Consequences (12 page)

17

Nikki

I'd just finished giving a statement to the police when I spotted Tristan parking his Impala a few feet behind the police barricade. He stuck a long leg out of the car just as I rushed over to the driver's side.

“Tristan?”

He turned to face me, smiled, then sashayed his narrow ass in black skinny jeans, gold stilettos, and a sequin top that hung off one shoulder.

“Tristan . . . what are you doing here?” I asked, then glanced around nervously to see if anyone else had noticed. Then it dawned on me. Why would they? No one other than me, Donovan, and Tammy knew Lorenzo had been messing around with Tristan.

“Lorenzo was supposed to meet me at my apartment an hour ago. Since he wasn't answering his phone, I thought I'd stop through and see why. What the hell's going on?”

My heart started thundering heavily. I didn't know how I was going to tell him Lorenzo was dead. Tristan tried to walk around me so he could get a closer look through the window, but I grabbed his arm and urged him to stop.

“Tristan, wait! I gotta tell you something.”

“What is it, Nikki?” he asked. Then his face changed as if he already knew what I was about to say was going to be really bad. Hell, I didn't even know where to begin.

“Tammy came by and . . . somehow she found out about you and Lorenzo.”

“What?” His large eyes got round and his jaw dropped. “What did she say?”

“It's not what she said. It's what she did.” I took a deep, shaky breath.
Ohmygod!
This was probably the most difficult thing I had ever had to do.

“She left here and went back to her car. She must have had a gun under the seat because she came back and shot up the place. They arrested her about fifteen minutes ago.”
Otherwise, she'd be out looking for you
.

“Oh . . . my . . . God! No wonder the windows are all busted up. I bet Lorenzo is probably going clean the fuck off! I guess that explains why he hasn't answered his phone.” His eyes scanned the area, obviously looking for him. At that exact moment two people from the coroner's office stepped out of the barbershop carrying a body bag.

“Oh no! What happened? Who got killed?” he cried.

“Tristan . . . I . . .” I couldn't even find the words, but I guess he saw the answer on my face.

“No . . .” Tristan started shaking his head with disbelief. “Nikki, please tell me Lorenzo isn't in that bag . . . please tell!” he screamed.

I started crying real tears. “I'm sorry.”

“No! No!” he shouted. Then before I could have stopped him, Tristan made a mad dash and flung himself on top of the body, screaming and clutching the bag to his chest. “He can't be gone!”

If it wasn't serious, it might have been funny; instead, it was like a bad dream. There was nothing humorous about watching my dear friend's heart breaking. I hurried over just as two police officers dragged Tristan away, kicking and screaming.

“This can't be happening!” he wailed. “Please tell me he's not dead!”

Donovan came rushing out of the barbershop and glared over at me. “What the hell's he doing here?” he demanded.

“Don, please . . . just leave it alone.”

“Hell nah! Doesn't he know this shit's all his fault! You knew he was married!”

I grabbed his arm. “Baby, please, stay out of it.”

“Nah! Nah! That was my boy. He was like a brother to me. Now he's gone, dammit, over some fag. Now he's gone!” And then he broke down and started bawling. I had never in my life heard my husband cry like that before. I hugged him close and tears started running down my eyes again. Tristan was sobbing as well while he stood off to the side with one of the officers, probably giving them more information than they were looking for. My heart went out to both of them. One had lost his best friend; the other had lost the best thing to happen to him in a long time.

 

That evening it was all over the news about Lorenzo having an affair with a gay man and his wife finding out her husband was on the down low and killing him. Some people said they would have done the same thing and that she had every right. All I could do was shake my head.

I put Aiden to bed, then went to check on Donovan. He'd been quiet most of the evening. Not that I blamed him. His best friend was dead and his wife now behind bars.

I stepped into the family room and found the television on, but he clearly wasn't watching it.

“Can I get you anything?” I asked and smiled, hoping that it would make him feel better. He just kept sitting there staring at the television like he had also died this afternoon. “Don, did you hear me?”

He looked to his right and glared at me. “How long had you known Lorenzo was gay?”

I shrugged. “Not that long. A couple of months.”

“But you knew he was sleeping with Tristan?” He gave me this look like he was accusing me of pulling the trigger.

“I think it was more than just sex between them. Tristan was in love with him.”

Donovan scowled. “Yeah, right,” he said like I was lying.

I stepped farther into the room with a hand at my hip. “Why are you mad at me?”

There was that hateful look again. “I'm curious what secrets Tristan's keeping for you. I mean, you knew who he was fucking, so who's to say he doesn't know who you're fucking as well.”

I rolled my eyes. “I know you're not trying to go there again.”

“Yeah, I am, and I asked you a question. Who you been fucking around with?”

I refused to have this conversation, and part of me was afraid that if he looked at me long enough he would see the truth.

Yes, I had an affair three and a half years ago. It was during Donovan's deployment to Iraq, but only because I had thought our marriage had been over. After the death of our daughter, our marriage wasn't the same. We didn't talk, rarely made love. It was like we were two zombies coexisting. By the time his unit had been called up, we were both relieved for the distance. Six months into his deployment, Donovan wrote me a letter telling me he wanted a divorce.

Devastated, I ended up in the arms of a gorgeous widower, Kenyon Monroe, who I thought was everything I needed to help me get on with my life. Instead, he had turned out to be a psychopath. When Donovan and I decided to give our marriage another chance, Kenyon was livid and ended up trying to kill me.

But even after we got back together, I never told Donovan about the affair. At first I tried; then I thought it was irrelevant. Kenyon had been sent to a state mental facility and was no longer in my life.

That was the one and only time I had ever had an affair, so his comment pissed me off. I turned and was heading out of the room when he sprung from his chair and raced across the room so fast I ran into the corner of the bookshelf.

“Oww!” I cried.

But instead of my husband coming to my aid to see if his wife was okay, he mean-mugged me. “What you rushing for? You got something to hide?”

“Seriously? I just banged my hip on the bookshelf and you're worried about what I'm hiding. I'm not hiding a got-damn thing!” I screamed. The pain in my side made me mad and gave me the strength to lie. At this late in the game, there was no way in hell I was telling him about the affair.

“Do you have any idea how many soldiers came home to find their wives gone . . . bank accounts drained . . . and kids that weren't even theirs? I was over there fighting for my country . . . providing for my family!”

Oh my goodness, this was starting to sound like a broken record. “Baby . . . I already know that, but what the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“It means I'm tired of sleeping with one eye open!” He was talking loud and I smelled the tequila on his breath. Donovan had been drinking again.

“I thought you promised to stop drinking.”

He slammed his fist through the wall. “My best friend was murdered today and you're worried about me having a drink! Dammit, Nikki. Get off these nuts!” Donovan pushed past me and moved down the hall. I heard him climbing the steps. As soon as a door slammed upstairs, I fell to my knees onto the floor and cried. Other than prayer, I didn't have a clue how to save my husband or our marriage.

18

Trinette

“Hey! We need some more T-shirts over here,” I shouted over my shoulder, then smiled down at the little girl in front of me and handed her the last small T-shirt.

“Here ya go,” Zee said as she carried another stack over to the table.

I mopped my forehead. It had been a long, hot September afternoon, and wearing high heels had been a stupid move on my part. Although I would never admit it.

The Festival Art's carnival was the college's chance to shine and showcase everything we had to offer to the community with more than 100 educational sessions and hands-on activities. It was a free, fun, educational event with giveaways, arts and crafts vendors, and so much more. I had spent the entire afternoon handing out T-shirts and pamphlets about our department.

I'd been watching my baby's daddy all afternoon working at the other end of our booth. Jrue looked delectable in blue jeans, a John Tyler T-shirt, and that coochie-curling smile. I wanted to ask him to meet me in the ladies' room, but those nosy chicks at the table were bound to notice. Speak of the devil . . .

“Trinette . . . when was the last time you took a break?” Jrue asked as he walked down to our end of the table.

I shrugged and tried to pretend like it had been a while. “I'm okay.”

He shook his head. “No, it's not okay. We're not going to have you falling out on my shift.”

“I know that's right,” Zee said, and I saw the way her eyes were traveling back between us like she knew something. I thought we had already been over that?

“Have a seat,” he said and pulled a chair over. My man was thoughtful like that. Always thinking about me. That's why I loved him so much.

Jrue moved over to the admissions' booth to see if they had any more pamphlets left.

“He is so fine.”

My head whipped around to look at Zee standing there staring after him, watching his ass. I couldn't believe she was admiring my man.

“You need to find something else to do,” I said and tried to keep the attitude from my voice.

“What? I'm just saying. Hell, if he's messing around on his wife, why not mess around with me?”

See, it's always women like her wanting something they could never have. Instead of fantasizing about my man, what she needed to be worried about was that overweight boyfriend of hers. “Trust me, as happy as that man looks, I'm sure somebody's responsible for that smile, which means
that
sistah's on her job.”

She laughed. “I know that's right.”

We went back to handing out T-shirts and gift bags. Zee was spending way too much time ogling my man. I couldn't wait until we were finally able to go public with our relationship so I could check her ass.

I was waving good-bye to two small children when I spotted Jrue's wife sauntering her narrow hips in our direction.

“Who wears high heels to an art fair?” Zee hissed near my ear. I gave her a weird look, then glanced down at my feet. “Oops. My bad.”

I rolled my eyes back in the direction of Charlotte and took a moment to check her out. The yellow pantsuit was clearly Liz Claiborne and the shoes were Louboutin to match the leather bag on her arm. Trust and believe I planned to drag Jrue to Norfolk next weekend so he could buy me the same, because there was no way I was being upstaged by that narrow wench. Although I could wear a paper sack and she still wouldn't look as delectable as me.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” She greeted us with a warm smile and I looked at how neat her ponytail was. No weave, all natural, and not a hair out of place.

“Hello, Charlotte,” I said, then paused to hand a pamphlet to a student and explain our program. The whole time I was talking, out the corner of my eye I caught that bitch staring at me.

“When's your baby due?”

I turned around, fighting a smirk. I wanted so badly to correct her.
You mean, when is Jrue's baby due?
I chuckled inward. In due time, Netta, in due time.

“In three months,” I replied, and rubbed my stomach. There was no mistaking the envy in her eyes.

“Do you know what you're having?”

I paused for dramatic effect. “Not yet, but
he
wants a boy and I want a little girl,” I said with a laugh. I was so enjoying this. “What about you? No babies in the forecast?”

Charlotte looked a little embarrassed. Good for her. “No, we've talked about it, but Jrue and I need to slow down our schedules first.”

I arched my brow. “Really? Because the other day he told me he would love to have children. At least two.”

Charlotte swallowed, clearly disturbed that I'd had such an intimate conversation with her husband. Oh my! She had no idea just how intimate we have been.

I shrugged and tried to act nonchalant. “My baby's father and I are so excited. I can't get him to stop talking about this child. He's been waiting a long time for this day.”

“I can imagine he is excited.” She looked past my shoulder, probably anxious to get away from me and my happy pregnancy.

“He's ecstatic.” I leaned in, pretending like we were close friends and I was sharing an important secret. “Every man wants a child of his own. Believe me when I tell you, if a man can't get it from his wife, then there's always some other woman out there willing to have his baby. And I'd be damned before I let another woman steal my man.”

Charlotte eased back and looked at me as if she wasn't sure if she should thank me or strangle me. That's good, because I just wanted to give her a little something to think about. Trust me, the day this baby is born is the day she better get ready for me to come knocking on her front door.

I spotted Jrue heading our way. His brow was bunched and he appeared nervous as hell. “Hey, baby.”

I whipped my head around. “Hey, I—” I bit my tongue when I realized he wasn't talking to me. Instead, I watched him lean across the table and kiss that skinny wench dead in the mouth in front of me. No the hell he didn't.

Charlotte pulled back with this saucy grin on her face like she was telling me something. The bitch can't tell me shit. Hell, I was the one carrying her husband's child, not her. “I thought I would come down here and check on my husband and see if we were still on for dinner tonight.” She was smiling up at him and I wanted to reach over and scratch her eyes out. Ticktock, bitch! Ticktock.

“We should be done in plenty of time.” He was staring at her the way he looks at me and I wasn't feeling that shit at all. That was my man. Not hers. I was supposed to be wearing that kilowatt diamond that was on her ring finger. What bothered me the most was that my man had forgotten that I was standing there. I guess it was up to me to remind him.

“Ouch!” I cried, then buckled over and gripped my stomach.

Jrue practically pushed Charlotte away and hurried to my side. “Trinette, you okay?”

“I just felt a sharp pain. Ouch! There it goes again!” God, I was good.

I leaned all my weight against him as he assisted me over to a folding chair. “I told you not to overdo it,” he scolded, then dropped down on one knee beside me. I just stared into those beautiful eyes of his.

“Shouldn't we call an ambulance?” Charlotte asked with a frown on her face.

“No, I'll be okay. Just give me a minute.” I flinched again for dramatic effect. “Sometimes this little lady likes to kick her mama in the ribs.” I gazed up at Jrue again with a pitiful smile on my face and he took my hand in his.

Charlotte hurried around the table and moved beside her husband, looking suspicious. It took everything I had not to laugh at her barren ass.

“Take some deep breaths,” Jrue suggested, and I did just as he said. This was just too good. “Charlotte, can you hand me a water from out of the cooler?”

She cut her eyes, then walked over to the cooler under the table and retrieved a bottle of water. Jrue quickly took it from her and pressed it up against my forehead.

“Mmm, thank you, Jrue,” I purred.

Charlotte stood back and watched the two of us together. There was no way she could not see what was going on. It took everything I had not to laugh as I rested my forehead on Jrue's shoulder. “I guess I did overdo it today.” And then my daughter must have known her daddy was near. “Oh!” I gasped.

“What's wrong?” My man looked so scared I almost felt bad for worrying him.

“Feel.” I took his hand and pressed it against my stomach. “She's kicking me.”

“Wow!” he laughed. “You got a little football player on your hands.”

“Or a dancer.” I winked.

You should have seen the look on his face while she kicked around. I stole a glance over at Charlotte, standing there like a lost puppy. “Charlotte, would you like to feel her kick?”

She quickly shook her head. Hater. I didn't want her bony fingers touching me no way. What Jrue and I were sharing she would never get to experience with him. And that's okay, because he wouldn't be her husband for long. That much I was certain of. This little girl I was carrying had already stolen her father's heart. And I planned to steal Charlotte's husband away. It was going to be easier than I had imagined.