Dangerous Consequences

by Lisa Renee Johnson

  “C’mon, let’s go inside and sit down for a minute. Maybe some club soda will settle your stomach.”

  Once inside, Tyrese excused himself to the men’s room, returning some minutes later to the table overlooking the greens. His normally sparkling gray eyes were now a cold steel gray.

  “Are you feeling any better?” Donathan asked.

  “Still a little nauseated,” he said, pulling out his chair and taking a seat. “Man, I just don’t understand it. I felt perfectly fine when I left the house and then all of a sudden I felt like my insides were clawing their way out.”

  “Well, whatever you’ve got I don’t need.” Donathan chuckled and scooted his chair a little farther from the table. “What’s on your agenda for the rest of the day?”

  “Man, you won’t believe this shit. The other night I was at Eli’s Mile High Club on MLK with the temp. I was approached by a private investigator who’d been hired by Joi to confirm her suspicions that I was cheating on her. He offered to destroy his photo evidence if I gave him twenty-five hundred dollars.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I haven’t done anything yet. He left me a message this morning threatening to tell Joi if I didn’t pay him by five o’clock today. And that’s not the worst of it.”

  “Go on.”

  “That broad Debbie has turned into my worst nightmare. The girl is calling me night and day, asking for money—she wants twelve hundred dollars to buy a purse, and frankly, I’m tired of her shit, too. After our meeting, I agreed to meet her outside of work and I was going to give her the money if that was going to keep her ass quiet. But when we got back to my truck, all my tires had been slashed. Fucking ghetto-ass neighborhood. I had to call Triple A. They towed my shit to Firestone in Richmond and dropped me off at home. That broad has left me twenty-two messages in the past twenty-four hours, and in the last one she threatened to come to my house if I didn’t call her back.”

  “Man, I told you to be careful. Once they start showing up at your house, it’s only a matter of time before your wife finds out.”

  Tyrese looked at Donathan, really looked at him, then said, “You sound like a man speaking from experience.”

  “Yes, actually, I am. Sydney left me last night.”

  “You got to be fucking kidding me. What happened?”

  “A few weeks back I met this red-boned chick here at the bar. We hooked up later that night at Maxwell’s, and to make a long story short, she slipped me some roofies or something and did God knows what to me, took pictures, showed up at my office, and at my house. I can’t even shit right now without this woman knowing about it. The bitch is stalking me.”

  “Drugged you? Showed up at your house?”

  “And that’s not the half of it. She’s had run-ins with my neighbors. Compared to Austyn, Debbie sounds like a walk in the park. Austyn didn’t threaten; she just showed up and left me with the mess to deal with after she was gone.” He glanced around, as if expecting her to walk in at any moment.

  “So why did Sydney leave you?”

  “See, that’s the thing: I’ve been racking my brain, trying to outsmart this chick, and she seems to be one step ahead of me. I met her at Mimosa’s the other night, hoping I could learn more about her so I could figure out why she’s fixated on me. But instead of walking away with solid information, I ended up as the lead on karma.com, in a serious lip lock with the woman. Sydney saw it, and let’s just say she’s not a happy camper.”

  “Look at you, man; you don’t look like you’re losing any sleep. I mean, your wife has left you and you’ve got a psycho bitch pup-peteering your life, but you look as fresh as a cucumber. What gives?”

  “Actually, it’s better for me that Sydney is gone. Let her cool off at Payton’s for a few days and I can concentrate on finding Austyn and getting to the bottom of everything.”

  “See, this is why I’m going to pay Debbie a visit today. Something has to be done about these women. They overstep their bounds and need to be put in check.”

  “What about the private investigator?”

  “Man, I want to whoop his old shriveled-up ass, but I can’t deal with him on that level right now. The best thing for me to do is to pay that motherfucker and walk away.”

  Donathan nodded. “Sometimes it’s best to cut bait, especially if that means your wife won’t have to find out about your indiscretions.”

  “Exactly, which is why I’m about to get on up the road and take care of my two little problems. Then I’m back to the house to settle my wife down,” he said in a serious tone. “The last thing I need is for her to go rogue.”

  CHAPTER 28

  After slamming the door at Payton’s condo the night before, Sydney had made her way to the Waterfront Hotel. She’d tossed and turned for most of the night, confused about how she should handle her situation with Donathan. She gazed out her hotel window, ruminating on the state of her life; from where she stood, things were pretty messed up.

  Earlier, she’d put on her running shoes and run until she couldn’t run anymore. But the confusion taking up space in her head ran right alongside her like a running partner, yammering to her with every footfall that struck the pavement.

  A light tap at her door startled her. When she looked through the small peephole, she almost passed out. Miles was the last person she expected to see. She had spoken with him briefly last night, after she left Payton’s. He had wanted to meet her, but she’d assured him she was okay and planned to check into the Waterfront.

  “What are you doing here?” she questioned, her body blocking the opening in the door.

  “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d check on you. I thought maybe I could take you out to grab a bite to eat or maybe just talk,” he said, his voice trailing off. She looked down at her sports attire and brushed her hand across her hair, still damp with perspiration from her run.

  “Did you think about calling first?” she said, perplexed by his presence.

  “I did that all morning and I didn’t get an answer or return call, so here I am.”

  Then she remembered that she had not taken anyone’s calls. She wished she could just turn it off, but being just a phone call away was one of the burdens of being a doctor.

  There was an awkward silence as they stared at one another. Sydney wanted to be left alone with her thoughts.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer,” he said, shifting his weight. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine with me, but you do have to eat.”

  She stepped to the side and allowed him entry into her space.

  “Wait here and I’ll go get cleaned up.”

  As she showered, her body felt heavy with despair. She scrutinized the situation in her head, again trying to apply her logic, searching for any reason that would justify Donathan’s behavior. But she kept arriving at the same conclusion: Her husband was a fucking cheater and he had humiliated her. It was one thing for a woman to find out about her husband’s infidelities when no one knew except her, her husband, and the other woman. In those cases, most women made dumb decisions and went back to their men. But when your shit was plastered on the internet for all to see, your actions and reactions would be scrutinized in the public arena. This added a different layer. She wasn’t the “good wife” and didn’t feel obligated to stand by her man like he was the second coming. The pictures were worth a thousand words, and Sydney knew this was probably just the tip of the iceberg.

  After putting on a simple chic sundress, Sydney wandered back into the sitting area, where Miles was in a cheerful mood. She gave him an appraising glance. He had on freshly starched jeans, hard-sole loafers, and a striped light blue and white button-down that gently grabbed his well-defined biceps.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  Sydney nodded her head.

  “You like seafood, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” She grabbed her tote from the table.

  “Good. I made us a reservation at a restaurant in H
alf Moon Bay.”

  They walked down the three flights of stairs past the entrance to Miss Pearl’s Jam House and exited through the automatic doors. As they approached the valet station, Sydney fumbled through her tote and glanced at her cell phone again. She frowned and placed it back into her purse.

  Miles asked, “Have you two talked about it?”

  His jet-black Viper was parked in the paved turnabout. The valet opened the passenger door for Sydney and then the driver’s side door for Miles. Once inside the confines of the car, she replied, “Briefly.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Sydney shifted in her seat. Talking about Donathan was the last thing she wanted to do. She turned away. Before she’d taken her shower, she’d checked her cell phone for messages. There were none from Donathan. The fact that she’d been gone overnight and he hadn’t bothered to call or come looking for her only confirmed that her decision to leave had been the right one.

  “You know what, why don’t we make Donathan off limits this afternoon?” Miles said, as if he’d read her mind. “I’m sure we can find something else to talk about.”

  They drove down Highway 1 along the Pacific Ocean’s edge. The view was breathtaking; exactly what Sydney needed to help to clear her head. After an hour or so they ended up at Sam’s Chowder House, where they enjoyed the New England–style clambake filled with Maine lobster, mussels, corn on the cob, red potatoes, and sausage. Unfortunately, Sydney washed it down with a lot of wine. After their meal they sat by the firepots, enjoying the view, but when they left Half Moon Bay, Sydney was drunk.

  An hour and a half later, when they pulled back into the Waterfront Hotel, Sydney was still buzzed. She hated the fact that she’d had too much to drink. Miles ushered her through a side door and this time they took the elevator to the third floor. In the midst of going through her purse in search of the room’s key card, Sydney dropped the bag and spilled the contents on the floor. “Uh-oh.” Sydney giggled.

  “Let’s get you inside.” Miles helped her to the couch, then returned to the hallway to retrieve her things.

  Sydney’s head was spinning. Donathan had always teased her about her low tolerance for alcohol, calling her a cheap date. Normally she could drink two full glasses of Chardonnay and be fine, but she’d known she was way past her limit when she’d downed that fourth glass. But she had wanted to forget the past forty-eight hours. She wanted to erase them by drinking until she couldn’t remember.

  Miles returned. He helped her into the adjoining bedroom, placed her on the king-size bed, and covered her with a lightweight blanket. She closed her eyes as her dulled senses took over. All she could see was her husband kissing that woman, and that made her want to cry. He’d promised before God and her daddy to love and be faithful to her.

  “I’m thirsty. Can I have some more wine?”

  “Oh, I think you’ve had enough wine for today. How about some water?”

  Miles returned to the front room to make sure the lock on the door was secured and to get Sydney a bottle of water. When he reentered the bedroom, she was sprawled across the bed and had managed to twist herself in her dress, which looked very uncomfortable. She was fast asleep.

  She stirred briefly as Miles worked to remove her dress, which was tangled under her arms. He waited for her breathing to resume a measured cadence before easing her dress down past her petite hips and bare legs. He felt like a voyeur, staring at her half-naked body, her breasts rising and falling in a slow, easy rhythm. She had on the prettiest underwear that contrasted nicely against her smooth brown skin. The bra was a coral mesh with a contrasting animal print trim that matched her panty. Sydney moaned softly when he eased her between the sheets.

  “Miles.”

  “Yes, Sydney?”

  “I’m sorry . . . please don’t leave me.”

  He paused before he removed his shoes and eased into the bed beside her. Pressing his chest to her back, he rested his arm across her waist and pulled her closer.

  “I’m sorry, too, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

  CHAPTER 29

  When Payton arrived at Picán, a well-dressed gentleman opened the door and smiled as she swept through the restaurant entrance.

  Along with two women, David Bryant was sitting at the bar doing what he did best—flirting. But as far as Payton was concerned, why not make use of any connections he could muster? David wasn’t just another handsome face. He owned multiple car dealerships, but he also had charisma, charm, and, most importantly, the swagger of a man who had deep pockets.

  They were seated at a window table for two in the Bourbon Room, near the back of the restaurant. As usual, Payton made sure she was seated facing the front door, with an unobstructed view of everyone who entered and exited, which was something she did whenever she was out in public with a married man. That way, if any significant others showed up, she’d see them coming without being ambushed. The burlap sheers covering the floor-to-ceiling windows and the minimal recessed lighting gave Picán a warm and cozy feel.

  David snapped his fingers for the waiter, who was dressed all in black except for a chocolate apron cinched at his waist. “Would you like a drink?” he asked.

  Payton sat up straighter and pondered the question for a second. She found herself overwhelmed with a rush of bad memories from the incident with Sydney and her bout with those Hennessey sidecars last night. They’d left her with a lingering headache for most of the morning, so her plan for tonight was to drink light. She’d left multiple messages for Sydney last night and today and still hadn’t heard from her. She didn’t understand what the big deal was. So what if she was fucking Tony? She was a grown-ass woman who could fuck whomever she pleased and wasn’t obligated to share that information with anyone.

  Once Sydney had left, Tony had kissed her ass and of course he’d explained why he hadn’t returned her calls in four days. Something about a broken phone and his mother being moved to hospice, but life was too short to wait around for grown-ass men. After she thought about it, she concluded it really didn’t matter why Tony hadn’t returned her calls. The fact of the matter was, he hadn’t. And she wasn’t about to wait around and get caught up for any man.

  “A glass of Riesling,” she said finally, feeling David’s eyes on her.

  “What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll take advantage of you if you get something a little stronger?” David said, narrowing his gaze.

  “I don’t need alcohol to let you take advantage of me.”

  “Touché,” he said and chuckled.

  The easy sound soothed Payton’s ears, and a few minutes later the waiter returned with her Riesling and a small plate with four pieces of corn bread and some honey-whipped butter. Payton ordered a Southern Caesar with shrimp and grits and David ordered the Berkshire pork chops.

  After the server left, David reached across the table and took her free hand in his. “You know you’re like a drug; you can’t get a brotha hooked and then make him go cold turkey.”

  Payton smiled, toying with David’s assessment. No one had ever called her a drug, but when it came to sex, she knew she had skills . . . the kind that could become very habit-forming. She’d had a few friends with benefits in her past who couldn’t seem to let go, but David wasn’t one of them. He intrigued her. She’d met him at a charity function a few years before and they’d been friends ever since.

  “So here we are,” he said, bringing her hand to his mouth. He kissed it slowly, wiggling his tongue between her fingers. “Especially after you left me high and dry last night.”

  Payton smiled again but still wasn’t ready to show any of the excitement she felt. She took a sip of the pale liquid.

  He released her hand, leaned back in his chair, and slowly stroked his goatee. “What color panty do you have on?”

  “Well, if you play your cards right, maybe I’ll let you take a peek.”

  He smeared a piece of the corn bread and fed it to Payton, who let the tips o
f his fingers linger in her mouth. Her eyes were glued to his as she watched him take his fingers back to his own lips and seductively lick each one.

  Payton was so busy enjoying the show, she was unaware of a stilled silhouette that peered at her from outside the window. A few seconds passed before she finally glanced his way. She looked once, twice, three times, and as he raised his retro Ray-Bans, it struck her. His bloodshot eyes pierced a hole through her and she sucked in air as a guilty expression washed over her face. She forgot to breathe. Tony lowered the glasses and retraced his steps as he walked away.

  David looked on, taking notice of her agitation. She downed the rest of her wine and immediately motioned to the waiter for a second glass.

  “Is that somebody important to you?” David asked with sincere concern.

  “He used to be, but not anymore.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Staring at herself in the mirror, Payton was conflicted. She would have preferred another color, but she dressed down, all in black, out of respect for a woman she’d never had the opportunity to meet.

  Half of her wanted to hide in her condo and not give a damn about Tony and what he was going through. The other half wanted to face the world and say fuck ’em all, as she was so prone to do.

  But could she maintain her façade when she saw him? She hadn’t spoken to Tony since the incident at Picán last Saturday night, and her stomach was doing flipflops.

  A few nights after he’d walked away from the window at Picán she’d called him. His voice mail was full, and before she lost her nerve, she’d called his home. Najee, his sister, had answered, shared with Payton that their mother had passed, and provided her with the funeral service information. Payton wrestled back and forth with herself as to why she should attend the service and finally settled on the fact that if nothing else, she considered Tony her friend. Even though the look on his face after he saw her with David said otherwise, she knew this was the right thing to do.