William started to speak.
Brandi held up a hand. “And another one of your reasons—my father wasn’t a Morehouse grad as you had the nerve to point out to your snobby friends,” she said, anger shooting through her like an Apollo launch. “My father didn’t go to college, but he was smart enough to stay with the same woman for thirty-seven years. Now that’s a fidelity example for ya.” She leaned forward. “Fifty-nine and single, sporting a new Barbie doll on your arm every two weeks, and for what, huh?” Lowering her gaze to his groin, she said, “Testing it out before it falls completely off?”
He flushed a deep tan. “Don’t talk to me that way, young lady.”
“Then don’t come into my home trying to run things. Your laundry’s a little dirty, too. Some of it’s so foul that it’s standing in the corner by itself funking up the whole basement.” She turned, strolled to the door, and held it open. “There’s no advice I want or need from you. You think people didn’t know you were slipping it to Deborah Chadwick, Vanessa Stewart, and that other woman while you were married?” Brandi shook her head. “Think again, slick. You weren’t that slick.” She grinned as he stepped over the threshold. “With you sprinkling so much joy around the world, no wonder the former Mrs. Spencer’s having so much fun with her new man.”
William whirled to face Brandi so quickly he lost his balance and gripped the door to keep his meaty legs from buckling underneath him. “What new man?”
Brandi grinned, winked, and said, “Ooops.” Then she slammed the door and went back to her office.
CHAPTER Twenty-Nine
The laughter soon died on Brandi’s lips as she remembered admonishments from her own mother earlier that morning: “As long as Tanya is in your house we don’t need to have a conversation.” As stubborn as her mother was, Brandi knew she meant every word. But she had to do things this way. Their conversation led to a point where Brandi got angry and said, “Mama, Romans adopted people into their families when they were adults.”
Mama looked at her, shaking her head. “That was only if they didn’t have a son to carry on the family name, or their child got killed in combat, or if they didn’t like the children they had given birth to—”
“But they adopted an adult,” Brandi said, “And the new person took on the family name. I’m just sort of adopting a family member of Vernon’s a little late in the game. She’s already housebroken, and she cooks stuff I can’t even pronounce. So what’s the difference?”
No one but Donny and Tanya seemed to take Brandi’s side in all this. But then again, Tanya really didn’t have a choice. They had to stick together. If it were too easy for Vernon, he would believe he could do it again. Next time she just might go Lorena Bobbitt on his ass or like that other woman who whacked her husband’s penis totally off, then fed it to the dog.
Her mother had been a stabilizing factor and the voice of wisdom for the majority of her life. Brandi hated to go against that, but she couldn’t just roll over, forgive Vernon and let it ride, either. She had to hold her point no matter what changes came down the line, and even if Vernon got his act together she would keep her promise and see this lesson through to the end.
Mama had been so right about everything else in life, why hadn’t she seen this coming? She had been adamant about Brandi marrying Vernon instead of Michael Cobb, the man Brandi had dated for two years at Fisk.
♥♥♥
“There’s something about that Michael I don’t like. Reminds me of a cat—sneaky and quiet.”
“You’ll grow to love him, Mama,” Brandi replied, rinsing an old china plate.
“Not if you paid me to,” she said, brushing a hand over her blue paisley dress.
Brandi turned away from the sink to face her mother. “But he’s asked me to marry him.”
“So has Vernon.”
How she wished her father were alive; she could really use his help right now dealing with her mother.
“But Michael’s a gentleman, and patient and brilliant.”
Her mother’s chin lifted a little. “Vernon comes from an established family and a long line of money.”
“But I’m not marrying for money. I’m going to make my own money,” Brandi exclaimed.
“And you’ll suffer for it, especially if you don’t marry a man who can secure your future. He’ll work himself into an early grave just like your daddy.”
“No Mama, you’re wrong. He died so he wouldn’t ever have to face the pain of losing you.” Instantly, Brandi regretted her words, especially when she saw the expression on her mother’s face crumble into a mass of pain.
“Do you really think so?”
Brandi nodded. “How else do you explain a healthy man dropping dead of natural causes at the age of forty-seven, Mama? He knew you could handle his death better than he could handle yours. Why did he double the insurance policy a day after you recovered? He was ready to go even then.”
Brandi told her mother how her father had reacted at the hospital.
Her mother could only manage to say, “He was a good man.”
“Yes, he was, Mama,” Brandi said, hugging her mother, “Yes he was.”
♥♥♥
As Brandi swiveled around in her large office chair, she saw the signs of her accomplishments all around. She realized that although her mother had said marrying Vernon would bring about security, the opposite had happened.
Her life was just as far out of control as it had been on her thirteenth birthday.
♥♥♥
Brandi craned her neck out of the nasty old man’s window. Hollywood was gone. Seconds later, so was she.
Heavy footsteps followed as he trailed after her. She pulled up her panties and pants as she ran. Every movement hurt, then a strange numbness settled over her that pushed aside fear and every other emotion.
“Come back. I won’t touch ya again. I promise. I thought you had to make a phone call.”
Fuck a phone call! She’d already paid enough for the first one she didn’t make.
She ran through the yard, her vagina throbbing with every step, tears coming so fast and furious that she couldn’t see more than four feet ahead.
She sprinted to the corner several blocks away, and there stood a tall blue, silver, and white box like her knight in shining armor. A telephone booth—just what she needed!
She snatched the blue handset and put it to her ear, fumbling in her pocket for the coins her mother insisted she keep with her for emergency purposes. This was definitely an emergency. Her fingers trembled as the coins finally made it into the slot and she punched the number.
Several seconds later a warm, comforting voice answered.
Brandi’s breath came out in a rush. “Mama, I need you. Please…I’m so sorry. Please come and get me. He…he…this man…he…he…”
“Baby, where are you?”
“I’m on—,” Brandi looked up, her eyes locked on the dark green sign with white letters. “—Forty-seventh Street and Michigan Avenue.”
Brandi heard her mother’s sharp intake of breath. Brandi knew what was next, but she didn’t care. She would welcome any sermon right now. Anything, as long as her mother still loved her and would always be there for her. Especially now. “Mama, please…”
“I’ll be right there, baby. Just get somewhere safe—inside a store or something, and stay out of sight. I’ll find you. I love you.”
Brandi couldn’t hold back the tears as her voice cracked. “I love you, too, Mama. Mama, I’ll be in…” She glanced around quickly. “A&B Liquor store.”
She turned to the store’s front glass window, which had a clear view of the street. She could watch her mother’s car pull up. She went inside and huddled in a front corner. A group of men played cards next to the wine cooler.
“What you doin’ there, girl?”
Brandi couldn’t help shivering. “Please let me stay here. My mama’s coming to get me.”
“All right.” The gruff voice bellowed across the roo
m. “But you can’t stay here all day. She’d better come soon.”
While she waited, she thought about things her mother hadn’t told her, like that nasty old man. She never told her that someone guised as a savior could also wear a cloak of evil.
Brandi slumped against the window, which reflected the inside aisles of the store and gave her an excellent view of herself as well. What it didn’t show was the wounds burrowing a lifelong path in her mind. She would never be hurt again. She would always listen to her mother from now on.
An hour later, as she lay on the examination table in the emergency room, Brandi told her mother the truth. She told her mother everything, and then recounted the incident for the police, giving his description and the general location of the house, since she didn’t know the address. She held onto her mother, welcoming the soft scent of gardenia. The doctor took evidence for a rape kit, explaining every step of the way, Brandi winced with every movement, especially when the cold steel went inside her already tender flesh.
Her mother quietly assured her that she would heal, and that some young man would love her and appreciate her. He would ask her to be his wife long before he asked to be her lover—and then that would happen on their wedding night. Her young man would stand before the Creator and the whole world to say he loved her, not sneak her off into some little hideaway that no one else could know about—like Hollywood.
“Mama…”
“It’s all right, baby,” she said, patting her gently. “It’s all right. I never wanted this to happen. I always tried to be strict and it pushed you out there into…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to compose herself. “Sweet Jesus, my baby girl!” Mama’s sobs pierced the air, ripping into her soul in a way that the man’s attack never had.
Hollywood was arrested for attempted rape, and expelled from school. The man, Trevor Thompson, was arrested and convicted of rape. Across the courtroom, she could see the glint in his eyes and realized he wasn’t the least bit sorry for what he had done to her. Jail time wouldn’t give back her virginity, but at least he wouldn’t hurt anyone else.
♥♥♥
Now, twenty-two years later, she was picking up the pieces behind another painful incident, this one a broken heart. Instead of following her own mind, she had taken her mother’s advice—advice that came from her mother’s own fears. Now, just like her father, Vernon had hurt her beyond words: her father by abandoning her in death when she loved him and needed him so much; Vernon by not respecting their vows. Although he had been there in the flesh every single night, he, too, had abandoned her emotionally, spiritually, and intimately.
The soft, tinkling laughter of the children as they came in from the garage jarred her into the present. Tears escaped and landed on the financial projections as she willed away the painful memories.
Sierra and Simone burst through the office door and shot across the room, straight into her open arms. She held onto them—sobbing a little as she took in the soft scent of baby lotion, which soon filled the air around her. They had showered before coming in.
Brandi pulled away to look at the smaller versions of her and Vernon.
“I love you, Mommy,” her youngest said, reaching up to take another hug.
“Me, too,” Simone said. Not wanting to be left out, she reached out to wipe the tears from Brandi’s face before burrowing her little face into the soft curve of her mother’s neck. “I love you, Mom.”
The one thing she knew the day she got married was that she didn’t want children. She never wanted to put herself in a position like her mother, worrying about children.
Now she had two little girls; every day she prayed for their safety. Every day she held her heart in reserve, just waiting for bad news. No matter what she did to keep them safe, the thought that some man might be lying in wait to hurt them always lurked in the back of her mind.
Now she also could lay the prospects of a broken heart at their feet. And there would be nothing she could do to protect them against that, either.
CHAPTER Thirty
The November air was colder than expected. Normally snow would grace the ground this close to Thanksgiving, but it hadn’t made an appearance yet. Working people were grateful. As soon as those little white flakes hit the air, people forgot everything they knew about winter driving, slipping and sliding into each other and adding to the already obnoxious Chicago traffic mess. And the judge had warned that if any party came late, he would rule for the other side.
Brandi sat next to Avie in courtroom 1900 and glanced over at Vernon and his attorney, Mason Myers—the attorney that Vernon had generally wanted as legal counsel for The Perfect Fit. Vernon, dressed in a dark business suit in contrast to Brandi’s winter white dress, didn’t look quite as confident as he had been before. What happened to Craig? Brandi thought. He was a lawyer. Evidently, Alanna didn’t want him in the middle of the madness. See, women did stick together. Craig probably would have given Avie a little run for her money. But in the end she still would have mopped the floor with his ass. Brandi stole a quick glance at Vernon’s attorney. Remembering Mason’s incompetence in handling The Perfect Fit that first time out, Brandi smiled. This was going to be easy.
“All rise. The Honorable Judge Bowden presiding in the matter of Spencer versus Spencer.”
Mason stood and addressed the court. “Your honor, we’ve filed for a legal separation.”
“I can see that,” the judge said, pushing gold-rimmed glasses up on a bulbous nose. “After reading the material from Mrs. Spencer’s lawyer, I’m surprised that she didn’t file first.” He looked in Brandi’s direction.
“Oh, no Your Honor, I love my husband,” Brandi gushed, laying a hand on her chest as she batted long, mascara-covered lashes. “I wanted my marriage to work. Ouch!”
Avie kicked her under the table, growling just under her breath, “You’re laying it on too thick, Brandi. Cut it out!”
“She’s lying about wanting to stay together,” Vernon snapped as he brushed away Mason’s hand. “She knows exactly what she needs to do if that was the real motive.”
Judge Bowden peered over the edge of his glasses at Vernon. “And what’s that?”
Mason leaned over, warning Vernon, “Let me do the talking, please.”
Vernon ignored him. “She needs to get rid of that woman!”
“What woman?” The judge looked down, flipping through his papers. “Are you bringing charges of—?”
“No, I don’t mean they’re sleeping together,” replied an embarrassed and somewhat subdued Vernon.
“Not yet,” Brandi answered as she stared at her husband.
“Is there something going on here that I should know about?” the judge asked.
Brandi stood. “Well, yes—”
“Please excuse my client’s outburst, Your Honor.” Avie yanked Brandi down in her seat and hissed, “Hey, let me do the talking. That’s what you’re paying me for.”
“I’m not paying you,” Brandi shot back, grumpily.
“They don’t have to know that!” Avie snapped with an angry shake of her head that sent her auburn hair tumbling across her face. “Leave me with some dignity.”
“Oh, so you have that?”
“Don’t make me whip your ass up in here,” Avie whispered, hoping the others wouldn’t hear.
Judge Bowden cleared his throat, hiding a chuckle behind his hand. “Actually, Counselor, I’d like to hear this in her words. It should be quite interesting.” He reached out into a tiny glass bowl perched on the clerk’s desk and pulled out a handful of pumpkin seeds and popped a couple in his mouth.
“Well, his mistress has moved into our house and—”
The court reporter blinked and her hands paused over the stenograph machine. The bailiff looked at the judge, then at Brandi. The clerk froze with a silver date stamp still in hand. The courtroom was eerily silent.
Judge Bowden nearly choked on a pumpkin seed. “Come again?”
“Tanya Kaufman is now
a member of our big, happy family,” Brandi said, with a wide grin and a perky California-sunshine attitude. “Isn’t it just wonderful?”
The judge looked at his people before scratching his bald spot. “Okay, give me a second while I wrap my head around this one.” He stared at Brandi, then at Vernon before he turned to the clerk and asked, “Are we well stocked with bubbly? I think we’re all gonna need it.”
The plump woman scrambled out of her chair and disappeared into the judge’s chambers, returning with a bottle of sparkling grape juice and three glasses that she perched right in front of him.
Mason’s and Vernon’s jaws dropped.
The judge looked at both of them and said, “My courtroom, my rules.” Brandi managed not to laugh, but she decided this judge was her type of person.
The judge leveled a gaze at her. “You may proceed.”
Avie covered her eyes with a single hand.
“Well, since Vernon felt it necessary to have a little outside…ahhhhh… activity—and we’re supposed to share things—I thought we should share the mistress, too,” Brandi explained.
The judge blinked at her, his lips crinkling in an effort not to laugh. He scratched his temple for a moment, then bolted from the bench and through the wooden door, leaving a cool breeze in his wake.
A sudden roar of hysterical laughter echoed from his chambers, bouncing off the high ceilings and tickling Brandi’s ear.
Vernon’s shoulders tensed as he gripped the wooden table. Oh, yes, this would be a piece of cake. Chocolate at that.
The portly bailiff glanced at the door, rocked on his heels, bit his bottom lip, and bolted for the judge’s chambers. His hearty laughter joined that of the judge. Professionalism be damned.
Even Avie had lowered her head and let out an unladylike snort.
Several minutes later, composed, but still red-faced, the judge and bailiff returned to the courtroom. “Okay,” the judge said, “we will proceed.”
This time Avie spoke up. “Mrs. Spencer wants to separate the business right away.”
Every Woman Needs a Wife Page 20