A Cheating Man's Heart 2

by Derrick Jaxn

  I heard a shuffle in the background, possibly tissue she was grabbing to straighten herself up and regain her composure.

  "Well, young man. You're not the only one who knows a few things. You cheated on Danielle, disrespected her, and she didn't deserve any of that either. What makes you think she wants to walk back into that?"

  "I don't think. Actually, I'd hope not. But that's not what I'm bringing with me for her to walk back into."

  "And you know this for sure because?"

  "Miss Sarah, with all due respect, I didn't call here to explain myself or plead my case for things that happened years ago. I called here to speak to her. That's it. If I did want another chance, and if she was willing to give it to me, I think we deserve that opportunity to get it right or maybe even wrong again. No one stripped you of that and it's manipulative to impose yourself on our relationship to strip us. Even as her parent, you have to realize that she's an adult now. Let her be the judge."

  "That's fine, Shawn," she said surprisingly.

  I was expecting push-back or maybe even dial tone.

  She went on, "But you'd better get here before the wedding. Tomorrow. At one o'clock. After that, any chances of you speaking with her are pretty much vanished anyway.

  "What?"

  "A wedding. You know. White dress. Vows before God. Till death do them part? If you want to deliver any message to her, you'd better get here before then. I'm not the UPS, I'm not delivering anything. This is her special day and I won't ruin that, but if you'd like to disappoint yourself, I won't stop you. It'll be here at our church in Denver."

  Then she hung up.

  I was having mixed emotions. On one hand, it seemed like maybe I'd won her over, a battle I'd been fighting since the day Danielle introduced us. On the other hand, I was losing the war because Danielle was getting married.

  Fucking...married.

  I called Pete and he didn't answer. I paced around my room for a second trying to figure out my next move.

  Mind was spinning.

  Come on. Think.

  I was able to get Stacy on the phone.

  "Hey, Shawn," she answered.

  "Stacy! I need a flight to Denver International."

  Her voice did nothing to match the urgency in mine."Oh, okay. I don't remember any booking requests coming through though."

  "It's not a booking request. It's a...family emergency."

  "Okay then, I'll get right on it," she said. "What dates?"

  "Tonight. Or the next one out. Just get a one-way ticket for now. I don't know how long I'll be. And I need it quick.""

  I heard her opening her laptop. "Okay, let me see. I didn't know you had family in Colorado. Is this distant family or what?"

  "Yeah, sorta. I can't think right now, Stacy. Please, just handle this for me."

  "Okay, fine."

  Her fingers typed around, her mouse clicked a few times. She was a beast in situations like this, always making something out of nothing.

  I went into my closet and grabbed my suitcase from the back. Opened it up, set it on the floor, and started raking everything I could into it. A suit, t-shirts, jackets, shoes; everything. I didn't think any outfits through. I wasn't thinking anything at all through. Something was moving me, and it was moving me fast.

  I heard Stacy speak again. "It doesn't look like anything is going out tonight. Maybe tomorrow night, but--"

  Panic slipped into the room, "That's not good enough. I need to leave today!"

  "Well, unless you want to get a private jet, that's all I got. Or you can go tell Delta that they need to go a day early."

  "Private jet. How much is that?"

  "You serious?" she asked.

  "Yeah, I am. How much is it?"

  "Well, if you only want one way, it shouldn't be that much. But with short notice, it all depends. I can probably find one for today no more than 40k."

  "Great. Get it," I said.

  I'd never taken a private jet before. Didn't really need to. The normalness of checking in bags, standing in long lines of security, and paying too high prices for airport food; it kept me grounded.

  But this was no time for being grounded.

  "Okay, found one. I'm wiring the money as we speak. If you can make it to 112 Justice Boulevard by six, you should be fine. Your pilot's name is Eric. He's been flying for twenty years so you'll be safe with him. I suppose you'll need a rental and a hotel. Those details will be in your email by the time you land."

  "Awesome. I'll be in touch. Until I get back, no more bookings. No more interviews. No more articles. I have something I have to take care of."

  We said our goodbyes and hung up. She was a life saver for sure. But what I was getting ready to do, no one could save me from. It was once again, all or nothing. Just wasn't sure if my all would add up to nothing.

  Chapter 20

  Shit Just Got Real

  I got to my hotel, forgetting to eat, which was rare. I was famous around the family for my appetite. At every function growing up, there was always an extra helping or two for me. I even looked down on the other guys in the family who couldn't stack up.

  But I needed to get back to the database that Pete had sent so I could try and figure out where Danielle's home address was. My guess was that she may not live with her mother, but she'd be over there eventually.

  So, I pulled up the zip file of personal information, browsing, sifting, and occasionally drifting to the thought of Rashonda and Pete.

  There was a part of him I wanted to rub off on me, the part that was ready to treat the lady of his dreams right. His ability to let himself be loved. But the other side of that coin was whether or not anyone would want love from the person it was coming from.

  Like Rashonda.

  Our last exchange had stained my conscious the entire flight. Figured I could probably oust it if I just gave in and dug into her background a bit, so that's what I did.

  I went through the Myspace database, but underestimated how much of a task it was going to be sifting through teenager-created nicknames, but eventually I found it.

  Rashonda, as her ratchetness would have it, had Trick Daddy's Slip-N-Slide as her page theme song. Early 2000's graphics of glowing money bags and diamond-crested dollar sign HTML followed her screen name, "Rashonda Igetsmoneydontneednonigga Jenkins".

  I clicked through a few pictures of finger waves, tinted prescription glasses, and jersey dresses before noticing something strange.

  She had on a nameplate necklace that read, "Monica" and down in the comments section, that's what her Myspace friends were calling her. Comments like, I see you Monica and Monica, you betta invite me next time, which could easily just had been her middle name. But no better way to find out than Google. Of course.

  I started with Monica Jenkins and the search was too broad. A few deranged middle school teachers having relations with students over in the Midwest and an ex-reality TV show host who'd gotten addicted to cocaine during hard times. Nothing that quite fit the bill for Rashonda. Thankfully.

  So I narrowed it down by listing her hometown according to Myspace, Riverdale, Georgia, and then boom. Five different mug shots of Rashonda popped up.

  I skimmed over the first few, clicking in and out of the images to check the back story. Looked like mostly white-collar stuff--fake credit cards, embezzlement, etc. Then I checked out her most recent and it was a bit more alarming.

  She set up, what the news article referred to as her "lover", to get swindled. Almost got off with 250k but the guy's bank caught it before it was too late.

  Nobody got seriously hurt, which explains her short sentencing and the mastermind was never found in connection, but the other girl they caught seemed to have taken that fall for it while Rashonda got out early and the one who they were working for got off clean. I imagine she was just the muscle, and fittingly so.

  But I couldn't piece together her motive for dating Pete. He was a far cry from rich, well-off, or hell, even financially stable.
>
  Figured I'd chop it up with him pretty soon and see what all he knew. Wasn't really rushing. It wasn't like she could steal much from him while she was the one paying his rent.

  For the moment, I needed to get back focused on Danielle's whereabouts.

  I found the address, but two and a half tanks of gas later, I was empty-handed. Apparently, Danielle's mom moved after her kids left the house. Most parents do. A little downsizing to minimize the lonely in the air and lessen the bills to free up travel money. Should've known.

  Out all night driving, it seemed like the sleepier I got, the more the sun came out. I had to pop a few pain-killers to dull the pain of my body's sleep-ache. Everything was slowing down but my heartbeat.

  Running on nerves alone that this might all just be a big waste of time and money, I pulled into Denny's to try and recharge with some breakfast.

  Once I was seated, I noticed a young black father and his two sons sitting behind me. One of the boys was about fourteen and the youngest had to be no more than five.

  Just the sight of them as I sat down warmed my heart.

  Not because a black man spending time with his children is rare, but rather the very opposite. At church, the men would always walk in proudly with their families. At my football practices, fathers were there to cheer on their son and threaten the coaches when they yelled at them. I'm sure there were many without fathers, but let the media tell it, there weren't any of us who had them.

  Seeing it in person was just reaffirmation. Gave me something to look forward to, one day, whether or it was as a father, or reconnecting with my own.

  That feeling of euphoria vanished when I caught wind of the conversation they were having.

  The oldest son said, "So what you saying is, you want me to work for free. Huh Dad?"

  "Work? Cleaning the house ain't work. That's responsibility."

  "Well, isn't going to work every day your responsibility as a citizen? Don't you get paid for it?" the son asked.

  To me, it sounded like he was getting a little too grown for his britches. If I did have my father, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have tolerated it. Momma would've been halfway down the aisle, her left hand throwing up the one church finger to be excused and her right hand grabbing me by the tongue I spoke those words with to give me a whooping once we got outside.

  "Son, going to work is how I make my living. Not everything in life is about money. I do a lot for free. I brought you and your brother in this world. On purpose. Me and your mother, we waited five years after we got married, until we were absolutely ready to have children so we could do it right.

  So now, I take care of y'all. I feed y'all. I put clothes on y'all's back. I make sure y'all get to the doctor every time you get sick. Don't nobody pay me for that. Any of it."

  "Wait, hold up a minute. You act like I asked to be here. You brought me into this world. Not me. It's like you buying a car and then complaining about having to put gas in it. That's what you signed up for when you decided not to wear no condom, Dad."

  "Son, you watch yo mouth at this table," the father said. He tried to deepen his voice, but the poor fellow didn't have it in him.

  "What? It's the truth. So you also bought the house. You signed for it. Then you brought me into it, against my will and now you just transferred the responsibility to clean it to me? That's unfair, Dad, and you know it."

  "Well, how about this. It's only fair that you get what you pay for, right? You didn't pay for no house, so you don't get no house. How about you go sleep in the house you pay for tonight so that way you can keep it as unclean as you want. How's that sound?"

  I smiled to myself. Good one, Dad.

  The little brother must've noticed his older sibling in distress because he chimed in with a finishing move.

  "Guess what, Daddy?" he said through a few spoon-fulls of grits.

  "What's that, son?"

  "Yesterday when you left, my other daddy came to visit Mommy. She was mad at him. They went in the room and she kept fussin' and yellin' 'bout Jesus. I think she kicked him out for messing up her hair because it didn't look the same no more when she came out."

  I got up and asked my food to go. That whole conversation was heading nowhere I needed to be when it got there.

  The radio stations were a lot different in Colorado than in the South. In a good way. A lot more diversity rather than the seemingly three-song CD they put in rotation on stations back in the Carolinas.

  After eating my breakfast, I reclined my seat, put the music on low, and just tried to relax. Since I couldn't find Danielle's mother, I would have to beat them to the church, but I was too fatigued to make the drive at the moment. I needed rest and my car was a familiar sleeping bag. Passersby assumed I was just waiting for someone, so they never bothered to wake me.

  But three hours later I was blinking at the dashboard, trying to figure out if my eyes were playing tricks on me, or if I'd really just taken a nap and possibly missed the wedding.

  My luck.

  I hopped up, put the car in drive, and sped out of Denny's parking lot, apologizing to the Mexican family who had to stop abruptly to miss the front end of the rental.

  I glanced over at the time. 11:38 a.m.

  That could mean anything. I could only hope that no matter the case, they were on CP time. For once, that would be my friend.

  I sped through the city, cross referencing the GPS and the street signs, accidentally running myself into one-ways every now and then.

  A long twenty minutes later, I pulled up to the chapel. The parking lot was packed out, they even had parking lot directors steering traffic.

  Damn.

  In the back of my mind, I pictured how I would look stepping out in my stretched-out deep V-neck sweatshirt and boot-cut dark blue jeans over my Timbs. I wasn't fit for a wedding, but then again, I wasn't coming as a guest.

  My hope was that Danielle was somewhere still putting on make-up. Maybe even alone somewhere, though I'd never heard of a wedding that separated a bride and her entourage.

  Fear. It crept all over me while I pulled into a spot near the back. I was being foolish. Borderline criminal. I was trying to see her before it was too late, but maybe too late already had happened. I knew from experience that intentions meant nothing once the damage was done, and my actions could cause plenty if I didn't think it through.

  I couldn't be that guy. Not again.

  My mind chimed in.

  Come on, Shawn. You can do this.

  I continued to grip the steering wheel, staring through the windshield at the giant doors and the church steps. Visually, I followed them up to the cross-shaped steeple at the very top. Maybe God could give me some guidance.

  Maybe God would tell me to stop. Tell me what I already knew. That I was being ridiculous, selfish, and needed to get out while I still could. Catch the first thing back to Charlotte, and get on with my successful and normal life.

  This is crazy. Fuckin' crazy. Stay your ass in this car and go home before you make a fool out of yourself.

  Nah, fuck that. Come too far to turn back now.

  Sweat beads leisurely slid down from the brim of my hairline, most of it stopping at my brow. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to try and steady myself, but ended up doing the exact opposite.

  Before I knew it, my car door was open and I was standing into the cold air as it chilled my eyes into a squint and stung my neck. It was far too cold to be without a coat of some kind, but I didn't exactly plan ahead.

  I walked up to the church, trying not to make eye contact with any of the parking lot attendants because I knew they'd ask me who I was. I'd have to think up a lie and hope they believed it.

  Look straight, Shawn. Don't look at them. Don't look.

  Oh no, they see you. Still, don't look.

  I kept walking, now going up the steps to the church. I put my ear to the frigid door, listening to see if it had already started.

  The first part was inaudible, but I was able
to make out the second half of the sentence being spoken, "...and if anyone feels this couple should not be united in Holy Matrimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace..."

  Chapter 21

  A Terminal Illness Called Living Without You

  My heart pounded like HBCU base drummers, and my breath glowed white in the cold air bigger with every exhalation.

  I had to do something. This was my chance.

  But instead, I froze.

  I. Fucking. Froze.

  Paralyzed by something. More fear maybe, or just a lack of courage. I don't know. But something was keeping my feet still and my mouth closed.

  The preacher continued on while I just stood there.

  If I ruined this moment for her, her family would hate me. They may even attack me. Police would come. But more importantly, I'd take away one of the happiest moments of her life.

  You can't do that to her, Shawn. You had your chance. Let her have hers.

  Nah, scratch that. If she wants a chance, she'll get it eventually. But this one's yours. Probably your only one. Do it. Do it now!

  "NOOOO!" I yelled out into the surface of the door.

  My fists clenched, my eyes closed...I just snapped. I could hear the crowd on the inside turning in their seats and starting to chatter. The parking lot attendants had all focused on me.

  But I didn't care anymore. I had nothing left to lose. This was it.

  I reached up and placed the palm of my hand on the church doors, slowly opening them. I was prepared for whatever came with my decision.

  One foot in front of the other, I slowly walked in, echoing through what was now a silent building. The church was much bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside. And the people on the inside didn't look happy to see me.

  A few guys standing in the pews seemed to be making their way over. To be manly and protective, securing the women and children. I guess to them I could've been anyone. A murderer, a Satanist, an escaped convict. Who else would interrupt a wedding?

  I focused my attention down the center of the aisle. Right at the altar, in front of the pastor.