With a quick swipe, Brian pulled up Karlie’s number and pressed call. It went straight to voice mail. “Karlie, call me. Your dad’s looking for you. Neil, that is.” He ended the call.
It was sad he had to specify whom he was talking about. A few minutes later, he received a group text.
Hi, everyone, I’m fine. I need some time to think. I’ll be in touch. Don’t worry. I’m in good hands.
Thirty minutes later, Brian heard a pounding on his door. Hoping it was Karlie, he rushed to answer before the person broke the door off its hinges. It was Jamaal.
“Where is she? I must speak to her! Karlie!” Jamaal pushed past him. His head swung left to right as if he expected Karlie to materialize out of thin air.
“If by she you mean Karlie, she’s not here.”
Jamaal ignored him as he searched the apartment for himself. Brian folded his arms and waited.
“She’s not here,” Jamaal said, stating the obvious, slightly out of breath.
“That’s what I said.” Brian’s eyes followed Jamaal, who now paced the length of the living area floor.
“I thought . . .”
“Thought what?” Brian raised an eyebrow. “That she would be here with me? Well, I’ve got news for you and everyone else. Karlie and I aren’t joined at the hip. She doesn’t want to be bothered, and we must respect her wishes. When she’s ready, she’ll talk to us . . . although I don’t know what she could possibly have to say to you.”
Jamaal pierced him with an icy glare.
Brian eyed Jamaal’s Retro Air Jordans with matching skinny jeans and T-shirt. He supposed women would admire Jamaal’s long, lean build. The brother had serious skills on the basketball court and the brains to match. Tiffany had also left him with a sizable bank account to live a comfortable life.
“Listen, I made a mistake,” Jamaal said. “We’re boys, man. Don’t let this thing with Karlie come between us.”
“You hurt her. Of course it would come between us.”
“Yes, but she texted me to say we’ll talk. That must mean something.” Covering his face with his hands, Jamaal moaned, “I can’t lose her. She’s the best love I’ve ever had in my life.”
Brian wanted to feel sorry for him, but jealousy prevailed. Jamaal had the luxury of being able to date Karlie—something he couldn’t do. Brian clenched his fists. He had to temper these inappropriate feelings.
“What about God?” he asked.
Jamaal lifted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “Huh?”
“Isn’t God supposed to be the best love of your life?” Brian tilted his head, curious to see how Jamaal would respond.
“He is. God changed me in ways I can’t even begin to explain. The day I accepted Christ as my Savior, my grandmother jumped with joy for days.” Jamaal smiled. “Next to God comes Karlie.”
Brian shook his head. “See, that’s what I don’t get. How you could espouse such love for God and Karlie yet betray them so easily?”
“Everyone gets tempted,” Jamaal explained with a slight edge in his voice. “Everyone. Even Jesus Himself faced temptation though He didn’t yield to it. I allowed my temptation to override my good sense. I failed, but that doesn’t change God’s love for me. Karlie, on the other hand . . .”
Jamaal’s acknowledgment of his humanity touched Brian, and he finally understood. God didn’t give His love based on man’s actions. It just was. Wow. He needed a love like that.
His father came to mind. Ryan had made a mistake. Maybe...
No, Brian was not that generous.
He and Jamaal went out to get a bite at Patsy’s Pizzeria on University Place. After enduring the other man’s constant admission of regret, Brian asked, “What did you do with the picture?”
Jamaal had been about to bite into his third slice. “Nothing. It’s in my phone.”
“Why haven’t you deleted it? Keeping it on your phone leaves room for that picture to end up in the hands of the press.” Brian held his hand out, gesturing for Jamaal to hand him his cell phone.
Jamaal pointed to his slice. “I didn’t think anything of it. I’ll delete it. I promise. I don’t want to get my hands dirty while I’m eating.”
Brian nodded. He wanted to press the issue, but a young woman approached with her iPod in hand.
“Brian? I’m Myesha, and I’ve been following your show. Is it okay if I ask you a couple of questions for my video blog?”
Brian gave a wary nod. She hit the record button.
“The last YouTube upload showed you and Jamaal duking it out. Yet, here you are sharing pizza like old friends. Is the show staged?”
Brian shook his head. “No, what you saw wasn’t scripted. However, Jamaal and I go back a long way. We’ve called a truce as everything that went down was a big misunderstanding.”
“So, you’ve squashed everything?” Myesha asked, looking at Jamaal for confirmation.
Jamaal nodded. “Yes, we have.”
“Will you be on the show?”
Jamaal wiped his mouth. “No, I plan to get on with my studies.”
Myesha curved her body into a suggestive pose. “Jamaal, please give me the scoop. Are you and Karlie over? If so . . .”
Brian narrowed his eyes. Was she hitting on Jamaal? He noticed Jamaal’s eyes were taking in Myesha’s lovely assets.
“Uh. We’re . . . No, we’re not finished. Karlie and I love each other, and we’ll be all right.”
Good for you, Jamaal. Brian was impressed at how he had finally pulled his eyes from Myesha’s cleavage and made contact with the camera.
Brian laid on the charm. “We’d like to get back to our pizza now. Thanks for stopping by.”
Realizing she had gotten all she could out of them, Myesha stopped filming. She pulled a card out of her snug jeans. Brian wondered how she managed to fit anything into that tight space. She scribbled her number on the back of the card before placing it into Jamaal’s palm.
“Call me if things between you and Karlie don’t work out.”
With a flash of her shoulder-length dreads, she was gone.
“Wow, she’s bold,” Brian said. He watched as Jamaal flipped the card to read the number.
“I know, right,” Jamaal laughed, but Brian watched him pocket the card.
Brian didn’t understand what was going on with Jamaal. He believed Jamaal loved Karlie, but the lure of sexual gratification seemed a tough battle to win. He could relate, but unlike Jamaal, Brian hadn’t made a commitment to God.
Brian and Jamaal parted ways. Brian walked the few blocks to Washington Square Park. Passing by a street performer playing a wicked tune on makeshift drums, Brian thought of Nikki and Charlie, who had both left him messages to give them a call. He had yet to reply. Brian knew his body wouldn’t mind the fun, but there was more to life than meaningless encounters.
He tipped the drummer before finding an empty bench while he people-watched.
Brian attributed his change of heart to Karlie. Her prayers must have rubbed off on him. He chuckled. A man could resist such fervor but only for so long. Or maybe the few Bible verses he had dared to read on his Bible app had comforted him. Ryan’s betrayal was not a slice of cherry pie. It was like drinking castor oil. He could only stomach small sips at a time.
Inevitably, his thoughts returned to Karlie. His best friend. Like him, she needed time. Brian knew why she had put distance between them. He needed to adjust his thinking, not just verbally but also mentally. If they were going to do a show together, they had to come clean with their relationship. The world had to know they were brother and sister and not lovers as many now suspected.
Brian had called Winona, who had advised him to do and say nothing. “Wait until people have moved on from the video,” she had said. “Then before the show, we’ll release the statement. That will generate a nice buzz, and viewers will tune in. You’ll be like Bobby Kristina and that ‘stepbrother’ of hers.”
That comparison didn’t sit well with him, but Brian un
derstood her thinking. The logical part of him even applauded Winona’s cunning, but this was his real life. Karlie also hadn’t agreed to the paternity test yet. Ugh. His head hurt from all this thinking.
A father walked over to the bench with a crying boy in tow. Brian focused on the boy’s chubby hand clinging to his father. The boy had scuffed his knee, and his wail could summon the ghost of Washington himself.
“Hold, still, Elijah,” the man said. Brian saw the father use his bottled water to wash the welted knee. He whispered something to the boy, because within seconds his bottom lip quivered but no sound came out.
Once he had finished cleaning up the wound, the father hugged his son. “You’re so brave and strong. Daddy is so proud of you.”
Little Elijah nodded, and Brian watched him give his father a look of such trust that he had to look away. Brian stood and gave the father a thumbs-up sign before heading home.
All the way, Elijah’s trusting face tore at him. How he wished for that! How he wished he had a father he could look up to with such trust.
You have me.
The whisper of a thought made ice-cold goose bumps rise on his arm. Brian stopped in the middle of the street he had been crossing and looked around. People shoved by him.
A cabbie yelled, “Hey! Moron! Get out of the street!”
Returning to his senses, Brian realized the light had changed. Cars charged in his direction at alarming speeds. Putting his feet in motion, Brian raced the rest of the way to the other side of the street. He panted to catch his breath, and his adrenaline gradually slowed. He looked at the cars crowding the spot where he had just stood. He hadn’t imagined it. He knew he had heard something.
Maybe God was calling him. What a sobering thought.
Brian commanded his feet to move. No no no, he told himself with each footstep. He was sure there was a scientific explanation for his experience. There had to be. God wasn’t calling him.
He knew exactly how to counteract this ridiculous notion flowing through his mind. Brian pulled out his cell. He’d give Nikki a call. And Charlie.
Brian could feel and touch them. They were real. Not his feelings for Karlie. Not the voice of a God who had given him a messed up father like Ryan Oakes.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“I need you there by my side, Patricia,” Ryan said.
It had been two weeks since the debacle at Neil and Myra’s, and he and Patricia were still on the outs. Nevertheless, Ryan asked for her support. His mediation could cost him millions. Having Patricia sitting with him would keep him grounded.
“I have this major surgery in a few weeks,” Patricia said. “I must prepare. Anna and Alyssa are a tough case.”
In their kitchen, Ryan slammed his hands on the counter of the island. “This isn’t about your case. You’re mad because I told you about sabotaging Brian and Karlie’s adventures.”
She whirled on him. “Either one of them could have died. How would you live with yourself if one of them had?”
“I didn’t think they’d put them in real harm,” Ryan pleaded. “It was meant to break them apart.”
“Instead, you succeeded in bringing them closer together,” she retorted. “Now Karlie has disappeared, and Brian isn’t talking to you. He’s barely talking to me, either. He won’t answer my calls. I’m lucky he’s answered my text messages.”
Ryan hunched over. “I know I’ve messed things up royally, but we need to stay united. The devil wants us divided. He loves seeing us at odds with each other.”
Patricia rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to hear it. You should’ve thought about that before you tried to get over. None of this would be happening if you had just accepted Karlie as your daughter.”
Ryan stepped back. “Go ahead! Dump everything on me! What else do you want to blame on me? The Ebola virus? The war in Iran? Go ahead!”
“I don’t have time for your dramatics. As it is, I can barely stand the sight of you.” Patricia stalked out of the room.
Ryan’s chest heaved. Her words cut him in ways he wouldn’t be able to verbalize. What was happening to his life? He pumped his fists in the air and railed at God. “This is all your fault! You wouldn’t stop needling me until I had to confess, and now my marriage is in shambles.” He bent his head. Ryan took everything on himself instead of handing it over to God. “My son hates me. My daughter . . . Oh, I don’t even know if she is my daughter.”
Ryan took several deep breaths.
He had a case tomorrow. He couldn’t afford to wallow in this abyss of guilt. Ryan left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to the master bedroom on leaden feet. He saw the light underneath the guest room.
Oh no. He wasn’t having that. Patricia was sleeping next to him in their bed. Ryan stormed over and turned the knob. To his surprise, the door was locked. Fury rocked his being, and he rattled the door.
“Patricia, open up this instant!”
“No!”
“I’m warning you. Open this door!”
There was no answer.
Ryan felt rage as he had never known before. His good sense fled, and with one strong shove, he broke the door off its hinges. Ryan stumbled as his body hit the floor. He looked up to see Patricia’s eyes huge, and her mouth slack-jawed in shock.
Well, I warned her. She should have opened the door.
He hated the fear on her face. Never in all their years of marriage had Patricia looked at him with fear. He stepped toward her.
“Don’t come near me.” She trembled. “You’re a monster, and I don’t know who you are anymore.”
A monster? That description cut him deeper than if she’d used a scalpel. “I’m not a monster. I’m a man fighting for his marriage.” He took her hands. “I love you, Patricia. You know that. There’s no woman for me but you.”
“Breaking down a door is an action of a Neanderthal, not a man in love.”
On the inside, Ryan was grateful Patricia’s spunk returned. Maybe she realized he wasn’t about to hurt her, but he was relieved her face no longer reflected fear. He looked around the room at the bits of wood on the floor. “I’ll have this repaired tomorrow,” he said.
“If only everything else was that easy to fix,” Patricia said. She gathered her sleepwear and returned to their bedroom.
Ryan secured the alarm and turned off the lights before joining her. Patricia had just showered, and she avoided eye contact. Ryan didn’t push. At least she was there.
“While I was setting the alarm, I called Pastor Ward,” Ryan said. “He’s scheduled a meeting with us for tomorrow evening at five, if you’re available.” His anger had surprised him. Tensions were high in his household, but his behavior had been abhorrent and costly.
Patricia pursed her lips.
Ryan held his breath while she debated.
“I’ll be there,” she said before diving into her side of the bed.
Ryan nodded. Thank you, Lord. He had a long way to go but was glad he had reached out to Pastor Ward.
Once he’d showered, Ryan slid under the sheets. He pulled Patricia next to him. It felt as if he was holding a wooden log. Ryan sorely missed the pliant woman he’d held in his arms on so many occasions.
He whispered a prayer for guidance before falling into a restless sleep. His only consolation was that his wife was by his side.
The next morning, he woke up to a kinked neck, an aching back, and no Patricia. Eying the clock and seeing eight a.m., Ryan didn’t have time to waste. He pulled out his tailored black suit, blue shirt, and coordinated tie and dressed in a hurry.
At 9:27 a.m., Ryan sped to the offices of Manchester & Barnes. He held onto the zippered sleeve bag holding all the documents Prim had prepared with meticulous precision.
Though Nigel had warned him about getting too cocky, Ryan felt confident he would prevail against Jackson Higgins. He had the truth on his side. That had to count for something.
Ryan greeted Nigel and gave Jackson a curt nod before taking a seat. He would ha
ve addressed the other man if Nigel hadn’t pressed a warning hand on his arm. Ryan harrumphed but didn’t say a word.
At exactly 9:30 a.m., Kyle entered. “Good morning, gentlemen. The mediator is on her way. She’ll be here in ten minutes. In the meantime, we can exchange our evidence as part of the open disclosure agreement.”
“We’re hoping your client has had time to rethink his position,” Nigel said.
Ryan’s heart leaped with hope. He could use some good news.
“No, I, uh, I want to continue,” Jackson stated.
Ryan was surprised at the younger man’s gravelly tone. The Jackson he remembered was energetic and hopeful. Now he appeared gaunt and pale. He shrugged off any concern. Jackson was after his money. Ryan didn’t have time to foster any sympathy.
The mediator, a petite blonde with thin lips, arrived. She took out a manila folder and retrieved an iPod. “I’m Eloise Stevens. I’ll be taping our session.” She looked at her watch. “I’m hoping we can have this settled before lunch.”
Kyle laid on the charm. “I hope so too. We hate to waste the court’s time on what may be a trivial misunderstanding.” Ryan hoped Eloise would remain immune to Kyle’s toothy grin.
He nudged Nigel. “Shouldn’t you say something?” he whispered.
“I’ve got this, but praying wouldn’t hurt,” Nigel said under his breath.
Ryan bowed his head. Lord, give Nigel the wisdom to kick this case to the curb.
Kyle started the proceedings. “Three years ago on October fourth, my client and Ryan Oakes entered into a binding agreement. Jackson agreed to oversee the launching of Spababies. He worked beyond the contracted hours and invested his own ideas in making it a profitable venture. Spababies is a national success and now a worldwide conglomerate. We believe Ryan Oakes knew the profit potential and paid Jackson out of his claim to a billion-dollar industry.”
A billion dollars? How could he have known Spababies would take off as it did? Who was he, God? Ryan stewed, but he knew better than to open his mouth. Nigel had warned him enough times.
“Duly noted, Mr. Manchester.” Eloise then turned to Nigel. “Mr. Lattimore, the state will hear your position.”
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