“I’m going to see Tremaine.”
“What? Gianna, think for a minute. It’s not wise.”
“If I don’t see him now, I may never...” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. “I need to go. I’m sorry. You can’t talk me out of it,” she said before turning and walking back to her bedroom.
NOT EVEN THE IDEA OF a life without Tremaine could distract Gianna from intrusive thoughts about the nasty ass phone in front of her. How many hands had touched it? How many lips had touched it? She clutched her purse closely to her chest and tried not to think about it. She had hand sanitizer in the car. She would live.
She waited about fifteen minutes before the door on the other side of the glass opened. There he was. In an orange jumpsuit, just like on TV. He waddled towards her and she knew he had to feel humiliated. Shackling a man’s feet is like neutering him. She wanted to cry.
He sat and the guard told them they had ten minutes. Tremaine picked up the phone on his side and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, wishing she had worn gloves. But she did it, she picked up the phone and put it almost on her ear. He looked at her and looked away.
“Look at me,” she admonished. He looked at her with those deep brown eyes and she saw pain. “Tremaine. I don’t know where to start.”
He stared but said nothing.
“Did you do this?”
He looked down at the floor and shook his head. “I don’t want you to ask me any questions.”
“I think I deserve an answer.”
“You do but I can’t answer you the way you want right now.”
“You just did. How could you do this? Why would you do this?”
“I...Gianna. Just leave it alone. Please.”
She couldn’t and it wasn’t fair for him to ask it of her. She started crying. “Why did you do it?”
“I started loving you.”
“But—”
“I was in love with you.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“I...G, it’s...I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Why would you kill your best friend? My husband? Just so you could have me to yourself?” She was pleading.
Tremaine sighed, the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“And those letters. That was you, wasn’t it? I got the first one right after I told you to go home. Was that your way of staying in the house with us?”
“Do you honestly think I would do that to you?”
“What’s a letter compared to killing somebody? You tried to kill me!”
“Everything’s just...it’s all fucked up.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“How was it supposed to be?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t even matter now.”
Gianna closed her eyes. When she opened them, hot tears spilled over. “You just might be the first man I ever truly loved.”
He reacted as if he had just had the wind knocked out of him. “Don’t tell me that.”
“It’s true.”
“I don’t wanna hear that.” He was pleading now, pain all over his face.
“Was it worth it?” she asked.
He scoffed and shook his head. “Nah.”
“Then why? I will never understand.”
A guard signaled Tremaine to wrap it up. “G, they’re gonna make me get off soon. Look, I’m sorry I did what I did. I fucked everything up and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”
Gianna nodded. “I—”
“Tell Kaya I love her and I’m sorry.”
“Okay. And I want you to know—”
“Gianna, don’t say anything. Alright? Just go home. Go home, take care of K, live your life. And just...don’t forget about me.” He hung up before Gianna could tell him she loved him. She watched as he walked away, her body wracked with sobs, and felt emptier than she had in her entire life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
GIANNA SAT IN THE OFFICE with her head on the desk. She had been in there for two hours and she was a mess. She had cried for almost an hour before she began alternating between sleep and feeling nauseated. Beverly took Kaya and left and that was fine with Gianna. She hadn’t even begun to think about how she would break the news to her daughter.
She heard a noise and lifted her head. It seemed to be coming from the walls. She sat straight up and craned her neck toward the sound, and then she felt silly when she realized it was rain. It started off as little patters across the roof and grew to a steady downpour. It should have been soothing. Melodic. The kind of weather that makes people take naps or make love. But for Gianna, there was only fear, and nausea, and trembling hands. She would have to ask Dr. Ferris how to break the association between the rain and that night.
Through swollen eyes, she looked around the half-cluttered office. Her old cellphone lay haphazardly on the bottom of the bookcase. She had tossed it when she was looking for the burner phone.
She picked it up and stared at it in her hands. It felt hot against her skin even though it wasn’t powered on. It almost seemed to glow. She knew she had to be imagining it, but it felt real just the same. Without thinking, she pressed and held the power button. As soon as the security screen came up, she typed in the password and it opened immediately.
The password was Treanna.
Treanna. Treanna. She said it in her mind. Treanna. A portmanteau born out of her love for Tremaine. No wonder she had forgotten it. She had forgotten him. She had forgotten about them.
The welcome message taunted her. “Welcome, Gianna!” it said, oblivious to her confusion and pain. The rain pounded steadily and her heartbeat accompanied the sound. She sifted through her text messages, then through her personal email. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for but she knew whatever it was, she would find it in there.
She was wrong. There was nothing.
She almost gave up when she noticed something strange. There were two calculator apps on her phone. One could be reached by tapping the icon on her home screen. The other was tucked away in the settings menu. She tapped it and came to a login screen. Treanna.
And there they were. Hundreds of messages. She had been tricked. By Tremaine. By her own memory. She read them in horror.
G: What time do you get off tonight?
Tre: I don’t know. Might not be til 8 G: I need to see you.
Tre: Why is that
G: You know why
Tre: Yeah but I want you to say it
G: No. You know why
Tre: Baby say it
G: I want you. All of you
Tre: You wet?
G: Of course
Tre: I’ll be there as soon as I can
Gianna stared at the screen, at one message after the other, all pointing toward the same conclusion: Tremaine had lied to her every day for months. He knew, and he said nothing. He was a liar, and probably a murderer. Reality was setting in.
G: Where you at?
Tre: Store
G: Can you pick me up something while you’re there?
Tre: Let me guess...almonds
G: Yes LOL
Tre: Anything else?
G: Just you
Tre: Ok
G: I love you
Tre: I love you too baby
There were more, a lot more, but one particular exchange caught her attention.
Tre: I’m stuck in DC
G: Ugh. Well did you find anybody?
Tre: Not yet
G: This is taking forever
Tre: Let’s talk in another chat. Hold on
G: Ok
Tre: Alright the name is theodums
G: Aww, that’s so cute
Tre: It’s up, go there now
G: Ok
Another chat? With trembling fingers, she searched the app and there it was. “The Odums.” It, too, was password protected. Treanna.
The garage door went up and Gianna panicked. She slammed the office doo
r and locked it, praying Beverly and Kaya would leave her be.
The rest of the messages were a punch in the gut. She fought to keep from passing out right there in the office.
T: I might know a dude from Orlando but he’s not available right now
G: How long?
T: IDK but at least a month
G: I can’t wait that long
T: It’s tricky I told you that
G: Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it
T: Hold up. I said I would and I will
The last message was dated just two weeks before that night. The night when it rained and her whole life changed.
G: We good?
T: Yeah
G: I love you so much
T: I love you too
G: Are you sure about it?
T: Yeah. Are you?
G: Of course
T: Then it’s done
G: I wish I could see you right now
T: Same. Just two more weeks.
G: I can’t wait
Someone knocked on the door. Gianna looked at it and recoiled as if it would come alive and attack her.
“Gianna?” Beverly said, soft and gentle. “Come on out of there. I have something for you.
Gianna stood and walked to the door. She felt like she was in a daze. Was she dreaming? When she opened the door, Beverly saw her face and gave her a hug. “I know, sweetie. You have a lot going on. But listen to me.” She pulled away to look in Gianna’s eyes. “You have to eat something, okay? You’re wasting away. Come on in here.” She grabbed Gianna’s free hand and pulled her into the living room. The cellphone dangled in the other hand.
“I grabbed some chicken biscuits from that place by my job that I was telling you about.”
Gianna said nothing, too stunned and upset to respond.
“I know Kaya is apparently all gluten sensitive these days but I figure she can just take the chicken off the biscuit. These are the best in Atlanta, I’m telling you.”
Beverly walked into the living room with a piece of biscuit in her hand. “Here, you need to—Gianna, what’s wrong?” she asked, having finally noticed that her daughter was in crisis. “You’re scaring me.”
Gianna shook her head and tried to speak but nothing intelligible came out. Beverly, a small piece of steaming biscuit still in her hand, sank slowly onto the couch. “What happened? Is that your phone? Did you get into it?”
Gianna nodded, her eyes filled with salty tears. Beverly stared at her daughter and waited. Through her tears, Gianna observed her mother and was confused about how calm she seemed. How patient. Her lack of questions. It was odd.
“Mom, I...it’s...” Gianna trailed off, unable to speak, unable to say the words that would expose her.
Beverly popped the piece of biscuit into her mouth and chewed, her eyes never leaving Gianna’s face. She then stood and left the room. Gianna sat mute and devastated on the couch, unsure of how much time had passed before her mother came back into the room with keys in hand. “I told Kaya we’re going out. Get your purse and come with me.”
Gianna did as told and found herself sitting in the passenger seat of her mother’s car. A nice, sensible Toyota. Beverly had always hated American cars.
As she pulled out of the garage, the raindrops hit the roof and windshield with what seemed like unbridled aggression. The sound triggered one memory, then another, and Gianna quickly found herself inundated with flashes of another rainy evening and the events that led to that fateful night.
Before
TREMAINE’S KISSES WERE nothing like Justin’s. She had endured close to fourteen years of wet, sloppy, rushed kisses and frankly, she was tired of it. Gentle teasing didn’t help, nor did telling Justin straight up that she wanted him to slow down and be gentle. Rather than continue to complain, she decided to accept him and his nasty kisses for what they were. She could get what she needed elsewhere.
And boy did she.
Tremaine wasn’t much of a conversationalist but that wasn’t why she was with him. The sex was insanely good, but then Emmy had once told her that sensitive men make good lovers. No sloppy kisses, no corny dirty talk, and no rushing. It was like...movie sex, only she wasn’t acting. The pleasure was real, the tears were real, and the screams, trembling, and scratches she scrawled on his back were real.
There was only one little hitch: he was in love. She had seen it coming but somehow, she thought she could outrun it. Unbeknownst to Tremaine, she didn’t love him like that. She loved the sex and the attention he showered her with, but that was the extent of it for her. He had talked about marriage a few times but she had no interest. Justin was a pretty good husband, all things considered, but she wasn’t doing that again. If she ever did, it would be strictly for money.
She was on top tonight, a position she didn’t mind much. She tired quickly but she didn’t usually have to be up there long. Tremaine was easy to please and he didn’t have that annoying porn-induced stamina that made Justin last so long she would start to chafe. And that was another thing; When Tre went long, he would stop and kiss her or go down on her, or whatever it took to make sure she was still enjoying herself. Justin just humped away, somehow oblivious to the sandpaper walls that entombed his average-sized penis. Ugh, she could not be rid of him fast enough.
The only thing Tre did wrong, which wasn’t really a bad thing, just unwanted: he loved to stare into her eyes. Sometimes she would try to stare back but it usually just made her uncomfortable. But there was none of that tonight. She rode him, nice and slow the way he liked it, and he kept his eyes closed most of the time. He pulled her closer and kissed her, his tongue caressing hers rhythmically as she moved up and down. She bit his lip and he moaned into her mouth, and although she didn’t expect or mean to, she came a second time. He loved that so much, and hell, she did too. Justin saw her pleasure as a byproduct of his own but Tremaine saw it as his priority. His duty. And he delivered every time.
They lay side-by-side on the bed, exhausted. She’d had fun and didn’t want to bring it up but she had to. It had already been a month.
“So where are we at with the plan?”
Tremaine sighed. “I’m trying to figure out the best way to do this. It doesn’t make sense to hire somebody because it’s real easy for them to flip down the line.”
“Flip?”
He chuckled. He got a kick out of her naiveté. She knew exactly what ‘flip’ meant but Tremaine was the type who likes to feel like he’s imparting wisdom. She created those opportunities when she could. “Yeah, like snitch,” he answered.
“So you don’t have anybody you trust?”
He shook his head. The way the moon was shining into his bedroom, she could only see half of his face. Two sides of the same coin. The good Tre and the bad. She had attracted the good but she nurtured the bad.
“What if we did it ourselves?” she asked, knowing exactly how he would respond.
“Nah. You don’t need to see that. Look, I’ll handle it. I’ll find somebody no matter how long it takes.”
She pouted and lightly traced little circles on his chest. “The sooner the better. I’m tired of only seeing you once a week. I need to see you every day. I need to have you every day.”
The dimples made their appearance. She had him wide open. He leaned over and planted a tender kiss on her lips. “I’ll do it myself.”
That was fine with her.
She had considered divorce for about five minutes but she had her reasons for choosing the more violent option. For one, she wasn’t going to give her mother-in-law the satisfaction of seeing her marriage fail. But more importantly, she refused to be seen as the bad guy. Her whole marriage, it was Justin who was the good one, the prize, the perfect husband. All he had to do was go to work every day and wear his wedding ring. But she was the one doing the real work. The fucking emotional and psychological labor. And for what? No, there would be no divorce. She would never live it down.
Tre would do anyt
hing for her, and that was exciting. He was everything she needed. But there was one thing Tre didn’t understand. She could never truly respect a man who betrayed his best friend, because then what was he capable of doing to her? Emmy didn’t raise no fool.
She would continue to have and enjoy him. He was loyal and he loved her—just look at what he was willing to do for her—but there was no real future there. He just didn’t know it yet.
CHAPTER FORTY
Tremaine
“DO IT FAST.”
Those were the last words Gianna ever said to him, figuratively speaking. In many ways, the Gianna he knew, the Gianna he loved, died that night and it was by his own hand. He had killed her.
He’d had a lot of time to think about things since his arrest. His attorney, Linton Lyles, a young black up-and-comer who had attended Grambling a few years after Tremaine, had rolled his eyes in disgust the first time they talked. Linton couldn’t for the life of him understand why Tremaine would protect Gianna, a woman he had no legal attachment to and who had done nothing to inspire the type of loyalty his client insisted on showing. He was baffled and honestly, Tremaine was, too. He’d expected his resolve to waver at some point.
The hard, lumpy concrete block of a bed didn’t break him. He’d slept on worse as a child, no problem. The communal shower was annoying but nothing he hadn’t experienced that one year he played junior varsity football. Truthfully, he was still afraid of being assaulted, especially with his looks, but so far, almost two days in, he was safe. He had finally wavered on day 2, and it was over something trivial in the grand scheme of things.
The food. It was nasty as fuck.
He had paced in his cell for several minutes before calling for a guard but to his surprise, the guard was headed that way anyway. Apparently, Tremaine had a visitor.
He came to his senses when he saw her. She seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to him, always stepping in from the shadows to give him what he wanted. What he needed. What he craved.
She looked good that day, the day she came to visit, but then she always looked good. She wore a tight grey sweater that made her breasts look luscious and it was all he could do not to break through the glass and attack her.
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