by Donna Hill
“Did you get my message from our daughter?”
Her stomach did a slow somersault. “Yes,” she choked out. “What do you want now, Terrance?” She gripped the edge of the desk.
“Nothing more than to hear your voice. Is that so wrong?”
“Very expensive call just to hear someone’s voice.”
“Money is not an issue. Never was. We had other problems—you and I.”
“Oh, so you remember?”
“I was a fool, a young arrogant fool. But I’ve changed, Mari,” he said, using his pet name for her.
Heat rushed to her head at the sound of the endearment. “Old dog as they say.”
“I’m going to prove the saying wrong. You can teach this old dog new tricks.” His voice lassoed around her. “I want you to teach me.”
“It’s over, Terrance.”
“You’re still my wife.” The last two words tightened the rope around her neck, cut off her breathing.
“I’m busy Terrance. No time for your word games.”
“It’s not a game, Mari. I’m coming back for you. Believe that if you believe nothing else. And I will make you remember how good it was between us.”
She slammed down the phone. Her hands were shaking. For several moments she sat there with her hand still locked on the receiver, unable to move. Her gaze rose upward and Carol was standing outside her cubicle staring at her.
Ann Marie drew in a breath, stood and tugged the hem of her waist length jacket then went to her door. She pulled it open.
“Yes!”
“Here are the files you asked for,” she said, inching them toward Ann Marie as if handing off explosives.
Ann Marie swallowed. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“Are you all right, Ms. Dennis?”
Ann Marie looked into Carol’s eyes, and was stunned by what appeared to be real concern etched onto her acne-prone face.
Slowly Ann Marie nodded. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said in a softer voice. “Thanks for asking.” She took the files and turned away.
Ann Marie returned to her desk and eased her way down into her seat without collapsing.
How could she ever explain to anyone what Terrance did to her? Just his voice alone made her weak. Seeing him in her mind’s eye made her hot with a need that had never been fully satisfied since she’d left him.
Yes, she’d played the role of the big woman in front of her friends. But with Terrance she was sixteen again, young, vulnerable and terribly in love with a man who only knew how to love himself.
He said he’d changed. She couldn’t imagine that. But what if he had? What if he was the man she’d always wanted him to be? What then?
You’re still my wife. The words echoed in her head like a shout tossed into the Grand Canyon. She had to make it stop. She couldn’t lose her soul to Terrance Bishop again.
Chapter 4
Barbara, Ellie and Stephanie reviewed the write-up they’d put together to recruit staff. The day had been exhausting to say the least.
“Personally, Steph, I think you did too good of a job,” Ellie moaned. “There was another write-up in the Style section of the Times today. And I got two calls this morning for a radio and a television interview.”
“We could be moaning that the business was a flop,” Barbara said, always practical. “So we really shouldn’t complain.”
“True, but we definitely have to get some trained staff in here or they will be scraping us up off the floor,” Ellie said.
“Not to change the subject from our successful endeavor, but has anyone heard from Ann Marie?” Stephanie looked at Barbara then Elizabeth. They both shook their heads no.
“In all the years I’ve known Ann Marie, I don’t ever think I’ve seen her cry. She’d rather cut someone first,” Elizabeth said, tongue in cheek.
“Yeah, me either,” Barbara concurred. “I’m worried about her. She put on a good face about Terrance but she’s truly shook. He must really be something to have put the mojo on Ann Marie.”
“Not to mention the blowup between her and Raquel,” Stephanie added. “I really thought they were going to make a go at it.”
“Hmm,” they murmured.
“So, what are we going to do?” Elizabeth asked.
“Sounds like our girl needs some sisterly intervention,” Barbara said. “But first let’s get this posting listed as soon as possible before we need the intervention.”
“I’ll put it up on Craig’s List and see how that pans out,” Stephanie said.
“And I’ll post it on the hospital bulletin board,” Barbara said.
They stood.
“So what time do we make this intervention?” Elizabeth asked.
“I’ll make dinner and we can take it over to Ann Marie’s,” Barbara offered.
“I have a better idea. I’ll call Dawne and Desiree and have them whip up something. No need for you to do any more work today, Barbara,” Elizabeth said.
“Works for me.” Barbara grinned.
“So let’s meet at Ann Marie’s about eight,” Stephanie said.
They disbanded to handle the final business of the workday then headed out.
Ann Marie stuck her key in the lock of her apartment door and stepped inside. For a moment she expected to see Raquel sitting in the living room or to inhale the scent of dinner simmering on the stove.
The house was empty, silent and the only smell was the lingering fragrance of her body oil.
She shut the door, oddly disappointed. She didn’t realize until that moment how accustomed she’d become to finding her daughter home when she arrived.
A sharp stab of angst caught her unawares. Maybe there was something she could have said to make Raquel stay, get her to understand.
On leaden legs she moved across the showcase of a living room then on into her bedroom. She closed her door as if she half expected someone to suddenly walk in on her undressing. There was no one. The muscles of her throat tightened.
This was so unlike her, these bouts of tears and feeling sorry for herself. She was not some weak thing that could be bandied about by circumstance. She was the one who took circumstance by the balls and squeezed until she was satisfied.
Hadn’t that been the way? Hadn’t her resiliency, tough as nails, take no prisoner attitude been the ever recurring conversation piece at the weekly girls’ soiree? She was the one who put the starch in Barbara’s, Ellie’s and Stephanie’s backs. And now, she felt weak as a newborn, unable to stand on her own. And why? Because of a goddamn man!
She pulled her jacket off and tossed it haphazardly across the bed then stepped out of her shoes and left them right in the middle of the floor. She took off her blouse, unzipped her skirt and tossed both on top of her jacket.
What she needed was a stiff drink, at least that would have to suffice in lieu of something else stiff. She walked back into the living room in her Victoria’s Secrets and fixed her herself a tall glass of Jamaican rum with barely a splash of Coke. She gulped it down like a desert refugee left to bake in the sun then poured another. By the time she was halfway through her third drink and had moved away from the bar, the world had acquired a soft, warm, fuzzy feel around its edges.
Ann Marie smiled, stumbled over to the couch and plopped down with a flourish.
“The hell with you Terrance Bishop. You won’t run your magic on me no more. Ya hear!” She jerked her glass into the air splashing some of the contents on her forehead. She giggled as she licked the sweet liquid that ran off the tip of her nose down to her lips.
She was thoroughly looped by the time her front doorbell rang. For a while she thought it was her ears ringing and she laughed. But the ringing continued followed by banging and yelling of her name.
She pressed her hands to her ears in an attempt to block out the offending noise that was infringing on her high.
But threats of breaking down her door filtered through the sludge in her brain. Weaving and using the furniture and wall for support she m
ade it to the door.
Through bleary eyes she was able to make out the six bodies that stood in her doorway—maybe it was three. She braced herself against the doorframe.
“You’re drunk!” the trio sang.
“And you’re half-naked,” Ellie added.
“Yep,” Ann Marie slurred, her lopsided grin making her look even more ridiculous.
“Come inside,” Barbara ordered, taking Ann Marie by the arm and ushering her into the house.
“Damn, smells like a still in here,” Stephanie said, wrinkling her nose as she sniffed the air.
“Yep,” Ann Marie agreed and nearly fell on the couch.
“I’m going to make some coffee,” Barbara said, setting down the bag of food she carried.
“I’ll get her something to put on,” Ellie offered and headed to Ann Marie’s bedroom.
“I’ll join you for a drink if ya don’t mind,” Stephanie said.
“Pull up a drink…I mean a chair.” Ann Marie giggled.
Stephanie sat down but didn’t fix a drink. “What’s going on with you, Ann?” she asked, so gently it tugged at the noose around Ann Marie’s heart.
Her bottom lip trembled. She and Stephanie had been at odds for years, making a habit of rubbing each other the wrong way. But recently they’d begun to tiptoe across the divide that separated them, discovering that what set them apart were the very things that made them so much alike. Had this been a year, even six months earlier, the last person she would have turned to in confidence would have been Stephanie.
“I feel so shaky and unsure of myself. Weak like a baby.” She looked at Stephanie with such anguish in her wide eyes that Stephanie actually felt her pain.
How well Stephanie knew feelings of helplessness, to have your life and emotions controlled by forces stronger than you. It had cost her dearly over the years and she was still in the throes of relinquishing the hold her past had on her present.
“Is it Terrance?” Stephanie asked softly.
Ann Marie nodded her head and the room did a slow spin.
“Did he contact you again?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “Something I never told no one.”
“What?”
“I’m still married to the bastard. Him say him coming back for me.”
“Damn,” Stephanie said in a hush. “What are you going to do?”
“Don’t know.”
“You need a good lawyer. Maybe you’re not really even married anymore. It’s been so long.”
“I should be so lucky.” She leaned back against the couch cushions and closed her eyes just as Barbara emerged from the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee.
“But Ann, don’t you think it’s time that Raquel met her father and let her make the decision for herself?”
Ann Marie jumped up so fast and the room spun so quickly she fell back down onto the couch before the words could get out of her mouth. She breathed in deeply through her nose until her stomach settled. “He’ll just twist her around his finger; charm her into believing that he’s the injured one.”
“Is that what you’re really worried about?” Barbara asked and handed her the cup of coffee.
Ann Marie took the cup in two hands and sipped the steaming black brew. “Always cut to the chase with you,” she murmured.
“Everyone deserves to know them pops. True. But me t’ink once him back in Raquel’s life, him be back in mine.”
“What did this man do to you?” Elizabeth asked. She knew what it felt like to have a philandering husband. She’d just gotten rid of one herself. But this definitely sounded more serious that than. “Did he beat you?” she eeked out, shuddering at the thought.
She looked from one face to another. “He sexed me up so good that I haven’t been right for another man since.”
“Ooooh,” they sang.
“We should all be so lucky,” Stephanie said drolly.
“You don’t know what it’s like to have someone have that much control over you,” Ann Marie said. “To need and want someone so badly you put up with every retched t’ing they do to keep ‘em.”
“Maybe he’s old, bald and fat now,” Stephanie offered.
“Even old, bald and fat Terrance Bishop would be more than the average woman could handle.”
“Damn,” they sang in harmony.
“What you need is a unified front,” Barbara said and stood. She began to pace. “Once he sees that you have support, he won’t try anything. You don’t be alone with him. No late night dinners, no private lunches.” She turned to Ann Marie and wagged a finger at her. “And don’t let him in the front door. If he wants to see Raquel let them make arrangements to meet. You stay out of it. Put your foot down girl. You did it once, you can do it again.”
“And get a lawyer,” Stephanie said.
“For what?” Elizabeth asked.
“They’re still married,” Stephanie said.
Chapter 5
Terrance walked into police headquarters, dressed as usual in his tailor-made suit, shoes gleaming and his salt-and-pepper hair brushed to a soft shine, the gentle natural waves capping his perfectly shaped head. A smooth nut-brown complexion served as the canvas for jet-black almond-shaped eyes, soft curling lashes, lush lips and an alluring cleft in his solid chin.
At fifty-six he could easily pass for a man half his age. He made a point of swimming every day and would rather walk than use his many cars. The sandy beaches of Jamaica were his gym. He ran along the shore every morning for at least an hour before taking his swim in the clear blue ocean.
Now as commissioner of the police force it was more important than ever to maintain his look. It had been a long time coming. For years he’d danced in his father’s shadow. But with Cyril Bishop’s passing the prior year, Terrance had been appointed in his place without protest. And with position came power. With the force at his disposal and a commanding title to back him up, he’d been able to use the resources available to him to locate his wife and daughter.
His next step up the ladder was to run for office. The campaign was slated to begin in three months. His reunion with his wife and daughter would surely guarantee him the spot he coveted. A loving family always warmed a voter’s heart. He intended to have his wife and daughter at his side.
“Good morning Commissioner,” Stacy his latest conquest and administrative assistant greeted.
He flashed her a smile that reawakened the fire between them from the previous night. He’d have to find a way to be rid of her soon. But in the meantime she was a pleasant diversion.
“Good morning,” he said in his slightly British accent, acquired from his years of education at Oxford in England.
“I left your messages on your desk.”
He nodded and headed down the corridor to his office, the heavy wooden door embossed in gold letters with his name. Absently he ran his hand across the raised letters before opening the door and stepping inside.
He went to his desk and picked up the handful of messages, tossing each one aside as he reviewed them. One caught his attention.
It was from Raquel.
He came around the desk and sat down. Call me. We need to talk.
He licked his lips then picked up the phone, dialing the international operator. Moments later he heard the phone ringing on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Raquel. It’s your dad. I just received your message.”
“I wanted you to know that I’ve moved out of Mom’s house. I’m staying in a hotel.”
Terrance frowned. “Why are you in a hotel?”
“I couldn’t stay there any longer.”
“Did something happen? Was it because of me?”
“She lied to me all these years. She never told me about you. She never told me you were still married.”
Terrance sat back in his high-backed leather chair and swiveled it to face the window.
“You shouldn’t be upset with your mother.” He pursed his lips, ran a finger alon
g the thin line of his mustache.
“Why not?”
“Maybe she had her reasons.” He gazed out toward the ocean, almost able to see the young Ann Marie running across the beach, her skirts held high around her thighs.
Raquel sighed into the phone. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done. I just wanted to leave you a number where you could reach me.”
He shook the past away then took the number down.
“So, you’ll stay in touch won’t you?”
“Of course,” he said. “Do you need money? Is there anything that I can do?”
“No. Thanks. I’m fine. You’re still coming to New York aren’t you?” she asked sounding like a young girl instead of a grown woman.
Terrance smiled. “Yes, darling. I’m still coming.”
“Good. I’m really looking forward to meeting—seeing you.”
“So am I. I’m sure you are more beautiful than I could ever imagine.”
She laughed. “Mom says I look like you.”
Maybe that’s why it was so hard for her to love you, he thought, a constant reminder. “Well, we hope that you got the good genes.” He chuckled. A knock on his door drew his attention. “I must go.”
“Okay. Well, you have my number.”
“Yes, and I’ll be sure to call.”
“Bye.”
“Goodbye.” He hung up the phone.
“Yes, come in.”
Stacy opened the door and stepped inside. A slow smile moved across her thin mouth. She closed the door behind her and walked up to his desk. “I wanted to tell you what a nice time I had last night,” she said in husky voice.
The right corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
“How nice?”
She came around to his side of the desk and sat on his lap. “Why don’t I show you?”
Sterling Chambers walked out of the court room. It had been a tough case, one that he wasn’t sure he would win, but he did.
His specialty was criminal defense cases al though he’d made his mark as a prosecutor. But years of putting people whom he knew to be innocent behind bars had finally taken its toll and so he’d jumped sides and opened his own practice.