Nappily Married

by Trisha R. Thomas

  “Bingo. Doesn’t that sound crazy to you, the makings of someone hanging around just to cause havoc, vengeance on a hospital that busted him down in rank?”

  He smoothed a hand over his head. “I still don’t get what you’re saying. You’re trying to say Jasper unplugged the monitors?”

  “It makes perfect sense. This man is going around flogging this hospital. It’s him. He’s trying to shut it down.”

  “How can he be responsible for everything? The billing discrepancies? The surgeries gone wrong? The lady who was dead for a week before anybody filled out adeath certificate? Those things happen.” He shook his head and handed the papers back. “It’s a stretch.”

  “I’m not saying he’s done everything, but seriously, Clint, you have to admit, it’s creepy. If I used to be running around with a white coat, filled with the arrogance of being a doctor, I certainly wouldn’t hang around and be demoralized as someone’s assistant.”

  “It’s always about you, isn’t it?”

  I used the file and popped him with it.

  “Since when’d you become so violent?” He rubbed his shoulder as if it really hurt.

  “Well, stop acting like this is a joke. You know what I’m saying. If this guy is responsible, he’s dangerous. I need your help to get proof.”

  “Sorry, Nancy Drew, I don’t know anything about spying. I got my hands full.”

  “Yeah, well, if you don’t help me, your hands are going to be empty, looking for a job.” That time I hit a sore spot without throwing any real punches. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to get your attention. I have better things to do, too, but I’m nervous around this guy. I know something isn’t right. Too many coincidences. Right around the same time when the incubators were discovered unplugged, I saw Jasper. He came out of nowhere, dripping with sweat, nervous, very suspicious looking. I didn’t make the connection until later when I saw all of those news people out there. How would information like that get out without someone leaking it? Literally picking up the phone and calling with the information.”

  “Okay, V, that still doesn’t prove he’s the one.”

  “Then help me get proof.”

  “What do you want me to do? I mean, seriously, what would you like me to do?”

  I gave in to the fact that there really wasn’t anything he could do. “Fine, you’re right. We’ll just have to wait until he strikes again. Hopefully no one will be hurt seriously and he’ll be caught in the act.”

  I pulled the paper-thin robe off and grabbed my bag. I was about to leave when Clint grabbed my hand. “Wait. I have to tell you something.”

  “What?” The energy in his fingers wrapped tightly around mine, causing me to momentarily forget what our conversation had been about. Wait, he’d said, wait for what? Had he finally come to his senses and wanted to admit he’d chosen the wrong woman? Too late, my eyes screamed.

  “You’re right. I left the part out about Kandi being pregnant for a stupid reason.”

  I pulled my hand out of his. “What’s going on here is what’s important. You and Kandi are not my concern. Seriously,” I begged. “Focus on what’s important.” His confession would have to wait.

  “There’re cameras all over this place. I don’t think they’re on, but I know where the video equipment is.”

  “Show me.”

  We took the elevator down to the basement. The doors opened up to a dimly lit hall. Clint led the way to a door with a sign overhead that read KEEP LOCKED. Obviously a rule no one followed, as Clint simply turned the knob and we were inside. He flipped a heavy switch and fluorescent lights hummed and bounced on and off. Eventually they decided to stay on, revealing steel filing cabinets and stacks of boxes.

  “They use it for storage, but through there is the security station.”

  I stayed close behind as Clint led the way.

  Inside were two televisions side by side. “Okay … this is like from 1970.” I flicked the button on and off. Snow formed quickly on the screen. I turned the dial back, and the screen went blank again. “I’m sure I can get someone to hook them up. If I recall, you were pretty good with that kind of thing, right?” I attempted to sound demure. I reached in the back of one of the screens. “I bet it’s really simple. If I could just reach this line.”

  “Move, V. I see what you’re up to.” He stepped in my place, brushing against my arm. He twisted the back panel around to face him. Wires were attached and some weren’t. A set of green, red, and yellow wires stood out like orphans with no place to go. Right before he was about to experiment, buzzing from his hip vibrated with an echo. He reached at his belt and pulled up his phone. “I can’t get reception down here.”

  “I’ll wait, go on,” I said, waving him off. As soon as he left and the door fell closed behind him, I thought I saw something move from the corner of my eye. I waited a minute, paralyzed, thinking if I moved, whatever giant rodent I’d trespassed against would attack with territorial vengeance. The only sound I heard was my own blood pulsing through my ears. I waited for the rat, probably big enough to eat a good chunk of my face, to jump out with teeth barred.

  A box tumbled and I leaped for the door. The knob turned, but the door stayed put. It wouldn’t budge.

  I twisted the knob then beat the door. “Clint! Somebody, help!” I waited, I listened, and I beat some more. “Please, somebody!” I fumbled with my purse on my shoulder, feeling for my phone. No bars for reception, not one. “Please, somebody open the door. Help!”

  I heard movement, feet shuffling on the other side. Then a muffled voice—“Stand back.”

  I got out of the way just in time. The door swung inward. My mouth dropped. “Jasper.”

  “I heard you all the way upstairs, in our office. Must be the air vents.” He stepped inside, giving enough room for me to pass.

  “I have to get out of here.” I swept past him. When the elevator didn’t open right away, I headed for the stairs and didn’t look back.

  I went straight to Morgan’s office. “Jasper Calloway is crazy. I think he’s the one who unplugged the baby’s units, on purpose.”

  Morgan shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Please don’t repeat that to anyone else. The liability of your statement could cripple us. It’s one thing to fight accidental ineptitude, but blatant negligence, or premeditation, we’d be shut down for good.”

  “My point exactly. If he’s a liability, why keep him around to do more damage?”

  “The stress is already getting to you,” Morgan said, matter-of-factly.

  Kandi knocked on the open door. “I have the statement about the fiasco yesterday. I wanted to let you see it before I faxed it to the newpapers.” She came inside and put her back to me as if I didn’t exist.

  “The fiasco, as you call it, nearly killed four innocent babies.”

  Kandi turned around as if surprised. “Oh, I didn’t see you.”

  “Morgan, I think we need to take action.”

  “I think you’re right. We’ll pick this up tomorrow. Right now I’ve got a meeting with Pastor Michaels and Deidre McKinley. An administrator’s work is never done.” She tried to look busy.

  Kandi and I both left her office and went in opposite silent directions.

  Guilty

  Jake didn’t have time to worry about anything outside of the JP studio. He was a master of making everything look easy.

  “Find anything?” Legend entered his office and eased down on the thin leather sofa.

  “Whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it well. I can’t find a trace.” Jake rubbed the fine hairs on his goatee.

  “Exactly. But the facts speak, my friend. There is a thief among us.”

  I need more than a car, Jake was thinking. Something real. Concrete. Bank transfers. A witness. “How does ten million dollars just disappear into thin air?”

  “He’s obviously good at what he does or you wouldn’t have hired him. I say you put his ass out on the street.”

  “If I get rid of h
im, I’ll never know the truth.”

  “The proof’ll be in your bank account. Close the leak, man.” Legend got up and straightened out his suit. “Twelve o’clock we’ve got lunch with our fair lady, Fenny Maxwell. Four o’clock we’ve got the interview with Carla Terry, host of Hip-Hop Vibe. ”

  “I’ll meet you at the TV studio for the Vibe show.”

  “Is that a fact?” Legend stopped in his tracks. Intrigue filled his eyes. “I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be. Lunch,” Jake said before rising from his desk. “Four hundred stores. Need I say more?”

  “Four hundred and eleven,” Legend corrected, pulling something out of his breast pocket. “Send my regards.”

  The small square package landed on Jake’s desk. “I don’t think so,” Jake said.

  “Oh, you riding bareback these days? And don’t give me that ‘I’m married’ crap,” Legend mocked.

  Jake picked the condom package up by its edges and slid it into his drawer. “Whatever.”

  “Whatever is right,” Legend called out behind him. “She’s a freak.”

  Precisely, Jake was thinking. He’d had his fair share of freaks, women who pretended they were above it all only to start swinging from the chandeliers the minute the lights went out.

  The truth was he was sick of women, period. At twenty-eight years old, he was sick and tired of the whole game. The very reason he’d married in the first place. He was tired of putting his life on the line for a fake piece of ass. What if the condom broke? A thin piece of plastic was supposed to make it all right. Every day he thanked God he was still alive. He’d slept with well over two hundred women. That was just a round figure averaged out over his short adult life. But each and every one lived in his memory, breathed in his soul and weighed down his spirit.

  Caprio’s restaurant was in a refurbished old warehouse downtown. Jake was grateful for the open space of the place. Glad he wouldn’t be suffocated by her heavy perfumed scent. She wore a jeans jumpsuit with the zipper open, revealing a heavy dose of cleavage. Each step was the longest. When he got closer, he saw the man sitting in the sleek wood-paneled booth.

  “Saul Levine.” He stood up next to Fenny, rising to her shoulder at best. He extended a hand to Jake covered with heavy rings in gold and diamond settings.

  “Jake Parson.”

  “I know who you are—I was once a fan.”

  Jake heard it often enough, but something about Saul made him believe it was true. Young white boys had been his biggest fan base. Saul Levine had to be barely drinking age.

  “I’m glad you agreed to the meeting.” Saul leaned against Fenny’s shoulder enough to send a message of territorial claim. Jake laughed on the inside and did his best not to smile.

  “Actually, I had no idea anyone else was going to be here.”

  Fenny’s mouth curved in a smile, but her eyes gave her away, the type of woman who did nothing for the joy of it. Everything boiled down to win or lose. She was there to win. “I wanted you two to meet, and I knew if I told you why, you wouldn’t come,” she said.

  “Okay, this is getting interesting.”

  Saul took over. “Consolidated wants to buy JP Wear.”

  Jake’s eyes darted between the two and then clouded over with a confused haze. “JP Wear is not for sale. Never has been.”

  Fenny touched Jake’s hand. “Consolidated stores are your largest distribution channel. It only makes sense. We want JP Wear exclusively at our stores. I think it’s a huge honor.”

  “Right, we’re not trying to take the company, just share in the growth.” Saul winked.

  Jake was still taken aback. “I … um … JP Wear is my life. I mean, this is definitely what I call flattering, but I can tell you the answer is no.”

  “You do realize if Consolidated stopped buying JP Wear for the Rocknell stores right now, you’d go under.” Fenny’s voice sharpened. “We’re fifty percent of your sales and ninety percent of your profit. Your company will see red within six months if you don’t take this deal. Or should I say more red than you’re already seeing.”

  Why did she know this? How?

  “So now I’m being blackmailed. Why would you want JP Wear? There’s a hundred different lines you can take and call a private label. I’d think the fact that I’m losing money would concern you.”

  “To the contrary. JP Wear is doing phenomenal sales in our stores. It would only make sense that we get involved, control the price points—fix whatever’s broken and everybody wins.”

  “You walk away with twenty-five million in your pocket,” Saul added. “All yours.”

  Jake stood up. “Saul, I want to say it was nice meeting you, but I’m having a little problem with that right now. Fenny, we’ll talk soon.” Jake worked hard to keep it together. When he made it outside the restaurant, the façade crumbled. It felt like someone shut off the oxygen to his world, unplugged his only source. He waited for a moment, talking himself out of collapsing. He’d fought asthma all his life. Triggers were obvious, like allergies and bad perfume. And stress, let’s not forget trying to contain the urge to kill somebody. When he could move, he took a few steps. Ridiculous, he was thinking. Just a bad dream. His cell phone shook him to reality.

  “Yeah,” he said with labored breathing.

  “Jake,” Fenny said lightly. “We’ll need an answer by Friday—otherwise we pull JP Wear off the floor and cancel every existing order.”

  He closed the phone and fought the urge to throw it as far as he could. Son of a bitch. He wanted proof; now he had it. Byron Steeple not only was stealing from him, but he’d also given Fenny Maxwell a direct line to his business affairs. Blind rage was the only way he could explain what happened next. All he could do was pray for forgiveness.

  Picture Perfect

  When Jake came upstairs that evening, I was determined to end the silent fighting. I wanted to know how his day went. I’d been so busy trying to save an entire hospital that I was losing one man.

  I sat on the closed toilet while Mya splashed her blocks in the warm tub of water. Contentment glowed over his face as he reached out and rubbed Mya’s mass of curly wet hair then placed a soft kiss on my forehead. I inhaled a scent that wasn’t his or mine. The soapy fragrance was precise and exact as if placed there just for me to find, so I did the bigger thing and ignored it.

  “You guys look so peaceful.” Jake kneeled beside me. The picture-perfect scene of his wife taking care of his child. Safeness, security, and hope. I felt it, too, a rare moment when you’re actually grateful for what you have. Mya took a handful of bubbles and put them on her head. She grinned with a fresh top row of baby teeth. She splashed the water and sang out, “Daddee.”

  “She’s growing so fast. She’s so smart,” I said, stroking and playing in Mya’s hair. “I miss you,” I said, quiet and unexpectantly. I took a hold of his face and kissed him heavily, not letting an ounce of air get between his mouth and mine. I ignored the scent that still traveled around my good senses.

  In his arms I was soft and fragile. All the fight exhausted out of me. The day’s frets and observations falling away. The solid muscle of Jake’s arms encased me as he leaned me backward in a tango kiss. The very same moment I felt a slam against my forehead.

  “Kaaaaat, Daddeee.” Two words or one, Mya stood at the edge of the tub. The plastic block she’d used to pop me on the forehead rolled off to the corner. She reached for it, nearly slipping out headfirst.

  “Mya, no!” Jake caught her like a vase before falling and shattering into pieces. He scooped her dripping butt out of the water. He wrapped a towel around her. Her big eyes blinked with innocence and peacefulness like, Did I do that?

  “Beddy-bye time for you, young lady.”

  I began to pick up all the toys and wipe up the puddles of water around the tub.

  “Leave it, babe. Trina can get it tomorrow.”

  “No. I should do it. It’s a mess in here.”

  “It’s all right. C’mon. I�
�ll put Mya to bed.” He put his hand out for me to grab. I gave a quick glance to the demon child looking for baby weapons.

  Jake pulled me up by my arm. He took the rubber ducky, blocks, and assorted squeeze toys out of my hand and threw them back in the pile on the floor. Mya contested with a growl. He carried her off to her room and closed the door. I went to our bedroom and climbed into the cool sheets. I could hear Mya gearing up for her usual night cry. Listening to her exhaustive wail, I stuffed a pillow over my head.

  When Jake came to our bedroom, he was no longer superdaddy, more like Super Fly Mack Daddy. His eyes were lowered, glossy. He tossed the covers back, exposing me to the cool air.

  “Hey, sweetie,” I said, a little concerned about what was in store.

  He pulled me by my ankles, separating my legs so I was directly in front of him. He pulled his belt loose and his zipper down with one sweep of his hand. His pants dropped to the floor. He was completely naked within seconds, and I knew instantly this was no ordinary playdate.

  I inched away to the center of the bed. He pulled me forward again before I could get away. I was face-to-face with his elongated hardness. He made sure there was no misunderstanding, holding himself with one hand and using the other to gently grip the back of my neck. I took his weight with my mouth and immediately knew it wasn’t my imagination.

  No ordinary playdate.

  With each tantalizing motion of my tongue, he grew thicker. He pulled away, ripe and glistening from my saliva. I took a hold again, wanting to feel him against my throat. He pulled away, threatening to bust if I held on any longer. He moved swiftly, pushing me onto my back. He kneaded my wetness until he was satisfied it was enough.

  I wanted to tell him to slow down, to take his time. No words escaped my lips, only a gasp when he pushed himself inside my moistness, working his way to the center. He swirled his tongue against the length of my neck and chin.

  I felt the grip of his hands around my hips, flipping me over. I was on my stomach, bearing his full weight. I was afraid he’d push us both over the side of the bed with the power of his thrusts. A steady moan trickled with the heat of his breath in my ear as he grunted, pushing deeper, hungry and determined. He shoved every inch of himself inside me.