Straight to the Heart

by Michelle Monkou

  “Life was tough at home?”

  Valerie sneered. “Tough isn’t half of it. I was supposed to be perfect. You know the motto, like mother, like daughter. Too much pressure. Plus I wasn’t interested in all that crap. When my parents separated, I wanted to go live with my father. He said that a girl should be raised by her mother. If I was a boy, he would have taken me.”

  Omar sensed that he had moved from her air of indifference to a very sensitive part of her life. His ability to navigate through the murky tangle of hurt and anger was important. He couldn’t rely on his experience as a journalist or an interviewer to get through this. Just as she had turned inward to share her pain, he would also have to pull on his emotions to empathize with her.

  “Abandonment is never easy,” he consoled. “Maybe your mother felt that she had to be tough as a way to hide her hurt and to protect you from what she knows is out there.”

  Valerie’s expression hardened. “The great Brenda Young has no heart. She worried more about what others would think about me, her wild daughter, than what I was going through.” Valerie’s voice rose in anger. Her gaze drifted off to the side as if she was reliving some tumultuous episode.

  “Brenda Young is your mother!” Omar hadn’t moved beyond that startling fact. His mouth was open in disbelief. He turned to his team to share this stunning news, but then realized that the news meant nothing to them. “Then how did Stacy get with your mother…” Omar frowned as if the puzzle seemed so close to a solution, but a few pieces had shifted.

  “Stacy was getting hot on the street-music scene. She had the look, the voice and Antonio, who served his purpose to get her into lots of underground clubs and competitions. Then my mother popped up on the scene trying to find me.”

  “Brenda came looking for you?”

  “She’d hired a detective and then when he found me, he told her. But word traveled fast and I knew she was in the area before she could get out of her fancy car. I’ll give it to her, she stuck around for a bit. Sometimes, she moved on to the next area, but then she’d come right back.”

  “Maybe it’s one of the mother-daughter bonds where she could sense that you were nearby.”

  Valerie snorted. “You’re such a softie. It wasn’t about me. It was about Stacy. She sniffed the wind and smelled success.”

  “You feel that she picked Stacy over you?”

  “Nah. Like I said, she didn’t know I was in the area. But one thing I do know is that my mother can turn things into gold. So I told Stacy how to get her attention. Then the rest was no big deal. When my mother made the offer to take her on, the only obstacle was Antonio. But as I predicted, my mother rolled out the cash and took care of business.”

  “But Antonio is calling foul,” Omar interjected.

  “I bet he is. All his acts have left him because he’s not about taking someone to the next level. Stacy was loyal, but he would have used her up.”

  “Sounds like you don’t resent her for leaving you.”

  Valerie didn’t say anything. She bit her lip, not quite meeting his eyes. He saw the telltale tremble of her bottom lip. He had no clue what to do if she started crying.

  “Um…do you want to take a quick break?” Omar asked.

  Valerie shook her head. She looked down at her watch. “We don’t have much time. Let’s get through this.”

  “Okay. Did Stacy ever tell your mother?”

  “Don’t know.” Valerie paused. “If she did, my mother never came to find me.”

  “But you know where to find either of them.”

  “I don’t fit in their world now. When Stacy was here, she was my homegirl. Now she’s a star. She’s the one my mother is proud of. I’ve got my life here. I don’t need either one of them, you know what I mean?”

  Omar shook his head. “I think you’re undervaluing your relationship with your mother. She is the one who came after you.” He didn’t have to say that her father wasn’t the one walking up and down the sidewalks looking for his daughter.

  His father had left home. He had simply gotten in his car and left. Not even his mother’s funeral had brought back his father.

  “Did Stacy ever come to see you?” Omar asked, his own emotion choking him.

  “In the beginning, she’d visit. I’d get to stay in a clean hotel for a couple days. She’d worry about me, though. I had to promise that I wouldn’t start taking drugs.”

  “Did you keep that promise?”

  “Yes, I’m no drug user,” she replied crossly.

  “Would you want to see Stacy?” Omar didn’t know why he put the invitation out there when he didn’t have a clue how he could make it happen.

  Valerie looked around her apartment. “Yeah, I guess. I’m off the streets. I have a home. Nothing like what she probably has, though.”

  “A home is more than the walls and roof,” Omar reassured her.

  At that moment, a noise at the door interrupted the interview. They turned to the sound of a key being inserted into a lock. Omar looked from the door to Valerie, wondering why she wasn’t doing something about this home invasion. For all he knew, the same young guy he’d humiliated could be on the other side with his friends ready to take him down. He stood, prepared to defend the space.

  The door opened. Omar stiffened.

  A man with a sleeping infant on his shoulder came through the door. Omar and the man exchanged looks of surprise before turning to Valerie for an explanation.

  “Baby, this is Omar Masterson,” she explained.

  Omar offered his hand, knowing how strange it must all look with him and the microphone and his team with the camera and light on her, with no apparent reason for the attention.

  The man shook his hand. “Vince.”

  Omar waited for the last name, but after the lengthy pause, knew that it wasn’t forthcoming. With the scrutiny fluctuating between suspicion and hostility, he knew better than to suggest that Vince participate in the interview.

  Valerie walked up to Vince and took the sleeping bundle. “This is my pride and joy.”

  “You have a baby.”

  “Our baby,” Valerie said proudly. She went into a natural sway with the baby in her arms against her chest.

  Omar didn’t know how many more revelations he could take. Before he could think, he said, “You really ought to reconcile with your mother, especially with the baby. This lost time can never be gotten back.”

  She looked down at her baby and planted a kiss before rubbing her face against the chubby cheeks. “No promises. I’ll think about it.”

  Omar nodded and silently signaled the team to end the session. He turned to face the young parents. “Thank you again for agreeing to do this. I think that both your mother and Stacy would be proud to see that you’ve handled your business and without breaking any promises. Give them the gift of a second chance.”

  “Too late for that.”

  “What?”

  Vince, her partner, took the baby down the hall.

  “Too late for second chances. I blew it with Stacy.” Valerie looked miserable.

  “Stacy was here?” Omar couldn’t believe this revelation.

  Valerie shook her head. “I told her don’t bother showing her face.”

  “But why? I thought you were friends. What about your mother?”

  “Don’t you start,” she replied, raising her hand to stop his criticisms. “Stacy and I were friends. She outgrew me and never looked back. She told me that she had to talk to me about my mother. It’s too late for my mother and a family reunion scene. And then she had the nerve to play on my sympathy by telling me that she has a heart condition.”

  “She’s not kidding.”

  “Is she in the hospital?” Valerie asked, clearly disbelieving.

  “She was and is still recovering.” Omar allowed the information to sink it. “Look, I’m not trying to change anyone’s mind. Figured the years would have softened the reaction. You’ve grown up, she’s gotten older.”

  �
�And Stacy is now her golden child.” Valerie opened the door. “It was a nice interview, Omar. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Chapter 13

  “Brenda, I don’t have much time.” Stacy had to meet Omar by three o’clock for them to head to the airport without rushing.

  “I wanted to tell you two things. And one doesn’t have anything to do with the other.”

  Stacy braced herself, expecting some horrific report about Brenda’s health. She moved from her position near the doorway and came fully into the room, aiming for the couch.

  “I’ve decided to retire.”

  “What?” Stacy blinked, trying to rid her head of the confusion.

  “I’ve done what I’ve set out to do. I’ve met and surpassed my goals. And you know what?”

  Stacy shook her head, still speechless.

  “I’m not happy.” Brenda opened the bottle of water that was clutched in her hand and took a long drink. “My life, for the most part, sped past me before I could take in anything.” She raised her bottle in salutation. “Here’s to taking it easy and stopping to smell everything wonderful about life.”

  “Are you ill?” Stacy blurted. She sheepishly covered her mouth.

  “No. But I am sick. Sick of looking after everyone. Sick of the high pressure, high maintenance from most of my clients. This heart attack struck me right where I’d notice. Now I’m in the mood to let go and follow my passion.”

  Stacy worried that maybe Brenda was suffering a breakdown. She had no other passion. As long as she’d known Brenda, she’d worked in the entertainment field and managing up-and-coming stars was her skill. Now she wanted to throw it away when she had at least another twenty-odd years of working left in her.

  “Are you listening? I’m going to pursue my passion—sculpting.” Brenda gave her a twisted smile. “I can see that you don’t believe me.”

  “I do believe you. I don’t understand why.” She couldn’t possibly leave Brenda in this situation.

  “Right now I crave solitude. I’ve lost two young women close to my heart. First my daughter and now you.” She sighed. “Sorry, I don’t want to be maudlin. No pity parties here.” She walked over and placed a hand on Stacy’s shoulder.

  Stacy saw the unshed tears shimmer. Brenda had lifted her out of the muck in her life. She had been the female force that filled the void left by her mother. She had kept her on the straight and narrow as any father figure would have.

  “Have you heard from your daughter?” Stacy questioned. She knew the answer, but went through the motions.

  “I did get another letter from her last week. She keeps telling me not to worry, that we will meet soon, that we will talk.” This time a tear did fall, tracing a path down her cheek to her chin. “All I keep thinking is that I had a heart attack and she wasn’t at my side.”

  “Would you like to see her?”

  “What? What are you saying?” Brenda slowly sank into the chair, sitting on the edge. Her eyes were huge circles full of question and wonder. “You know my daughter?”

  Stacy swallowed. She wished that she could run this past someone, but her revelation was about to be a solo act.

  “Stacy, do you know Valerie?”

  “Yes. I was with her when you discovered me. She had told me about you for several months. We both felt that we were running from pretty horrific things in our life.”

  Brenda looked down at her hands. “And am I so horrible? Am I such a monster?”

  Stacy approached Brenda and sank onto the floor near her. Kneeling there, she looked up into Brenda’s sad face. “I know. I kept a stupid promise. But I thought that I could also get you to reconcile.”

  “Have you talked to her?”

  “I tried. She moved and no one knew where she’d gone. I feared for the worst.”

  “That’s my job. That’s what I do every night, worrying about my daughter.” Brenda laughed bitterly. “You’ll have your day soon.”

  “I did find her.” Stacy shuddered at the fact that she had had to talk to Antonio to do it. At least she’d made the worm feel guilty, even if only temporarily.

  “And…” Brenda’s hand shot out and gripped hers.

  Stacy shook her head.

  “I don’t understand. She wrote that she’d like to meet.”

  Stacy groaned. How she wished that she was somewhere else, that this conversation didn’t need to take place now. “I wrote the letters. I wanted to give you hope.”

  “And empty promises.” Brenda pushed away from her. Her trademark anger snapped from its slumber and blazed down on her. “How dare you? What games are you playing? All this time I thought my daughter was working up her courage to see me. Now to hear that Valerie doesn’t give a crap about me, nor you, apparently.”

  The housekeeper appeared in the doorway, concern on her face. She surveyed them, settling a steely gaze on Stacy. The housekeeper was a little too late; Stacy had already heaped guilt, anger and disgust upon herself.

  “I’ll leave you now. When I return, I want to take you to your daughter.”

  “Is that your penitence?” Brenda asked.

  Stacy shrugged. Her guilt, her role, her intention didn’t matter anymore. “Please think about it.” She stood to leave, pausing long enough to see if Brenda would come to a decision.

  “I’m tired now. I’ll follow up my retirement announcement with a formal letter to you.” The housekeeper placed a protective arm around her boss and escorted her from the room.

  Stacy took the hint and showed herself out of the house. Once outside she wished that she could breathe a sigh of relief. If Brenda still refused to see Valerie by the time she returned from her visit with Omar, she would have to come up with an alternative plan. Too much time had been wasted, too many lives affected.

  She called Omar to let him know that she was on her way. He didn’t have a clue about the relationship between Brenda and her. And he certainly didn’t know she had sent the letters as her daughter for Brenda’s peace of mind. Facing another rejection weighed heavily on her emotions. She couldn’t bear to see or feel the sharp reproof that was bound to happen.

  Maybe she was a coward. As she retrieved her suitcase to transfer to Omar’s car, she relished the thought of escaping for a few days. Omar emerged from his apartment building. The instant she saw his handsome face, smiling with obvious delight at her, her mood lifted. She’d take this little retreat as needed time to set things right with Brenda.

  “What a beautiful home,” Stacy exclaimed to Omar as he parked in front of his brother’s house.

  The little garden on the front lawn, the porch and swing, the wind chimes welcomed her. She only hoped that his family would be warm and inviting.

  “I’m glad you like it. I think you need a place to regroup.” Omar trailed behind her with the suitcases.

  “Why would you say that?” If he only knew how close to the truth he’d hit.

  “I know how you feel that everyone is pulling at you. I want you to feel safe here.”

  “Aren’t you the romantic?” she teased, loving every minute of his attentive attitude. Already she could feel her shoulders relax.

  Before Omar could knock, the door was flung open. Stacy was glad that she stood off to the side as an older woman ran out and launched herself with open arms at Omar. While they greeted each other, a toddler who looked about two years old walked cautiously to the door. The child wrinkled her nose at Stacy, showing her small white teeth.

  “You must be Stacy. I’m Haley, Omar’s sister-in-law. And this little tyke is Deidre.” She scooped the toddler into her arms, raising her to eye level.

  “Nice to meet you,” Stacy said, returning the same level of enthusiasm. “And nice to meet you, Deidre.” She reached for the little girl’s hand, which clutched her outstretched finger.

  “Let’s get inside. I’ve got dinner prepared, figuring that you’d be starved. Sheena is going to stop by after work. Laura isn’t due in for another couple of hours. Pierce will get her fr
om the airport.”

  “Do you have room for all of us?” Omar asked.

  “Laura will stay with Sheena, you know, considering everything.” Haley didn’t meet Omar’s eyes.

  Stacy might not have had the benefit of siblings, but she understood the universal code of verbal and nonverbal cues.

  “It’s okay, I shared with Stacy that Sheena is separated, on the verge of a divorce.” He laid his hand across her shoulder, drawing her into him.

  Stacy noticed Haley shift her gaze from Omar to her. There was a quiet understanding that she had been trusted with the family secrets.

  “Omar, you’re sleeping in Pierce’s office.”

  “What?”

  “Stacy is sleeping upstairs.” Haley ignored Omar’s indignation. “Pierce’s orders.” She raised her hand in a noncommittal gesture.

  “Omar.” Stacy tried to get his attention. Her face warmed with embarrassment at his outrage on their behalf. “I prefer it this way.” Her admission surprised him into silence. “Put yourself in my place, coming to see your big brother and impressing the family. Let’s follow decorum.”

  Later, Omar sat on the sofa bed in Pierce’s office. Though he understood Stacy’s point, that didn’t mean he liked it. He wanted her at his side. He wanted to feel her body with its delicious curves warm against his body. Instead his brother was playing the father figure again. He punched the pillow with a frustrated thump and grunted his frustration to the empty room.

  Stacy barely tasted the meal that Haley cooked. She couldn’t get control of her nerves and handle eating dinner with the entire Masterson family. When Pierce pushed his plate aside, she followed suit.

  “Everyone, you must come into the living room for an early viewing of my upcoming project. This is my baby that I’ve been working on for many long days, but I think it will be worth every ounce of labor,” Omar announced, ending any side conversations around the table.

  Stacy couldn’t help but feel a little left out. Omar hadn’t shared his progress on the project with her. Maybe she’d been so caught up with Brenda that she wasn’t available to listen to him. His family’s excitement rubbed off on her. She threw off any negative feelings and happily followed them into the room.