by Shelly Ellis
But was it okay? Could they go back to what they had been before what had happened last night? She could tell by his demeanor and body language that something had changed. She eased back, slowly raised her head, and gazed into his eyes. “I was . . . I was so scared you weren’t coming back. I thought I’d pushed you too far. I’m so sorry, Evan!”
“No, I’m sorry for what I did to you . . . for how I hurt you. I couldn’t stand to look at myself. I had to get out of here.”
“Where’d you go?”
He took a deep breath and broke her gaze. He stared at the dresser in front of him, but she could tell he was looking past it. He was lost in thought.
“Where’d you go, Ev?” she asked again, bracing herself for what she considered the worst answer: that he had spent the night with Charisse, that Leila’s anger and deception had pushed him into his ex-wife’s arms. But he didn’t give her the answer she’d expected.
“I went to kill Dante,” he said bluntly. “I went to kill him with my bare hands.”
Her blood ran cold. “What?” She didn’t know she had pushed him that far. She slowly shook her head. “You don’t mean that. You wouldn’t . . . you wouldn’t do that. That’s not you!”
“Yes, it is. It’s always been me, Lee. Like father, like son. I have the same capability to hurt and to kill just like Dad did. I’m not going to deny it anymore.” He held up his hand to stop her when she began to disagree. “Let me finish! I have the capability to do it, but it doesn’t mean I have to do it. I realized that last night.”
He released her and held her hands in his own. He squeezed them tight.
“I wanted to end him, Lee. I wanted to finally end this shit between him and me once and for all—and I would have . . . until Bill stopped me. He told me the truth: that I wouldn’t just be ending Dante’s life but throwing away mine, too . . . everything I’ve ever wanted, that I ever had. I would be giving up on myself and on us. So I had to think about it . . . really think about it. I told him to drive me to my office, and I spent most of the night awake, thinking about everything that’s happened in the past three years. I thought about how Dante and I have been circling each other like fighters in a ring. He punches. I punch back. And we dance and we dance, round after round.” He shook his head. “He’s tried over and over again to destroy me, and I thought last night he’d finally done it, but then I’d realized that the only person who was capable of destroying me is me.
“He cheated with Charisse and put the final nail in the coffin that was my marriage, but he freed me to finally be with you. He lied and had me sent to prison. That month away from all of you reminded me just how important you are to me. You were willing to have sex with a man you despised just to get me out of jail.”
At that she flinched. She tried to pull away, but he held on tighter to her.
“I know you weren’t betraying me, Lee. You thought you were proving your devotion. I get it now. I get so many things I didn’t realize before, baby. I’m not angry at Dante anymore. That shit is wasted energy. I pity him because he’s so blind with rage that he can’t see the time he’s wasting, but I can. I’m not going to waste my time anymore. I love you. I love our family. If it means putting this feud with Dante behind me, I will. If it means cutting off ties with Charisse, so be it. I am devoted to you and . . . and I want to be with you—if you’ll still have me.”
She started to weep again, this time with relief. She threw her arms around his neck. “Of course, baby! Of course!”
Chapter 28
Dante
Goddamnit, Dante thought, gritting his teeth. He listened to the pounding that was either inside his head or on the other side of the bedroom wall. He didn’t know which, but it was driving him crazy.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” he kept muttering. He had to concentrate.
He tried to steady the lighter under the spoon, watching as the brown substance inside the spoon liquefied then bubbled. But his hands were shaking. He had waited too long for his next hit, and now he had the jitters. It had taken less than a week of doing smack and he already craved it.
He reached for the syringe on the night table beside him, but his trembling fingers were clumsy. The syringe fell to the floor beside the mattress, almost getting lost in the dingy shag carpet. He leaned down, nearly dropping the spoon to the floor with the syringe. He caught his error in just enough time, though. Fifty dollars’ worth of smack couldn’t be wasted.
Dante reached for the syringe again, and the pounding got louder.
“I said shut the fuck up!” he screamed, before turning to bang his fist against the wall. “Quit making all that goddamn noise!”
But the thudding didn’t stop. It seemed to make the walls vibrate and the door rattle.
“Fuck it,” he muttered before finally retrieving the syringe from the carpet.
If Kiki insisted on playing loud music and couldn’t respect the rules of his house, she would have to live elsewhere, and he would tell her so. But for now, he had other things to worry about.
Less than a minute later, Dante injected that sweet brown sugar into one of the veins in his left arm. When he felt the rush of the high overcome him, he quickly undid the belt wrapped around his bicep and slumped back against the bedroom wall. He smiled dumbly and closed his eyes.
Tee had been right. This was much better than the Oxy, and the effect was much faster. He didn’t know why he had fought so long not to take heroin. If he had known it was this good, he would’ve done it sooner!
* * *
Dante had finally decided to take the plunge after he had gotten out of jail on the trumped-up assault charge after Charisse had called the cops on him. Kiki had bailed him out the next morning. By the time he stepped out of the precinct doors, he was already enduring withdrawal symptoms. He had the shakes and the sweats that were soaking his dress shirt. He felt sick to his stomach. He immediately reached into his suit pocket and realized the cops had taken his pills. Of course, they had!
Probably dumped them in the toilet or stole them. Assholes, he had thought with contempt.
“Are you okay, Daddy?” Kiki had asked as she gazed at him worriedly in the rearview mirror while she drove. Tee had stared at him from the front passenger seat with amused interest.
By then, Dante was keeled over in the backseat of the Jag, moaning in pain.
“No, I’m not okay,” he’d almost wept. “I need my pills! Just give me my damn pills!”
She drove him straight to his condo in Reston and helped him upstairs. He scoured his entire place, searching his medicine cabinet, dumping the contents of drawers on the floor in search of bottles he may have forgotten. Kiki and Tee helped him look, but none of them could find an additional stash.
He was out. Good God, he was out, and there was no way he could get any more from his supplier at that late an hour.
Kiki offered to take him back to his mother’s old home to see maybe if some was there. When they arrived, he collapsed onto the lone, stained mattress in the guest bedroom, writhing in agony. Kiki left to go to the nearby drugstore get him some medicine for the chills and fever.
“I’ll see if they got some extra-strength Excedrin, too, until we can hook you up with something better. Maybe that’ll help you, Daddy,” she had called out to him as she walked down the hall.
He would’ve laughed if he weren’t in such agony.
Excedrin . . .
She might as well give him peppermint candy with how helpful an over-the-counter drug would be in getting this nasty monkey off his back!
Meanwhile, Tee had stayed behind. She had sat on the floor beside him, watching as he groaned and moaned.
“You know,” she said, “I don’t got no Oxy, but I got something else that can help you. All you gotta do is say the word.” She then dangled the plastic bag in front of his face and grinned.
He wasn’t in a position to say no, and she didn’t even charge him for his first hit. In fact, she prepped it for him—warming i
t up, tying off his arm, and injecting him. The moment was as memorable and blissful as the night he lost his virginity underneath the school bleachers when he was twelve years old. He wished it would’ve lasted forever.
* * *
“Daddy! Daddy!” Kiki called out.
Dante’s eyes fluttered open when he felt her roughly shake his shoulder. He squinted up at her and smacked his lips. “What?” he croaked.
His mouth felt heavy and dry. His brain was sluggish. He glanced up and saw that Kiki had two grocery bags in her hands.
“You passed out again, didn’t you?” She slowly shook her head and glared at Tee, who stood beside her. “I don’t know why you gave him that shit! It was supposed to make him better, not worse. Now all he does is lie around and get high! He’s been like this for the past four days. He hasn’t even washed, and this damn room smells like piss!” She nudged Dante’s shoulder again. “Daddy, did you pee on yourself?”
Four days? Dante squinted. He hadn’t really been here four days, had he? He glanced down at himself. He was still wearing the white dress shirt and slacks from the day he had gone to the prosecutor’s office. And yes, there was a wet spot on his gray slacks.
Well, look at that, he thought dazedly. He snickered.
“This shit ain’t funny!” Kiki shouted. “You can’t just sit around in your own piss all day!”
“Oh, leave him alone. He ain’t botherin’ nobody,” Tee said, kneeling down in front of him. She grinned. “You get to use his credit card and his car. He gets to have his fun. Seems like a good deal to me.”
“You owe me rent for this month, and stop blasting music,” Dante babbled. “I’m tired of hearing that shit. The neighbors might start to complain.”
“What?” Kiki snapped, staring at him in confusion.
“Stop blasting music or . . . or I’m kicking your ass out. You’re making the walls shake with . . . with all that noise.”
Kiki sucked her teeth. “Nobody was blasting music! I haven’t been home all day. You’re hallucinating! That shit is fucking with your brain!”
Tee started to laugh, and Kiki punched her in the arm, silencing her. The young woman reached into one of her grocery bags and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade and a turkey club sandwich. “Here!” she said, tossing both onto Dante’s lap. “Eat something!”
Dante glanced at the cellophane-wrapped sandwich with disinterest.
“Nah, I know what he really wants,” Tee said before reaching into the pocket of her saggy, ripped jeans. She pulled out another plastic bag and tossed it to him.
He grabbed for it eagerly.
Kiki shook her head and sucked her teeth again. “I hate fuckin’ junkies,” she muttered before walking out of the bedroom. Tee followed her, chuckling to herself.
“Don’t listen to her. Have fun while you can, ol’ man,” she said to him, shutting the door behind her and leaving Dante to his spoils.
* * *
Dante opened his eyes again to darkness. A hazy blue sky was on the other side of his bedroom window, illuminated by a nearby street lamp. He couldn’t tell if it was late at night or early in the morning, but the time really didn’t really matter, did it? He just felt the urgent need to get high again.
Dante pushed himself up from the mattress, hearing the rusty bedsprings squeak beneath him.
He’d just had the most wonderful dream. He had dreamed of having a threesome with both Charisse and Leila. In the dream, he had ordered them to go down on each other, which they had done with zeal. He had them go down on him, which they had each performed just as heartily. He had finished the sexcapade by doing them both doggie style until they screamed with orgasmic delight.
As they slumbered, he had crept from the bed, reached into his night table drawer, pulled out a Glock, and shot them both in the head. The rush he had felt in his dream as he killed them was better than the one he’d felt while they were having sex.
As he now sat in the dark, he smiled thoughtfully, looking forward to falling asleep and having that dream all over again. But he was content to put off the fantasy for now. Instead, he focused on the task at hand. It was time to take his medicine.
He reached in the dim light for his drug stash, which sat on the floor beside him. He did the same steps he always did with the same steady reverence of one taking holy communion.
First, tie off the arm.
Second, light the spoon.
Third, fill the syringe.
Fourth, insert the needle into your arm and lower the plunger.
Fifth . . . pure bliss.
His eyes started to feel heavy again just as he heard the bedroom door creak open. His head lolled to the side and he looked up, expecting to find Kiki or Tee standing there. Instead, he saw a dark, looming figure. He saw the glint of the muzzle of a handgun.
He experienced no alarm. The drugs dulled his senses. He only squinted, trying to figure out who was standing in front of him. The shadowy face wasn’t recognizable—at first. Then he realized who it was.
“Renee?” he said, almost with awe.
But she was dead. Kiki had assured him she’d had her killed. He could even remember seeing the news stories that showed she had gone missing. But here she stood and, strangely enough, she was wearing the same outfit she had worn the night she’d shot him a year ago in the parking garage. The same frilly trench coat and knock-off Louboutin high heels. Was he hallucinating again like Kiki said?
“Renee? What . . . what are you doing here?” he mumbled.
She didn’t answer him. He watched as she raised the gun and pointed it at him. Her eyes were flat and lifeless.
He slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry, Renee. I’m sorry I tried to kill you,” he slurred. “I should’ve just taken you to Barbados like you asked. I’m—”
He didn’t get to finish. The bullet in his head, at point-blank range, stopped him.
Chapter 29
Paulette
Today is a beautiful day, Paulette thought. Yes, a beautiful, lovely day!
She hummed to herself as she sat in front of the mirror at her makeup table, applying blush to her cheeks. She felt buoyant, like she was suspended on a cloud. She hadn’t been this happy in months—maybe even years!
“You’re in a good mood,” Antonio said before leaning down to place a quick peck on the nape of her neck.
She smiled at her handsome husband in the mirror’s reflection. “Of course I’m in a good mood! Why shouldn’t I be?”
“No reason.” He adjusted his gold cufflinks then the knot in his tie. “I just didn’t know you were this excited to see your brother get married. I thought you didn’t want him to tie the knot.”
“Oh, keep up, Tony! That’s old news! I’ve made peace with Terry’s engagement. He found a woman that he loves and he wants to spend his life with her. I can’t begrudge him that. I’m sure the wedding today will be beautiful. It will be . . . it will be marvelous!”
“Marvelous, huh?” Antonio raised his brows in amusement. “That’s quite an adjective, baby.”
“But perfectly appropriate, considering the circumstances!”
She then reached for one of her perfume bottles. She removed the glass stopper and dabbed the tip along her neck and jawline, filling her nose with the scent of vanilla and lilacs.
“If you say so.” He shrugged before heading to his walk-in closet to retrieve his suit jacket. “Maybe you know something I don’t.”
Paulette smirked at his retreating back. In fact, she did know something Antonio didn’t.
She’d finally gotten the results of the DNA test yesterday. Paulette had almost avoided going to the website to see them, feeling sick to her stomach at the prospect that Marques Whitney was really the father of her son. She told herself that maybe it was better not knowing at all.
“Just erase the email notification and pretend like you never saw it,” she had whispered aloud while staring at her computer screen.
But she realized how ridiculous that
sounded. She had secretly collected samples from her husband and son for a reason—two good reasons, in fact: peace of mind and the chance to learn the truth. She couldn’t let this opportunity escape her.
Paulette had taken a deep breath as she clicked open the email, preparing herself for the worst. She was lucky to have been alone when she’d read the results because she’d immediately burst into tears. It was there in black and white. “The alleged father’s probability of paternity: 99.7%.” So Antonio was indeed Little Nate’s father.
“Oh, my God,” she had whispered as she sobbed, clapping her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God!”
It was like a weight the size of a boulder had been lifted from her. The baby she had always wanted to have with Antonio was really theirs. She couldn’t tell her husband, but she wanted immediately to tell Miss Claudia the good news since it was she who had encouraged her to finally get the answer she needed. But unfortunately, her nanny had been on vacation the past few days, and today Paulette had been so busy getting ready for Terrence’s wedding that she hadn’t had the chance to talk to the older woman.
I’ll tell her tomorrow, she now thought as she recapped her perfume and rose from the makeup table. For now, she’d have to keep the precious secret to herself.
Ten minutes later, Paulette and Antonio emerged from their bedroom. They walked down the staircase hand in hand and were greeted with the sight of Miss Claudia sitting on the couch with Little Nate on her lap singing along to a children’s cartoon.
“We should be back by midnight at the latest, Miss Claudia!” Paulette called to her. Antonio handed her a shawl that she wrapped around her shoulders. “Thank you again for doing this!”
“Oh, it’s not a problem, and don’t rush home. You two go and have yourselves a good time! We’ll be fine,” Miss Claudia called out before returning her attention to Nathan. She clapped his tiny hands together as another song started on the television screen.
Paulette blew her son a kiss before stepping out the door that Antonio held open for her. She looked up at the cloudless sky, closed her eyes, and did a long intake of breath—savoring the world around her. She then exhaled, opened her eyes, linked her arm through Antonio’s, and gazed up lovingly at her husband.