Dangerous Consequences

by Lisa Renee Johnson

  “Why are these dreams a problem for you now, Austyn?”

  She shifted slightly on the couch. “They’re raping me,” she said, jumping to her feet. “And I like it.”

  Donathan was stunned into silence. This was a different woman, he realized, from the confident one who’d sauntered into his office a few minutes earlier. Suddenly, Austyn grabbed her purse off the table and bolted for the door.

  Donathan stood abruptly, knocking over the vase of fresh flowers, the water spewing onto the floor. “Austyn, wait.” As she rushed out of his office, he abandoned the flowers and followed after her. He reached the parking lot in time to see a silver-blue Saturn speeding away.

  “Damn it!” he yelled in frustration before retreating back to his office. When he entered the reception area, Elaine handed him an envelope.

  “Dr. James, Ms. Greene left this for you.” His heart stopped as he reached for the familiar courier envelope, praying it was unopened. He clutched the envelope, looking from his receptionist to the waiting patient.

  “Give me a moment.” He went into his office and slammed the door. He opened the envelope, more pictures staring back at him. His face still wasn’t visible, but Sydney would know his naked body. All he’d thought about for the past three days was finding Austyn and she’d shown up on his doorstep, but nothing had changed. He needed to talk to somebody.

  He reached into his desk drawer, retrieved his phone, and texted Tony a message.

  Meet me at the Ozumo @ 6.

  If Austyn was planning to blackmail him, he was going to need a plan. And if anyone could help him come up with that, Tony could.

  CHAPTER 13

  Sydney arrived in Chicago without incident. She leaned back into the leather seat of the luxury sedan and looked out the window at the mass of navy-blue water extending for an eternity. She spotted the running path along the water’s edge.

  The driver steered the car in front of the W Hotel on Lake Shore Drive. Engine shut off, the driver appeared at the back door of the sedan and assisted Sydney as she stepped onto the pavement.

  She hurried through the double doors to the check-in counter, took her room key, crossed the lobby, which reminded her of a chic living room, and stepped into the elevator. Before the doors closed, her iPhone jingled. She fumbled around, then fished it from the bottom of her bag and, without looking at the screen, answered it.

  “Hey, sexy,” Donathan said, his coos of affection dancing through the phone.

  “Hey,” she answered, her response short and as lifeless as she felt.

  “Have you checked into your hotel yet?” His words faded in and out due to the weak signal.

  “I’m in the elevator.”

  “I miss you.”

  As she watched the numbers creep upward, Sydney let his words hang in the air. She didn’t want to say what she was thinking: he was flat-out lying.

  “Sydney? Sydney? I can’t hear you,” he said before the call dropped.

  The elevator opened on the tenth floor and she marched along the wide, bright hallway to her room, which was about halfway down the corridor. She couldn’t believe Donathan had the nerve to let the word miss come out of his mouth. He must have fallen and hit his head if he thought a simple I miss you was going to excuse his behavior over the past few days. He needed a taste of his own medicine. But what she needed right now was some food and some stress relief, and she knew where to get both.

  No sooner had she closed her door behind her, the bellman delivered her luggage. She changed into her running tights, laced up her Saucony running shoes, and was nearly out the door when her phone buzzed again. She hesitated at the door, then let it close behind her. She was always at the mercy of her phone; this time she decided whoever was on the other end of the line could wait.

  * * *

  “Damn it,” Donathan yelled, tossing his iPhone onto the passenger seat. That conversation with Sydney had not gone as he’d planned. He wanted to end the tension and smooth things over, not make them worse, which is what he had a feeling he’d done.

  He was speeding down I-24 on his way to an STD clinic in Concord and shook his head at the irony. A split-second image of himself, naked with Austyn straddling him, flashed through his mind. He had to get out of Oakland; he had no idea who he would bump into, including patients or one of Sydney’s friends.

  By the time Donathan parked behind the Stanwell Circle building, he was tired. The hours he’d been keeping over the past few days were catching up with him and his energy was low. When he stepped out of the car, he noticed the parking lot was empty. That meant the clinic wasn’t busy. He hoped to get in and out and back to Oakland in time to meet Tony by six.

  Once inside the single-story building, Donathan signed in, using a fake name he’d concocted, all the while thinking about what would happen if Sydney got wind of him being there. She would leave his ass in a hot second without asking any questions.

  “Raynard Dodson,” the medical assistant called out.

  Donathan didn’t move the first time, but the second time the young woman called out the name, the alias registered, and she gave him a knowing smirk as he stood and moved toward her. At first he was nervous about his reaction, but the closer he got to her, the more his demeanor changed. Hell, this was an STD clinic, he thought; he was certain people gave aliases all the time.

  A little more than two hours later, and clear of things you could instantly check under a microscope, Donathan sat with Tony at a table in the back of Ozumo. A few seconds had passed since he’d pushed two identical envelopes across the table.

  “You all right, man?” Tony asked, never taking his eyes off Donathan as he removed his brown jacket and loosely draped it on the back of his chair. Donathan leaned back and stared at the envelopes. He was tired of people asking him that and no, he wasn’t all right; he wouldn’t be until he got the results back from the HIV and other STD tests he’d just taken and figured out what to do about the situation contained in the envelopes.

  Tony took a swig of his Heineken, scooped up the envelopes one at a time, and reviewed the contents. He looked at Donathan and grimaced.

  “Man, what the fuck is this? Please tell me that’s not you.”

  Donathan shrugged. The anxiety he’d lived with for the past few days was now back sitting on his chest.

  He stabbed the envelopes with his index finger like he was killing someone. “That’s the chick from the golf course.”

  “I knew she was bad news when I laid eyes on her—”

  “She showed up at Maxwell’s, we talked, we had a drink, one thing led to another, and I woke up tied to the bed in her hotel room—”

  “Tied to a bed in a hotel? What the fuck?”

  “Man, keep your voice down.” Donathan looked around to make sure no one had overheard Tony’s last comment.

  “I thought Sydney was going to Maxwell’s with you.”

  “She was supposed to, but she got called in to the hospital. Long story short, when I left the hotel room I couldn’t find my wallet, but by the time I got home, that crazy bitch had left it at my house. On Monday she dropped off the first envelope, then she had the nerve to show up at my office today and give me the other one. To top it all off, I think the bitch is nuts.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. Any woman who would go to these lengths after fucking you one time isn’t wrapped too tight.”

  “That’s true, but I really believe she is mentally unstable. When she came to the office today, she was acting cool and in control. But within fifteen minutes she’d completely unraveled, raved that some men had raped her in her dreams, then stormed out. I went after her, but by the time I got to the parking lot she was gone.”

  “Man, this is some fucked-up shit.”

  “I know. I’ve racked my brain for the last four days, trying to figure out what to do, but with Sydney breathing down my neck, I couldn’t maneuver like I needed to. Now she’s out of town for a few days and I need to get a handle on this before she gets b
ack.”

  “Who is the crazy woman, anyway?”

  “All I know about her is her name and the phone number listed on the business card she left on my car window,” Donathan said, concerned for the first time that the name on the card could be an alias just like the one he’d given at the STD clinic.

  “Have you thought about hiring a private investigator?” Tony reached into his wallet and sifted through some business cards until he located the one he wanted. “Here, I picked this up at one of the law offices on my route months ago. I’d thought about hiring him to locate my pops . . .”

  Donathan brushed the pad of his thumb across the raised letters on the worn card. Curtis Holsey, Private Investigator. Donathan and Tony had been friends for decades and had exorcised many demons together, including Tony’s father, who played a recurring role in many of their exorcisms.

  Out of the blue, a young woman approached their table. She was wearing a lime-green minidress that was so short Donathan could see the daisy pattern on her panty with every step she took toward him. “Excuse me. I hate to bother you, but can I please get your autograph for my mother? Her name is Linda and she’s a huge fan,” she squealed as she bounced up and down. Her perky breasts kept time with her movements. She handed Donathan a piece of paper and he quickly scribbled his name and handed the paper back. Donathan’s eyes squeezed her tits and caressed her ass as she walked away.

  “Now see, it’s that right there that got your ass in trouble in the first place,” Tony said, looking at his watch. “It’s too late now, but I think you should give Curtis Holsey a call tomorrow. In the meantime, quit looking at that girl like you want to season and eat her.”

  Donathan looked back at Tony and laughed for the first time in days. Tony was right. When Sydney was out of town, his usual agenda was to fuck for sport, but right now he needed some self-control. He took another fleeting look at the girl and then sighed heavily.

  “Man, looking ain’t hurt nobody, but right now, if it ain’t my own, I don’t want anything to do with pussy.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Miles Day reminded Sydney of Denzel Washington as he glided across the hotel lobby. His dark jeans hung low at his waist and his brown-and-baby-blue–pinstripe button-down shirt contrasted sharply with the hue of his skin. When Sydney’s eyes reached his shoes, she grinned at the shined dark brown gators. Chicago looked sexy and damn good.

  Her smile quickly faded and she scolded herself for her thoughts as he approached her. It was six-fifteen exactly and he was there to pick her up for the game. When the server appeared, she instructed him to charge the bill to her room.

  Miles noticed the empty plate in front of her. “I hope you got my message and didn’t eat anything.”

  “I didn’t get your message until a few minutes ago. But I didn’t eat much.”

  They walked across the shiny marbled floor, out the revolving door, and hopped into the midnight-blue GMC Yukon parked along the circular drive. Seat belt buckled, Sydney turned to face Miles.

  The husky voice of José James soothed her. “So, tell me what you’ve been doing for the past few days.”

  “Not much . . . had a sleepover with my daughters. Yesterday I took them to the American Girl store on Michigan Avenue. Their dolls had hair appointments, needed some new clothes, and we had tea.”

  “Sounds like you had your hands full.”

  “Yes, I did, but I enjoyed every minute of it. I don’t get to spend much time with them since I left Chicago. The distance is killing me, but thanks to FaceTime, webcams, and Skype, I get to say good morning to them on most days, and I read bedtime stories to them every other night.”

  His cell phone rang; he adjusted the music volume, then reached above his head and pressed an illuminated blue button on a flat black speaker the size of the palm of his hand.

  “Hello?”

  “Daddy,” the tiny voice whined into the confines of the car. “You forgot to read me a bedtime story.” Sydney studied him and smiled.

  “Sweetheart, Mommy is reading you a story tonight. Remember Daddy read the story last night.”

  “But I like it when you read to me, Daddy.”

  “Tell you what Daddy is going to do. Tomorrow night I’ll read you two stories, okay?”

  “But I want you to read me a story tonight. Can you come over—?”

  The conversation with his daughter was cut short when a woman’s voice came booming over the line.

  “So, are you coming over to read her a bedtime story?”

  “Stephanie, my coming over wasn’t part of our agreement—”

  “Miles, it’s not like you see them every day, and if all your daughter wants is for you to read her a story in person, then I don’t see what the problem is.”

  “Look, Stephanie, you heard me tell the girls when I dropped them off a few hours ago that I would see them tomorrow. It was never a part of the plan for me to come back to read to them tonight and now isn’t a good time to discuss this.”

  “It’s never a good time to discuss a damn thing with you. Your shit is tired, Miles, and I’m sick of it.”

  Sydney looked away. She could see the United Center in the distance and was fascinated that it looked like they’d erected it right in the middle of the hood. She heard Miles blow out a ragged breath before he continued. “We’ll talk about this later, Stephanie. Kiss Arielle and tell her I’ll see her tomorrow.”

  “Well, I hope whatever bitch you’re wooing is worth it. You don’t get to see them that much and now you’re too damn busy to read her a bedtime story. Maybe I need to find her another daddy who will.” A deafening dial tone followed.

  Miles’s jaw tightened as he wheeled the Yukon into the parking lot of the arena. He flashed their tickets to the parking attendant and was directed toward the VIP lot. After he parked, Miles turned off the engine and sat motionless for a moment. He was so deep in thought, it seemed like he’d forgotten Sydney was there.

  “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  “No big deal. I imagine coparenting can be tough.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. I’m so tired of fighting with Stephanie over things that don’t make sense. I’ve been here for three days and every single day we’ve argued about something.”

  “It sounds like she’s angry with you and hasn’t quite embraced her feelings about the divorce.”

  “I know. It’s been a year and I try to give her the space to do that, but she constantly uses our children as chess pieces in her games. I try to keep the peace for their sake, but that venom she spewed just now had nothing to do with my daughters.”

  “Oh, that was very clear.”

  “I wouldn’t trade my daughters for anything in the world, but it’s times like these when I wish I had listened to my mother. We got married when I was thirty-two and now, at forty-two, I have to deal with this drama.”

  It was almost game time and the United Center was crawling with thousands of fans, piling in to see the Chicago Bulls. Sydney and Miles exited the car into the brisk evening air and stopped to admire the Michael Jordan statue in front of the arena. After taking a few pictures, they entered through the row of glass doors and came face-to-face with Benny the Bull, the infamous team mascot who was doing what he did best: pumping up the crowd.

  A glass of wine awaited them as they were the first to be escorted into the private skybox, where she learned that Miles’s brothers were the season occupants. Sydney took the glass, nestled into one of the plush leather seats, and enjoyed the game and Miles’s family reunion.

  During the fourth quarter, the game was winding down and Miles took a seat beside her. “That’s like the fifth time your phone has rung. Aren’t you going to answer it?”

  Sydney blushed, a little embarrassed because she’d been busted. She’d purposely placed her ringer on low and thought with all the excitement she was the only one aware of the multiple jingles she’d chosen to ignore throughout the game.

  “No, I’m not.”r />
  “Well, is everything okay?”

  “Everything is great.”

  As they headed to the car, Sydney thought back to the earlier telephone conversation she’d overheard between Miles and his ex-wife. The woman on the other end of the line had sounded desperate and evil. Miles, on the other hand, seemed like a really nice guy who didn’t deserve to have someone talk to him like his ex-wife had. Sydney knew there were always two sides to every story. Was there something about Miles she couldn’t see? Something he was hiding?

  As Miles pulled away from the United Center, traffic snaked along. Once outside the parking lot, he made a sharp turn onto a side street, then glanced over at Sydney, who seemed a little uncomfortable with her surroundings. He patted her shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, I know where I’m going.”

  “It’s a good thing you do. Wouldn’t want to get jacked in the hood.”

  A few minutes later Miles parallel parked next to a building.

  “Where are we?”

  “Well, we didn’t get to have dinner, so I thought we could do dessert.”

  Aware of the late hour, Sydney knew she would regret this tomorrow, when the two-hour time difference caught up with her. “This had better be good.”

  The pair entered the Wine Tasting Room and were escorted to a set of narrow wooden stairs in the back of the building. The stairs led to a spacious second floor with cozy chairs, love seats, and sofas scattered in intimate settings. Vintage art adorned the walls and votive candles perched on the coffee tables gave the room a soft, warm glow. Miles directed her to a secluded love seat and ordered two glasses of Viognier and the Wine Tasting Room’s signature chocolate fondue. She sat down and fought the urge to remove her spike-heeled shoes.

  “So what did you think about the United Center?” Miles asked.

  “I enjoyed it tremendously. Between watching you, your brothers, and Benny the Bull, I had a wonderful time.”

  “Me and my brothers?”

  “I found your interactions so refreshing. You see, I’m an only child. I always wished for a brother or sister to share my space. It was really cool watching the bond between you. Oh, and the game was good, too.”