Doin' Me (16 page)

“Reyna, I was wrong for using you to destroy my son's marriage. Please forgive me.”

Reyna's head snapped around at Pastor Jennings's request, but she was rendered temporarily speechless as she fought to keep her emotions in check. Why did her mother and her foe have to bring her to a public place to tell her the words she'd longed to hear most of her life? She now had clarity about her mother's attitudes and actions, but did she have the capacity to care? She didn't think so.

The rising room temperature caused beads of sweat to form across her forehead. In minutes, the gel would lose its strength, causing her hair to stick up.

“This is too much. I have to go,” she said, standing and running from the table, leaving the pizza behind. She pushed her way through the crowded waiting area with her head down to hide the tears that refused to cease from flowing.

A broad shoulder bumped her. “Sorry, miss. I didn't see you.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled and continued on.

“Reyna?”

“Reyna?” Mylan's voice echoed Tyson's.

Reyna stopped when Tyson's firm hand gripped her arm from behind.
Oh, crap!
Out of all the people to run into, why did she have to run into Tyson and his new girlfriend? Before today, she hadn't seen him in six months, and back then she looked good. Tonight she looked worse than she did at lunchtime.

She wiggled her arm, and he tightened his grip. “You don't look well. Are you all right?”

Even with Miss Universe on his arm, he wasn't letting her go without an answer. She had to get the embarrassing moment over with, before her mother and Pastor Jennings made it to the door.

“I'll be fine, Mr. Stokes,” she said, turning around to face him. “I've had a rough day, but don't worry. Your rent will be on time.” She added the last part as payback for how he had introduced her earlier. Tyson denied her the reaction she was hoping for.

“Fine,” he answered through clenched teeth. “Have a good evening, Ms. Mills.” He released her arm and turned his back to her. The hand that seconds ago had warmed her skin now massaged Mylan's shoulder.

Reyna ran out the door and down the street. If she hurried, she'd make it to the corner liquor store before closing.

Tyson allowed his eyes to drift from the road to the beautiful woman seated next to him. Even when she was distracted, Mylan's beauty surpassed that of most women. Although they'd enjoyed pleasant conversation during dinner, Mylan's normal jovial personality was missing. She hadn't smiled as much, and she'd kept her hands tucked in her lap. She'd seemed tense ever since the run-in with Reyna. He couldn't imagine she felt threatened. The night of the christening he'd told her unequivocally that whatever he'd had with Reyna was over, no matter what Mother Scott implied.

He didn't mind the distance at the restaurant. He, too, had been thrown off kilter by Reyna's sudden appearance. He'd dismissed her unannounced visit at lunch as a simple ploy to gain something. What, he didn't know, but Reyna extended niceties only when it benefited her. This evening's drama moment was unrehearsed. The tears were real; her appearance was uncharacteristic. He didn't like it, but her emotional and physical state concerned him.

He could only guess about the source of those tears, until he saw her mother and Pastor Jennings bustling out of the restaurant behind her. It took all his willpower not to follow them, and truthfully, he would have if Mylan hadn't been with him.

Tyson lightly applied the brakes at the stoplight, then turned his body to study Mylan more carefully. Why wasn't this beautiful saved woman enough to keep Reyna Mills out of his mind? They'd been dating close to five months, and yet he couldn't bring himself to commit. He'd planned to have the “status” talk at dinner, but bumping into Reyna changed that. He'd sat, eaten, and talked with Mylan, but it was Reyna's tears that had captivated his attention.

As he crossed the intersection, the last conversation he had had with his father replayed in his mind. He'd summoned the courage to ask the judge if he loved his mother when they married. His answer both saddened and surprised him.

“I loved the idea and meaning of marriage,” his father had said. “I wanted a family, and your mother was willing to give me that. For that I had the highest respect for her. Then, after you were born, I fell in love with her. Actually, I think I loved her all along but was afraid to open up. She's my best friend. She understands me and accepts my many faults. We may not be as outwardly affectionate as most, but your mother and I love one another very much. She's quite a hottie.”

Tyson snickered, recalling that statement. He didn't know
hottie
was in his father's vocabulary. Could he expect the same outcome? His gut told him he would end up with less than amicable results.

He pulled into Mylan's driveway and turned off the engine.

“Wait a minute.” Mylan touched his shoulder before his hand reached the latch. “We need to talk.”

They did need to talk, but his mind was too cluttered to have a serious conversation. However, the dread in her voice made him reconsider.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

As a lawyer, he was trained to read a person's body language. Mylan shifted in her seat, and after fidgeting with her hands, she folded them in her lap. She looked at him but avoided eye contact. He came to one conclusion: he wasn't going to like what she had to say.

“I learned a lot today, or maybe I finally accepted the truth. Now I know why you've been so hesitant about taking our friendship to the next level.” Her voice was soft, but firm.

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I thought we agreed to take our time and get to know one another.”

“It's been almost five months. We could date for five years and it wouldn't matter,” she said sadly.

“I don't understand.” Tyson refused to evaluate the statement for its truth. He liked Mylan.

Mylan finally made eye contact, but he had a gut feeling again that he wasn't going to like what she had to say.

“Do you like me?”

That was a no-brainer. “Of course I like you. I like how caring and attentive you are. I like how you challenge me with your intellect. I enjoy hearing you pray and watching you praise God. I like how you mesmerize me with your beauty.” He added a wink with the last statement, but unlike previous times, she didn't blush.

“That's the problem, Tyson.”

“I don't understand.”

Her eyes seemed to read his soul when she said, “You like me, but you
love
her.”

“Who?”

“Reyna, Ms. Mills, and whatever other name she goes by.”

Tyson's equanimity vanished, and he pounded the steering wheel. “Would everyone stop saying that? I'm tired of hearing that. It's not true. I told you, whatever Reyna and I had or didn't have is over.”

Mylan waited until the huffing and puffing ended before continuing. “You did say that, and I believed you, until today. At your office today, you introduced Reyna as Ms. Mills, your tenant. I thought that was odd, because I discerned her hurt when you kissed me. Then tonight your eyes burned with love and concern, but it wasn't for me. It was for her. I believe with all my heart if you'd been alone, you would have gone after her.”

“That's not true!” Out of habit those three words tumbled from his mouth, and for the first time he considered maybe they weren't true.

“You may not want it to be true, but it is. Everyone isn't wrong. You love her. Please hear me out,” she said when he opened his mouth to protest.

Reluctantly, he nodded for her to continue with her off-base assessment. At one time he did love Reyna, but she'd made it clear she didn't want him, and he'd moved on.

“If Reyna is truly part of your past, why didn't you properly introduce us this afternoon? Why didn't you tell me the night of the christening that she lived in your property? Why is she there in the first place?”

“You have it all wrong. Reyna was a friend who needed help, and I had a vacant town house. I was just helping her get on her feet,” he explained.

“If you say that long enough, you just might believe it. You're a prominent lawyer with connections. I'm sure several of your colleagues, or even Kevin, could have offered her a rental. Somehow, I don't think that thought crossed your mind.”

Defeated, Tyson let his head fall back against the headrest. Mylan had read him well. It had never occurred to him to push Reyna off on someone else. Kevin owned a unit in the same subdivision, and at the time, it was also vacant. Truth was, at the time he wanted to provide for Reyna.

“I don't know what happened between you and Reyna, but whatever is, the two of you need to talk. She loves you, Tyson. I saw it in her eyes.”

“No she doesn't.” He voiced the words even as hope sprang in his heart.

Relief washed over him in the still silence that followed. This was an abrupt end for him and Mylan, yet he didn't harbor regrets for what could have been. Mylan would make someone an excellent wife; that person just wouldn't be him.

“I didn't mean to mislead you,” he said, apologizing. “Sorry if I hurt you.”

The smile didn't quite reach her eyes. “No hard feelings. You didn't promise me forever. In fact, you didn't promise me anything,” she replied. “You can do one thing for me, though,” she added after a brief pause. “Break the news to your mother that I will not be her daughter-in-law when I go out of town next week.”

“I have a better idea. Let's send her a text.”

They shared a laugh, but Tyson's heart ached. He was back at square one, pining for a love that would never be.

With the brown paper bag clutched close to her chest, Reyna ran through the subdivision, nearly falling twice from blurred vision caused by the night sky and tears that refused to stop. In a matter of minutes she'd been stripped of her identity and her life. She didn't know her last name or whose eyes and mouth she'd inherited. The hope she'd clung to for years of a father's love had been shattered. All her life she'd tried to fill a role that turned out to be nothing but a manufactured lie. David Mills didn't care, probably never had. He'd just said the right words to get her mother.

Mother.
A guttural groan escaped her lips as thoughts of Jewel crashed through her mind. Her mother wouldn't leave her alone. After Reyna ditched her back at the restaurant, Jewel called her cell phone three times before Reyna turned it off. When she left Jewel's house, Reyna wanted nothing to do with her or her likeness. Tonight she had discovered the apple didn't fall far from the tree when it came to mother and daughter. In the midst of trying to do her own thing—live life the way she wanted—she'd repeated the cycle of losing self-worth. She'd become dependent on a man to define her and to make her happy, and in the process she'd transformed into a depressed and lonely drunk.

The one bright light at the end of the tunnel was her job. She wasn't crazy about it, but at least she had one. There her value was recognized, although envy prevented her from completely receiving Paige's compliments. She would report bright and early Monday morning. During the seventy-two hours between now and then, she planned to drink until she passed out, and then start all over again at the first sign of consciousness.

The foul odor attacked her the second she stepped into the town house.
Peyton.
She sat the bag on the kitchen countertop, then decided to throw out the trash before bingeing.

“Pack your stuff, and get out of my house!” she yelled.

“Huh?”

What little patience she had evaporated with his “deer caught in the headlights” response. She stomped over to where he rested on the leather sofa he'd ruined by spilling soda and liquor on it and not bothering to clean it up.

She leaned in his ear and screamed, “Pack your bag, and get your smelly behind out of my house. Now!” She held out her hand. “Give me my key.”

Either Peyton sobered or he realized Reyna had reached a point of no return. He sat up straight and pulled his hair into a ponytail.

“Where am I supposed to go?” he asked with the sincerity of a child. “I don't have any relatives here.”

Truth or lie, she didn't know, but more importantly, she didn't care. “That's not my problem. Go to a shelter. Check into rehab. Jump off the bridge. I don't care. I'm through with your lying, cheating, stealing, and stinky behind.”

Peyton threw his hands in the air. “You're still mad about Laci, aren't you? Stop trippin'. I told you, we're just friends.”

Reyna's neck rolled rhythmically. “Do I look that stupid to you?”

He smirked. “You said it, not me.”

“I'll give you that one. You are right. I was stupid for falling for you. You're nothing but a fake. A drugged-out cokehead impersonating a real man.”

Peyton's cheeks flushed red, and the smirk vanished.

Empowered by hurt and regret, Reyna unleashed a string of expletives so colorful, Peyton's eyes bucked. “If you had a pot to piss in, you'd have to use my window to throw it out. Since the day I met you, all you've done is take from me. If you thought I'd fall for it, you would have sold
me
to support your habit. You talked about my measly job. At least I have one. All you own are the clothes on your back and an extra pair of dirty drawers. The most valuable things you have are the glass mirror and the pipe you use to do stupid coke with. Now, give me my key and get out!”

“All right. All right.” His hands fell in surrender. “You're right. I don't have nothing. I don't even have enough money to buy a burger from the value menu at McDonald's, but please don't put me out tonight. I don't have anywhere to go. Give me the weekend to find a new hustle.”

Reyna's head snapped. “Hustle? So you admit being with me was nothing but a hustle to you?”

With shrugged shoulders, he gave an honest answer. “My last mark found religion and checked into rehab, and then you appeared. Actually, I'd planned to work a real nine-to-five for a while, but then you showed up, appearing financially stable, but emotionally needy. It was the perfect combination. I couldn't resist.” Peyton walked toward her. “If you really want me to go, I will, but give me a few days to make arrangements. I'll be gone by Monday, Tuesday at the latest.”

Reyna had finally succeeded after months of trying to pry the truth out of Peyton. Only now she wished he would lie. Too much truth in such a short period of time shattered every wall of denial and fantasy she'd created. With every labored breath, she felt bravado and strength seeped from her as the real world and the one she'd created ran a collision course. A slide show of abandonment and neglect was projected in her mind from memory at such a rapid pace, Reyna slammed her eyes shut to slow down the display. The image of David Mills driving away from their home while she sat on the porch, begging him to come back, gave way to the day she saw him in the grocery store with his new, younger and prettier daughter. “Daddy's little princess,” he'd called the little girl, and he'd barely spoken to Reyna.

Peyton's mouth continued moving. Reyna assumed he was still pleading his case. With all the images and voices inside her head, she couldn't be sure. It was too much to handle. With what little pride she had left, Reyna picked up the paper bag containing her happy juice without bothering to get a glass.

“Tuesday. That's it,” she said, choking back tears, then with wobbly legs retreated to her bedroom.

Hours later, sprawled across her bed, Reyna battled to come out of a drunken coma-like state. Drinking the vodka straight had served its purpose. Old images no longer decorated her mind, but voices could still be heard.

“Reyna,” someone said, shaking her. “Turn over.”

Reyna turned on her back. “What?” she moaned without opening her eyes.

“Good girl,” the voice said.

“Daddy, is that you?” she said, thinking she had sat up and was looking out into the hallway, when in actuality she lay flat on her back with her arms spread wide. She heard a snicker.

“Daddy's right here,” the voice said.

Soft hands moved up her legs, and hot, stale breath whirled around her face. “No.” Her head jerked violently as she fought to wake up. She recognized that voice. It belonged to Peyton. Those hands didn't; they were too soft. With the little remaining strength she had, Reyna lurch upward. The room spun too fast. She slammed her eyes shut to allow time for Earth to slow to its normal rate of speed, but not before noticing Peyton lying on her bed beside her and Laci perched at the bottom. Both were naked.

The spinning ceased, and Reyna spewed every curse word she'd ever heard at the two sex-crazed drug addicts. She even made up some new ones.

She kicked Laci in the stomach. “I'm high, but I ain't that high. Get away from me. You nasty—”

“Calm down,” Peyton yelled.

Reyna jumped from the bed and unleashed another string of colorful words at Peyton, then reached underneath the bed.

Both Peyton and Laci jumped from the bed when Reyna rose up, swinging the poker. She swung the weapon and made a hole in the wall above Peyton's head.

Laci screamed.

Peyton's eyes bulged; he wasn't high anymore, and his libido had vanished. “You crazy—”

“I'll show you crazy.” Reyna raised the poker, and both Peyton and Laci ran out of the room.

When she reached the living room, Laci was gathering her clothes from the floor, but she abandoned the quest when Reyna waved the poker at her. Laci screamed and ran out of the town house, naked.

“Laci, wait!” Peyton, with his pants at his ankles, hurriedly pick up her clothes and hopped out the door behind her.

Waving the poker in the air and cursing, Reyna ran onto the porch, just in time to see Peyton and Laci climb into a dark minivan and drive off.

Bright golden-orange rays caused her to squint, and for the first time she realized it was early morning. She'd managed to sleep through the night, but the hell and the pit of darkness her life had become lingered.

Her sense of touch returned as her bare feet hit the cold cement. Shivers ran down her arm, reminding her she'd run outside in only a nightshirt. Soft giggles escaped as she lowered the poker and went inside. As she leaned against the locked door, she had visions of Peyton and Laci running away in their birthday suits, and her laughter erupted. It was hilarious, yet her laughter transformed into hard sobs as reality once again reared its ugly head. At least Peyton and Laci were able to escape imminent danger. Nothing could deliver her from her torment.