her stomach to jump in excitement. He was affecting her big time.

  “You do? Well, who are you? I mean, you’re a cop and all, but—”

  “Well, not really a cop as you may think. But I am an enforcer of the law.”

  “So, you lied,” Juanita said, holding onto her charm but with a little more caution.

  “No, not really ... but let me get to the point. I was able to watch several of the video sessions you and ... May I sit down?” he asked, pointing at her comfy sofa that sat deeper into the living room. She was hoping he would choose that seat. She wanted to sit next to him, smell him ... take in his aura. He was turning her on so badly she couldn’t even think straight.

  “Certainly,” she coo’d, watching him as he moved through the living room like a runway model. He was dressed nicely, in European designs—down to his shoes, which matched the grey in his leather jacket and pants perfectly. He was a man after her heart—for sure. He was much more fashionable than Chance—but that was not the biggest test she had in store for him to pass. She nearly sat on him while sitting at the same time he did on the sofa. His eyes caught hers in a momentary stare down before he moved over allowing her room.

  “Excuse me,” she whispered, moving only inches away from him. His eyes diverted back to his notepad, which he had whipped out of his jacket only a moment earlier, before she all but jumped him.

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, where was I?”

  “You were wanting to know everything about me ...”

  “No, I believe I said I knew a lot about you ... meaning, your former practice.” He smiled coquettishly. “I know you had some quite unusual sessions with Dr. Roman.”

  “He was an unusual man. Where did you get the videos?”

  “So did you sleep with many of your clients?” he asked abruptly, getting to the point.

  Juanita shot up straight on the sofa in her shock and surprise with his bluntness. “What?” she asked, her voice going from sultry to rigid and high-pitched.

  “Well, it’s obvious you and Dr. Roman had a romp or two so I was just asking because I found that rather interesting that you continued to treat him for ... for ... what were you treating him for?”

  Juanita jumped to her feet and began to nervously pace. “Look he was very ... a very controlling man and as I told the police when I turned those movies over that ...” Suddenly it dawned on her that she’d never turned over the video leading up to the sexually compromising sessions she’d had with Allen Roman. “Heyyy, how’d you know about that anyway?” she asked then.

  “I wasn’t sure until now, but I had a strong feeling. There were one or two films missing in the sequence of films. I guess the police weren’t truly concerned about that, but I was and so I had to do some math, and read between the lines.” He chuckled. “The two of you definitely had chemistry, so it wasn’t hard to deduce that there had been something there you didn’t want the authorities to know. But as I ask again, why did you continue to see him as a therapist once you started having sex with him?”

  “Well, it’s not like I knew he was crazy, like, bonkers crazy, and besides, I only saw him maybe once or twice after that ... professionally speaking, that is.”

  “What about personally?”

  “Please. No, he was too busy sexing Rashawn, my ex’s wife.”

  “Quite an ironic twist don’t you think?”

  “What?” she asked curiously.

  “Him ending up being the father of her son and—”

  “What?” Juanita gasped. She never knew that Allen Roman was Reggie’s son. Who was this man and how did he know so much about Rashawn’s business? Sure it had come out that Roman had been drugging and raping her—that came out in the trial, but as to the paternity of Reggie? No. She had no idea until now.

  Just then door opened and Junior walked in with Chance behind him. “Mom! Dad said I don’t have to go to school today. Oh, ’cuse me, didn’t know you had company.”

  Ovan stood and immediately marched over to Chance with his hand out. “Hello, Mr. Davis? I’m Ovan Dominguez.”

  Chance looked him over and then at Juanita. His lips were pursed and tight showing his irritation—probably because he believed he’d walked in on an afternoon tryst. “Mr. Dominguez is a cop,” Juanita blurted, sensing what he must have been thinking. “I hit his car yesterday. I mean, he hit me ...”

  “Cop? Cool!” Junior blurted out. “Man I wanna be a cop or FBI or CIA—something like that. I wanna do that. Be a spy.”

  “Ohh, spyin’ ain’t for faint heart. Are you tough?” Ovan asked playfully. “You’ll have to be tough. Like James Bond kinda tough.”

  “Yeah, I’m tough. I’ll kick your ass right now,” Junior blurted in playful response.

  “Ohhhh, boy’s got cajonies.” Ovan laughed.

  “Chance, what I tell you about letting him talk like that?” Juanita yelped, her face growing hot with embarrassment—first the arrival of an ex and then the vulgarity of a teenager ... ugh. This was not a good impression to make on her new man.

  “What?” Chance asked, sounding puzzled and looking distracted by the fact that Ovan was a cop. “What is it you need here?” he asked.

  “He’s here to see me—about my car. Okay, maybe not my car all the way, but coincidently he is asking about my old practice. A patient. I can’t talk about it while you’re here ... HIPPA, client privilege, and all that.”

  “Trust me it’s not all that serious,” Ovan guaranteed.

  Chance noticed Junior getting a little interested in the exchange and shooed him off. “Go to your room or something, boy.”

  “Nice looking kid,” Ovan said, glancing over his shoulder in the direction the big boy galloped. “Looks a lot like ...” Ovan turned back to Chance. “You?”

  Chance said nothing but turned the attention back on Juanita, who cleared her throat this time. “Maybe we should put this off. I mean, Roman is dead and I’m sure whatever you want to know can wait—” she stammered.

  “Allen Roman? What the hell you wanna know about Allen Roman?”

  “Actually, I was hoping to speak with you too,” Ovan stammered awkwardly. “... eventually. More so your wife.”

  “Well, I don’t wanna talk about it. And she’s not gonna talk about it. Who the hell are you anyway?”

  “Well, I was mostly hoping to speak with your wife and—”

  “I don’t want you talking to my wife!”

  Juanita stepped up to Chance. “Chance, did you know that Allen Roman is Reggie’s father? Did you know that? Ovan just told me.”

  Ovan sighed heavily. “Perhaps later would be a good time ...” He glanced at Juanita, nodding as if to say goodbye. “Mrs. Duncan.”

  “No ... no, there will be no later. You tell me now what this is all about. And, Juanita, it was none of your business who Reggie’s father was and therefore you shouldn’t have been told!” Chance blurted as his emotions visibly grew. Juanita had never seen Chance this upset. “How the hell did you know that?” Chance asked Ovan.

  “Oh, and it’s Davis. I changed it back after Junior was born,” Juanita corrected, noticing suddenly that Ovan could ca
re less as he and Chance caught each other up in a death stare. The testosterone-filled fog between them was thick.

  “Sorry, Ms. Davis,” Ovan said without looking at her. “I guess I missed it in my notes.”

  “It’s okay,” she rambled on. She was hoping to ease the tension between Ovan and Chance.

  “Allen Roman is not dead. Your wife needs to know that,” Ovan said to Chance in a low rumbling tone.

  “You’re crazy,” Chance growled back. “And you’re not a cop. Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

  “You’re right, I’m not a cop, but I’m not crazy and I happen to know he’s here in the city and very dangerous.”

  “How do you know this? And why should we believe you?” Chance asked, pointing at Juanita and then back at himself.

  “I’m a special agent working for the British government. Me and small team were assigned to find Allen Roman.”

  “Say I believe you—which I don’t—what the hell does Britain have to do with anything?” Chance was still rumbling as if deciding if he would erupt.

  “Roman killed a man there, a doctor. As you know Roman is not a stranger to this type of dastardly deed. We believe his reasons for killing this man led to him killing again—here,” Ovan explained.

  “And this concerns me and my family how?”

  “Anyone related to Roman needs to worry,” Ovan said flatly, glancing over at Juanita who fought the urge to squirm.

  “Okay, I’m bored in there,” Junior said, entering the room right at that time. Juanita looked at his tall stature and dark skin tone, his loose lopping curls and coal black eyes. The men grew immediately quiet as everyone’s attention now went to Junior. Juanita could see that Chance’s brain was spinning.

  “I’ve got to get outta here,” he blurted, rushing out to the car. Ovan and Juanita stood silently in the doorway watching him rip out of the driveway, screeching his tires. Junior then stood, between the both of them.

  “Are you my mom’s new boyfriend or something because I’ve never seen my dad so pissed off before,” he asked.

  Ovan glanced sideways at Juanita who now felt the heat rising up on her cheeks. “Junior, please, it’s not the time for jokes. Do you know where Reggie could be?”

  “School, probably ... maybe.”

  “Maybe?” Juanita asked.

  “Well, when he left the house this morning, he was really hacked. Dad and his mom really screwed up his plans to go to Eugene this weekend. . . and, well, I guess mine too, for that matter. But then again, Reggie didn’t want me to go with him anyhow.”

  “Why is Reggie going to Oregon this weekend?” Ovan asked.

  “College tour. He got this call from a scout who wants him to come.”

  “Did your dad know about this?” Ovan asked Junior.

  “Yeah, everybody did. Reggie was bragging about it big time. Rashawn said he could go but that he had to go with my dad and Rainey—she’s me and Reggie’s sister—and take me too. Reggie was hacked but said okay,” Junior explained. “I guess if it’s the only way he could go he decided, whatever. Then this morning it all hit the fan. Rashawn changed up on him like the weather.”

  “Do you think he would take off by himself?” Juanita asked.

  “Maybe. He said dude had his ticket waiting at the station ... Oops, I wasn’t supposed to tell anybody that. Damn! I mean dang! I’m always doing that.” Junior smacked his lips in irritation with himself.

  “Dude?” both Ovan and Juanita asked.

  “The scout. He was callin’ Reg like every night. Reggie said he kinda was creepin’ him out but ...”

  Juanita looked at Ovan. “What are you thinking?” she asked, noting his furrowed brow.

  He looked up at her. “Nothing.” It was a lie, Juanita could tell. “But I think I should get going.”

  “I’m going with you,” Juanita said, sliding her feet into her flats that always sat by the door. She wore them to retrieve the paper when barefoot, like now.

  “You don’t even know where I’m headed,” Ovan said, reaching for the door.

  “You’re British Intelligence,” she glanced at Junior, “and ‘that man’ is still alive. I’m going with you,” Juanita insisted, feeling the urgency coming from him and unable to fight the draw. Urgency was like a drug to her. Perhaps being the addict that she was, it was the pheromones Ovan was suddenly releasing that had her hooked on his vibe but she had to be with him right now. Something big was happening and she needed to be a part of it—besides the fact that it did involve Allen Roman being alive and quiet as kept, she too could have a real issue with that. “Stay here, Junior,” Juanita insisted, pointing her finger at him while rushing out behind Ovan. “Lock the door and don’t let anybody in!” she called over her shoulder. “If you hear from Reggie—call me.”

  Chapter 29

  Rashawn hung up the phone after cancelling her flight. “What a pretty penny that cost,” she groaned. But it didn’t matter. She had decided to drive. It wasn’t as if the roads would be frozen or deadly. A little rain but she was a good driver. “Besides, I really need to think and an hour just isn’t enough. I can’t think around Trina,” she told her sister Rita after calling and telling her about the change of plans.

  Rita was working on her husband, Terrell’s, legal files. “Nobody can think around Trina,” she said with a chuckle. “Well, drive safely,” she added, sounding distracted. “So did you get your house in order?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the trip—or no trip. Chance and Juanita in your house together while you’re gone ... stuff like that.”

  “Chance and Juan—thanks for more things to think about—and no. I want to talk to Reggie one more time before I leave. That’s another reason I canceled. Reggie was just furious this morning when he left. I’ve never seen him like that.”

  “I’m just sayin’ you can’t take things for granted. You need to get your house in order, Rashawn. Chance told me about the dreams.”

  “What?”

  “You should have seen somebody. But then again, you should have told Reggie the truth years ago.”

  “What are you talking about and why are you talking about it now?”

  “Well, you gonna be thinkin’ for the next several hours, I figured I’d put a few more things on your ‘thought’ agenda.”

  Rashawn sat quietly on her end of the phone listening to Rita shuffling papers. She waited a moment before speaking. “Perhaps you are right, but Allen Roman is dead. Juanita and Chance are history. The trip? Reggie is not going. So all of that is non-relative. Ya know, I’m just gonna leave. I’m gonna let everythin’ fall where it will and take care of it when I get back. Talking to Reggie now isn’t gonna make him less mad or understand my side of things any better. I’ll call you along the way.” Rashawn hung up. Gathering her bag, she lugged it out to the car and threw it in the back seat. Suddenly a feeling of foreboding came over her. She nearly swooned. She took a deep breath. It had been years since she’d had a panic attack but this feeling was reminiscent of the big ones she used to have—back when the rape was new and the pain was fresh. She could barely breathe sometimes. Even when she left to Atlanta to have Reggie without her family knowing the truth—she would have huge anxiety attacks that left her paralyzed with fear. She was unable to read her mail for fear he was sending secret messages in her bills. She was crazy with the paranoia. Upon coming back—feeling healed after nearly two years—within the week it all started again. That’s when Roman started drugging her and violating her again. Life was hell for so long, it was hard to believe that it was all fifteen years ago.

  Digging around in her purse, Rashawn didn’t notice Reggie’s BlackBerry was missing. She only noticed her own and grabbed it tightly, willing Chance to call her—first. Again her pride was fighting her and she refused to call him. He was being mean and uncaring. His funky attitude had angered everyone in the house—well—it had angered her! Her anger momentarily beat out the feeling of panic bu
t as she glanced around again, she was hit with the old feelings.

  Once, her sister Ta’Rae, had told her that during the time of her husband’s death, when she was the most frightened she would call on their mother and “although it was hard to believe” their dead mother came to her aid, calming her spirit. Rashawn had never tried it, but was hard pressed not to call on the name of Zenobia Ams right now. That’s just how scared she was suddenly. “Stop it,” she told herself, opening the car door, tossing in the phone and climbing behind the wheel.

  “Still so deliberate you are,” Roman said, watching her, noticing her hesitation to get in the car. She was still beautiful—to a fault. She had ruined his entire study—and maybe his life—a little bit. “Making me fall in love with you that way—you broke my heart, if that’s possible,” he snickered. Drugging her just made it easier to have her all to himself—compliant and calm. She had always been such a difficult woman—headstrong and independent. The drug broke her down completely. She became passive and easy to manage “... and I can tell that’s all changed.” He smirked, watching her pull out of the driveway. He’d watched her family leave earlier. It didn’t look like too loving a scene. That husband of hers and her other two children. “Nice looking boy—musta taken after you like Reggie did. It’s clear that girl got all Chance had to offer,” Roman mumbled while slowly pulling off behind her. Rashawn had cost him so much and despite how much he loved her, he hated her with the same amount of passion. He had promised to pay her back one day for her betrayal he just didn’t quite know how. Killing her hadn’t been on his agenda at first, but as the years went by and his health went south, he knew it would come to this. There was no way she would just give him Reggie. “Not even to keep me alive—she’s just that hateful!” he growled, again justifying his feelings and intentions. “So, yeah ... You’re gonna get paid back for all you have done and all I’m not going to give you a chance to do.” She entered the freeway going south. He followed her.