“Don’t forget to make that call,” Trena reminded Arnell before getting out of the car.
Arnell promised that she would. By the time she was walking in the front door of the mansion, Arnell was hyped. She was excited for reasons she couldn’t comprehend, other than possibly because she was getting ready to meet a man from Esther’s past who might tell tales—dark, ugly tales—that Esther had always been mum about yet were powerful enough to render her powerless. Why else would she allow this Kesley Hayden to force her to cower inside her suite, while he collected her money? Something was definitely wrong. Big Walt was right about that.
A few feet inside the parlor, Arnell stopped. The music stopped her. It wasn’t classical, it wasn’t jazz, it was rhythm and blues—Cloud Nine? The Temptations? Their smooth, finger-popping sound seemed so out of place. Across into the living room, far off in the corner, Arnell could see Jeanette and a man talking intimately.
“This is Monday,” Arnell said to Big Walt. “Why is there a client here?”
“That old friend of Esther’s made some changes.”
“In a week? I guess I need to speak to—”
Kesley suddenly appeared out of nowhere to greet Arnell. “Well, well, well. Little Arnell.” Grinning, Kesley sized up Arnell. “You’re every inch your mother when she was your age. But I should have figured that, you were a looker when you were a baby.”
In turn, Arnell sized up Kesley. She was slow about it. Kesley Hayden was quite a bit older than her but not quite as old as Esther. Not bad to look at, not a bad dresser, but obviously bad news—that cocky smirk on his face said so, and so did Big Walt who whispered in her ear, “Trouble.”
“You seem to know me, Kesley Hayden. Why is it that I don’t know anything about you?”
“You mean your momma didn’t tell you about me? She must have told you something, you know my name, or,” Kesley glanced up at Big Walt, “did the big man here tell you about me?”
Melvina stuck her head out from the dining room.
“Oh, I know your name,” Arnell said, “but that’s about all I know. However, I get this feeling that whatever I find out, I’m not going to like.”
“Little Arnell, don’t say that,” Kesley said. “We could be real good friends. In fact, I could be like a daddy to you.”
Arnell glowered. “Let’s get something straight, Mr. Hayden . . .”
“I like that—Mr. Hayden,” Kesley said, smiling.
“. . . Whatever your plans are for my mother, for this house, or even for me, cancel them. Nothing here is up for sale or available to be stolen. Therefore, I suggest you pack your bags and leave.”
“Not possible,” Kesley said.
Melvina scooted away.
“Anything is possible,” Arnell said flatly. “If you need some help packing, Big Walt is an excellent packer. In fact, I might help you myself.”
Looking at Big Walt, Kesley rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “Maybe we should speak to Esther before we start packing.”
“We don’t have to speak to Esther,” Arnell said, “I’m speaking for her.”
“Arnell,” Esther said, hurrying into the parlor. “I didn’t know you were here. I’m so glad to see you.”
“Esther,” Kesley said, “I was just about to go get you.”
Right off, Arnell could see the stress on Esther’s drawn, unmade-up face.
“Mother, what’s going on here? Why is this man acting like he’s the lord of the manor?”
“Kesley’s an old friend.”
“Esther, that’s what I was trying to tell your girl. I told her I could be like a daddy to her,” Kesley said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He went and took Esther’s hand.
Arnell saw Esther’s eyes grow cold and dark, she saw the set of Esther’s jaw tighten, she saw Esther snatch her hand away from Kesley and step a foot away from him, but that was all Esther did. Her mouth wasn’t spitting out foul words or threats, which was so unlike her.
“I don’t know what’s going on here,” Arnell said, “but Mother, you had better tell me something. I know you. This is not what you would want—some fast-talking pimp from your past crashing in here running your show. Who is this man? More importantly, what the hell does he have on you?”
“What makes you think Kesley has something on me?”
“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t become you.”
“I told you, Kesley’s an old friend.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Arnell said, now really annoyed. “Mother, you would never allow some jerk—”
“Jerk?” Kesley asked.
“Did I stutter?” Arnell asked, looking pointedly at Kesley. “Like I was saying, some jerk off the street from your past to simply walk in here and tell you when and where to spit. So tell me, Mother, what’s going on? Or I will walk out this door and let him continue whatever the hell he’s doing to you.”
Esther didn’t know how to begin explaining. She looked from Arnell back to Kesley.
Kesley easily pulled Esther back to him. “We’d hate for you to stop coming by,” Kesley said. “We’d miss you, wouldn’t we, Esther?”
Arnell could not believe the silence of Esther’s tongue, nor could she understand why Esther was letting Kesley hold her when the look on her face shouted clearly that she couldn’t stand the man’s hands on her. When Esther dropped her eyes, Arnell knew that this was worse than Big Walt had said.
“This is just too unreal,” Arnell said to Big Walt.
“I told you.”
“Arnell,” Esther said, “Kesley really is an old friend. He’s all right.”
“If that’s the case, Mother, your old friend should understand that he’s not wanted here; that he should stay in a hotel. Brooklyn has one now, you know? It’s called the Marriott.”
“I like it here just fine,” Kesley said. “It’s so homey.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Arnell said, rushing at Esther. She snatched her by the arm, pulling her away from Kesley. “We talk. Now!” Arnell pulled Esther down the hall to her suite. Before she could even close the door, Kesley put his foot in the door and stopped it from closing. But Big Walt was right on him, holding him back from entering.
“Let them talk, man!”
“Get your hand off me, boy! You don’t know me. I’ll shoot you—”
“Let him go!” Esther ordered. “Let him go.” She sat heavily in her chair.
Big Walt did as he was told. Kesley smirked at Big Walt and walked on into the suite. Big Walt stepped inside behind him. Melvina found a comfortable spot in the doorway.
“You want him here? Fine,” Arnell said, “but I’m going to speak my mind. Mother, I am not stupid, and neither is Big Walt. What does this man have on you? Tell us, before it’s too late.”
Esther’s fear of Kesley outweighed her contempt for him. “It’s nothing.”
“Mother, you’d better cut the crap and tell me the truth or this leech will suck you dry, and believe me, poverty is not very pretty in old age.”
“Arnell, you’re not needed here,” Kesley said. “I can take care of Esther.”
“This is absurd,” Arnell said, dismissing Kesley with a flip of her hand. “Mother, everything you’ve worked for—this house, your money, even this disgusting business, which you should definitely close down, everything will vanish before your eyes. I refuse to stand by and let that happen. As much as I want to stay out of your business, I can’t. I can’t let this man do this to you. Whatever it is that you’ve done, you need to tell me. We’ll deal with it together and get this . . . this man out of your life.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Kesley said.
“I am not talking to you!” Arnell snapped.
“You got some attitude, girl.”
“Mother, how much can the past hurt you?”
“It can hurt her a hell of a lot,” Kesley said. “In fact, it could hurt you more.”
Arnell cut her eyes at Kesley. Maybe she should be afraid o
f the dark secret he held over Esther’s head that he was now threatening her with, but Arnell was so angry she saw him solely as the enemy she needed to confront. Arnell moved slowly toward Kesley.
“How dare you presume that you could come in here and blackmail my mother. Whatever she’s done, she could never be as disgustingly vile as you.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Arnell said. “Mr. Hayden, you’re a user, a leech. Get out of this house before I have you thrown out.”
Big Walt took a step forward. His nostrils were flaring.
Kesley glanced at Big Walt. He took a step back. “Esther, I think you’d better talk to your girl and your enforcer here.”
“Mother, put him out or I will.”
Esther searched for something to say that would make Arnell back down, but nothing she thought of made sense. “Kesley, maybe you should—”
“Maybe. H’m,” Kesley said pensively. “That’s a good word, Esther. Maybe I should start talking about how your husband died.”
Gasping, Esther covered her face.
Arnell knew that she had heard right, she just didn’t think the words were right. She looked at Esther and saw that her hands were covering her face. There was a soft moan coming from her. Now Arnell was scared.
“What about you, Arnell?” Kesley asked. “Don’t you want to know the truth about how your daddy died?”
Big Walt was disgusted. “Man, you’re foul.”
“I’ve been called worse, big man, I ain’t upset, though. I play the hand I’m dealt and Esther just forced it. So,” Kesley said, turning back to Arnell, “can you handle the truth?”
“My father died in a car accident. What’s so damning about that?”
“Is that what Esther told you?” Kesley asked, looking at Esther. “That’s a big lie, Esther.”
“You know something different? Tell it,” Arnell said, daring Kesley. “I’m listening.”
“No! Kesley, no!” Esther exclaimed. “Arnell, leave this alone. Please.”
Esther’s desperate plea piqued Arnell’s curiosity. She turned back to Kesley. “You’re leaving this house, I guarantee you that. So if you have something to say, say it.”
Kesley looked to Esther. “Am I leaving this house, Esther?”
Esther sighed her acceptance of the situation. She wanted Kesley gone. If the truth would release his hold on her, then the truth had to be told. She had to take her chances that Arnell wouldn’t hate her.
“I’ll tell it,” Esther said, unable to look at Arnell. “Arnell, your father was murdered. Kesley killed him.”
Thirty-Seven
It wasn’t unusual that the house was quiet; the house was usually quiet when Trena wasn’t there to blast Mary J. Blige’s or Usher’s pulsating jams from the stereo in the living room or her “gutter rap” as her mother called it, from her boom box in her bedroom. What was unusual was that Cheryl and Maxine were sitting together in the living room with no other sounds in the house surrounding them—no television, no music, and when Trena walked in, they stopped talking and stared at her. Right away Trena knew that something was wrong.
Trena’s knees were quaking. “What’s up?”
“Where have you been?” Maxine questioned.
“Nowhere.” She started up the stairs.
“Trena, come in and sit down.”
“I need to go up to my room. I’ll be back,” she said, hoping to delay the inevitable.
“No, Trena,” Maxine said firmly, “we need to talk—now.”
There was a nervous little flutter in Trena’s stomach as she went on into the living room. She headed for the single chair closest to the door.
“Sit next to me,” Maxine said.
Definitely not wanting to, Trena went anyway to sit on the sofa, but she didn’t sit next to her mother—she sat on the end, as far away as she could get. She glanced at Cheryl and saw that Cheryl was looking at her stomach. Trena’s heart thumped. They know!
“Where were you?” Maxine asked, still not raising her voice.
Trena eyed first Maxine and then Cheryl. “Why?”
“Don’t answer me with a question, Trena,” Maxine said testily. “Where were you?”
“Dang! I was visiting a friend. Man!”
“Girl, you better watch your mouth,” Maxine warned.
Trena set her jaw firm and folded her hands in her lap.
“Trena, we called all of your friends,” Cheryl said. “No one had seen you. At least that’s what they told us.”
“They were telling the truth. I was visiting that lady that helped me at the shelter. She said I could talk to her whenever I wanted to.”
“I see,” Maxine said. “Is there anything you need to be talking to us about?”
“No.”
“Trena, we’re your family,” Cheryl said. “If there’s something you need help with, you should tell us.”
They know. Fixing her eyes on the pink and white silk floral arrangement sitting atop the entertainment unit, Trena suddenly felt sleepy. “I don’t need help with nothing.”
From between the seat cushion and the armrest of the sofa, Maxine pulled out a small crushed-up blue and white box. She held it up for Trena to see. Trena immediately recognized the box. How could she be so stupid? She had taken the pregnancy test kit and thrown it out in the public trash bin, but the box, she had thrown away in her own small garbage container in her room.
“Was it positive or negative?” Maxine asked.
Trena couldn’t bring herself to answer. When tears slipped from her eyes, she felt betrayed by them.
“It was positive,” Cheryl said sadly.
The tears wouldn’t stop.
“Oh, Trena,” Maxine said, disappointment clear in her voice. “How could you? You made me a promise. You’ve messed up your life.”
Trena could no longer hold in her anguish. She cried as she had done at Arnell’s—loud and hard
“Dad is going to be so upset,” Cheryl said. “Mom, maybe we shouldn’t tell him while he’s on the road. Maybe we should wait until he comes home again.”
“No,” Maxine said, “we’ll tell him tonight when he calls. He should know.”
“No!” Trena tried to get control of her crying. “Mom, please . . . please . . . don’t tell Dad. I don’t want him to be mad at me.”
“Well, Trena, it’s a little late to worry about that. You should have thought about that before you broke your promise and gave up your virginity.”
Crying again, Trena looked to Cheryl. “I wasn’t tryin’ to get pregnant.”
“You’re a young girl, Trena. You could damn near get pregnant if a guy spits on you. The question is, what are we gonna do about it?”
“Nothing,” Maxine said. “Trena is going to have this baby.”
“No . . . no. I can’t.”
Maxine wasn’t moved by Trena’s tears. “You will have this baby. That’s all there is to it.”
“No, Mom, please. I can’t have this baby. I have to get an abortion.”
“You can forget that. You won’t be killing babies in my house. Having this baby will teach you that a hard head makes for a lifelong hard lesson learned, and you will take care of this baby on your own. It’s your responsibility. Not mine, not Cheryl’s, and certainly not your father’s. Speaking of your father, who is this baby’s father?”
Trena hid her face behind her arm.
“It’s Omar, isn’t it?” Cheryl asked.
“It’s not Omar.”
“We called him,” Cheryl said, “and—”
“No! No! You didn’t call Omar!”
“We most certainly did,” Maxine affirmed. “He’s going to be just as responsible for this baby as you are.”
“Oh, God!” If Omar knew, then, by now, all her friends knew. Trena could imagine all the bad things they were saying about her. She wasn’t going to be able to ever look Omar in the face again. Trena began to cry so hard her chest, her neck, and her back
ached. She broke out in a cold sweat. She began to feel weak, her stomach churned.
“Mom, she’s gonna make herself sick,” Cheryl said.
“She’ll stop crying when she’s tired, but she’d better get use to the fact that she will be having this baby, and if Omar doesn’t do what’s right, I will take his hot ass to court for rape.”
“I swear to God, Mom, it’s not Omar. He didn’t get me pregnant.”
“That’s what he said, too, but you’re both lying.”
“No, Mom, it’s the truth! I swear. I can’t believe you told Omar that I was pregnant.”
“I don’t see why not,” Cheryl said. “Trena, you and Omar were always messing around. You were gone for more than a month. You and Omar were free to do whatever you wanted.”
“But, it wasn’t Omar. I never saw Omar the whole time I was gone.”
“Then who in God’s name was it?” Maxine asked.
Trena’s crying tore at her throat. She felt like she was tearing herself up inside.
“Trena, I don’t wanna hear that you don’t know,” Maxine said, “because that would mean that you were whoring out there on the street like a common tramp. Is that what you were doing?”
Unable to stop crying, Trena knew that she could never tell where she stayed or what she did.
“I think it’s Omar,” Cheryl concluded.
“Me, too,” Maxine agreed. “If they won’t tell the truth now, they will when the baby is born and I get a DNA test done.”
Trena couldn’t let that happen. She suddenly bolted for the front door.
Maxine jumped to her feet. “Trena, get back here!”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Trena unlocked the door. “I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble.”
“Trena! Where are you going?”
Cheryl rushed to the door just as Trena yanked it open and ran out. “Trena, come back here!”
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