When he paused, I thought that I'd finally gotten through to him.
“Well, if you won't talk to me,” he said at last, “maybe Kenny will.”
Those words were like a stab to my heart. “I'll just give Kenny a call and see if he wants to meet with me. I have lots to say and I'm sure he'll listen.”
I had no doubt that Roman meant every word that he said, but what was I supposed to do? Meet him? I couldn't, I wouldn't. So, I came back strong, “You go to Kenny, and I'll go to the police.”
“Really? And what will you tell them?”
“That you raped me. If you go to Kenny, I won't have anything to lose.”
In the second that he hesitated, I knew that I stood a chance.
“No one will believe you,” he said. “We were lovers.”
“Try me and we'll see. And you better pray that you're right or else you're going to jail.” I didn't wait for his comeback; just hung up because there was nothing left to say, and because I was trembling so much it was difficult to hold onto the phone.
Falling back onto the bed, I sat still, just listening to my breathing for minutes. I'd been in lots of fights in my life, and you could count on one hand the number of fights that I'd lost. But this wasn't a fight; this was war. Roman wasn't battling with his hands. He wasn't even holding a gun. He was at war with missiles while I was trying to stab him with a knife.
There was no way I could win, but that wasn't going to stop me from trying.
***
My day of relaxation was shot.
From the moment I hung up the phone from Roman, I'd been beyond afraid. Was he really going to call Kenny? Of course he would. Making a call to Kenny was nothing compared to what he'd done to me. My only hope was that he'd taken my threat seriously. I didn't have much hope for that, though. You had to be sane to be serious, and Roman had already shown me that he had no personal relationship with sanity.
So what was I supposed to do now? Keep Roman away from Kenny? How? That would be a daunting, 24/7 task. I'd have to be with Kenny every hour of every day, and that could never happen.
I'd have to handle this day-by-day, hour-by-hour, really. And I'd have to start now.
Picking up the phone, I planned my words. My goal was to keep Roman and Kenny apart, but I had to have a back up just in case Plan A didn't work. I had to prepare Kenny for what might come.
“This is Kenny Larson,” my husband said into the phone on his end.
The sound of his voice brought tears to my eyes. I know I didn't always act like it, but I really did love this man. It was more than all the time and effort I'd put in to make him my husband--it was about the way he loved me. There would never be another man who would love me so unconditionally, and I had to do everything I could to keep him.
“Hey, babe, it's me,” I said.
“Hey, what's up?” he asked. I could hear the surprise in his voice. I never called Kenny during the middle of the day. In the next second, he asked, “Is everything okay? Are you all right?”
I swallowed. “Yeah…I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Ahhh, that's sweet. You've never said that before.”
“I know.” I let a beat go by. “Kenny, there are a lot of things I've never said before. Like how much I love you.”
He chuckled. “I've heard you say that a time or two.”
“No really. How much I really love you. How much you mean to me. And how I would just die if I lost you.”
I could hear the frown in his voice when he said, “Jasmine, are you sure that you're okay?”
It was a shame that telling my husband how much I loved him made him think that something was wrong. I guess he was more used to me complaining, trying to nag him into being a better (richer) man.
“Yeah, I'm okay. It was just that I've been thinking a lot about how wonderful you are and….” I had to pause. “And sometimes I don't know if I deserve you.”
“That's how I feel about you, babe.”
“I'm not the most perfect person, Kenny, but I want you to know that no matter what, I love you, and I'm going to get better, okay?”
“Sweetheart, no one is perfect, and I love you just the way you are. I will always love you. Forever. For always.”
If his words were money, I would take them to the bank and make that withdrawal once Roman blew up our world.
“Jasmine, you know that, right?”
If his words were money, I'd be able to tell him the truth. But even though Kenny meant what he said right now, his words were just words. His heart would be broken if Roman told him what had been going on and after that, there would be no way that he could love me forever, for always.
“Are you sure you're okay, babe?”
I hadn't even felt my emotions pouring from my eyes until the first tear dripped from my cheek onto my hand.
“Yeah,” I sniffed. “I'm okay. It's just that…we're just getting started…and…I really want to do this marriage thing right.”
He chuckled. “We'll wade through this together. We'll get it right, together. You don't have a thing to worry about. We're in this for better, for worse, together. All right?”
Even though he couldn't see me, I nodded. “Yeah.”
“For the next fifty, sixty, seventy years, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Listen Jasmine,” his tone had changed from peaches and cream to all business and I imagined that someone had stepped into his cubicle. “I've got to go.”
He hung up without really saying goodbye and it took me a couple of seconds to realize that he was gone.
I stood there, just holding the phone in my hand. Nothing had been accomplished in my quest to keep Roman away from Kenny, but at least if it all went down tonight, if Roman did contact Kenny, the last words my husband heard from me before his world exploded were that I loved him. Maybe that would be enough.
What I really wanted to do was go down to Kenny's office and sit at his desk and answer every call. But since that wasn't going to happen, I waited at home. Waited for that phone call from Kenny where he would tell me that Roman had done exactly what he said he would do.
From just before eleven 'til noon, I paced the length of the living room. From noon 'til two I paced the width of the bedroom. I went back and forth between the two spaces, doing nothing else. I ignored the TV in the living room and I heard nothing from the radio in the bedroom. The only thing that was on my mind was the scenario that I couldn't stop imaging. It was like there was a VCR in my brain and I kept pressing play. I could see it, I could hear it: Kenny yelling, screaming, calling me all kinds of names. Telling me to be out of the apartment and his life before he got home from work.
Every time I passed the telephone, I stared at it, praying that it wouldn't ring. And every time I passed a clock, I willed the time to pass quickly so that Kenny would come home and be safe here with me.
I was waiting right at the front door at 5:30, when Kenny put the key in the lock. When he stepped inside, glanced at me and then smiled, I fell right into his arms.
“Wow,” Kenny said as he hugged me back. “I think I like having you at home waiting for me. I could learn to love this.”
“And I already love you,” I told him before I kissed him.
We kissed the way we did when we'd first met in high school: as if we were each other's meal.
My plan for the rest of the night was to keep Kenny close to me and away from the phone. And to tell him I loved him at least one million times.
Tonight, I would pray that one million would be enough insurance for what I knew was coming.
Chapter 15
I'd spent the whole next day acting crazy.
But it wasn't my fault--not exactly. It was because of that VCR in my mind again. Playing every scenario of everything that could go wrong. I was a madwoman, and that was a gift from Roman.
Not that I'd heard from him. Last night, the phone never rang. Once again, he was silent. But I'd fallen for that trick before, and
I wasn't going to fall again. I knew the silence meant nothing.
Except…
Maybe I had really scared him with my threat to go to the police. Though I wouldn't put a lot of money on that bet, because crazy never scared easily.
Crazy had me scared, though. That's why I'd taken all kinds of precautions from the moment I woke up this morning. Even though I'd decided that Roman wasn't going to keep me in the house for another day, I still couldn't walk around outside as if I were free. My steps were planned, everything I did was measured from the moment I left my apartment for the first time since I'd been raped.
My drive to work was always an uneventful one--I didn't even have to be fully awake since it was just a straight shot down LaBrea. But rape changes things, and this morning, my eyes had been open wide as I noticed every car behind me, beside me, in front of me. My eyes ached from the constant movement, darting back and forth, checking every street corner, every stop light, every bush along the way.
There were no signs of Roman.
Within ten minutes, I was on Wilshire, but I didn't rush into the garage the way I always did, trying to get one of the premium spaces near the elevator. This morning, I edged my car to the curb, shifted into park--though I left the engine running--and waited. My eyes stayed on the entrance to the garage as car after car turned in. I didn't move until I saw one that was familiar: Carol Wilson's red Nissan. I rolled in right behind her, staying as close as I could. On the top level, Carol took one of the assigned spaces and I twisted my car so that I was next to her.
She greeted me with a wave as she stepped from her car before I could even turn off my engine.
I grabbed my briefcase, jumped from the car and did a mad dash to catch up with her. When she frowned, I explained, “I didn't want to wait for the elevator.”
“Girl, I understand that. They need to fix this old thing,” she said. “I get so tired of waiting forever.”
While she chatted, my eyes scoped the space to see if we were truly alone. I tried not to think about the last time I was here, when it was just me and Roman.
When a car rounded the corner a bit sharply and the tires screeched against the concrete, my pulse spiked with fear. But then the red-headed, freckled guy drove past us and waved: Jason, the head of Marketing. Not Roman, the crazy rapist.
I still didn't breathe freely until I was upstairs in my office.
And this was where I'd been ever since, behind closed doors. Not that I felt completely safe here, but at least if Roman showed up, he wouldn't be able to touch me. Not in front of all of these witnesses.
I had returned to work physically, but I hadn't been able to bring my mind with me. Right now, Roman owned that. He owned my thoughts, my time. He was not present, but it was hard to make a move without thinking of him.
And it was hard to work because I called Kenny every twenty, thirty, forty minutes to find out if Roman had destroyed our world.
Even now as I picked up the telephone to make the call, my hands trembled; it didn't matter that I'd spoken to Kenny less than an hour ago.
“Jasmine, what's going on?” Kenny almost whined.
“I'm sorry. Can I help it that I'm a newlywed?”
“I'm one too. But I'm a newlywed who has to work, baby.”
“Okay.” I paused. “What about doing something special tonight?” That thought just came to me. If Kenny and I were a moving target, it would be more difficult for Roman to find us, to catch us, to destroy us.
“That's sounds great,” he said, though I'm sure part of his excitement was to just get me off the phone. “Wanna do dinner and a movie?”
Dinner and a movie--a special night, Kenny Larson style. In the past, I would've been annoyed that he didn't make the effort to be more creative. Today, I was just glad that he'd agreed to go anywhere, do anything.
“That would be great. I'll make the plans and then call you back,” I said, glad that I'd have an excuse for the next time I called.
At least I'd have something to do for the next hour or so. I started first with the movie. A couple of weeks ago, I really wanted to see that new film Fatal Attraction, but from what I'd heard, it was some crazy-doesn't-want-to-go-away drama and I already had enough of that in my life. So I settled on Moonstruck because Kyla had told me that Cher was the real deal in that picture. Next up--where would we eat? If that choice had been left to Kenny, we'd be hanging out in the food court of the Fox Hills Mall trying to decide if we wanted two or three items on the Panda Express menu.
That was not about to happen; I may have been living in fear, but I wasn't about to do it bargain-basement style. I knew exactly where I wanted to go: to that new restaurant, Georgia's, over on Melrose. It was the place to see and be seen--a celebrity haven, since it was owned by Norm Nixon, Denzel Washington and a few other Hollywood A-listers. My hope was to see someone, and maybe one of those someones would recognize my husband and help jumpstart his career. But the bigger thing for me is that I knew we'd be safe from Roman. Georgia's was exclusive, not a place for someone like Roman to go, since that man didn't have two nickels. Not that we'd ever discussed his finances; money was not the reason that I'd been with Roman.
With the plans in place, I called Kenny back. He didn't even grumble at the fact that I'd chosen a restaurant over the food court, and I promised not to disturb him at work again unless it was an emergency.
I spent the rest of the afternoon shuffling papers, shifting folders from one side of my desk to the other, watching the clock, and shaking every single time the phone rang. By the time the clock slowly ticked to quarter to five, I had one of those good news, bad news scenarios. Starting with the bad: I hadn't gotten a lick of work done. Ending with the good: I hadn't heard from Roman.
I was beginning to think that maybe that man did have a little bit of sense. Maybe the thought of the police tracking him down and then cuffing him up was enough to make him go away. Maybe there was something in his past that made him decide it was better not to test me. Whatever his reason, I was just beyond relieved that I hadn't heard from him.
But had Kenny?
I picked up the phone--again--and held my breath--again--until my husband answered . “Hey, babe,” I said. “Just want you to know that I'm leaving the office now.”
He laughed. “What? You're not gonna have me sitting at the restaurant waiting for you? You really have changed.”
“I told you. I've turned over a new leaf. I'm in love.”
“Well, I love this new-leaf-Jasmine. I'll see you in a few, babe.”
I dropped the phone back in place and breathed, relieved. It looked like we were going to make it through tonight, at least.
I still had to be safe, though, and for the first time since I'd begun my career, I didn't wait for my boss to leave the office first. My briefcase was already packed and when the clock hit five, I marched out of the office with a slew of Administrative Assistants who never stayed a minute past five. The elevator was packed as I rode down to the garage, and though I wanted to throw up when the doors opened and my eyes surveyed the space where I'd been attacked, at least I knew that this time, surrounded by eight women, Roman wouldn't be able to get anywhere near me.
I trotted to my car, jumped inside, and locked the door before I stuck the key in the ignition. The engine turned over--and only then did I finally feel safe.
***
My office was closer to the restaurant, so it was no surprise that I was there before Kenny. The moment I tossed my car keys to the attendant and strolled into Georgia's, I knew this was just what I needed to make me forget the madness that had become my life, even if it was just for a little while.
The crowd was light. Most of the up and coming black professionals who mixed with Hollywood were still in their offices, working to make a name for themselves, working for those extra dollars to be added to their annual bonuses, all eager to make their mark on the last few years left in the eighties so that they would be major players in the nineties. I understood
the ambition; it was in my blood too, and just as soon as I was sure I was safe from Roman, I was going to get back to my workaholic ways so that Kenny and I could have a wonderful life.
“Hello, Ms. Cox.”
I grinned and nodded at the hostess who looked like she was barely old enough to work. She must have an amazing photographic memory because every time I came into this place, she remembered my name.
“It's Mrs. Larson now,” I said proudly.
“Really?” She smiled, showing the orthodontist-set teeth that had to have cost her parents a fortune. “I didn't know. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said, as she moved from the hostess stand. I followed her past empty table after empty table to one in the far corner next to the kitchen door.
Was she kidding me? “I don't want to sit all the way back here,” I said. I pointed to one of the other tables. “What about there?”
She turned around as if she had to check out what she already knew. “Uh,” she said, “those tables are reserved.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“We're expecting our regular crowd soon.”
I knew that was code for, “That table is for important people.” But it didn't stop me from raising both of my eyebrows.
She said, “But maybe I can move you here,” in a tone that was meant for me to know she was doing me a favor. She took a few steps, moving two tables away from the first one.
I sighed, but this was as good as it was going to get.
I hung my purse on the back of the chair and sat down. When the hostess walked away, I rolled my eyes, but just as quickly checked myself. There was no need to get upset about a table. Soon enough--once Kenny started his new career--I'd be seated right in the center of the restaurant every time I came in here. It was just a matter of time.
The sure way to pull myself out of this little funk was to glance at the menu, even though I already knew what I was going to order (I loved the barbecue salmon). Still, glancing through the other choices--the shrimp and cheese-grits and the pecan-crusted chicken breast--always tempted me.
“Hey babe.”
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