If You Don't Know Me (17 page)

W
hen God tells you what to do and you don't listen, what happens next?

I prayed He'd give me another chance to do as He'd said. I hoped I wasn't waiting for an answer that would never come.

Standing outside the courtroom with my brother Chaz, I questioned if this was the appropriate time to abandon Madison. Taking care of her for a few months would be honorable. Then I could get back to Sindy and give her my undivided affection.

“My biggest regret is messing up my chance to get to know Sindy.”

“If you ask me, stop staring a gift horse in the mouth. Sindy is the one. Leave Madison's trifling ass at the hospital. Move all of her shit out before she gets out. Let her parents pick her up. You've given Madison too much of yourself, dude.”

He was right. But what harm would a few more months do at this point? “I'll think about it.” Shifting my weight to the opposite leg, I glanced to the side, then exhaled heavily.

“Aw, hell no. Please tell me you didn't.”

I nodded.

“You used protection, right?” Chaz asked.

I shook my head. “Soon as I ejaculated, I had regrets. She told me she couldn't get pregnant that soon.”

My brother was quiet for a moment, then said, “Fuck that lying bitch Madison. She'll probably say she's pregnant even if she's not. I can't believe you let her set you up again. Never mind her. Don't call Sindy. Go to Sindy's house and apologize face to face. Take flowers. Long-stemmed red roses. All she can say is ‘It's over.' But most women don't mean that shit. If she rejects you three times, move on. Don't beg her ass.”

Chaz always made relationship decisions appear easy. If I were more like him, Sindy would be here with me right now.

My attorney opened the courtroom door. “We're up.”

Never had I imagined getting a divorce. This was not a joyous occasion. Maybe that's why I was avoiding going through with it. The best part was, within the hour, I'd legally be a single man. Mom, Dad, and Grandpa decided not to come. I was glad Chaz was here.

The judge announced, “Case of DuBois versus DuBois.”

I sat on the right, facing the judge. My lawyer was seated next to me on my left.

“Please stand and raise your right hand.”

Glancing over my left shoulder, I could see Chaz seated in the first row. He nodded. I exhaled then faced the judge. When the bailiff was done reciting the oath, I answered, “I do.”

The judge flipped through the file before her.

Madison's attorney stated, “Your Honor, I'd like to request a continuance. Mrs. DuBois is in the hospital having surgery.”

“Objection,” my lawyer stated. “Mrs. DuBois has not contested the divorce.”

“She meant to. It's just that she's been overwhelmed with taking care of the baby while Mr. DuBois is”—he nodded in my direction—“managing his football team. And my client was dealing with pre-op appointments and today she's having her breast augmentation procedure. She had breast cancer, Your Honor. We haven't had time to meet and I can't call her because she is under anesthesia the same as she was the day she was served the divorce papers.”

The judge looked to my attorney. I knew we were in a losing situation at the moment. He whispered in my ear, “What would you like to do? I can stand firm on the objection but it would make us appear insensitive to women and the community.”

“How much longer is reasonable?” I asked him.

“Uncomplicated recovery from breast augmentations is typically five days but I say give her thirty.”

Was he serious? Five days?

“No more than thirty days.”

“I withdraw the objection and request a thirty-day continuance.”

“Your Honor, on behalf of my client, I request ninety days. We have a few people to subpoena,” Madison's attorney said.

“Thirty days continuance is granted,” the judge said then told the clerk, “Check the calendar.”

After going back and forth on an available date for everyone's schedule, we were well after Thanksgiving, which was this week, and closer to Christmas. Somehow I knew Madison would use the holiday to get a continuance to the continuance.

Shaking my head, I strolled out of the courtroom. “Can you believe she told me just this morning that the recovery period was a few months?”

Chaz was right behind me. “You don't need me to answer that. I keep telling you man, let her ass go.” Getting in the car, my brother said, “Fuck that bitch! Put her out of your condo and take care of your son.”

I dialed my mother. Connected the call to my car's Bluetooth.

“Hey, honey. Are you officially a single man?”

“No,” Chaz answered. “The judge denied his release. Now he's on a thirty-day probation.”

Narrowing my eyes at my brother, I listened to our mother. “Is he serious?”

“Something like that. We have a continuance. I don't want to discuss it. How's Zach?”

“He's fine. Sleeping.”

“I'll be by tonight to get him. We have to get to the office for a few meetings.”

“I love you,” my mother said.

Hearing those words always made me feel better. “I love you too, Ma.”

“Me too!” Chaz shouted right before I ended the call.

The drive to the office was quiet. I parked in my reserved space. Walking into my office, I told Chaz, “I have to let go and let God take the wheel on this one, man.”

Chaz patted me on the back. “Faith without work is dead. You're going to need more than roses. Me too. How about we get to work? Let's go visit our jeweler.”

I
was about to go all in for a man who didn't know how much I loved him.

Roosevelt was a good guy. I couldn't blame his parents and say, “They gave that man no home training.” The DuBoises had educated and emotionally supported their boys. Roosevelt was not one of the many men who had grown up without a father in the house.

Martin was an excellent father. He'd shown by example how a man should treat his wife. He was wealthy but I'd never heard him speak ill of poor people or those with less. The DuBoises were a proud family. Perhaps that pride they'd instilled in their sons was what was keeping Roosevelt tied to Madison.

Being around Roosevelt's family in the suite on game day, I loved to watch their interactions. I knew Madison was kicking herself for having slept with Granville but I was not going to ease her blows. If Roosevelt had listened to Chaz, he would've never married Madison. But if Roosevelt hadn't married Madison, there wouldn't have been a reason for Chaz to introduce us.

I appreciated that Chaz was straightforward. Numbiya and others did not have to assume what was on his mind. Chaz did what made him happy. Roosevelt did what made others happy.

As I drove through the older neighborhood of Houston, I noticed that the single-family homes were closer in proximity than where I resided in River Oaks. I had ten thousand square feet; the houses I passed averaged two thousand. This area had generational ownership. We had that in our community too. What we lacked, one could not place a price on—company.

My mother believed in inviting family and friends over but in this neighborhood, family and friends did not need an invite. They just showed up at the front door and if it was open, they'd walk in. I noticed a few trailers on lawns adjacent to houses. The grass was partially brown. I'd never seen that in my part of town.

I parked in the driveway. Walking up four wooden steps, I pulled the screen then knocked on the door. We hadn't met since I'd last visited him behind bars.

“Coming.”

I wasn't sure if I'd heard “coming” or “come in.” I waited.

Nyle Carter opened the door. “Hey, good to see you. You look great.”

“Good to see you're taking care of yourself.”

The red fitted halter maxi dress I'd put on this morning was appropriate. Seventy degrees was the temperature an hour ago. Eighty had settled in and it wasn't noon. The projected high was ninety-seven.

“Just trying to decide what I want to pursue.” He paused then added, “Legally.”

“May I?” I said gesturing to enter.

Nyle stepped aside. “Whatever the reason, I know you didn't come all this way to stand on my porch. My apology. May I offer you something to drink? Water? Wine? Both?”

“A glass of chardonnay please. How's your son, Landry?”

“Thanks to the support from your nonprofit, he's settled into college. Doing great.”

Sitting on his sofa, I noticed framed pictures of Nyle and his son. His wife was conspicuously absent. There were no photos of a woman, not even his mother. The hardwood floor could benefit from polishing but at least it was clean.

“Here you go,” he said handing me a glass. He placed the bottle on the table, sat beside me, then raised his glass. “To freedom.”

“To freedom.” He was glad to have it. I never wanted to be without it.

Waking up, setting my schedule, not needing permission from anyone to deviate was what I considered living the American dream. Getting married, buying a home, and having children weren't things to aspire to if a person wasn't financially ready. All three components of the “dream” meant creating debt, not wealth.

“If you're here to ask me to do anything illegal,” he adamantly said, “Forget about it.”

“I changed my mind about your pursuing the rumor of Granville attempting to kill Roosevelt. You took off everything you put on social media like I told you?”

Nyle exhaled. “Yes. Thank you. What about the video and pics I have of Sarah Lee Washington's grave? There was a gun in her coffin.”

Why was I not surprised? “Where is it?”

He nodded toward a room I couldn't see.

“Give me everything you have.”

Rushing into the room, Nyle returned with a small black laptop bag. “It's all there. I'm done with this?”

“Yes, you're done.”

“What you want from me now? Is it legal?” he asked.

Quietly, he filled his mouth with wine, swished it around, then swallowed. He raised his brows, stared at me. His blond hair was neatly trimmed. Nails, well manicured. His white button-down shirt was crisp.

I nodded. “I need you to do this tomorrow.”

His eyes remained fixed on mine. “What's in it for me?”

“After I tell you, you tell me.”

“Fair.” He took another swallow. This time he didn't swish. “I'm listening.”

“I need you to purchase a property.”

“What Realtor is it listed with?”

I'd trained Nyle well. He didn't ask why I needed this favor. “It's not. It's an all-cash transaction.”

“How much cash?”

“Two million.”

The wine in his mouth almost landed on me the way my father's blood splattered on Granville. He covered his mouth.

“And why can't you buy it yourself?”

“They won't sell to me direct. How much for you?”

“One hundred—”

“Twenty thousand?”

He nodded. That was the standard six percent commission for a listing between two real estate agents. I countered the split rate. “Sixty thousand.”

“Ninety,” he said.

“Deal. I'll have everything arranged by ten in the morning. I need your part complete by noon.”

“What if they refuse?”

I stood, sat my glass on the table, then confidently said, “They won't.”

It was time to make my next move.

P
ulling the sheet up to my neck, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

The last person I expected to see at the hospital was Vermont. A phone call would've sufficed. My new breasts were perfectly shaped. Higher. Fuller. Rounder. There was no way I could hide these twins. I wasn't going to burn my bras but I definitely didn't need them.

My attorney's eyes focused on my erect nipples. His dick grew longer. I ignored it. The doctor warned me it was natural for people, especially men, to become distracted by the attractiveness. I gave him a moment of silence.

Time up. To redirect his attention, I said, “I'd given thought to giving in and moving on.” Being a single mom wasn't the worst thing that could happen. I'd rather parent alone than deal with Granville. Perhaps I should be strong and continue what I'd started with my husband.

Papa shouldn't have told Mama about the paternity test. I hadn't asked him to intervene. That man never did what was in anyone else's best interest. To take another test meant confessing to Roosevelt for a crime I did not commit. Nor was I an accomplice. My husband wouldn't believe me.

Vermont held my hand. “How are you feeling?”

Tears clouded my eyes. Was the settlement that bad he had to tell me in person? “The procedure went well. I'm in a lot of pain emotionally and physically.”

“You focus on getting healthier,” he said, then smiled. “I come bearing good news that will definitely cheer you up.”

“Really?” Between the headache the medication had caused and the throbbing in my breasts, I couldn't smile.

The enthusiasm in his groin shifted. “The first twenty-four to forty-eight hours after any surgery are expected to be hard.” Standing beside my bed, he covered my hand with his. “When are you going home?” he asked.

“If all goes well, day after tomorrow. I chose to stay an extra day. I'm in no hurry to deal with my situation. Was she there?” I had to know.

“Who's she?”

Exhaling, I stated, “Sindy.”

Vermont shook his head. “Her being in the courtroom wouldn't have helped his case. I want you to take your time, dear. Your divorce is not final yet. I got you a thirty-day continuation. He should see what he's missing. If you want to subpoena Sindy, let's do it right now. You can't sue for alienation but you can make her uncomfortable if Roosevelt is pursuing her. And you're going to ask for half of everything, including that ten million dollars his grandfather gave him. Doesn't hurt to ask. All the cards are in your favor, Madison.”

My eyes widened. I forced a smile. “We go to court before Christmas.”

“Right before Christmas. Clever, huh?” He flicked his brows. “You can pay me later,” he said as he kissed my forehead and released my hand. “I've got to go. Take care of yourself and Roosevelt's son.”

Vermont was brilliant! I felt another continuance coming. Roosevelt would have to juggle being a father to Zach, his football schedule
. I paused my thoughts, then continued thinking.
With Chaz as his assistant, Roosevelt's being able to take time off from work may not be a competing factor.
Obviously, Vermont had a plan. I should've asked him to fluff the pillow behind my head so I could relax. I reached for the remote to page the nurse.

Papa entered with a dozen white roses. “There's my sweetheart. How are you?” He kissed my forehead then placed the bouquet across my lap.

“Hold my flowers closer and let me smell them, Papa.” I inhaled a healing fragrance.

One rose or a dozen—the number was not more important than the scent. Roses that had no smell were disappointing.

“I have the best news ever, Papa!”

This time Papa placed the bouquet on the stand in the corner. Though my words were a normal tone, in my heart I'd shouted from the top of the highest building in Houston, the JPMorgan Chase Tower.

Papa sat in the chair next to my bed. He didn't hold my hand the way Vermont had done. That would've been nice but Papa wasn't very affectionate. I imagined the young girls he'd had sex with were strictly for his pleasure, not theirs.

“I'm great now. Helen is keeping Zach until my release.”

“What? Madison, you know that woman can't be trusted. Did she volunteer to keep the baby? Or did Roosevelt leave him with her? I'll have Rosalee go get him.”

What difference did that make? “If she bonds with Zach, maybe she'll accept me too.” I was not concerned with Helen. What could she do? Make Granville take . . . “Call Mama and tell her to get my baby.”

Papa put his cell on speaker. It rang twice. Mama answered, “How's Madison doing?”

“She's fine, honeybunch.”

Honeybunch?
Haven't heard my father call Mom that in years. Did that mean Mama had forgiven him again?

“Look, we need you to pick Zach up from Helen's.”

“Is she expecting me?” my mother asked.

“She will be,” I said.

“Call back when she is. I'm not going to that woman's house unannounced. Steve Harvey is going off. Madison, I'll be by to visit in an hour.”

Mom had really changed. Her voice. Her attitude. The old Rosalee would've picked Zach up without asking questions.

I looked at Papa. He was the one who couldn't be trusted. I didn't have the energy to argue. “I go home in two days. Mama can get Zach from Helen's then and bring him to me at the condo. How are you?”

Papa moved from the chair and sat on the side of my bed. “I'm good. I've been taking your mother out more. I'd forgotten how much that woman means to me. I'm not fooling around with those young girls anymore. I owe you an apology for how I disrespected your mother.”

Was that an apology or a confession? I wished I had the strength to push him off of my bed. “Move, Papa.”

He inched closer. “I know it's hard for you to accept but I don't want to die mistreating the two women I love the most.” He held my hand.

Maybe I should let him have this moment
. “I'm glad you realized Mama is worthy of being treated like your woman and your wife. I'm fighting for my marriage too. The divorce isn't final. My being in the hospital and having the baby got me a thirty-day continuance.”

Papa whispered, “Sweetheart. God is giving both of us another chance. You must never tell a soul that I'm responsible for influencing the test results. The three of us must take this secret to our graves.”

Mama was the unpredictable one now. She'd probably intentionally waited to visit me alone. I knew she'd try to convince me to do the right thing. Stop contesting the divorce. Tell Roosevelt that Zach may not be his. Have another paternity test. When she arrived to visit, I'd have to ask her to side with Papa and me and keep our secret.

I said, “You did say you paid for the results but you weren't sure.”

“I'm pretty sure that Granville is the biological father.”

“Based on what, Papa?” I wanted to strangle him.

“I'd rather not say.”