Best She Ever Had (9781617733963) (17 page)

 

Cynthia now gazed down at the fake canal, looking at the quivering reflection of the moon on the water's surface, remembering that last night with Korey. She glanced up at him now. He was making a poor show of pretending to be looking for Jared and Clarissa. It was pretty obvious that he was trying more to not acknowledge the woman sitting beside him.

How had they gotten to this? How had they gone from being madly in love to total loathing?

“He doesn't loathe you,” a voice in her head corrected. “You don't loathe him either. You're both just angry. That's all.”

But why was she so angry at him? What had he done to earn this much venom? And it wasn't only Korey who could get her fired up nowadays. It seemed like she was
always
angry.

“I don't want to be rich and divorced and alone and pissed off all the time like you!”
she remembered Clarissa screaming at her that night before the young woman stormed up the stairs and later ran away with Jared.

Cynthia grimaced.
I'm not like that, am I? I'm not pissed off and alone.
She quickly shook her head at the thought.
Of course not!

What did Clarissa know anyway? She was a naïve teenager. She wasn't one to give out love or life advice! But still, Cynthia was starting to question why she had so much fury bottled up inside of her. Where did it all come from?

“Bitterness, maybe,” the little voice in her head ventured.

But why should she be bitter? So what if she didn't marry Korey and they didn't end up happily ever after. She still had a wonderful life! She had her health and still looked pretty damn good for a woman pushing forty, if she did say so herself. She had plenty of money, a beautiful daughter, and men who fell at her feet and were willing to buy her anything and everything she wanted. Life may not have turned out exactly as she had expected or hoped, but she still made out well in the end. She was still happy—
right?

She glanced at Korey again, trying to ignore the longing that stirred inside her when she looked at him.

Of course, I'm happy,
she told herself as she crossed her legs and fluffed her hair.
Why wouldn't I be?

“Is that Jared?” Korey suddenly murmured. He leaned forward in his seat and squinted.

Cynthia did a double take. “What? You see Jared?”

“I think I see him over there.” Korey pointed off in the distance.

Cynthia looked toward where Korey was pointing. Several people streamed along the sidewalk near the wrought-iron railing in front of some outdoor restaurant seating. She saw more than one black young man sitting at a table under one of the red cloth umbrellas, standing near the railing, and walking along the sidewalk. She couldn't tell at this distance if one of them was Jared, though, truth be told, she had only seen Jared for a few fleeting seconds back in Chesterton. She might not recognize him even if he was standing in front of her.

“Do you really think it's him?”

Korey turned and glared at her as if she had just asked the dumbest question in the world. “Cindy, I think I would know my own damn son.”

She looked up at the gondolier, who had started the first bars of yet another tune.

“Excuse me!” Cynthia shouted. “Can you sing less and row faster, please?” Her brows furrowed as she searched the crowd. “Where do you see him, Korey?”

“Standing over there . . . by the lamppost.” Korey then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Jared! Jar—”

“Sheesh!”
Cynthia cried hysterically, slapping his arm. “Damn it, stop yelling!”

“I was trying to get his attention.”

“
Get his attention?
Are you crazy? We don't want to let him know we see him! We don't want them to know we're here.”

Korey frowned at her in bewilderment. “What the hell sense does that make? I thought the whole point was to come here, find them, and then stop them. How are they going to do that if don't talk to them?”

“Yes, we want to find them, Korey, but we don't want to scare him off and make him run away.” She patted his hand gently and spoke slowly, like he was a not-too-bright child. “So let's just keep it quiet for now. Wait until we get closer to see if it's him.”

Korey pursed his lips, looking irritated. He yanked his hand away from her. “Fine, but if we lose him this time around, it's not my fault. I don't want to hear anything from you!”

The time that it took for the boat to finish its circuit around the canal and make it back to the dock was probably only three minutes—five minutes, tops—but it felt like an eternity for Cynthia. When they finally docked, she and Korey quickly climbed out of the boat and raced to the spot where Korey claimed to have seen Jared. As they drew closer, nearly twenty yards away, the young man who was leaning against the lamppost suddenly waved his hand in acknowledgment to someone in the distance, pushed away from the lamppost, and strode down the sidewalk.

“Damn, where is he going now?” she cried.

Korey didn't answer her but gave chase instead.

I
can't believe this!
Korey thought as he felt his heart thud wildly in his chest. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he raced from the dock and over the cobblestone bridge, dodging between tourists and random vendor carts to catch up with his son.

He could still be on a date right now with Shino. They would have finished their meal and probably would be sampling one of those expensive desserts. Maybe they would even be in a cab heading back to their hotel. She'd be taking him to her room to show him just how good of an aphrodisiac champagne could be into the wee hours of the morning. But
no!
Instead he was running along the sidewalk like a crazy person. Instead he had let Cynthia guilt him into cutting the date short and heading back here to continue what was looking more and more like a quixotic quest to stop the kids from getting married.

“Korey!” Cynthia shouted behind him. “Damn it, Korey! Wait up!”

He glanced over his shoulder at her but didn't stop or slow down. If Cynthia couldn't catch up with him, then to hell with her!

He could still recall the look on Shino's face when he told her he had to leave their dinner date early.

“It's about my son,” he had tried to explain as he wrenched his cell phone out of his suit pocket and turned the phone to vibrate to stop its insistent chiming. He tossed the phone on the table. “I have to—”

“Is that who's calling you?” Shino had asked.

She glanced down at his phone and could clearly see the name of the last caller on the screen. When she did, she angrily pursed her lips.

“No. It's . . . it's Cindy.”

Shino looked up at him. “I noticed.”

“But it isn't want you think. You see, we were . . . we were supposed to meet later to—”

“Don't bother, Korey,” she said, waving him off. She removed her dinner napkin from her lap and slapped it on the table. She began to scoot out of the other side of the booth.

“Shino, wait! Let me explain! Cindy's just calling to tell me that—”

“You know, you say things are over between you two. You say that you haven't been together in twenty damn years, but she certainly has a hold on you tonight. I can't and I'm
not
going to compete with that.” She then turned and walked away from the table.

“Shino, come on! I—”

“Thanks for the drink,” she had called halfheartedly over her shoulder.

As he watched her walk out of the restaurant, he slumped against the table and grumbled to himself while his phone started buzzing again.

Needless to say, he had pretty much blown any chance he had with Shino that night. Now all he had to look forward to was Cynthia's shrill yelling and continual coldness. Now he was chasing after Jared so that he could finally grab his son, drag him onto a plane, fly the hell home, and end this Las Vegas nightmare.

“Korey!” Cynthia shouted again.

They were back on the Strip, and Korey could see his son striding to a line of cabs waiting by the curb. If Jared jumped into one of those cars, Korey would likely lose him—
again!
He couldn't let that happen.

“To hell with this,” he muttered, ignoring Cynthia's warning to not let the kids know that they were in Las Vegas tracking them down. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Jared! Jared!”

Korey thought he saw Jared pause like he heard someone call his name before abruptly opening one of the cab doors and climbing inside.

“Oh, no! Korey, he's getting away!” Cynthia screamed as she raced toward him.

“I can see that,” Korey snapped before running toward one of the other cabs. “Can you follow that white cab up there?” Korey asked the driver. Korey pointed at the cab that had just pulled away from the curb and was merging into traffic.

The driver tilted his head and gazed up at Korey through the lowered window with a comical expression on his face. He chuckled. “You're kidding, right?”

Korey sighed, dug into his pocket, and pulled out his wallet. “Here's a hundred bucks that says that I'm not kidding. You get that hundred extra and your fare if you follow that cab.”

The cabdriver jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “Get in.”

Korey climbed inside, and Cynthia scrambled in after him.

“Ma'am, I already have a fare,” the cabdriver called to her. “You're gonna have to—”

“Its fine,” Korey said before glancing at Cynthia. “She's with me. Just drive.”

Luckily for them, a car accident farther down Las Vegas Boulevard had slowed traffic on the Strip to a near crawl. It wasn't hard to tail Jared's cab. They stayed at least two car lengths behind him during most of the ride.

“I still don't see how you're so sure that's Jared, Korey,” Cynthia murmured anxiously, wringing her purse straps in her hands as she sat forward in her seat, trying to keep an eye on the cab ahead of them.

“I'm sure because I know what my son looks like. It's him!”

Though, truth be told, even Korey was starting to question that assertion. Why hadn't Jared turned to look at him when he'd shouted Jared's name? Why hadn't Jared turned when he heard his father's voice? Maybe Korey was getting so eager to find his son that he was starting to see Jared everywhere, in the face of every young black man he saw wandering along the Strip.

No, it's him,
he stubbornly insisted.
It's my son in that cab. I'm going to catch up with him and we're going the hell home.

“Then why isn't he with Clarissa?” Cynthia asked. “Why is he riding around Las Vegas by himself?”

“How the hell should I know? Maybe they had a fight. Maybe she got sick and decided to stay behind at the hotel. Who knows! All I know is that we came here to find them, and that's what I'm trying to do!”

Cynthia tiredly slumped back in her seat. “Fine, I just hope you're right.”

A few minutes later, the cab in front of them suddenly turned off Las Vegas Boulevard, and made a right and then a left onto a road that looked a lot less glamorous. Gone were the dazzling light displays and streets teeming with people. Instead they were in a deserted area with industrial-looking buildings, cracked sidewalks, and strip malls. A few prostitutes and homeless people stood near street lamps and in the shadows of doorways. Korey looked up and saw a few signs, but instead of names like the Luxor, Bellagio, and MGM Grand, he saw Diamonds, Mavis Showgirls, and The Erotic Lounge.

The white cab pulled into a dimly lit parking lot, and their cab pulled in after it. Above the two-story building was a sign with the glowing orange cursive letters.

“The Saddled Pony Gentleman's Club,” Korey read aloud.

Korey and Cynthia watched at a distance as the young man climbed out, leaned over to hand something to the driver, then showed an ID—more than likely a fake one—to a bouncer in a black T-shirt who stood near the doors, looking bored. The bouncer nodded before waving Jared inside. He then slumped back against the wall and pulled out a cigarette as Jared disappeared behind the black doors.

“A strip club?”
Cynthia exclaimed. “He came to a strip club?”

“Looks like it,” Korey murmured. Though seeing this, Korey was starting to doubt even more that the person they were tailing was his son. But they had chased him all the way here. They couldn't stop now.

“So he ditched my baby to tuck dollar bills into some slut's sweaty G-string?” She sucked her teeth. “That's it! I swear when I get my hands on that boy, I will—”

“You won't do a damn thing, because you're not getting your hands on him. I'm going in there. You stay out here.”

Cynthia scrunched up her face with outrage. “Who . . . who the . . . the hell do you think you are, Korey Walker? Don't you dare tell me what to do! If you're going inside that club, so am I!” She pointed at her chest. “There's no way that I'm just—”

“Look, he's
my
son! I want to talk to him, and I can't do that if you start bitching him out in front of everybody in there!”

“I'm not going to ‘bitch him out!' I was simply going to—”

“Yeah, right. We both know that's exactly what you were going to do. No, you stay in the cab! I'll go inside.” He then handed the money to the driver and offered him another fifty to wait for them. He climbed out of the taxi before slamming the door behind him just as Cynthia started to scoot across the seat to follow him.

“Korey!” she shouted, slapping her hand on the glass. “Korey, don't you dare go in there without me!”

“Stay in the car!” he barked over his shoulder before striding to the club's doors, leaving her behind, fuming.

 

An hour later, a very pissed-off Cynthia shoved open the velvet curtains to The Saddled Pony Gentleman's Club main room. She scowled as she looked around her, squinting and letting her eyes adjust to the darkened room. Only the phallic-shaped stage was illuminated with soft blue spotlights and up-lighting along the edge. The rest of the club was mostly in shadow.

A few men lingered on stools around the perimeter of the stage, looking almost lost in a collective trance as they watched the topless dancers gyrate and hump the poles above them. One balding man in a Hawaiian shirt wearing bifocals even smiled dumbly and applauded as the stripper in front of him climbed up her pole and did a split in midair that was worthy of any Cirque du Soleil performance. Another man did his own little shimmy near the stage as he tossed dollar bills into the air while a stripper wiggled her ass cheeks in front of his face.

Cynthia scanned the room in search of Korey. He had disappeared in here almost an hour ago. He had actually had the audacity to order her to stay in the car, like she was some errant five-year-old. She had obeyed him and waited, but when ten minutes stretched into thirty minutes and then a full hour, she'd lost it. Cynthia would be damned if she'd just sit patiently with her hands in her lap like a good little girl while Korey did whatever the hell he wanted. She decided to go searching for him and Jared herself.

She soon spotted Korey sitting at a highboy table about five feet away from the stage. When she saw that he was nursing a drink while getting a lap dance from a busty blonde in a hot-pink thong, Cynthia gritted her teeth so hard she could hear them grinding.

Seriously? Again?
It was like every time she turned away there was some slut smiling in his face.

“You've got to be kidding me,” she muttered as she stormed across the room. She zigzagged through tables and patrons, mumbling to herself. She stopped when she felt someone grab her wrist.

Cynthia turned and stared into the glazed eyes of a big-muscled type. The seams of his white T-shirt sleeves seemed to strain across his tattooed biceps. His short dark hair was spiked with gel. He grinned at her drunkenly.

“Hey, baby,” he slurred. “You are hot
as hell!
Give you a hundred bucks if you show your tits!”

She yanked her wrist out of his grasp. “For a hundred bucks, I wouldn't let you see my damn ankle,” she sneered before walking away.

“
Two
hundred?” he shouted after her, making her roll her eyes.

She finally drew near Korey, who had just raised his glass back to his lips. The glitter-covered nipples of the stripper's saline-filled double Ds hovered dangerously close to his face, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he was so firmly focused on them that he didn't notice Cynthia walking toward him.

“So I guess it wasn't Jared then!” she shouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

She had yelled at him both because she was royally pissed off, and because she had to shout to be heard over the heavy thud of the rock music playing on the overhead speakers. The sound was almost deafening.

Korey lowered his drink to the tabletop and turned toward her, looking like a guilty kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Oh, hey, Cindy!” A goofy grin crossed his handsome face. “Sorry. The time got away from me.”

God damn it, he's drunk,
she thought.

“I was looking for Jared and ran into Tiffany here.” He gestured toward the blonde, who rose from his lap and took a step away from him on her clear platform high heels. She turned toward Cynthia and waved.

“Hey! Pleased to meet you!” Tiffany drawled.

“Uh-huh,” Cynthia answered flatly, not returning the greeting.

“I asked Tiffany if she had seen anyone who looked like Jared come through here. She said no.”

“Is that right? And I suppose asking her that question and getting the answer took a whole hour?”

“Well, no,” he demurred. “But I had to pay the lady for her time.”

Tiffany playfully tapped his button nose. “Oh, don't be hard on him! He's been down in the dumps. He said he's had a rough couple of days.”

“I sure have,” he replied, taking a drink and smiling up at her.

Tiffany wrapped her arms around Korey's neck and straddled his lap again. She pressed her bare breasts against his chest. “But like I told you, honey, it's gonna get better. Things always do. Don't worry!”

“Yeah, well, thanks for the pep talk,” Cynthia interrupted, resisting the urge to punch both Korey and Tiffany in their throats. “We have to go.” She turned to Korey and stared at him menacingly. “We have to find our kids . . .
Remember?
”

Tiffany's smile widened as she dropped a hand to her hip. “Kids? Are you guys here in Vegas on a family vacation?”