by La Jill Hunt
Paisley nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“She suspects,” Chester corrected her. “She doesn’t know.”
“I do know.” Paisley looked Officer Bell in the eye. She knew that the female officer liked her and felt confident that she would believe her. “Remember you told me to remember the little things, even things that seem insignificant can be the biggest clues?”
“Yeah,” Officer Bell said. “Do you remember something?”
“His scent. The smell each time he was near me. That lingering muskiness,” Paisley told her. “Today, Bishop Arnold just shows up at my home to talk to me. He’s never been here before and I’ve never met him until today. And when he left, I could smell it. It’s him.”
Officer Jenson looked at her like she was telling a joke, and Chester gave her a look that clearly read, I told you so!
“That’s it?” Officer Jenson asked.
“Yes.” Paisley nodded. “You don’t think it’s strange that all of a sudden this man I don’t even know shows up at my house?”
“Well, considering his niece just took out a restraining order against you and had you served at your address, he probably got the address from her.”
“Whatever,” Paisley snapped at him, then turned to Officer Bell. “You have to believe me. I know it’s him. I could feel it. I want him arrested.”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Paisley. But we can’t go and arrest someone without having a little more concrete evidence that he’s done what you’re accusing him of,” Officer Bell told her.
“Oh, I get it. The bishop’s niece can come to the station and make up lies about me stalking her and her husband and take out a restraining order, but there’s nothing I can do about my being stalked because I’m a whore, right?” Paisley could feel the tears stinging her eyes.
“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Officer Bell replied. “Let me check into this and I promise I’ll let you know what I find. I told you we’re gonna catch him, whether it’s the bishop or not.”
“In the meantime, stay away from the Cobbs,” Officer Jenson reminded her.
“I’ll make sure she does,” Chester assured him.
“You have my number,” Officer Bell told her. “Call me if you remember anything else. Anything.”
“Thanks,” Paisley mumbled. I need a damn drink, she thought, craving the taste of Jack and Coke from Warren’s mouth.
Emma Jean
“Good evening. I’m your host, Leslie Dickey and tonight on Gospel Central we have with us the Prince of Praise, the unconquerable Warren Cobb, and his wife, Kollette. Welcome, we are so happy to have you here with us,” the reporter said. The sound of Warren Cobb’s name caused Emma Jean to look up from her sudoku puzzle. Warren Cobb was dressed in a crisp white shirt, jeans, and a brown blazer, looking just as handsome as ever, although a bit uncomfortable. He is fine. I can see why Paisley was with him. It was the first time Emma Jean had seen his wife, who was sitting next to him, her arm possessively wrapped around his. She looks nothing like I pictured her to look like. I would have never put the two of them together. She reached for the remote, not interested in anything he or his wife had to say, but her curiosity got the best of her, and she continued to watch.
“It’s so nice to be here,” Kollette gushed, smiling a little too hard.
“Warren, congratulations on your accomplishments this year: an American Music Award, two Grammys, three Stellar Awards, three Essence Awards, three from the NAACP. Other than an Oscar and an Emmy, is there anything you didn’t win this year?” The pretty brown TV host’s voice was rich and her smile was warm. Her natural hair was worn neatly in small twists. Emma Jean could see why she was on television; there was something inviting about her, like you wanted to be her friend. It would have made more sense for her to be married to Warren Cobb, rather than the unattractive woman beside him.
Warren laughed, “What can I say, Leslie, it’s been a good year. God is good and I thank Him continually for His favor.”
“I know that’s right,” Leslie said, “but there have been some hardships for you the past few months. You were seriously injured in a car accident and were in a coma for some days.”
“Yes, he was, Leslie,” Kollette spoke before Warren could respond. “It was touch and go, girl. My husband almost died!”
“It was a bit of a setback.” Warren tried to ease his arm from her grasp, but Kollette held on. “But, you know, I believe that setbacks are just setups for even greater comebacks, Leslie, and after coming back from being in a coma, there’s no telling what God has in store.”
“I know that’s right, Warren. Maybe even that Oscar or Emmy that’s missing off your shelf,” Leslie laughed. “Are you going back in the studio soon?”
“Most definitely. The accident has certainly caused me to put a lot of things into perspective that will be reflected on the new album,” Warren told her.
“This near-death experience has brought Warren and me closer as husband and wife. We have a newfound appreciation for each other, and there are some people out there who truly don’t want to see us happy, mainly Paisley Lawrence, who caused the accident. The devil is always so busy. Just this morning, we had to file a restraining order against her,” Kollette announced. The look on Warren’s face was horrific and even the host was stunned.
“Oh my,” Leslie said. “That was the young woman who was in the car with you during the accident, right?”
“Yes, that’s her!” Kollette said. “Since this horrible incident occurred, she continues to harass my husband. She calls, sends text messages, Paisley Lawrence is stalking my husband. And now, in retaliation, she’s posting these pictures of her and my husband on her Web site. Just disrespectful.”
Emma Jean watched in devastation as photos of her daughter’s blurred, partially nude body posed with Warren Cobb appeared on the television screen. She’s lying, Emma Jean instinctively thought, Paisley wouldn’t do anything so desperate. That’s not even her style. It was as if some mysterious maternal sense kicked in and assured her that Paisley hadn’t done any of the things this woman was saying that she did.
“I’m so sorry you all have to go through all of this,” Leslie said sympathetically.
“Warren and I would just like to ask the fans to keep us in prayer because on top of his still going through all of this, we have another setback in our lives.” Kollette’s eyes welled up with tears and she spoke directly into the camera. “I’ve been diagnosed with cancer.”
“Oh my.” Leslie reached over and grabbed Kollette’s hand. She began tearing up as well. “Kollette, I had no idea.”
“This is just such a difficult time for my husband and our family. My uncle, Bishop Julian Arnold, has been our spiritual rock and we are claiming victory over all of this,” Kollette said.
Unable to take any more, Emma Jean turned the television off. At that moment, her husband, Gordon, walked into their bedroom.
“You turned the TV off, EJ? Umph, baby, I wasn’t expecting it, not on a Sunday night.” He began taking his shirt off and smiling.
“Gordon, leave your shirt on,” she told him.
Ignoring his own slight disappointment and noticing the worried look on his wife’s face, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
Emma Jean shook her head. “Warren Cobb and his wife were just on television giving an interview. They said that Paisley is stalking him and they’ve taken out a restraining order on her. And now there’s some picture of Warren and Paisley from some magazine.”
“Stalking? Paisley wouldn’t do anything like that,” he said, sitting beside his wife.
“I know she wouldn’t. Paisley’s too classy to be that desperate,” Emma Jean told him. “I’m not worried about that.”
“What are you worried about then, EJ?”
“The repercussions this is gonna have and the fallout this is going to cause. This woman just announced to the world that not only has our daughter been stalking her husband, but also that she
has cancer. It’s not gonna be pretty and I wonder if Paisley is gonna be able to handle all of this, Gordon.”
“You know Paisley’s a strong woman, Emma Jean. She’s smart, beautiful, and talented, just like her mother. We raised her that way.” He put his arm around her.
We raised her that way. If we did such a great job raising her, then why did she leave when she was seventeen? If we were such great parents, then why did our daughter become a video vixen rather than a pediatrician or a teacher? If I’m such a great mother, then why, when my friends talk about their daughters getting married and having kids, do I feel like I will never be given that opportunity? I know that I was hard on Paisley growing up. But it was as if all anyone wanted to talk about was how pretty or beautiful she was, and I didn’t want her to grow up thinking that because she had been blessed with good looks, she was entitled to any more than anyone else. The beautiful people are what I call them. My sister and her son, Chester, were beautiful people. And so was Paisley, but I wanted her to value hard work and education. I wanted her to see that life wasn’t easy. So I critiqued and criticized, the same way my mother did me, so that when life became hard, she would know how to succeed in the face of adversity. And for a while, it worked. Paisley excelled academically, athletically, and socially. And just when I began seeing the fruits of my labor, I came home to find that Paisley and her bedroom set were gone. Our relationship had worsened over the years, eventually turning into forced conversations lasting a few minutes when Paisley called to talk to Gordon. It was as if she didn’t know what to say. Paisley has become this person that I no longer know. But as much as I tried to give up, that maternal instinct wouldn’t leave. I still hold a longing and love for my daughter, and want to be there for her, I just don’t know how. Even after the accident, Paisley pushed me away.
“I don’t know how she’s gonna handle this, Gordon.” She leaned into her husband’s strong body. She envied that he was still able to hold on to his relationship with Paisley after all this time.
“Why don’t you call her and ask?” he suggested.
Emma Jean looked into her husband’s eyes. He’s always such an optimist. It was as if he still believed that they were a happy family. She smiled and said, “The TV’s off. Why do you still have your shirt on?”
“Like I always said, like mother, like daughter,” Gordon teased.
Chapter 21
“This is bad, really bad,” Fallon said, sitting in Paisley’s office. She flipped through the stack of newspapers she’d picked up on her way to the studio. News of Warren and Paisley had made several of them and the Internet was swarming with the picture and it wasn’t even eight in the morning. Fallon had picked her up before dawn from Chester’s house, where she had spent the night. Knowing the press would be hot on their heels, they decided to get an early start.
“I know, it can’t get any worse,” Paisley agreed. She had been in a state of shock from the moment she had gotten the call telling her to turn to the weekly gospel show.
“Jamison Grossman is on his way over here.” Fallon referred to her friend, who had been their longtime attorney.
“What are we gonna do?” Paisley asked. “This is unbelievable.”
“We’re gonna come up with a game plan, for starters.”
Paisley and Fallon both looked up to see Ebonie Monroe, Warren’s publicist, standing in the doorway.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Paisley stood up. “You need to get the hell out right now!”
“Wait, Paisley. I swear, I didn’t have anything to do with any of this. I didn’t even have a clue,” Ebonie told her.
“How did you even get in here?” Paisley asked, knowing that she locked all the doors after they came in.
“Some guy with an orange afro,” Ebonie told them.
I thought Chester was lying when he said he would be here in a few minutes.
“What do you want? Why are you here?” Fallon demanded. “Shouldn’t you be with your client scheduling more interviews between his wife’s chemo?”
“I no longer work for Warren, his wife fired me,” Ebonie told them.
“What?” Fallon asked, looking at her suspiciously.
“Kollette fired me. She fired me Saturday night, before any of this took place.”
“Why? What did you do?” Paisley sat back down in her chair. “I guess you can come in and have a seat.”
Ebonie walked into the office, briefcase in hand, neatly dressed in a brown and white silk top, pair of brown pants, and matching heels. She took a seat beside Fallon and told them, “She called me late Saturday night demanding that I meet her at the office to help her ‘strategize.’ I got out of bed and went to meet her and she was livid; going on and on about how you keep disrespecting her and her marriage and she was going to make you pay. She had come up with some of the craziest schemes I have ever heard. When I refused to go along with them, she fired me.”
“What did Warren have to say about her firing you?” Fallon asked. “Isn’t he the one you work for?”
“Well, technically, I work for the Ministry. I was just assigned to Warren. And when it comes to Kollette, Julian Arnold does whatever she tells him to do. If she wanted to, she could have Warren fired!” Ebonie told them.
“That’s crazy.” Paisley shook her head. “Poor Warren.”
“You shouldn’t feel bad for Warren, Paisley.” Ebonie sighed. “He knows that he is the moneymaker for the Ministry and he could have a lot more control if he wanted to. This situation over the past few months has made me realize that Warren Cobb doesn’t have backbone.”
“I’ve been saying that for a while now,” Fallon agreed.
“Paisley, I know more than you think I know. I know that Warren knows you and has known you for some time. I know that most of the songs that he writes, he writes for you. I know that he was in love with you but through the years, you all have remained just friends. I know that he was drinking the night of the accident. And I know that he didn’t have the balls to even stand up to his wife or anyone else and tell them that despite your career differences, you are his friend.”
As Ebonie spoke, Paisley felt the burden she had been carrying for years begin to lighten. It was as if someone finally knew and understood what she had been going through and dealing with. Someone finally knew the truth and she didn’t have to sell anyone out.
“Oh my God,” Fallon said. “Paisley, is that true?”
Paisley nodded. “Yeah.”
“I also know that you love him, Paisley. I understand why because I loved him too,” Ebonie confessed.
“Were you . . . Did you,” Paisley couldn’t help asking.
Ebonie quickly said, “No, we were never together, not at all. I will admit that I was plotting for a while. Anyone who knows Warren knows that he really doesn’t love his wife, so I thought I had a chance. I even tried a few times, and he rejected me. I thought it was because he was having an affair with someone else. But I couldn’t figure out with whom and how. I made Warren’s schedule and I knew his whereabouts at all times. So there was no way it was anyone visible.”
“So, how did you find out about Paisley?” Fallon turned and asked.
“The accident,” Ebonie sighed. “I figured something was up. And when I mentioned the problems Paisley was having with the constant paparazzi and the stalker, Warren was adamant about having Landon, who has been his personal security for the past two years, leave his side to be with you. Landon wasn’t happy at all, but Warren insisted. I think knowing that Landon was there gave him a bit of relief. I realized then that there was more to you than he cared to share and I wasn’t the only one.” Ebonie sat back and crossed her legs.
Paisley stared at her suspiciously, wondering if she should trust this woman who, until a few hours ago, worked for the people who were attempting to slander her and make her life miserable.
“I assume you’re talking about Kollette,” Fallon commented.
“Yes, Kollette, and Bishop A
rnold had his concerns as well,” Ebonie answered.
At the mention of the bishop’s name, Paisley stood up. “I’ll bet! That bastard probably had a lot to say about me.”
“Here we go.” Fallon shook her head.
Ebonie gave her a strange look. “Did I miss something?”
“Let’s just say the bishop is at the top of Paisley’s suspect list of possible stalkers,” Fallon sighed.
“The bishop?” Ebonie asked. “Bishop Julian Arnold?”
“I know, you think that’s ridiculous, right? Everyone does. No one thinks that he’s capable of doing something like that, so that makes me crazy.” Paisley began ruffling through a stack of papers on her desk. “Go ahead, say it.”
“I’m not saying you’re crazy,” Ebonie told her. “I wouldn’t put anything past anyone. One thing I’ve learned in this business is that people are capable of anything. Christian or not, people are human.”
“You’re right about that,” Fallon said.
“I will say that stalking you is not something that Bishop Arnold is likely to do.” Ebonie shrugged. “I just don’t see that happening. What makes you think that it’s him?”
A knock on the door stopped Paisley from answering Ebonie’s question. They looked up to see Paisley’s attorney, Jamison Grossman, standing in the doorway. Paisley couldn’t help smiling when she saw the look on Ebonie’s face. It was the same reaction most women had when they saw him. Lust at first sight. And rightly so. To say that Jamison, who they affectionately called ‘Jimmy Jam,’ was handsome, would be like saying Jill Scott could sing. It was a true understatement at least. Jimmy stood six foot tall and his well-built frame carried his two hundred ten pounds perfectly. His neatly trimmed beard and long eyelashes accented the smoothness of his dark chocolate skin. He was what Paisley considered the epitome of the perfect black man: attractive, smart, funny, well built, educated, successful, and charming. The kind of man who lit up a room when he walked in and commanded attention; women wanted him and men wanted to be him. But the gold band he wore on his left hand stopped Paisley, and a lot of others, from taking their lust at first sight any further.