Hot Girlz: Hot Boyz Sequel (9 page)

“I’m still amazed that any woman would
do something so desperate to keep a man, to have a child just to get him to
stay.”

“It didn’t work. Even if she did tilt
her ass back on the toilet and insert some sperm. Still doesn’t mean it’s my
child.”

‘True.” Sequoia looked out of the
passenger window and could see the parking lot for the courthouse. “So what
happens after today? I mean so, you go in and deny that you’re the father and
they order a paternity test?”

“That’s what Attorney Phillips tells
me.”

“And Colette’s given them all of your
information? Like, how would she know all that? Your income and everything.”

“They’ll request it, I guess.”

“I still say she’s in dire straits.
And Kyle’s mighty quiet.”

“He has been for years. What would he
be saying right about now?”

“I was wondering about that. What man
is gonna be okay with his son’s mom, his woman, suddenly just deciding to seek
child support from someone, when he thought he’s been the father all along?”

“What makes you think he believes he’s
Kyle’s biological dad? He might have his own doubts. No telling who the father
is.”

“Yeah, but who else was she seeing?
You never mentioned that Colette was cheating before that night she ran to Kyle
after you two argued at the club.” Sequoia waited. “Oops, can’t believe I just
asked that. Duh.”

“Yeah. I don’t put anything past her.”
Torino’s phone rang. He put it on speakerphone. “Yeah.”

“Good morning, Torino. It’s Attorney
Phillips.”

“Good morning.”

“You almost here?”

“Yes, we are. My wife and I are
parking now.”

“Good. Come up to the seventh floor
and I’ll be in the hallway just as you come off the elevators.”

Torino said, “Got it. See you in a
minute.”

~~

The courtroom was full. Every seat was
taken and a few stood in the back. It was a large room with the judge’s bench,
bailiff, stenographer, and the judge’s assistant, who handed him file after
file, keeping the cases moving along.

Sequoia was in the seat right next to
her husband. She wore just enough sexy as though it were her intention to mess
with Torino’s ex. More than a few times, she had looked over at the plaintiff,
Colette Berry, from the other side of the room, taking in the rare view of the
woman who had caused so much trouble.

The older male judge said, “Case number
2164C2010. Berry versus Wilson. Are all parties in the courtroom today?” The
brass nameplate before him read, THE HONORABLE JUDGE STEVEN GARRETT.

“Yes, Your Honor. I’m attorney Royal
Phillips representing Torino Jesse Wilson.” The attorney and Torino stood.

“Yes, Sir. My name is Colette Berry.”
Colette was unrepresented. She stood as well, all two hundred plus pounds of
her. And a prematurely graying Kyle Brewer, Sr. was right by her side. His eyes
were as hazel as ever.

As Colette stood tall, Sequoia gave a
quick sigh of relief. It was almost as though the fact that Colette no longer
looked like the quintessential model brought Sequoia pleasure. She wondered how
Mercedes could have possibly put Colette to work nowadays anyway. She just
couldn’t stop staring, no matter how hard she tried.

“You may come up to the respective
microphones before me,” the judge announced.

Torino and his attorney approached and
stood side-by-side.

The way six foot-tall Colette began to
walk, you would have thought it was one of Mercedes’s fashion shows because
even though she was thicker than a Snicker, she wore a tight crème colored
pantsuit and worked it like she was back on the runway in 2004, wearing high,
spectator pumps, excusing herself all ladylike as she stepped past each person
seated in her row, approaching the microphone like she was about to do a fancy
Tyra Banks spin move, flinging her golden, flat ironed hair from side-to-side.
She held on to a file folder and a white leather satchel. Her caramel eyes
matched her skin. She managed a quick look back at Sequoia.

Sequoia still stared whether Colette
looked or not. She imagined her husband having had sex with Colette. And
knowing that she herself was not the only one in the room who did made her
stomach ache.

Torino only looked straight ahead.

The judge said, “Attorney Phillips.
Your client has been named in a child support case. The petitioner, Ms. Berry,
has asked for assistance from the court in establishing paternity.” He wrote as
he spoke. “We will grant Ms. Berry’s request as part of the requirement that
paternity be determined prior to moving on to the custody phase of this case.”

Colette spoke up as though she was
asked to. Her voice was high-pitched and she spoke fast. “Your Honor, I’ve also
asked that my only child, my son, Kyle Jr.’s, name be changed.”

The judge looked at her with a stern
face. “Ms. Berry, I understand that you do not have the benefit of a lawyer,
although I do suggest that you obtain one. I won’t assume that affordability is
an issue for you, but there are
pro-bono
attorneys whom you can seek out
and retain.

“Now, here’s how it works in this
courtroom. You will not speak unless a question has been asked of you, or
unless I inquire as to whether or not you have anything you’d like to add, is
that clear Ms. Berry?”

“Yes, Sir.” She looked down at her
file folder, covered her mouth and gave a short cough. She sorted through
papers using her fingertips, with her long, pink-and-white French nails.

The judge continued, “We will not jump
the gun and move ahead to consider anything, including last name, custody, or
support until we establish paternity as required by law.” He looked at Torino.
“Mr. Wilson, for the record, you are denying paternity of Kyle Chad Brewer, Jr.
Is that correct?”

Torino replied. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“I am therefore ordering you to a
laboratory, to be chosen by you from a list we will provide, to obtain testing
through a DNA buccal swab within the next thirty-days. Ms. Berry, as well, you
will need to bring Kyle Brewer, Jr. to a laboratory that is also from that list
for testing within the same thirty-day period. The results will be sent to me
and I will announce the results on, let’s see . . . that will be September 28
^th
.
That’s a Tuesday, at 8:30 in the morning in this courtroom. From there we will
proceed depending upon those findings. If the test is negative, the case will
be closed, and if it is positive, and if confirmed that Mr. Wilson is the
father, I will proceed to the next phase and order child support, and also
issues of custody and name change will be addressed at that time. Is that
clear?” He looked at Torino first.

Attorney Phillips whispered in
Torino’s ear. Then Torino said, “Yes, Your Honor.” Torino’s head nod
accompanied his words.

Then the judge looked at Colette.

“Yes, Sir.”

“And I see that back-child support is
requested. Is that correct, Ms. Berry?”

“Yes, it is.” She tilted her head to
the side.

“Has Mr. Wilson paid any monies for
this child, or spent time with the child?”

She fingered the strands of her wispy
bangs. “No. Sir.”

“Is it your claim that the child was
conceived in California?”

“Yes, Sir.” Colette shifted her weight
from her left leg to her right.

“Okay.” He began writing again.
“Please see the clerk for the list of court approved laboratories, and this
case will continue on September 28th. Any questions?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“No. Sir. I understand.”

“See you back here then.” He closed
the file and handed it to his assistant, taking another file in hand. “Next
case.”

As the judge read the names and file number
of the case to follow, the attorney walked over to get the list of laboratories
from the clerk. Torino stood back, waiting for Colette to gather her papers and
step away first. She did slowly with just as much flavor as when she entered.
She didn’t look at Torino, but simply stepped down the aisle toward the door
with Kyle hurrying up to position himself right behind her.

By the time Torino and Sequoia made
their way to the door and exited the courtroom, Colette and Kyle were standing
right outside the door.

Kyle could be heard saying something
to Colette about her forgetting to get the list.

Standing within three feet of them,
Torino spoke first. “Hey, Colette.”

“Hi.” She kept her eyes on Sequoia,
head to toe.

“Kyle.” Torino said.

Kyle replied. “Hey, man.” He looked to
Sequoia, “Hi.”

Half way between Sequoia greeting
Kyle, Colette said as though in a sudden rush, “Come on, Kyle. Let’s go.”

Kyle gave Mason a head’s-up nod and
Sequoia waved to Kyle as they headed toward the elevator. Kyle waved back. Colette
had her back to them, only looking behind for a second to make sure Kyle right
there. He was.

Sequoia continued watching Colette
walk.

Attorney Phillips came out and said,
“That was quick, huh?”

“It was,” said Torino. “Is it usually
like that?”

“This was just to order the test.
Plus, it looked like they have a lot of cases to get through today. Sometimes
the next phase gets more involved. But I’m hoping we won’t need to deal with
the child support phase. That’ll be addressed the next time.”

“Okay.”

“Here.” He handed Torino a paper.
“This is the list of laboratories. Go ahead and get that swab done. Don’t wait.
A month can go by fast. Let me know once you get it done. The results will be
sent to the court.”

“Will do.”

“Bye,” the attorney said to Sequoia.
He then walked away.

“Good bye,” she replied almost a
moment too late, seeming preoccupied.

Torino noticed. “You okay?”

“I am. You?”

“I am.” He folded the paper and they
began to walk.

“That was interesting, to say the
least.”

“It was.” His words were brief.

She said, “I’ll tell you one thing.
Colette and Kyle look stressed.”

“I know.” Torino took his vibrating
phone out of his jacket pocket and worked his way through the screen to read a
text message. “I just got a text from him. From Kyle.”

“What?”

They stood before the elevator and
Sequoia pressed the down button.

“He wants to meet me at TGI Fridays in
Ladera. Tomorrow afternoon at two.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh no, what?”

“I know you’re not going. You can’t
trust him.”

“I don’t know.”

Sequoia crossed her arms. “Uh-oh.
You’ll go.”

“Maybe.”

“You just make sure you listen more
than you talk.”

Torino looked down to read another
message. “Says it’s important.” He began typing, and pressed the screen,
putting his phone back in his pocket as the elevator arrived.

“What did you tell him?” Sequoia
stepped inside first.

Torino followed. “I told him, yeah,
I’ll be there.”

“I knew it. Just an accident waiting
to happen. This whole thing.”

And the elevator went down, down, down
to the ground floor.

10

Mercedes

“What the hell happened?”

They say a home is not a house and a
house is not a home when two are far apart and one has a broken heart.

For Mercedes Wilson to turn her house
into a home again would involve the man of the house coming back to it,
willingly.

It was August 26
^th
and
Mason hadn’t spent the night at home in exactly two weeks. Mercedes had talked
to him on the phone a few times, but only briefly. Whenever she brought up any
conversation that revolved around the two of them personally, or the Vegas
incident, he would change the subject and rush off. He had been home only twice
to get more of his things, both times while Mercedes was at work.

Mason was staying in the upper unit of
a duplex they owned in Leimert Park on Creed. It was the same place his
half-sister, Cicely James, who was also co-owner of Foreplay before Torino
bought it, lived in, rent free for so long. Cicely is the woman Mercedes swore
was Mason’s side piece, and she also swore Mason was financing Cicely, being
her sugar daddy. But it turns out the woman was not only gay, not into men
whatsoever, but she also turned out to be the love child of Jesse Wilson and
his mistress. Quiet as it was kept, Mattie knew all about it and wanted nothing
to do with Cicely so the Wilson brothers tried to hide the truth for years, but
Mason caved in and told Mercedes after her suspicions became a problem. And
eventually, Cicely sold her interest in Foreplay to Torino and moved to New
York with her woman to open a nightclub there.

Mercedes sat at the kitchen table
flipping through a
Vogue
magazine, turning the pages but not really
taking in the content. Mind on her marriage, marriage on her mind.

From the backyard she heard Nadia
barking and whining, and then just as Mercedes was about to go check on her,
Rashaad came in through the back door, spitting image of his father just a
lighter shade of brown. He wore black jeans, a black golf shirt, and a black
cap.

Mercedes’s hand was over her heart.
“Oh. Oh my. Hey, Son. I was wondering what all that commotion was about. I
thought you were your dad.” She flashed a full smile.

“Nope. It’s just me.”

“Just you. Please, you look good,” she
said as he came over to give her a kiss on the cheek. She hugged him tight.

“Thanks. Whatcha got to eat?” he
asked, breaking from their embrace and heading straight for the refrigerator.

Mercedes told him, “I made some turkey
spaghetti earlier if you want some. Other than that there’s some fried chicken
from a couple of nights ago.”

He looked inside. “Hmmm.”

Mercedes said, “No. First of all, I
should be asking you, what do you want? I watched you win the U.S. Open while
you were in Georgia and talked to you after, but haven’t seen you at all this
month. So in honor of you being able to come home, you tell me what you’d like
to eat, and I’ll make it.”

He shut the refrigerator door. “Wow. I
won’t pass that up. Maybe turkey wings and cabbage and those fried pork steaks
you always make.”

“Can you eat that kind of food now?
With that physique you have, I’d think swine and gravy would slow you down.”

“Oh, I’ll work it off.”

“Okay, if you say so. Then that’s what
I’ll make tonight. You are staying the night?” She looked hopeful.

“Not sure. I have to be in Switzerland
by the first. I might have to fly out tomorrow.”

“You are so on the move. My goodness,
I wanted to say, I’m glad you bounced back from that loss in Ireland last
month. I know that was tough.”

“Yeah, but that was yesterday. Like
Dad always says, you’re only as good as your last game.”

“I guess so.”

“Where is he anyway?” Rashaad asked.
He leaned against the gray soapstone counter with his hands in his pockets.

She moved her magazine over and leaned
forward. “Rashaad, listen. I was going to tell you. Just didn’t seem to be the
right time. But your dad and I, we’ve been having some conversations, and we,
well, he felt it was best for him to go over to the place in Leimert for a
while until we iron things out.”

“Iron what out?”

“We’ve got some issues and he’s just
taking time to clear his head.”

“What?”

“This is best for your dad and for me
both. We’ll work it out.”

“How long has this been going on?” he
asked, arms now folded.

“A couple of weeks.”

“A couple of weeks? I talked to him
and he didn’t say anything about it. I thought he was here last time I called
him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s just not cool. Dad doesn’t
leave. Why would he leave you, and Grandma? He can clear his head in the
guestroom if he needs to.”

“I don’t know.”