Say It Ain't So

by La Jill Hunt

Paisley was moving around a little better, but she rarely got out of bed. It was as if she had no energy. Seymone was really becoming concerned.

  “I think you need to go and get checked out,” Seymone suggested.

  “I’m fine. I’ll go when it’s time to get this cast off. It’s the only thing bothering me at this point.” Paisley reached for the remote and turned on the TV. It was almost time for The Young and the Restless. Soap operas had become her new vice. She hoped Seymone would get the hint and leave her alone.

  “Warren was released from the hospital this morning.” Seymone passed Paisley a stack of mail.

  Paisley quickly turned off the television and focused her attention on her friend. “What? How do you know?”

  “It was just announced on the radio. I heard it while I was on my way back from picking up the mail at The Playground. Some ladies stopped by while I was there, too. Mrs. Nancy and Mrs. Blake. They both send their love. Really nice ladies.”

  “Yeah, they are. What did the radio say about Warren?”

  “Nothing. He was released from the hospital this morning, that’s all.” Seymone hesitated, then said, “I told the ladies that classes would resume next week.”

  Paisley looked at her like she was crazy. “Why would you tell them that? In case you didn’t notice, I still can hardly walk and not to mention I have a big-ass cast on my arm!”

  “I know.” Seymone nodded and turned to walk out of the room.

  “Wait, where the hell are you going? You come in here making two announcements like that and you think you’re just gonna walk out like it’s no big deal?” Paisley was confused.

  “What? OK, Warren got out the hospital. I thought that would be good news for you. You’ve been moping around for days because you were worried about him. He’s well enough to leave and go home.” Seymone folded her arms and then said, “You’ve got clients beating down your door and the studio is booked for weeks. I know you were in an accident, but you’ve also been acting like your head is so far up your ass that you can’t even think about the success of your business.”

  “What the hell do you mean?”

  “Everyone has been asking you about the studio and you brush them off like it’s no big deal. It’s been damn near two weeks since the accident. I go to that studio two or three times a week: picking up mail, making sure it’s locked up, checking the messages, and not once did you ask me to resume the classes for you.”

  “And I’m not going to ask, either. Why would I do that? Hell, let’s be real. I figured the success of my studio wasn’t your concern. The same way your wedding and your new house isn’t mine,” Paisley snapped. There, I said it. I didn’t want to, but I did. Who the hell does Seymone think she is? It was one thing to sit with her at home while I healed, but now this wench is coming in and trying to take over. Hell no.

  “So, are we back on that again? Me and Bobby?”

  “I don’t give a damn about Bobby! That nigga don’t mean shit to me! This is about you not telling me you had even started planning the wedding or you were building a house,” Paisley huffed.

  “First of all, I’m not building a house. Bobby and I were looking at houses the day before you got into the accident, and had talked about hiring a builder. Second, you know I’m engaged. I am thinking about what I want in my wedding, but we haven’t even set a date yet.”

  Paisley stared at Seymone and processed what she had just said. She felt bad because she had had an attitude with Seymone since the day she and Fallon squared off over Warren.

  “I know you’re going through a lot, Paisley, but I’m here for you whether you like it or not and if that means I work at the studio until you hire someone, then that’s what I gotta do.” Seymone turned and left the room before Paisley had the opportunity to respond.

  When she was alone, Paisley lay back on her pillow and cried. It was as if she were on some fast moving carnival ride that was taking her up and down, through flips and turns, and she couldn’t get off. Her life was turned upside down and she couldn’t get right-side up. She picked up her phone and dialed Warren’s cell phone number. Her heart began pounding when, instead of going straight to voice mail as it had the last few times she called, it rang. She prayed that he would answer. Instead, after five or six rings, the voice mail did pick up. She thought about hanging up, then, in a moment of boldness, she decided to leave a message.

  “Warren, it’s me. I heard you were released from the hospital and I . . . I’m relieved . . . I’m glad you’re okay. I was hoping I could talk to you . . . Just call me when you get this message.” Her voice was shaking. She ended the call and threw her phone onto the nightstand. She snuggled deep under her covers and decided to lose herself in a heavy slumber.

  “Paisley.” There was a knock at the door, and Seymone stuck her head in. “You have a visitor.”

  “Who is it?” Paisley said without opening her eyes.

  “Dr. Singleton.”

  Paisley’s eyes popped open. She wondered if she had heard Seymone wrong, and sat up. “On the phone?”

  “No, here . . . Downstairs.”

  “What do you mean downstairs?”

  “Damn, Paisley, wake up. He’s downstairs.”

  “What is he doing here? How did he even know where I lived?”

  “You keep asking me questions that you need to be asking him.” Seymone frowned.

  “Tell him to give me a few minutes to get dressed,” Paisley told her.

  “Okay,” Seymone sighed, and went back down the stairs where the handsome doctor was waiting.

  Paisley went into the bathroom and washed her face. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and realized how horrible she looked. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and badly needed washing. She still had scrapes on her forehead and bruises under her eye and on her cheek. Her neck was peeling from the chemical burns. In addition, having missed her weekly facial resulted in blemishes and pimples, which were especially worse since it was almost time for her period.

  I gotta get it together, she thought. I’m breaking down and it’s damn sure not a good look.

  “Paisley, Dr. Singleton says you don’t have to come down. He can come up,” Seymone announced through the bathroom door. “He came over to check on you. Fallon told him it was okay.”

  “I’m gonna kill Fallon,” Paisley hissed. “Fine, bring him up.”

  Paisley hurried and got herself together as best as she could. Instead of getting back into bed, she went into the sitting area and settled on the sofa.

  “And how are you?” Dr. Singleton asked, entering the room. Seymone sat on Paisley’s bed, staying nearby in case the doctor tried anything funny. She didn’t care how fine he was, she wasn’t taking any chances.

  “I’m good.” She was surprised to see that he was dressed in jeans, a crisp, white shirt, and a sports jacket. He was carrying a small, black medical bag.

  “What’s that look for?” he asked.

  “I guess I thought you’d have on a lab jacket.” She smiled.

  “I only wear that in the hospital,” he told her. “If you would’ve come into the office like you were supposed to, I would’ve had it on.”

  “I really wasn’t up to coming out,” she told him.

  “Yes, that’s what Ms. Baxter said when I called her.”

  “You called Ms. Baxter?” Paisley blinked.

  “Yes, my receptionist was concerned about what you told her, and I had some concerns of my own,” he confessed. “So, I called her this afternoon. She had given me her card when you were released from the hospital.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Paisley responded.

  “How have you been feeling?” he asked.

  “I’m getting better,” she told him.

  “If you don’t mind, I just wanted to come by and check you out. I know you have some reservations about coming into the office, and that’s understandable,” he said, reaching into the bag and taking out a stethoscope.

 
He gave her a brief checkup and made sure she was healing properly. “Everything looks good. It looks like minimal scarring from the chemical burns on your neck. The bruising on your legs and face is improving, so that’s a good thing. We just need to get that cast off in about five weeks. And I would like to schedule some physical therapy for you, just to make sure your leg muscles are getting exercise and you can regain your full strength.”

  He reached into his bag and passed her a piece of paper. “Here’s a referral to a great therapy center near the hospital.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Paisley told him.

  “Ms. Lawrence, I’m really trying here, but you’re being a difficult patient. I’m only trying to help you.” He frowned, still holding the paper out. “I know you’re going through a lot—”

  “I beg your pardon, Dr. Singleton,” Paisley interrupted him. Pointing to the degree hanging on the wall near her desk, she informed him, “I’m a licensed physical therapist myself. The best in the business.”

  “Oh, really? I’m sorry I didn’t know that. I just thought you were . . . a . . . model.” Dr. Singleton gave her a weak smile.

  “It’s all good,” Paisley told him, glancing at Seymone. “It’s not something a lot of people know about me.”

  “Well, do you work at a facility or at a center in the area?” Dr. Singleton put the paper back in his bag.

  “She works in the area.” Seymone smiled.

  Paisley gave her an ugly look. “I choose not to work in a clinical setting.”

  “But you say you’re the best in the business,” he reminded her.

  “I am,” she replied. “I tried the clinical setting for a while. I worked at two different facilities, but the staff at both of them always had something to say about who I was and my ‘other’ career that I was known for. I found that I was becoming more of a distraction than anything.”

  “That’s a shame,” he told her.

  “She has her own private practice now,” Seymone volunteered.

  “Really? Where?” Dr. Singleton’s attention was now drawn to Seymone.

  “She runs The Playground,” Seymone answered.

  “The Playground?” Dr. Singleton looked deep in thought. “I’ve never heard of that. Is that a pediatric facility?”

  Seymone could no longer hold her laughter. Paisley closed her eyes and shook her head in embarrassment. “No, it’s not. It’s a fitness facility for women.”

  “Paisley teaches Strip-Hop and Eroticize classes. It enhances their sexuality while promoting physical fitness.”

  Seymone walked into the sitting area and sat on the arm of the sofa. “It also gives women a boost of self-esteem.”

  “Wow, sounds interesting,” Dr. Singleton told them.

  “Dr. Singleton, you said you had some reservations about me coming into the office. Why was that?” Paisley decidedly changed the subject.

  “Well, we received some strange calls at the office questioning the time of your appointment this morning. And when we refused to give out the information, the person became a bit threatening.” Dr. Singleton looked uncomfortable.

  “Oh, hell no.” Paisley shook her head. “What do you mean, threatening?”

  “How did they even know Paisley had an appointment?” Seymone frowned.

  “I don’t know, but they did,” Dr. Singleton said. “That’s when I called Ms. Baxter and she gave me the go ahead to come by.”

  Paisley wondered why Fallon didn’t call and tell her all of this herself. She began to get the feeling that even having a security system wouldn’t keep her safe.

  “I appreciate your concern and coming,” Paisley said, distracted by what he just told her. “I’ll call when it’s time to get the cast off.”

  “No, I’ll come by to check on you. I want to make sure you’re regaining the strength in those leg muscles.”

  “I’ll call and schedule an appointment.” Paisley fought the urge to stare into his handsome face.

  “No need. I’ll be here same time next week. I’ll save you the trouble of trying to come up with an excuse to cancel in case you try to.” He passed her his card. “Call me if you need anything before then. And get some rest, Ms. Lawrence, doctor’s orders.”

  “Yes, sir.” Paisley took the card from his hand.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Seymone offered. She walked him downstairs and thanked him again. “I really appreciate your making a house call.”

  “It wasn’t a problem. After the strange phone calls, and after talking to Ms. Baxter, I knew it was the right thing to do. She needed to be checked out, but I can understand her hesitance. And, considering the circumstances, it’s probably a good thing she didn’t come in. It wasn’t safe.” Dr. Singleton’s eyes were filled with as much concern as his voice. They stood in the foyer of Paisley’s house, talking.

  “It’s pretty rough for her.”

  “You’re a good friend for being there for her through all of this,” he said.

  “Thanks, sometimes I wonder.” Seymone laughed.

  The doorbell rang, catching both of them off guard.

  “Who could that be?” Seymone’s eyes widened and her heart began beating with fear.

  “You’re not expecting anyone?” Dr. Singleton asked as Seymone stepped in front of him and looked through the peephole.

  “No,” she told him. She made a small gasp and opened the door. “Bobby!”

  Bobby

  See, this is the bullshit I’m talking about. I fly all the way the hell down here to make sure things are cool, and what’s the first thing I see when I get to Paisley’s house? Seymone talking to another nigga. I swear, I try to give that girl the benefit of the doubt, but she can’t be trusted. Maybe I went against my better judgment when I proposed to her. I mean, at twenty-seven, I am still young and I have my whole life ahead of me. But, Seymone Davis is a helluva catch. She’s fine as hell and all my boys want her. Sometimes, I can’t believe I got her ass. But then again, why should I be surprised?

  I’m Bobby Taylor, all-star running back for the Atlanta Falcons. I’m the catch. I just gotta refine her ass a little bit. Even if she is gorgeous and successful, she still got some major changes to make before I make her my wife. I wanted her ass to thicken up a little bit, because I was never one for skinny chicks, and she’s put on about ten pounds. That’s cool, but she betta be careful because I can’t be with no fat chick either.

  Now, I gotta get rid of that damn Paisley. I can’t stand that trick. She thinks she’s all that and she ain’t. Granted, she’s the one I was trying to go after until I found out what a bitch she was. I can’t believe she laughed at me when I told her I thought she would be the perfect woman for me. It’s cool though, because Seymone ain’t find nothing funny about my ass, and before Paisley could even blink, I had her on my arm and wearing my ring.

  Hahaha, my timing was perfect. Paisley had come up with this whack-ass idea about some stripper school and actually thought Seymone would be dumb enough to go into business with her. I stopped that shit real quick. There’s no way any woman of mine was gonna be shaking her ass for all the world to see. Not if she’s gonna be Mrs. Bobby Taylor. Hmph. Seymone is a quick study though, I gotta give it to her. She hasn’t been in a video in a couple of months, and I know the offers have been pouring in. That white girl Fallon ain’t been too happy about that. But I bet her ass don’t say nothing to me about it. Things were moving in the right direction until Paisley got into this accident. Now I see I gotta come give Seymone’s ass a quick intervention.

  “What’s up, baby?” Bobby stepped into the house and gave Seymone a kiss. He looked Dr. Singleton up and down, then turned back to Seymone and asked, “Who is this?”

  “Baby, this is Paisley’s doctor, Evan Singleton. Evan, this is my fiancé, Bobby Taylor.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Evan nodded.

  “I ain’t know doctors made house calls.” Bobby continued to stare, his arm remaining around Seymone’s waist and holding her close t
o him, marking his territory.

  “The dedicated ones still do.” Dr. Singleton shrugged. “Seymone, I’ll see you next week when I come back to check on Paisley. Until then, you both have my number.”

  “Okay, Dr. Singleton.” Seymone opened the door for him.

  “Evan,” he told her.

  “Evan,” she repeated.

  Bobby didn’t like the way Dr. Singleton was looking at Seymone. It’s a good thing I got here when I did, he thought. I gotta nip this shit in the bud.

  Chapter 8

  “Lord, you’ve gotta help me. I am trying to do the best I can, but it’s not working. It’s bad enough I feel like I’m a prisoner in my own home because of some sick bastard out there trying to get me. But now, of all people, Bobby Taylor is in my house. I can’t stand his arrogant, pragmatic, wanna-be-bad, thinks-he’s-God’s-gift ass and I know he can’t stand mine. I know I asked you to help me out with my mother, and you did. But can you please help me out one more time, please? Oh, and God, thanks for healing Warren and making him better . . .

  Bzzzzzz. . . . Bzzzzzzz. . . . Bzzzzzzz.

  Paisley’s cell phone began vibrating. She picked it up and saw that she had a text message. She went to the inbox, and rubbed her eyes to make sure that she wasn’t mistaken. There was a message from Warren. She hurriedly opened it and read:

  I’m OK, baby, and I’m gonna make sure you’re OK too. Love you.

  She dialed his number, but again, only got his voice mail. Although she was relieved to hear from him, she was frustrated that she still wasn’t able to talk to him. She sent him a text back telling him to call her ASAP and waited, hoping her phone would ring and his voice would be on the other end. She had to find out why he was saying he didn’t know her; what the method to his madness was.

  “So, how long do you plan on being here?” Bobby’s voice drifted into her room. Paisley crept over to her bedroom door, opened it a crack and strained to hear them. She still couldn’t believe he was even at her house. When Seymone had walked into her bedroom and told her he was there, she almost made a smart comment until she saw him standing in the doorway.