by Zuri Day
“Let’s make it an hour to be sure Gregory is here.”
Michael ended his call with Shayna and immediately called his brother. “Please say you’ve got a free hour or two.”
“Please tell me you haven’t done anything stupid.”
“Like what?”
“Like confronting the man who answered Shayna’s phone. You tore out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.”
“No, man. After calling her twice more and getting voice mail, I calmed down. Figured that if she was in trouble, she’d call me. Then I heard from Jessica and then Felicia and . . .” Michael had heard from them; what he hadn’t told Gregory is that he’d turned down the chance to be with both of them. He’d even put Paia on hold, told her she might have to fly back to Milan without their being able to meet. What he also hadn’t told his brother was that he was suddenly in jeopardy of losing his player card. What he hadn’t even yet admitted to himself was the reason.
“Never mind. I might be free for the next few hours. What’s up?”
“I told Shayna you were on your way over to my house.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I want to see her.”
“A little old to require a chaperone, don’t you think?”
“I don’t need a chaperone. I need a reason.” Now that he’d said the words out loud, they sounded lame to his own ears. But in for a penny, in for a pound. “Can you come over here or what?”
“Wow.” Gregory drew out the word with a chuckle. “Sounds like somebody might be trying to stretch the professional boundaries, and copping a little attitude while doing it. But having taken the Hippocratic oath, I have a duty to the well-being of my patients.”
Michael let out a breath of relief. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.”
“No worries, bro. I knew you were digging her from the jump.”
“I’m not ‘digging’ her, as you put it, just being protective of my business interests, that’s all. You know I don’t play where I eat. Been there, done that, got the restraining order to prove it.”
“If that’s the case, then why don’t you have Shayna meet me at my office instead of your house? As you know, I’m totally capable of handling your clients without your being there.”
“We’ve already been through this, bro. I’m just keeping this story under wraps. Troy is checking out Jarrell and the characters he hangs around. Things might get ugly. So for right now, the fewer people who know about this incident, the better.”
“Let me get this straight. You have an Olympic gold medalist who was attacked by her boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“You don’t press charges.”
“Right.”
“There’s no police report.”
“I’ve already told you this.”
“And no hospital or doctor report to document her injuries.”
“Her roommates took pictures.”
Michael heard Gregory’s frustrated snort through the phone. “This doesn’t make any sense, Michael.”
“She doesn’t want it out there either. Something about her mother’s husband and how negative publicity might affect his business.”
“You would think a mother whose daughter had been attacked would care more about getting justice for her daughter, never mind what it would mean for anyone else.”
“Tell me about it.”
A pause and then, “What is she going to tell the coach?”
“Freak accident—ran into by someone riding a bicycle.”
“Is withholding information like that wise?”
“It is for now.” Michael ended the call, pondering his brother’s remarks. There was no denying the feelings he had toward Shayna: to promote and protect. These he was able to excuse as being logical—he stood to make not only a bigger name for himself but a whole lot of money. But there were other feelings, deeper ones, that he didn’t want to acknowledge, refused to acknowledge. When he needed sexual healing, there were several ladies on his speed dial who knew their liaison was pure hot fun. His self-assurance had bloomed large along with his physique, and after being rejected for much of his early years, when the great looks and greater confidence kicked in, he made up for lost time by keeping an address book of lovelies at the ready—a different type for each season, sport, and industry event. That’s all he wanted, no strings attached. For some reason he dared not ponder, he didn’t want any of them. Right now, he didn’t have time for. . .anyone else.
As Michael turned onto the street where he lived, his cell phone rang. He glanced at the face of it, brows slightly knitting at the “unknown” announcement. “Morgan.” Silence. “Hello?”
“Michael Morgan, right?” a male voice inquired.
He tensed at once, almost sure that he’d heard this voice before. “Yes, this is Michael. Who is this?”
A short pause and then, “This is Shayna’s boyfriend.”
Michael didn’t even realize he was gripping the wheel. Surely this couldn’t be the man who’d attacked his . . . investment. Either the man was very brave or very stupid. Given how he’d pretty much ambushed Shayna, Michael betted on the latter. “Does Shayna’s boyfriend have a name?”
“Jarrell.”
Michael steered into his driveway. He turned the car off, but didn’t get out. “What can I do for you, Gerald?” he asked while thinking, This is going to be good. The pause that occurred let Michael know that his pseudo-friendly demeanor had caught Shayna’s assailant off guard. He’d probably expected a surlier greeting, a nastier encounter. Michael had something in store for him, no doubt. When the time was right.
“I, uh, I just wanted to let you know that me and her are, you know, together, and anything that involves her involves me.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I tell you what Gerald—”
“Jarrell, man! J-a-r-r-e-l-l.”
“Right. Tell you what, Gerald. You handle your business with Shayna, and I’ll handle mine. And as long as your business doesn’t affect my affairs, we’ll be fine. If that ends up not being the case, such as if you ever touch her again, it’ll be a problem.”
“Don’t try and threaten me, man.”
“I don’t make threats, just promises. And since only a bitch would put his hand on a woman, I’d suggest you take me at my word.”
Michael disconnected the call and promptly blocked Jarrell’s number. The plot had just thickened, and Michael had more questions than answers. What was up with the phone call he’d just received? Why had Jarrell been at Shayna’s house, answering her phone and in the process getting his number? And perhaps the most important question, why was this fact affecting him the way it did? When it came to dealing with his clients, especially the multimillion-dollar celebrity athletes, he’d seen a little of everything. He’d dealt with drug users, baby mama drama, sexual harassment and assault lawsuits, blackmail, and more. When it came to Jarrell Powell, Michael wasn’t exactly sure what he was dealing with. But he knew one thing. When the smoke cleared, he knew which man would be left standing and which one would find his face eating dirt.
13
Shayna pulled into Michael’s driveway and parked behind the white Mercedes next to Michael’s Jag. She assumed the car was Gregory’s, the impressive lines of the sleek sedan befitting the image of a doctor. She wondered what it must be like to have grown up in Michael’s family, full, she imagined, of life, laughter, and lots of love. How else could they all have turned out so successfully? As she eased out of the car and admired the lovely front garden on her way to the door, she wondered about the third brother Michael had mentioned, Troy. She wondered what he did for a living and whether he was as fine as Michael and Gregory. A pang of sadness washed over her as she thought about her own upbringing as the only child of a self-centered mother, a woman who even now placed her own wants and desires before that of her daughter. Then she thought of Friday night, how Michael had tended to her emotional woun
ds while his brother Gregory had bound her physical ones. Aside from her best friends, Britt and Tee, and her beloved grandmother, Big Mama, she hadn’t much experience with people truly caring about her. There had been moments when Jarrell made her feel good, but those had too often been followed by a taunt or a dig. Even though she’d known him almost all of her life, he’d never provided her the level of care she’d felt from the Morgan brothers. When it came to the relationship with her ex-boyfriend, life had been all about him.
Shayna reached the door and rang the doorbell. Michael answered. He was not smiling. “Shayna,” he said, his face an unreadable mask. “Come on in.”
What’s up with him? Was it her or had a blast of cold from the Arctic blown into the room? She followed him down the hall into the open-concept living area that she loved so much. Expecting to see Gregory but finding the room empty, she asked, “Where’s the doctor?”
“On his way.” Michael had passed through the living room to the dining room and now sat with his back to Shayna, typing on an iPad.
Shayna stood near the couch, unsure of what to do. Was this the same warm, caring person whom she’d left less than forty-eight hours ago? What had happened to sour his mood? Shayna looked at the custom-made silk-covered couch, but instead of sitting, she walked over to the floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that opened up to the fabulously landscaped backyard. Again she was struck with the contrast between how he lived compared with her cozy but relatively simple abode. She looked at the comfy, navy-striped lounge chairs and imagined the pool parties that probably happened on the regular, with beautiful women, handsome men, tinkling glasses, and mindless chatter. Who cares? She tried to tell herself that Michael’s life and how he lived it was of no concern to her, tried to convince herself that she had no desire to be a part of it. She turned, and was surprised to find him staring at her intently.
Startled, she asked, “What is it?” Michael looked at her, remained silent. Her heart began pounding, and she worked to keep her breathing calm. His silence reminded her of Beverly, how she’d stare at her then preteen daughter before lighting into her over some imagined wrong. “Michael?”
After another moment, Michael set the iPad on the table and leaned back in the chair. “Jarrell called me.”
Shayna gave herself time to collect her thoughts by walking over to the dining room where Michael sat, pulling out one of the heavy wrought-iron and cashmere-tufted chairs, and joining him at the table. On the way, she once again remembered her phone in Jarrell’s hand when she came out of the bathroom. After realizing that he’d intercepted Michael’s call, she deduced that he’d then deleted the evidence. Obviously, that wasn’t all he’d done. He’d also gotten Michael’s number. “I’m sorry,” she said at last.
Michael turned to face her. “You may believe this is not my concern, but I’m curious, Shayna. How is it that the man who attacked you two days ago was at your house today?”
“My mother, Beverly, is married to Jay’s brother, Larsen.” Michael didn’t even try and hide his surprise. “I know, long story. But the short of it is that she had me when she was eighteen and even though she’s in her forties, she looks much younger. Larsen is thirty-two, seven years older than Jay. So”—she shrugged—“they hooked up.”
“Given your recent breakup, that has to be uncomfortable for you. But what does your mother being married to your ex’s brother have to do with him being at your house?”
“She talked me into letting him come over.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Trust me, she has her reasons.”
“Reasons that she would want you to entertain a man who’d attacked you? How do you feel about that?”
“It doesn’t matter how I feel.” Michael didn’t respond, just continued staring, waiting for answers. “I was raised mostly by my grandmother; Mom was more of a friend to me. She’s beautiful, men flock after her, and she always has one around. Always. She indirectly used me and Jay hanging out as a way to snag his brother. I guess that since he and I are now broken up, she’s getting nervous.”
Given that he had a mother like Jackie, one who would go to the fire for any one of her sons, he couldn’t imagine a mother putting some nucka before her own blood. He couldn’t imagine that at all. “How long have they been married?”
“Almost three years. When my grandmother died, Mom got the insurance money. She used it to help Larsen expand his limo business. I guess he figured he owed her.” Silence and then, “What did Jay say to you?”
“That y’all were still together and that your business was his.”
Shayna rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’ve told Jay in no uncertain terms that it’s over between us. He doesn’t believe me.”
“He doesn’t want to believe you.”
“Yes, well, I have a track record.” When Michael remained silent, Shayna continued, her voice soft, reflective. “This isn’t the first time we broke up. It’s not the second. Or the third. As I’ve already told you, he and I have been a couple off and on ever since I was sixteen. We’ve known each other since we were kids. There’s a lot of history there, which is why he thinks he owns me.” Shayna looked Michael in the eye. “But he doesn’t.”
Michael nodded, seeming to let these words soak in before responding. “As long as you’re honest with me, I can handle your ex. I just want to make sure that you can, not only so that we don’t have to deal with some type of scandal, but also so that I can know that you’re safe. He sounded quite possessive over the phone and I’ve already seen firsthand what he thinks about women.” A frown marred his face, but was gone so quickly that Shayna wondered if she’d simply imagined it. “I heard the explanation about your mother, but I still don’t get it. Why did you let him come to your house?”
Shayna reached out and outlined the silver centerpiece with her finger. She noted the exquisite workmanship on the casting made to resemble a bowl of fruit. Her mind jumbled as she thought to explain herself. How did one tell a secure, confident man who’d probably never doubted his worth a day in his life about someone like her? How did one explain what it felt like to always come up short in the eyes of another, how someone like Jarrell had been her lesser of two evils? How did one explain what it was like to grow up with someone like Beverly for a mother? Because if she could adequately explain it, then Michael would know why Jarrell had been in her home earlier that day.
As it was, she was saved by the bell.
Michael walked to the door and seconds later returned with Gregory just behind him. Today his brother looked more like the doctor, dressed in an olive green scrub top over faded jeans. He carried a black leather duffel bag and while his smile was pleasant enough, his mannerisms were all business.
He reached the table and set his bag down on it. “Hello, Shayna.”
“Hi, Gregory.”
“How are we feeling today?”
“I’m still pretty sore, and for some reason it feels like the bandages have gotten tighter somehow.”
“Let me wash my hands real quick and we’ll have a look at it.”
Michael looked over at Shayna, slid his gaze over her body before asking, “Do you want me to leave the room while he examines you?”
Shayna shook her head. “No.” And she meant it. Even as her body began to thrum of its own volition at the mere thought of him watching her, even as she reminded herself that she wasn’t the modest type, and that it was just her midsection after all.
Gregory returned from the bathroom. “Okay, Shayna. Stand up, and let me have a look.” She stood. “I’m just going to unwrap the bandages; let me know if I’m hurting you, though I’ll try and be as gentle as I can.”
As Gregory slowly unwound the bandage, Shayna kept her head down, her eyes on the deft fingers removing the gauzy cloth. But she felt Michael’s eyes on her. As the material was unraveled purplish bruises became evident, and the area around the cracked and bruised ribs was puffy, a definite rise against her otherwise washboard sto
mach. Gregory’s brow furrowed with concern, and though Shayna couldn’t see him, Michael’s whole body was taut.
“Okay, we’ve got a bit of swelling going on here,” Gregory said, stating the obvious as he gingerly touched the area with the tips of his fingers. “Come on into Michael’s room. I want you to lie down.” She followed him into the bedroom and heard Michael’s footsteps just behind her. “Just sit down,” Gregory said to her, and when she did, he took hold of her shoulders while instructing Michael to lift her feet. “Now lie back,” he quietly commanded, holding her shoulders firmly in order to prevent undo movement of her rib cage. Gregory quietly conducted the examination, including the bruising and scratches on her jaw and neck. Michael watched as Shayna closed her eyes, giving him a chance to stare at her unabashedly. He longed to run his fingers across her flat stomach, could almost taste the chocolate of her skin. He watched the rise and fall of her breasts, felt his joystick twitch as he imagined his tongue encircling the nipple he imagined to be plump and juicy as a blackberry, but twice as sweet. One of the thoughts that he’d had regarding her came back to him and he quietly left the room.
“I’ll write a prescription for some medicinal lotion to help with the swelling,” Gregory said, as he touched Shayna’s shoulder. When she opened her eyes, he gestured for her to put both of her hands in his while he placed his other hand on her upper back and helped her up. “You’ll also want to take a long soak, every night, in water that’s quite warm but not scalding. Do that and then apply the lotion, okay?” Shayna nodded. “Let’s get you wrapped up. Is there someone to help you do this once you bathe?” Again, Shayna nodded, blocking out the image of Michael that flashed into her head. I wish, she silently admitted, then just as quickly dismissed the thought. She was fairly certain of one thing: the manager who’d not only had to deal with a battered client winding up on his front sidewalk but also had to handle her crazy-ass boyfriend would probably not put her on the short list when it came to dating possibilities. Gregory deftly rewrapped the bandage around Shayna’s rib cage. Michael was just ending a call as they reentered the living area.