by Day, Zuri
“Okay,” she mumbled, reaching into the console for a tissue. Never having been an emotional crybaby, she found her own behavior appalling, but then again, wasn’t that the state of this entire situation?
She blew her nose, reached for the bottle of water she’d brought from the country club, and shared what Stewart had told her. “I didn’t want to believe him,” she finished. “But he had information that could have only come from them. Even more, in my heart, I feel it’s true.”
“Wow, babe. I don’t even know what to say. Makes sense that you’d have a drink or two after getting that news.”
“How’d you know that?”
“Really?”
Cynthia’s laugh held little humor. “I’m boozed like a muhfuh.”
“It’s Muh. Fuh. You can’t hold your mouth proper and come correct with that phrase. You’ve got to relax.” Instead of a response to his attempt at humor, there was silence. Both grappled with which thoughts to keep and which to share. “I’m sorry about all of this, Cynthia. It’s a tough situation, something I thought only happened in movies.”
“People would be surprised at what goes on in some gated communities; the length people will go to for the sake of appearances, societal standing, one-upmanship on their neighbors and friends. The term friend is used loosely here; they’ll smile and give the biggest hug, then stab you while embracing. One of my dad’s friends paid a poor cousin a boatload of money to take a sexual assault rap for his Ivy League–bound son. There’ve been abortions, secret adoptions, hundreds of thousands of dollars paid to make legal troubles go away or, in my case, a child’s father.”
Byron made a sound of disgust. “That’s unbelievable. I can’t even wrap my mind around how someone could do that to their own. What are you going to do?”
“Thanks to you, I’m not going to go in accusations blazing and start a midnight row. A part of me wants to confront them as soon as possible. The other part wants my dad to enjoy his birthday. Whatever role he played was by my mother’s insistence. I’m not sure I can do that, given what I know.”
“I say take a little time to think about it, decide what it is you want to happen when you confront them. How will you react if they don’t act the way you think they should? And most important, how this will affect Jayden getting to know his father.”
“That’s a whole other issue.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, no problem.”
“No, really. I treated you horribly. You’re being so kind.”
“Like I said on my message—”
“You left a message?”
“You didn’t hear it? I figured that’s why you called.”
“I called because when I needed a safe place to land, the comfort of sharing with someone who cares about me . . . you’re the first person who came to my mind.” Silence. “I’m thankful we can at least have professional exchanges. It wouldn’t feel the same to have you totally out of my life.”
“Professional exchanges? Okay, I’ll chew on that one. You get some sleep. And keep me posted.”
“Thank you again. You’re a really special guy.”
“You’re just now figuring that out?”
“Good night, Byron.”
“Good night.”
Taking Byron’s advice, Cynthia crept quietly to the corner guest room, hurriedly undressed, and crawled into bed. Thoughts of the conversation with Byron brought a wisp of a smile, quickly chased away by what Stewart had told her. Not only about the unconscionable actions of her parents, but that he was getting divorced and ready to get back what was lost all those years ago, what he’d always wanted. Stewart had made it very clear that marriage was on his mind.
35
No one died. A day of hobnobbing, socializing, air kisses and fake smiles, and two nights of sleeping down the hall from the enemy, and Cynthia had not been arrested. Given the dark thoughts that crossed her mind, especially following one of her mother’s snide comments, being free was not to be taken lightly.
Distance and distraction played a major role in peacekeeping. Along with Jeff and his flawless lawyer partner, Veronika, two other couples had joined the family for breakfast, making direct conversation with Anna Marie unnecessary. Only child Jayden was as happy as a clam in sauce while playing with several of the workers’ children. Her best idea? Deciding to rent a car instead of rely on family. If a quick exit was necessary, she could go.
Fortunately, that was not necessary. The day passed, Carlton Hall’s sixtieth birthday party was a hit, with Anna Marie the dazzling belle of the ball. If her mother noticed the chill index blowing from Cynthia’s direction, she showed no signs. For her part, Cynthia spent most of the evening with her father, his friends that she knew, and a former neighbor who’d returned home and bought a house near their community, was married, and had a ten-year-old son. Jayden was at their house, with the sitter.
During a lull in the festivities, Cynthia spotted Carlton standing alone. She quickly retrieved her handbag before joining her father. “May I have a moment alone with the most popular, not to mention handsome man in town?”
“Why most certainly, my beautiful daughter.”
“Good. Come with me.” She linked her arm in his, enjoying one of a very few genuine happy moments. Speaking to someone on her left, she saw Anna Marie watching them, envy in her eyes. How can she begrudge the relationship I have with Dad?
When she started toward them, Cynthia hurried toward the hallway and a small private room just beyond it. She breathed a sigh of relief when Jeff clutched his mother’s arm as she passed and spun her onto the dance floor. Once inside, door closed, her face crumbled.
“Are you all right, dear?” Concern creased her father’s brow and shone in his eyes.
Cynthia noticed the deepening crow’s feet around her father’s kind eyes. They hadn’t been there a year ago. She shook off the disenchantment from her and her mother’s non-relationship, and smiled. “I’m well, Dad. A few concerns at work, but nothing important enough to be discussed on your special day.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a small box, eloquently wrapped in black paper with a silver bow.
“What’s this?” He cocked his head and looked between her and the gift. “I love the gifts received this morning, from you and Jay.”
“I know you do. But that one has your name all over it. I couldn’t resist.”
Carlton slipped off the bow and quickly rid the box of its wrapping. “Oh, boy!” His smile was genuine as his eyes gleamed. “How’d you know I was thinking about getting a new golf GPS?” He looked again and noticed engraving on the platinum case. “You weren’t kidding when you said my name was on it. ‘FOR CARLTON HALL. BETTER THAN A HOLE IN ONE. YOUR DAUGHTER, CYNTHIA.’ Thank you, sweetheart.” They hugged. “This is very nice.”
He placed the GPS device in the box, but instead of preparing to rejoin the party, he leaned against the wall. “I understand you went to the club yesterday.”
“I should have known there’d be no keeping any event at the club from its unofficial mayor.”
“You saw Stewart.”
“I did. When did he move back?”
“As far as I know, he didn’t. But his mother’s ill. I think he bought a place to stay when he visits.”
That her father knew about Stewart was somehow a relief. But she wasn’t prepared to have an in-depth conversation about him.
Carlton’s eyes were unreadable as he studied her. “I understand the two of you shared the private room.”
“Considering my scandalous secret, we felt it best.” The truth was said without rancor. She placed a light hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m no longer that twenty-two-year-old college grad, naïve and unthinking. It was a civil conversation over a delightful meal. The contents of which will remain between Stewart and myself.”
Any comment Carlton may have had was cut off by the abruptly opened door. Anna and her newfound BFF, Veronika, stood at the door. “Really, Cynthia, must
you hide your dad and keep him all to yourself? I’d think you’d want to take as much time as possible to get to know your future sister-in-law. Look at her necklace. It’s a custom Katz design.”
An hour later, she didn’t have to feign sickness to leave the party. Her mother was a pain in the behind. Snobbery, cattiness, and empty compliments that for most of her life had been the norm was now a pain in her head.
Using a last minute change in flights as an excuse, Cynthia awoke early, got she and Jay packed, and left for the airport five hours before her flight was scheduled to depart. To appease a sulking kid who hadn’t wanted to leave, they stopped at the Mall of America, an incredibly large attraction just outside of Minneapolis. A good move. Jayden wore himself out and was asleep before the plane reached cruising altitude, giving Cynthia three hours and forty-eight nonstop minutes to figure out when this mass of muddled mayhem became her life.
They arrived home, showered, ate, and went to bed. Five minutes later, it seemed, the alarm sounded and it was time for work. Cynthia prayed this would be a calm Monday. Her frayed, overworked nerves and Margo’s haughty nosiness would not be a good mix.
One doesn’t always get what they pray for. Ivy was on her as soon as she turned the corner.
“There you are! Is everything all right?”
Is the state of my life plastered on my face? Not even thirty seconds in and Cynthia was already frowning. “I’m okay. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you; called your cell phone several times.”
“Oh, shoot. I forgot to take it off airplane mode.” Cynthia looked at her watch. “I usually arrive at ten on Mondays. What’s going on?”
“You missed a meeting.”
“Excuse me?”
Ivy gave an almost imperceptible nod toward Cynthia’s office.
Cynthia got the hint and led the way into a more private space.
Ivy had barely shut the door before whirling around with a look of anger Cynthia had never seen. “I knew she was lying.”
“Who?”
“Margo, who else?”
“Wait. To handle this I’m going to need more caffeine.” Cynthia walked over and sat behind her desk. She noted a wound-up Ivy paced from the door to the window and back before finally sitting in one of the two chairs facing Cynthia’s desk.
Cynthia reached for the extra packets of sugar she’d gotten from the shop. She removed the lid from the coffee cup, added them, then opened her drawer to retrieve two single container coffee shots and added them, too. Only after stirring the concoction of liquid caffeine and enjoying a couple healthy sips did she nod at Ivy. “Okay, what happened?”
“When I got here, around eight-thirty, the phone was ringing. I didn’t pay it much attention; figured whoever would either leave a message or call back. Then five minutes, it rang again. It was Margo asking for you. I told her you would be here at ten your normal time. Then she says, ‘She’s still not here?’ as though she’d not heard me. That was weird, but I thought it was Margo being messy and went back to work.
“Five minutes before you came in, both Margo and Tracy came over asking if you’d arrived yet. By now I’m sure Margo is up to something. So I said, ‘As Tracy knows, Cynthia arrives at ten and leaves around six.’”
“What did Tracy say?”
“She looked at Margo. Margo shrugged, and said, ‘I’m positive I sent the e-mail, and marked it urgent.’”
“Sent what e-mail?”
“As soon as they left the area, that’s exactly what I checked out. She sent the e-mail, only she sent it to the company department e-mail address, not your personal one, and she sent it at around seven o’clock, Friday night.”
Cynthia nodded slowly, as all became clear. “All right. Thank you, Ivy. I appreciate that information and will definitely take care of it.”
Ivy stood. “If you need anything from me to back up your schedule or to prove you come in on Saturdays or, I don’t know, maybe sneak into her office and rearrange some files or open up her database before my finger accidentally falls on the Delete button . . .”
“Ooh, remind me not to get on your bad side,” Cynthia said, with a chuckle.
“People like her are so annoying.” She reached the door. “Want me to leave it open?”
“Sure.” Cynthia opened her laptop and turned it on. She opened her e-mail portal and quickly found the memo announcing a special, eight o’clock catered breakfast meeting with the board president and one other board member, one of the directors from H.E.L.P.’s umbrella company, and representatives from four similar agencies and organizations who all worked with clients from LA’s judicial system.
She was angry, beyond livid, yet Cynthia calmly stood, picked up her coffee, and walked to the window. It wouldn’t do to give in to emotions right now. She planned to not only keep a level head, but to not stoop to the depths that Margo had gone to get the director position.
This didn’t mean that she’d go down without swinging. After several more minutes she walked back to her desk and sat down with purpose. Soon her fingers were flying over the keyboard as she put her plan into motion. Margo may have won that round by being underhanded, but she was getting ready to learn that there was more than one way to fight.
36
Byron looked at his youngest brother in amazement. Sometimes he swore that the near-decade age difference between them was akin to their being born on different planets. On the other hand, something to take his mind off Cynthia was almost worth the frustration.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Naw, man.” Barry stretched his long legs in front of him and clasped his fingers behind his head. “Your brother’s got it like that.”
“This woman is buying you clothes, phone, shoes, food, paying when y’all go out, basically taking care of everything but your living space—because your mama and daddy are handling that expense—and that’s a good thing?”
“Of course.” Barry chuckled, slowly shaking his head. “And don’t look at me like there’s something wrong with what I’m doing, like you’re not mad at how I handle my ladies.”
“So there’s several? You’ve got the girl doing all of this for you and she’s not even the only one?”
“Really, dog? You think one woman can handle all this?” Barry swept his hands over six feet and three inches of chiseled perfection.
“I think a woman’s crazy to share her man.”
“You think she knows? I need to hip you to the new school, son.”
“Stop it, please!” Byron put his hands over his face. “You’re killing me!”
“That’s how a man does it in the twenty-first.”
Byron muted the television and turned to face Barry.
“Hey, man! I’m watching that!”
“That might be how some men do it, but not the Carters.”
“Man, don’t come at me like you’re my daddy. I know who I am. Turn the TV back up.”
Byron aimed the remote and turned it off. His look dared the youngest member of this testosterone-heavy clan to protest. Older brother got the respect he demanded.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, and it’s probably going to take a few years and a couple heartbreaks before you come back and thank me. You may not ever appreciate what I’m about to tell you. That’s cool, too. But a real man doesn’t take from a woman, man. It’s the other way around. A real man has too much pride to let a woman give him everything while he gives nothing back, not even exclusive access to his dick. He definitely wouldn’t brag about it. That’s not a man, Barry. That’s an asshole.
“Instead of listening to what society, rappers, and your boys are saying about manhood, you should listen to the man whose roof you sleep under. When it comes to men, and how to be one? Willie Carter is one of the best.”
Barry slowly nodded his head. “I feel you, bro. You’re right.”
Byron reached for the remote to turn on the TV but stopped when Barry stood up. “Real talk ru
nning you off?”
“Whatever, man. It’s all good.” He headed to the door. “You coming over for dinner this Sunday?”
Byron joined him at the door. “What’s happening this Sunday?”
Barry shrugged. “Whatever it is has Mama cooking a roast and baking pies.”
“You know I’m coming over for that!” Byron’s phone buzzed. “All right, Barry. Take it easy. And Carter up, okay?”
“Carter up, huh? Man, you’re crazy.”
“Hello?” There was a smile in Byron’s voice as he gave a last wave to his brother and closed the door.
“I apologize for calling.”
“Why would you do that? I’ve been waiting all weekend to hear from you. After we talked, I couldn’t imagine how you’d confront your parents.”
“I didn’t.”
“Hold on, okay?” Byron walked from the living room to Tyra’s closed door. He knocked.
“Yes, Daddy?”
“What are you doing?”
“Talking to Brittney. Is Uncle Barry still here?”
“No, he’s gone.”
“And he didn’t say bye?”
“Ten more minutes and you need to go to bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait till school is over!”
“Then it’s good you’ve only got three more days. Ten more minutes.”
“Okay!”
“Good night, Tyra Lily.”
“Good night, Daddy.”
“Okay, I’m back.”
“So Tyra’s in a single-track system?”
“Yes, both of us prefer it to the four-track schedule.” He closed his door and walked over to the closet. “But we can talk about that some other time. I want to know what happened in Minnesota.” He heard a sigh as he placed the phone on a shelf and stripped down to his boxers. Picking up the phone, he crossed to the bed. “Cynthia?”
“I’m here. So much happened, and is happening . . . I don’t know where to start.”
“Why didn’t you ask your parents about what you heard Friday night?”
“Several reasons, but the main one is that it was Daddy’s birthday. I didn’t want to spoil it. Another is because I need time to digest that whole impossible situation and decide how I want to deal with it.”