Dangerous Consequences

by Lisa Renee Johnson

  “Hell no. She was a willing participant, and damn good at it,” he said, picking up a picture of his sons from his desk.

  Donathan shook his head. “Ty, man, you’re slipping. You are never supposed to mix business and pleasure.”

  “Well, shit, like you just said, nobody can prove anything.”

  “I just don’t want to have to bail you out if the girl cries rape.”

  Tyrese looked on, bewildered by Donathan’s comments. “Man, I don’t really know this girl. I mean, she’s only been working here for about a month, and if she decides to cry sexual harassment, my ass is grass.”

  Donathan stared at his friend. Normally, he would chalk Tyrese’s little indiscretion up to inexperience and advise him to learn from his mistake and move on. But because of what he himself was going through with Austyn, he was beginning to believe his own carelessness and know-it-all attitude was what had gotten him into this mess. He was always careful and he never let these women get too close, which was why Austyn unnerved him so. She’d been to his house, his office, forced her way into his private space, and there was nothing he could do about it. He and Tyrese were cut from the same cloth and it had always been: He who got the most panties won the game. He felt like such a hypocrite; his situation was ten times worse than Tyrese’s. He couldn’t think of any way to prevent his friend from traveling the road of private detectives and STD clinics. He looked at his watch, rose from his chair, and moved toward the door.

  “I’m about to be late for my appointment. In the meantime, let’s just hope the girl doesn’t have a big mouth and dollar signs for eyes.”

  Tyrese looked uneasy. “That’s exactly why I scheduled our little meeting.”

  * * *

  Donathan rushed to his car. The unsettled feeling he’d had in the pit of his stomach earlier now permeated his entire body. He couldn’t wait to meet with the private detective. He had to get the scoop on Austyn. There was too much riding on it not to.

  He arrived at a strip mall, scanned the parking aisles for the light blue Toyota Corolla, and felt disappointed when he didn’t see it. He wanted to get Austyn Greene off his back and his life back to the way things used to be. He turned into an open parking space and retrieved the white letter-sized envelope from his glove box. Once the envelope was folded and tucked neatly in his breast pocket, he stepped out of the car and scanned the lot a second time. There was no Holsey to be seen. Cussing under his breath, he decided to run into the store to pick up some water. He’d been feeling dehydrated since Sunday and had concluded it had something to do with whatever Austyn had given him to make him more susceptible to her plan.

  The light blue Toyota pulled up and honked just as he was about to enter the front doors of Starbucks. Startled, Donathan turned to see the culprit. For a moment he hesitated, wondering if he should enter the coffee bar or retreat back toward the car. Why the hell would this dude come blazing into the parking lot, honking his horn? The last thing he needed right now was attention. He looked around once more and headed in the direction of the vehicle.

  CHAPTER 18

  Instead of paying attention to the discussion on pediatric brain injury, Sydney’s mind drifted. She’d managed to avoid Miles all day today, until now. The subtle smell of his cologne and the tiny pinpricks that cursed through her every time his arm brushed against hers made her nipples stand at attention.

  She buttoned her suit jacket to hide the evidence and gathered her laptop from the conference table, folding it into her tote bag.

  “Where are you going?” he whispered into her ear, his facial hair gently grazing the side of Sydney’s face. She sat up straighter. It was almost five o’clock in the afternoon and workshops were almost over for the day.

  “Back to my hotel,” she said, leaning away from the contact. She stood and he followed as she led the way toward the door.

  “Aren’t you going to the mixer?” he asked, once they’d stepped into the lobby and the conference-room doors had closed behind them.

  “Yes, but I need to drop off some things and make a few phone calls,” she said, happy that she was now far enough away from Miles to inhale some sobering oxygen.

  “I have a two-room suite and there’s more than enough space up there for you to make yourself comfortable—”

  “Miles, that’s very sweet of you, but that won’t be necessary. My hotel is just up the block—”

  “I know exactly where your hotel is, but it doesn’t make sense for you to go back and forth when you can go upstairs. There’s even a separate bathroom if you need it.” He retrieved the key card from his wallet and extended it in her direction.

  Sydney looked up at him, her gaze fused with his.

  “You go on up and make yourself comfortable. I’m going to check out the vendors, and then I promised Julia I’d have a drink with her.”

  Sydney computed her options. She’d been hesitant about accepting his offer, before, but if he was having drinks with Julia she knew he’d be occupied for hours.

  “Y’know what, I think I’ll take you up on your generous offer.” She smiled and accepted his room key. “All I need is about an hour.”

  By the time the clear glass box reached the twenty-second floor, a wave of doubt rested in the pit of Sydney’s stomach. Had she made the right decision in accepting a man’s room key? She looked left and right as she made her way to room 2224, where she pushed the key card into the slot and pulled it out again. When the small light turned green, she stepped inside. Why was she nervous? Miles hadn’t done anything other than be a perfect gentleman. She pondered her question a bit longer before accepting what she knew to be true. It wasn’t Miles who was making her uneasy.

  She rested her tote bag on a faux antique chair and maneuvered into the spacious sitting area of the suite. She was immediately drawn to the wall of windows with breathtaking, unobstructed views of the city. She lingered a moment, then walked into the master suite, stealing a peek into Miles’s world. His toiletries were perched neatly on the granite vanity next to his black leather bag, and his razor, soap, and toothbrush cases were all black and matched perfectly.

  “I knew he was a neat freak,” she said out loud, before making her way back to the sitting area, which was almost as big as her entire hotel room at the W Hotel.

  She plopped down on the sage-green couch and said with an exhausted sigh, “I could sure use another foot rub right now.” She switched on the television, found the smooth jazz music station, and melted into the sofa as the scent of Miles’s cologne teased the fringes of her mind. For the first time she decided to admit to herself that she enjoyed seeing and talking to him. She fantasized about his strong hands kneading her feet briefly before the guilt set in, then she took out her cell phone and dialed Donathan. He picked up, but a few seconds passed before she finally heard his voice.

  “Baby, I’m in the middle of something, I have to call you right back.”

  “Where are you?” Sydney asked, relieved that he’d finally answered the phone but curious about his hastiness. “Is everything all right?”

  Voice low, he replied, “Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “We’ve been missing each other and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I mean, we haven’t—”

  “Syd, I have to go. I promise I’ll call you right back.” Before she could say another word, he ended the call.

  Sydney was pissed. She couldn’t believe he’d practically hung up on her. Donathan should have been kissing her ass, not hanging up on her. They hadn’t had one complete conversation since she’d left California and frankly, she was tired of it.

  * * *

  When Miles entered the suite, he found Sydney curled up in the fetal position on the sofa. It had been over an hour since she’d gone upstairs, and when she hadn’t reappeared downstairs as she’d indicated she would, he’d decided to go check on her. Seeing her peaceful and unguarded, he found himself unable to do anything but stare at her. Unlike yesterday, when her
hair had been bone straight, today it was a wavy mass, covering most of her face. The hem of her skirt rested at midthigh, showing off her shapely runner’s legs. She was even more beautiful sleeping, and he was just as enchanted with her today as he was last night. After the game he hadn’t wanted to drop her off at her hotel, but once he had he’d lain in bed for hours, mentally trying to put everything into perspective. Sydney was a beautiful woman but, most importantly, she was married and should have been off limits to him. But he could feel she wasn’t.

  By choice, he hadn’t had sex since he’d moved to California months earlier, when he’d promised himself to break the dysfunctional cycle of continuing to have sex with his ex-wife. This was his first trip back to Chicago since then, and after Stephanie’s behavior last night, he understood why it had been easier to just have sex with her than to walk through her minefield of vindictive artillery. Sex with her was good. It was familiar, and the ultimate price he paid to see his daughters with as little drama as possible. But what distance had taught Miles was that when all was said and done, sex never changed the fact that their relationship just didn’t work, and for the sake of all involved, he knew he had to let that part of their relationship go.

  His phone rang and his shoulders tensed as he saw the familiar number dance across the screen. His thoughts had conjured her up. What did Stephanie want now? He hesitated before he answered, praying her call wouldn’t be a repeat of last night’s shenanigans.

  * * *

  Sydney hadn’t realized she’d dozed off until she was startled by the ringing of a cell phone. She opened her eyes, disoriented, and reached for the device from the coffee table but was taken aback by the sound of a deep baritone voice.

  “Wassup?” she heard Miles say from across the room. Her heart rate accelerated as she locked eyes with him. He was leaning against the wet bar, his legs crossed one over the other. She swung her legs to the floor, grabbed her tote bag, and excused herself to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She squinted at her watch. She’d been asleep for over an hour. She turned on the faucet, splashed some cold water on her face, brushed her teeth with her travel toothbrush, and reapplied lip gloss. She poured a few droplets of olive oil into her hand, rubbed her palms together, and then raked her fingers through her dark brown hair. She finished with a few upward strokes of mascara. “Good as new,” she said to her reflection.

  Sydney heard a light tap on the door. She opened it to find Miles extending her phone in her direction before he walked away and disappeared into one of the bedrooms.

  “Hello,” Sydney said, as she moved to the couch to slip into her shoes.

  “Who was that?” Donathan fired off.

  “That was Miles, the neurosurgeon who works at the hospital with me.”

  “Why is he answering your phone?”

  “Probably out of habit—you know how easy it is to forget when we’re on or off.”

  He hesitated, as if he was entertaining her plausible explanation.

  “For a man with limited answers you sure are full of questions this evening. Especially because this is one of the longest conversations I’ve had with you in days.”

  “Don’t try to make this about me. I’m just trying to understand why another man is answering my wife’s phone.”

  “Doctors always answer one another’s phones.”

  “They do when they’re working. Where are you?”

  “Excuse me?” Sydney grew agitated at his tone. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Miles standing in the far bedroom, looking out of the window. He turned toward her and teased her with a slow, sensual smile. She felt like the room was closing in on her.

  “Hello. You’re not deaf, are you?”

  “I can’t believe you’re acting like this. Yes, a man answered my phone, but with a plausible explanation. Then again, this is the most attention I’ve gotten from you in a week, so I guess I should be flattered.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question, Sydney. Where are you?”

  “I’m not going to answer it and feed into your nonsense. So, either we change the subject or we end this call.”

  “But we aren’t done with this conversation, Sydney.”

  “Maybe you’re not, but I am. I’ll call you later when I get to my hotel.”

  As she dropped her phone into her tote bag, Miles exited the bedroom, closing the distance between them. “Are you ready to head downstairs?”

  He opened the door and waited for Sydney to walk out in front of him. “I’m right behind you.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Payton waited in the passenger pick-up-and-drop-off area of the Bay Point Bart station for Tony’s train to arrive. He had agreed to catch the train and meet her to assist with her eviction problem after she finished her site visit at the Glover House Substance Abuse Treatment facility in Pittsburg.

  The contractors were on schedule to complete the repairs on her grandparents’ house by the end of next week and she was determined not to let any obstacles get in the way of finalizing the sale of the property.

  Payton’s stomach dropped as she stared through the windshield at Tony as he exited the station. He was over six feet tall and dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and running shoes. He was attractive in a lean and lanky kind of way, but his most admirable attribute was that he knew how to use that dick of his. He flashed a wide grin and everything went hazy except for him. Behind closed doors, their relationship was easy; no one to judge, just the two of them acting on what came naturally. But outside, as she watched him take steps that led him closer to her, she felt vulnerable and exposed. She unlocked the door and waited for him to get in.

  “Damn, it’s hot in Bay Point,” he said, locking himself into the seat belt.

  “Actually, it’s not Bay Point, it’s West Pittsburg. A few years back they changed the name to distance themselves from Pittsburg’s criminal reputation to attract the suburbanites, but this will always be West Pitt.”

  Tony smiled.

  “I can’t believe you were born and raised in Oakland but have never been to the Burg.”

  To bypass the Highway 4 rush-hour traffic, they chose the less-congested side streets, which led to a back road that divided a distant power plant and marshlands on one side from a development of new homes on the other. They passed empty lots, a rundown motel, and small single-family homes with flat-shingle roofs. Devoid of people, the street reminded Payton of East Oakland before the sun went down and the bad elements peppered every corner. She turned off the main drag.

  “Is this the neighborhood you grew up in?” Tony asked.

  “Yes,” she answered, making another right and then a left before pulling into the familiar driveway. When she got out of the car, she stared at the curb in front of the house. At one time it had been painted a bright fire-engine red, with a vibrant San Francisco 49er logo on the sidewalk. The logo was encircled by the words 49er fans live here. But over time the logo had faded. Payton smiled, remembering how on Sundays when she was growing up, her grandparents would dress from head to toe in their 49er gear, pile into the Cadillac, and head to Candlestick Park to watch Joe Montana and Jerry Rice.

  Tony climbed out of the car.

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “Plan? Are you kidding? There is no plan.”

  “Tell me again how this woman ended up living in the basement.”

  “Well, when I decided to sell the house, I knew I couldn’t do the repairs and have someone living in it, so my uncle Sheldon moved out immediately. My other uncle, Donald, didn’t have a job and had nowhere to go, so I told him he could stay in the basement until we sold the house. Then, with his share of the proceeds, I’d planned to set him up in an apartment and pay his rent for a year. Two weeks ago my uncle Donald landed in jail on a probation violation and the contractor informed me that a woman was living here. I’ve been trying to move her out since then.”

  “I take it she’s not handing over her key willingly.”

  “You
got that right. This is my third trip out here and the other two times obviously weren’t successful.”

  “Third time’s a charm.”

  They exited the vehicle and Tony followed Payton through the side gate that appeared to lead into the backyard.

  When they reached a door covered by a wrought-iron security gate Payton knocked on the screen. After a few minutes and no answer she removed a set of keys from her jacket pocket and unlocked the door. The stench of rotting food suffocated them. A stained mattress and several plastic bags of clothing and utensils were haphazardly strewn on the floor.

  “This shit is disgusting,” Payton said, coughing and holding her nose. “Her trifling ass has got to go.”

  “Maybe we can take these few bags here and drop them off somewhere?”

  “I’m not putting those nasty bags in my car. How about we just put this shit outside.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. People would probably walk away with the stuff and then you’d have more problems on your hands, with her trying to get more out of you than this junk is worth.”

  “The only thing remotely valuable in here is this old-ass computer and printer. I just want her and all her nasty shit out of here,” she whined.

  Tony placed his hands around her waist and guided her toward the door. “Why don’t you call the number she gave you and leave her a message that we’ll be back in a few hours? Then we could go find us some dinner.”

  The heel of Payton’s shoe got stuck in a pile of dirty clothes and she almost lost her balance. “Damnit! I just want this shit to be over. I don’t have time to keep traipsing out here with no results.” She stormed out of the basement, her mind in overdrive. The spring property taxes were due in just a few weeks and she had promised herself last December that she’d paid her last tax bill on this house. The house needed to be sold.

  When she made it to the end of the walkway, she reached for the latch to open the gate, but her hand impulsively went to the steel-gray metal box that was recessed into the side of the house. When she opened the box and pulled out the metal fuse that looked like a roll of quarters, a large grin spread across her face.