by Pamela Yaye
Feeling his cell phone vibrate inside his pocket, Markos took it out and turned off the alarm. He didn’t want to miss his flight, knew there’d be hell to pay if he did, but something Tatiyana said last night was gnawing at him, preventing him from leaving her suite. Her words played in his mind, troubling him afresh.
“When it comes to the opposite sex, I keep my expectations low,” she’d said matter-of-factly. “That way, when he screws up, which he inevitably will, I won’t be heartbroken.”
He’d filed the information to the back of his mind. Markos wanted to see Tatiyana again, was open to meeting up with her the next time she was in LA, and had tried to debunk her views about the male species. “Not all men are dogs.”
“I never said they were, but most guys would rather play the field than settle down, and since I’m nobody’s fool, I keep my heart under lock and key, especially around suave, charismatic Italians who can have any woman they want.”
He’d scoffed, shook his head to ward off the bitter memories of his college days. “If we’d met ten years ago, you wouldn’t have given me the time of day. No one did.”
“Liar! You’re attractive, intelligent and debonair. Who wouldn’t want you?”
“In university, I was nobody’s first choice. I was skinny, my ears stuck out of my head like Dumbo, and I had a horrible stuttering problem.”
Eyes bright with desire, she’d licked her lips and gave him the once-over. “And look at you today. You’re a sexy attorney with a dreamy smile and a killer bod!”
Markos had chuckled heartily. He’d felt energized, as if he’d just finished a session with his personal trainer. Tatiyana was hilarious, spontaneous and fun, and her naughty ways were a turn-on. She had great energy, told it like it was, and they shared common interests.
“I have learned that success is to be measured not so much by the things a person owns, or the position that one has reached in life but by the obstacles which he has overcome while trying to succeed.”
Tatiyana had touched his cheek, and caressed his face with tender care. “I love that quote, and whenever I get down on myself, I remember how far I’ve come. That usually does the trick, and when it doesn’t, I drink Merlot.”
Surfacing from his thoughts, he continued to admire her. Markos wanted to see Tatiyana again, but he wasn’t going to ask for her number. Don’t sweat her. She’ll think you’re weak, he told himself, tearing his gaze away from her face. There’ll be others. There always are.
Then why are you still here? And why did you leave that note?
Markos rubbed the back of his neck. He thought of grabbing the note off the pillow and ripping it up, but he wanted Tatiyana to call him, and if he threw out the note, he’d probably never see her again. The thought made his heart ache, filling him with sadness, and the urge to kiss her was so strong he couldn’t stop himself. Lowering his face to hers, he inhaled her fragrant scent, and whispered, “Bye, beautiful. Until we meet again.”
Markos kissed her lips, then abruptly turned away from the bed. Using the light from his iPhone, he marched through the darkened suite, careful not to wake her, and out the door.
* * *
Tatiyana cracked open one eye, searching the room for Markos. His cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the perfume of their lovemaking, the sweet, intoxicating scent tickling her nose. She’d had fun with the Italian stallion last night, a raucous good time in the bedroom, but Tatiyana was so anxious to check the tape recorder she hadn’t slept a wink.
Hearing the door close, Tatiyana tossed aside her blanket and leaped from the bed. Her heart was pounding, drumming in her ears, and butterflies danced in her stomach. This was it. The moment of truth. Flipping on the potted lights, her limbs shook uncontrollably as she picked up the tape recorder she’d discreetly concealed with her pillow. Thankfully Markos hadn’t noticed. Pressing the Rewind button, Tatiyana reflected on their romantic night together.
Tatiyana clutched it to her chest, hoping everything she needed was on the device.
Last night, after a scrumptious dinner in the private dining room, they’d returned to her suite and shared a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. Sitting on the balcony, stretched out in chaise longues, stargazing, had been the perfect way to end their date. They’d talked for hours, opened up to each other about past relationships, their families, even some of the problems Markos was having with his staff, and several of his high-profile celebrity clients. Had she made a mistake? Should she delete the recording? Was her plan going to backfire in her face?
Holding her breath, her hands shaking uncontrollably, she hit Play on the tape recorder. Markos’s strong, masculine voice filled the room, and her heart skipped a beat. Thoughts of him made her smile, and Tatiyana longed to see him again. Everything she needed was on the tape, but listening to it made her feel guilty for betraying his trust. He’d been reluctant to talk about specific clients, but she’d encouraged him to vent his frustrations.
“I love being an attorney, and I enjoy working with my celebrity clients, but some of them make me feel like pulling out my hair,” he’d said with a laugh.
Tatiyana had made her eyes wide. “Really? Who’s your most difficult client and why?”
“Don’t get me started. Once I start talking about work it’s hard for me to stop!”
Markos didn’t mention anyone by name, but he didn’t need to. If Tatiyana leaked this recording to the media it would embarrass Markos, and his clients would place a dark cloud over his entire firm.
Filled with shame, Tatiyana turned off the tape recorder.
Her gaze wandered around the suite. Tatiyana frowned. There was a blue paper taped on the Sony TV. Curious, she stood, walked across the room, and ripped it off the screen. Unfolding the paper, a gold card fell onto the carpet. Picking it up, she admired the tasteful design. The elegant, custom-made business card listed Markos’s personal information, including his email. Now, she wouldn’t have to spend hours searching for it online. The note had two, simple sentences, and reading the handwritten message brought mixed emotions—happiness, regret and guilt.
Call me the next time you’re in LA. You’re an incredible woman, as smart as you are beautiful, and I’d love to see you again.
Touched by his words, Tatiyana hugged her arms to her chest. She reflected on their time in Tampa, on how they’d talked and laughed nonstop, and he’d always have a special place in her heart. They were polar opposites, who couldn’t be more different, but she’d cherished every minute they’d spent together. Markos was a class act, in a league of his own, and she’d never forget their romantic weekend in Tampa.
Dropping the note inside her purse, Tatiyana marched into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She had shopping to do, gifts and souvenirs to buy for her family, and if she didn’t hurry, she’d miss her 10:00 a.m. flight to LA.
Her thoughts returned to Thursday morning, to the exact moment she first laid eyes on Markos. This time around, he wouldn’t be on the flight, and she’d be sitting in coach, not first class. Tatiyana didn’t care. She’d achieved her goal, successfully seduced the hotshot attorney with the successful law practice, and she had the recording to prove it. As hard as it was, she had to put aside her feelings and forget the passionate nights they’d shared, because she was going to help her sister, by any means necessary.
Chapter 9
“Princess, is that you?” Lena Washington asked.
Entering the foyer of her three-bedroom bungalow in Sherman Oaks, Tatiyana dropped her keys on the marble table and took off her sunglasses. “Yeah, Mom, it’s me,” she said, kicking off her bejeweled ballet flats. The air smelled of okra and shrimp, tantalizing and delicious, and Tatiyana suspected Lena was making her famous seafood gumbo for dinner.
Starving, her mouth watered in anticipation. It was good to be home. Her flight had been uneventful, borin
g without Markos around to keep her company, so to pass the time she’d looked at the pictures and videos they’d taken in Tampa. Thankfully, she was sitting alone, because it would have been impossible for her to hide her guilt, and the tears that filled her eyes as she reflected on her weekend with Markos and his family. Daphne had called as she was leaving LAX, inviting her over for drinks, but Tatiyana was tired. She had promised her friend they’d have dinner tomorrow night after they volunteered at the shelter.
Tatiyana dumped her purse on the wooden bench and set off down the hall in search of her family. She’d only been gone for a few days, but it felt like weeks since she’d seen Allie, and Tatiyana was looking forward to spending time with her niece.
Hearing pots clanging and 70s music playing, Tatiyana headed for the kitchen. Bright and sunny with large windows, it had peach wallpaper and potted plants, and the cozy nook overlooking the backyard had comfortable furniture and vibrant pillow cushions. The kitchen was Tatiyana’s favorite room in the house, where she spent most of her free time, and when she wasn’t experimenting with recipes she was baking brownies for the volunteers at the women’s shelter. As expected, her mom was standing at the breakfast bar, chopping vegetables, and singing along with the radio. Her mother’s full name was Cornelia, but she thought it was old-fashioned and insisted her friends and family call her Lena, like the iconic singer and actress.
Full-figured, with toffee brown skin, Lena had a youthful, fun-loving vibe. A self-proclaimed cougar, she told male suitors her daughters were her younger sisters and lied about her age. Tatiyana didn’t like it, wished her mom was proud of being fifty-five-years-old, but there was nothing she could do about it. Lena changed her appearance on a daily basis, and her thick bangs, dramatic eye makeup and gold belted sundress made her resemble Cleopatra.
“Welcome home,” Lena said, kissing her cheek. “How was your trip?”
“Uneventful. What’s up with the outfit? Hot date tonight?”
“You know it! I met a stockbroker at the bank yesterday, and he’s taking me out for dinner, so I need you to watch Allie tonight.”
Hearing her stomach groan, she grabbed a handful of chopped carrots and tossed some into her mouth. “Sure. Not a problem. I’d love to.”
“How did things go in Tampa?” Her eyes were bright with interest, and her voice was full of excitement. “Did you get close to Markos Morretti?”
“Mom, let’s talk about something else.”
“What?” Inclining her head to the right, an incredulous expression on her face, she stuck a hand on her broad hip. “Don’t play coy with me. It was my idea for you to befriend him, remember? Now, spill it. I’m dying to know what happened.”
Tatiyana balked, vehemently shaking her head. No way. She couldn’t do it. They were close, but she wasn’t going to tell Lena about the intimate things she’d done with Markos. They were private, treasured memories, experiences so special they were locked away in her heart. “Mom, I’m not going to discuss my personal life with you—”
“What personal life?” she quipped. “Hell, I go on more dates than you, and I’ll be fifty-six on my next birthday!”
That’s because you’re always on the prowl for a new boy toy. Lena loved men, the younger the better, and spent hours online flirting with other lonely singles in LA. For as long as Tatiyana could remember, her mother had always been man-crazy, and her behavior baffled her.
Painful memories darkened her thoughts. Growing up, she’d seen men come and go from their shabby, inner-city apartment on a daily basis. It had saddened her how they’d disrespected her mom. They took her money and used her car without permission, but were nowhere to be found when Lena needed them. Tatiyana didn’t know who her father was, had never met him, but her mom’s older brother had raised her as his own. Byron was a marine stationed in North Carolina, and she’d seen him only a handful of times since graduating from high school, but Tatiyana knew if she ever needed her uncle he’d be on the first flight to LA. “Where’s Jantel?”
“You have to ask? In bed as usual.”
“How long has Allie been sleeping?”
Glancing at the wall clock, Lena tossed a handful of chopped celery into the bubbling pot. “About an hour, but she should be up soon for her bottle.”
“I’m going to go talk to Jantel.”
“Okay, but hurry back. I want to hear all about your weekend with that smug attorney.”
Dodging her mother’s gaze, she pretended to inspect her gel nails. Her first thought was to lie, her second to flee, but if she did, Lena would be hot on her trail, so Tatiyana shrugged and said, “There’s nothing to tell. He did his thing at the charity golf tournament, and I did mine.”
“We’ll at least you tried,” she said with a sad smile. “I’m not giving up. Mayor Glover took advantage of my baby girl, and I’m going to make sure he does right by Jantel and Allie, even if it means making daily visits to his office.”
“Mom, we agreed I’d handle it—”
“Fine, but if you don’t arrange a meeting soon, the ball’s back in my court.”
Groaning inwardly, Tatiyana fled the kitchen. Her mom had a temper, and Tatiyana feared what would happen when Lena came face-to-face with the mayor. She walked down the hall, munching on her snack, thoughts of Markos on her mind. What was he doing? Was he with one of his girlfriends? Tatiyana couldn’t stop thinking about him and wondered if he was thinking about her, too. As if! He’s a Morretti. Females threw themselves at him 24/7, and hanging out with him at the golf tournament had proved it—he loved the attention, and would never be content with one woman.
Tatiyana stopped at the end of the hall and peeked into her sister’s room. The TV was on, but Jantel wasn’t watching it. She was curled up in bed, staring out the window.
Entering the room, Tatiyana stepped over dirty clothes, ripped magazines and discarded candy wrappers. The air smelled of garbage, but she resisted the urge to plug her nose and sat on the edge of the bed. “Hey, you,” she said in a cheery voice. “Do you want to go for a walk? It’s gorgeous outside, and it would be a waste to spend the entire day in bed.”
“Maybe another time.”
Her voice was small, so quiet Tatiyana strained to hear her. Months ago, Jantel’s psychiatrist had prescribed anti-depressants, but her sister refused to take them. These days, her mood was dark, and negative.
“You have group therapy this week,” she reminded her. “Is it okay if I come? I missed your last session because I had a job interview, but I have no plans on Thursday.”
“I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
Jantel pulled the blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes.
“Sis, talk to me. Why don’t you want to go to group?”
“Because...” She trailed off speaking.
“Because what?”
“Hearing other people’s stories makes me feel worse about my situation.”
“Would you like to meet with Dr. Chopra alone?”
“I don’t know.”
The silence was deafening, the air thick with sadness and despair.
“Jantel, hang in there. I know it’s been a rough year for you, but things will get better—”
“How?” she shouted. “I’m a screwup!”
“No, you’re not. You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“I slept with a man who doesn’t want me, got pregnant and now I have a sick child to take care of. I have no job, and medical bills I can’t afford to pay.” Wiping at her eyes, she spoke in a whisper. “Life sucks, and it won’t get better.”
Tatiyana sighed deeply. Her sister’s words echoed in her mind, conjuring up images she couldn’t escape. Her mother had worked two, sometimes three jobs, and as a tween Tatiyana was left in charge of the house. She’d been taking care of Jantel since they were yo
ung, and it broke her heart to see her sister in pain. Two years ago, her sister was a popular bartender at an exclusive gentleman’s club. Jantel, and four exotic dancers had been hired for the Mayor’s bachelor party and even though Jantel loved flirting with her customers, she didn’t seduce Mayor Glover. He’d willingly hooked up with her, and he needed to do the right thing for Allie.
“It’s me against the world,” she continued. “I have no one.”
“That’s not true. You have me, Mom, Everly and Uncle Byron. We’ll always be here for you.” They’d had this conversation numerous times, but the more Tatiyana tried to reason with Jantel, the more bitter she seemed. Still, she pressed on, reminding her about all the people who were in her corner. “Jantel, you’re not alone. You have the support of your family, and everyone at the women’s center. We’re here for you whenever you need us. And for Allie, too.”
“How am I supposed to take care of her? I have no job, no hope, no future.”
“Don’t say things like that.” Tatiyana took her sister’s hand and held it tight. It was cold and clammy, and trembling uncontrollably. “We’re family. I have your back.”
“But Allie’s sick. I can’t take care of myself, let alone a sick child. How am I going to pay her medical bills? And what if something happens to me? Who will raise her?”
A searing pain stabbed her heart. Tatiyana’s eyes watered, but she willed herself to be strong. Two weeks ago, after Allie had trouble breathing and was rushed to the emergency room, they’d learned her niece had Ventricular Septal Defect, a genetic abnormality in her heart, and needed surgery. Doctors were confident the procedure would be a success, but Jantel had been stressing about all the things that could go wrong since they’d left the clinic.
“Jantel, be positive. The medical staff at the hospital have high hopes for Allie, and so do I. She’ll pull through. I know it.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Tatiyana refused to entertain the thought, couldn’t imagine anything happening to her niece. Allie was a vibrant, energetic baby who was achieving all of her developmental milestones, and the surgery would be a success. It had to be. Her niece was the pride and joy of their family, and Tatiyana was going to make sure she received the best medical care. “The surgery has an 83 percent success rate if performed within three months of diagnosis—”