CHAPTER 35
The rain had stopped, but the temperature had dropped more than twenty degrees, making it feel more like early fall than late spring. Sydney was still wearing scrubs underneath a purple cashmere wrap sweater. She resembled a college coed with a headband holding her slicked-back hair off her makeup-less face.
Lois the Pie Queen was filled to capacity with seniors and couples. Sydney ordered grits, eggs, and chicken apple sausage, and Miles ordered the Reggie Jackson special with pork chops instead of the usual breakfast meats.
She studied Miles candidly as she sipped her cup of tea and listened to him talk on his cell with his daughters. She thought back to how he’d taken care of her over the last week, especially when she’d drowned her marital sorrows in one glass of wine too many and awoken from her alcohol-induced stupor to find his body spooned into hers. It was she who’d initiated the closeness, but it was he who had the sense to stop her.
“C’mon, let me take you back to your hotel room,” Miles said, ending his call and pulling Sydney from her thoughts.
“But we haven’t eaten yet.”
“I know, but we’ve got company,” he said, nodding toward the front door.
For a moment Sydney was paralyzed and speechless. She’d known Donathan would show up sooner or later, and to say he was furious was putting it mildly. His eyes were dark and irate. He maneuvered around a few tables, pulled up a chair, then sat down.
They engaged in a stare down, her anger resurfacing. She’d never been so humiliated in her entire life and it was all Donathan’s fault. Although the furor surrounding his internet stardom had died down a bit, this was the first time she’d talked to him face to face since she’d stormed out of the house almost a week earlier. She felt like slapping the shit out of him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked curtly.
“You didn’t give me much of a choice. You haven’t taken my calls, and from the looks of this cozy little arrangement, I should be asking you that question,” he said, his body language hard and rigid.
Silence descended over the table as the server appeared, balancing another basket of biscuits and two full plates.
Miles noticed the smirks and stares from the other patrons and did his best to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand. “Uh, can you get us the check and pack those up to go?”
Donathan’s gaze shifted, sized Miles up, and decided the situation was far worse than he’d suspected. Miles looked like a lovesick puppy—a man who was definitely in serious like with his wife.
“What the fuck is going on here?” he hissed into Sydney’s ear.
She leaned away.
“I’ve sat outside for at least fifteen minutes, watching through the window as this man touched you in ways I feel are inappropriate.”
“Was the touching you did at Mimosa appropriate?” she spat back, refusing to let him intimidate her.
“Those pictures don’t prove a damn thing.”
“They’re all the proof—”
“You want proof?” he said before he removed the envelope with copies of some of the paperwork he’d received from Holsey from his back pocket and placed it in front of her. “Here’s your proof. But we’re not talking about me right now. Did you fuck him?”
Sydney stared back at him with a blank expression on her face. She hadn’t fucked Miles, but it wasn’t because she hadn’t wanted to.
“Let’s go now.” Donathan stood up, and reached for her arm, but she pulled it away.
“Get your hands off me.”
Miles rose to his full height. “Listen, man,” he began, “there’s no need to make a scene.”
“If I were you, playa, I’d shut the fuck up and leave because I’m trying real hard not to make this about you.”
Miles shook his head, a sheepish grin spread across his face. “Me? I was wondering how long it would take your slick ass to show up, and here you are a week later, raging and fuming and blaming everybody but yourself.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Donathan said, closing the space between them. “This is my goddamn wife.”
“Maybe you should have been acting like it.”
“Motherfucker, you don’t know me.”
“Unfortunately, I know more about you than you think.”
This time when Donathan reached for Sydney’s arm, he tightened his grip, not permitting her to escape his grasp.
“Get your damn hands off me,” Sydney growled. “You’re hurting me.”
“Is he why your ass hasn’t been home in over a week?”
“Man, take your hands off her.”
Donathan swung first. With fists flying, Donathan and Miles slammed each other against tables and collided with chairs, sending patrons scrambling to get out of their way.
“Stop it!” Sydney tried to place her body as a barrier between the two men. A closed fist stung her forehead with a solid whap and knocked her backward into the counter. Everything around her moved in slow motion, but her eyes blinked rapidly, fighting the urge to close in to darkness. Tables were overturned and people scurried to find shelter. After she regained her bearings, she grabbed her purse and the photo envelope from the table, backed out the front door, and took off, running toward Children’s Hospital.
CHAPTER 36
After she reached Brea’s voice mail, Sydney hung up, put the truck in drive, and sped out of the parking lot, headed toward the Waterfront Hotel. Her adrenaline was surging and she needed to talk to somebody.
Her hand trembled as her fingers brushed across her forehead, their tips pressing gently on the egg that had formed. But at that moment she was worried less about her head and more about what she’d left behind at the restaurant: two grown men coming to blows because of her.
“What have I done?” she said, isolated by the silence inside the SUV. Without the clutter of outside noise to distract her, she drove down Broadway, thinking about her life and how she’d gotten here over the past week. By the time she reached 2nd Street, the Amtrak railroad crossing gates were down.
Sydney waited, wishing she were going wherever the train was headed. Why had she sat there frozen when Donathan asked her if she was sleeping with Miles? She closed her eyes and inwardly cursed herself. It was so like her to run at the first sign of trouble, which is exactly what she’d done on more than one occasion in the past seven days. Running wasn’t going to change anything, and no matter what the outcome, she would have to talk to Donathan.
Initially, she’d been totally unprepared for the degree of attraction she had to Miles and, albeit subtle, if she was being honest with herself, she’d been aware all along that Miles wanted her. It was the cat-and-mouse game that made it exciting and she’d fought it hard, even tried to set him up with Payton. But it all had come crashing down around her last Saturday night.
With her mind still in a fog from the overconsumption of wine, she’d awakened in her hotel room with Miles lying next to her. The sexual tension was thick and her wifely inhibitions were gone. She’d kissed him lightly, and before long he was wide awake and greedily kissing her back. Her memory of the sensations, as she relived the ragged breaths that echoed in her head, was so intense that her stomach muscles tightened.
She had no right to be even mildly upset with Donathan after what she’d done. This was no longer just about the rumors of his infidelity and the pictures on the internet; she’d acquired a suitcase full of baggage all her own. At this point they were both guilty. The pain she’d seen etched on his face—was that it? Was she trying to hurt him like he’d hurt her? Her silence had spoken volumes and she knew the conclusion he’d come to.
Her life was a big mess and Sydney realized she had plenty to think about before she made any rash moves. She needed to talk to someone who’d help her figure out what to do, and if anyone could help her sort things out in a matter-of-fact way, it was Payton.
She arrived at the hotel and waited for the valets to approach the SUV. She released
her ponytail and raked her hair across her forehead to hide her battle wound before she was escorted from the vehicle. She made a beeline to her suite.
Once inside, she placed her purse and the envelope she had received from Donathan on the coffee table and pulled out her phone. She punched in Payton’s number and began tossing her belongings into the small suitcase that rested on the luggage rack.
“This is a surprise,” Payton said, her voice thick with sarcasm.
“How can it be a surprise . . . you knew I’d call you back sooner or later.”
“Well, since you’ve been ignoring me, I’d assumed it would be later.”
“I need to talk to somebody I can trust,” Sydney said, picking up her personal items from the vanity. “Can I come over for a minute?”
“Oh, so now you trust me?”
“Did I say that?” Sydney mumbled, wondering how much of Payton’s ragging she’d have to endure, especially because she knew Payton wouldn’t let her off the hook easily.
“Um, yeah, you did.”
“Look, Payton, I don’t want to talk about this over the phone.”
“Well, if I were home, you coming over would be fine, but since I’m in Las Vegas—”
“Vegas? Since when?”
“I caught a late flight last night. You obviously didn’t listen to my message, did you?”
“No.” Sydney felt guilty; she’d purposely sent Payton’s last call into voice-mail oblivion.
“So, what’s going on?” Payton asked.
“It’s nothing.” Sydney sighed heavily, releasing her disappointment. What was she going to do now? She didn’t want to ruin Payton’s getaway with her troubles. Maybe Brea would call her back soon, and if not, they could just talk about this mess when Payton got back.
“Sydney, I hate it when you do that. You obviously called me about something, so just say it already; I’m not in the mood to guess. And can I have the short-and-sweet version, please?”
“Okay, well, um, in a nutshell, I let Miles lick my kitty and Donathan—”
Payton interrupted sharply. “Excuse me, but did you just say you let Miles lick your kitty? Would that be the same Miles you were so eager to set me up with?” She was now laughing hysterically. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Was it good?” Payton snickered.
“Can I finish, please?” Sydney was irritated and eager to get the rest of her story out. She knew this would be the initial reaction she’d get, but when it was all said and done, Payton would give it to her straight, which was just what she needed. “Donathan showed up while we were having breakfast this morning and now I have a big red hickey on my head.”
“Did he hit you?”
Sydney thought about the question before she answered. “Well, yeah, he sorta did, but not intentionally.”
“Don’t you dare make excuses for him! I never would have guessed in a million years that he would put his hands on you. No man should ever put his hands on a woman, no matter what the circumstances. Have you called the police?”
“Slow down, Payton.” Sydney was touched by how protective her friend was being. She took another look around to make sure she had her shoes, toiletries, phone, and computer cords before plopping herself down on the couch in the sitting area. “I was trying to break up the fight and I got hit in the process.”
“They fought? Oh, damn. I would have paid to see that altercation.”
Sydney cleared her throat. Waited.
“Sorry. Go on, tramp. I want the full details.”
“Who are you calling a tramp?”
“Oh, come on, Sydney. I don’t know why you think you have to be perfect all the time. Not everyone is required to be committed for life. Now spill it.”
Sydney sighed. She didn’t care how Payton sliced it. She wasn’t a tramp, a slut, or any of those other words used to put women down. She’d just got caught up in a bad situation that felt damn good.
“Hello?”
“I was feeling sorry for myself and Miles took me to lunch last Saturday. I had a few glasses of wine too many. I can’t remember exactly how it happened. Well, yes, actually I can. He helped me to my room and I didn’t want to be alone, so I asked him to stay with me. I guess I dozed off for a while, but when I woke up, he was lying there next to me with his groin pressed into my behind, and I-I just lost it.” She took a huge gulp from the half-empty water bottle sitting on the table.
“This is all Donathan’s fault. I’ve never thought about or been in a situation to cheat on his sorry ass, but not only has he cheated on me, that shit is all over the fucking internet and my life is fucked up because of it.”
“Um, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but that woman with your husband on the internet is a stalker,” Payton said, registering that Sydney still didn’t have a clue. She decided not to mention the part about the chick showing up in Pittsburg yesterday . . . she didn’t have enough information on that yet to share.
“A stalker?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you that for over a week, but your stubborn ass ignored my phone calls and wouldn’t talk to me.”
A stalker? Donathan had been trapped by a stalker?
Sydney reached for the envelope she’d taken from the restaurant and opened it. She dumped the contents into her lap and groaned before she unfolded the pieces of paper and began reading. One minute she’d been devastated with Donathan for his indiscretions and the next she was wallowing in her own self-contempt. What the hell had she done? From the looks of things, all Donathan had done was get caught up in the web of a psycho bitch named Austyn Greene.
“Sydney? Are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Did you screw him?”
“No, I didn’t. But it wasn’t because I didn’t want to.”
“Then it’s settled. It was just oral sex, Sydney. It didn’t mean anything and you definitely don’t have to say anything to Donathan about it.”
“I think he already knows.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No, but the way he looked at me earlier—”
“Look, Syd, you just need to keep your mouth shut. This is the type of shit you need to take to your grave.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’ll be fine,” she lied.
Oral sex might be a free act to Payton, but sharing bodily fluids with someone was something she took seriously, and she hadn’t been able to think about anything else since she’d done it. How was she supposed to keep it from Donathan? Nothing good could ever come from keeping this type of secret.
“How long are you going to be in Vegas?”
“A few days. Are you coming?”
Sydney thought about it for a moment. A quick trip to Vegas sounded nice and would give her the opportunity to put some distance between herself and both Donathan and Miles. Her mind was a ball of confusion, but she needed to straighten this out before it got further out of hand.
“Where are you staying?”
“The Palms.”
“I love that hotel.”
“I know. You should see my view of the Strip. Do you need me to come home?”
“No. I’ll be fine. Enjoy your getaway; I’ll call you back later.”
After hanging up the phone, Sydney sat in the room’s deafening silence. She repeatedly inspected the papers she held, becoming fixated on the last page, which listed a North Oakland address for Austyn Greene. Sydney jumped up, grabbed her keys, and headed out the door.
CHAPTER 37
Donathan sat outside the duplex and double-checked the address with the one Holsey had given to him. He’d played the scenario of what had happened at the restaurant over and over again in his head.
Pain pulsed through his right hand, the cuts on his knuckles still dripping with blood. He gripped the piece of paper with Austyn’s address so tight that his fingers on both hands were numb as he tried to control the anger the fight had set loose.
The
reality of his confrontation with Miles Day sank in. His body wanted to be sick, but he didn’t give in to the urge. With all his extracurricular activities with other women, he had no right to be upset about the possibility of Sydney seeking comfort in the arms of another man. Maybe it served him right and karma was finally catching up with him.
He glanced down at the papers again, wondering if being there was the right thing to do, and considered backing off until he had more information. Holsey had assured him he’d have everything he needed to know about Austyn Greene in a few days, but Donathan couldn’t wait. His instincts told him he needed to do this right now; no matter what else Holsey found out about Austyn, Donathan knew only he could save himself.
A few minutes later he looked left and right, searching for any sign of the light blue Saturn, before crossing the street. He hesitated in front of the eggshell-white duplex and stared at the apartment upstairs. According to the paperwork, Austyn lived on the ground floor, but he wondered if her neighbors were home.
Before using the key Holsey had given to him, he rang the doorbell without a plan for what he’d do if someone answered. But when no one did he removed the single key from his pocket and inserted it into the gold lock. The door opened easily and he stepped into a tiny entryway, too small to be called a foyer, and shut the door behind him. It was late morning, but the overcast skies made the apartment dark, which made it difficult to see, but Donathan resisted turning on the lights. Instead, he walked down the short hallway that led from the front room, noting how hot the apartment was. It felt like it was a hundred degrees. He started his search in the bedroom, unsure what he was looking for; still, he continued moving through the space, surveying everything.
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