“I am not taken,” Valerie said with an attitude.
“You are! And shut up. This is my game. Do what you’re told.”
“I’m not doin’ SHIT. And don’t get me twisted with the girl you used to know . . .”
“But Valerie . . .”
“Don’t ‘But Valerie’ me, you sick, demented, obnoxious pig. We never had nothing then. We don’t have nothing now, and we never will have nothing in the future. And . . . you wanna know something else? I’m pregnant now, you impotent bastard. So there!”
Everybody’s face froze on account of that news flash.
Richard seemed to be disarmed by Valerie’s demanding tone. And then she shocked everybody again when she walked back down the steps. Richard was standing at the top of the staircase, looking over the balcony. Mechelle and Debbie were behind him now, out of harm’s way.
Someone Richard had overlooked; Chuckuma appeared out of nowhere. He was in the bathroom just inside of the gallery on the main floor. He darted across. Richard shook from his own hysteria and shot twice at the moving target. He missed. But Chuckuma was just a diversion.
“Put it down!” Wade was to the left, posted behind a life-sized statue of limestone. Wade’s tux opened up and the vest he wore was loosened and visible. He hadn’t been hurt bad. Richard went to him with both guns firing. Wade had been here before . . . nothing new. Meanwhile, Demetrius went to grab Valerie and they crouched down at the bottom of the staircase.
Then, from the right of the entry hall, a shot rang out. It hit Richard in the arm . . . spinning him in that direction. Then another shot hit him in the chest. And he fell back against the wall where a Billie Holiday portrait was positioned. Richard lifted his gun to shoot again.
It was the guy he swung on at Moet’s house!
I knew I shoulda slugged that dude when I had the chance!
Richard was laughing all the while. Unfocused enough for Wade to take the chance and cap him in the leg. The first shot missed. The second pop hit, and Richard stumbled and rolled down the stairs until he hit the marble floor, head first. Blood began to seep from under him in a growing pool.
Douglass ran to get Debbie and Mechelle upstairs, while Demetrius rushed Valerie away from the lifeless body. Wade came out of hiding, standing over the body. He looked in Ken’s direction. Ken, with his .45 down by his side, showing some remorse. Wade closed his eyes slow and thoughtfully, happy that Ken was around yet ashamed for his own misjudgments.
“I guess everything ain’t always what it seems,” said Wade.
“I tend to believe you,” Ken replied. And he used his hand to brush off Wade’s tuxedo as well as his own. They were standing in front of a walled mirror, both of them checking out one another’s reflection.
“And just to think . . . you picked a murder suspect to be your best man.”
“It was only for the season tickets, son . . . purely for the perks.” The two laughed heartily as they took one last deep breath and one last look at their reflections. The groom and his best man, with all of their personal challenges, triumphs and imperfections.
“You ready to do this?”
“I’m de-finitely ready to do this.”
They opened the dressing room door and stepped out through a foyer until they were recognized by the crowd outside. Demetrius cued Greg by their Secret Service-type communications, and Greg signaled the vocalist. The piano blended with the sound of seagulls flying overhead. The melody was as fluid and undeniable as the clear, spring sky over the calm and endless waters of the Long Island Sound.
And then Rachelle Ferrell’s voice made it all seem valid; the wedding outdoors at The Point; Douglass, hosting and financing the wedding and the reception; and over 50 beautiful women standing like flowers around the yard where Brenda awaited her husband for life.
“Long as . . . I’m living . . .
I’m loving . . . loving You . . .
Long as . . . I’m dreaming . . .
I’m dreaming . . . dreaming of you
Long as . . . I’m singing . . .
I’m singing to you
Long as . . . I’m breathing . . .
I’m not leaving, leaving you.”
Rachelle captured the hearts of every last soul who witnessed the groom walk down the lawn to meet with his bride. After the vows, the ring and the kiss, the vocalist took everyone to church with her jubilations of song. Douglass was positioned on an outdoor couch with a team of women standing behind him and a few sitting at each side. Photographers seemed to be popping flashes at him more so than at the rest of the wedding attendees. Brenda’s co-anchor Ernie, Ken’s agent, and a brigade of celebrities joined half the police force, filling the property to capacity.
There was dancing, networking and plenty of food during an afternoon-long reception.
“Do you think that will ever be us?”
“Now . . . this is so beautiful. All the white, the yellow . . . the dresses and flowers. Why would you wanna break up the mood?”
“Maybe we could have a wedding for four?” The girls all laughed through their joyful tears. They were the head bridesmaids for Brenda and this was all making them sick with happiness. Douglass was close enough to overhear the conversation. They did not detect his presence.
“To tell you the truth, girls . . . marriage isn’t gonna make me happier than I am. I’ve got a beautiful little boy and he brings more joy to my face than I could ever imagine feeling in one day. Plus . . . I have Destiny,” said Valerie. “I mean, I feel like she’s my daughter, too. Look at her running around, so pretty like a princess.”
And only now did Douglass feel like he was missing something. Like he should be reaching for some higher heights. Because, after all, what more was there for a man to do in life if already he had everything he’d ever dreamed of?
Table of Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Foreword
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Topless Page 48