Just Too Good to Be True (22 page)

CHAPTER
30

Carmyn’s Texas Tears

I
t’s raining.

But that’s not the reason I can’t seem to get out of my bed. I’m so depressed that I called both of my salons and told the assistant managers I wouldn’t be in because I wasn’t feeling well. Of course, the truth was I couldn’t bear to face anybody. Not just yet.

There would be questions about why Brady had played so poorly on Saturday, and I didn’t have the answers. While watching the game on television, I started several times to get on the first thing smoking and go comfort my baby. But Brady made it perfectly clear he didn’t want me in Arkansas.

I just lay in bed with the television on mute, gazing at Martha Stewart and Patti LaBelle cooking and acting like they were best friends.

I turned my face into the pillows, and my mind wandered back to Texas and Woodson as a helpless sadness covered me. I couldn’t stop thinking about that night, and I felt like I needed to get professional help to be released from my bad dreams and real-life memories.

I remembered the form-fitting red dress I wore and the string of pearls my parents had bought me for my debutante ball. Woodson and I had made love right before we left for the party, and I was so proud walking into the Renaissance Hotel on his arm. It was close to Christmas and the hotel had lights that adorned the entryway, twinkling and welcoming us and the season.

We walked into a beautifully decorated two-bedroom suite where there were only two other women and about fifteen young men. Woodson greeted a couple of his teammates before he turned to three young men who lingered by a huge window that overlooked the state capitol.

During the drive to the hotel, Woodson had told me how this was the most important recruiting weekend in Texas Longhorns history. As team captain, it was crucial for him that everything went well. Seven of the top ten players in the country were visiting Austin, they needed to make a good impression on them, and he needed my help. When I asked him what he wanted me to do, he simply said, “Just be nice to them, Carmyn.”

As the evening wore on, some of the high school boys looked at me as if they were lions and I was a tasty piece of meat. I wanted to leave, but instead I had a couple of drinks to relax and even took a couple of puffs of a joint—something I’d never done. I remember a glass of a creamy brown liquid that tasted like a milk shake and how I sipped it and felt the muscles in my shoulders relax as I fell back into the sofa and its feather-filled pillows. I held court with the handsome young men and listened to their dirty jokes and stories of off-the-field exploits with girls just like me. I laughed at every one of them, sipping and puffing like I did this every day.

Woodson smiled and winked at me, then went out the front door. When I asked one of his teammates where he was going, he told me Woodson was making a liquor run and poured me another drink. It tasted different and I told him I shouldn’t mix my liquor, but he smiled and told me everything would be okay. And that is where my memory ends.

The next morning, I woke up nude in the hotel suite, Woodson staring down at me. The most disgusted look I’d ever seen in my short life was on the face of the man I loved.

That was the start of the worst day of my life.

Now here I was
twenty years later, still paralyzed by that night. By not telling Brady the truth, my life once again became a nightmare.

For three days I’d been wearing the same black silk pajamas, and all I’d eaten were smoked almonds and orange slices. Even Whitney Houston’s
Greatest Hits
couldn’t pull me out of my mood, so I knew I was going to have to do it myself.

I dragged myself out of bed and went to the kitchen to cook breakfast, but just before I reached the kitchen, I heard the doorbell ring. When I looked out the peephole, Sylvester was standing there holding flowers. I didn’t feel like flowers or Sylvester.

I decided to ignore him and then heard Sylvester say, “Carmyn, if you don’t answer the door, I’m going to call 911.” The last thing I needed was EMS at my house, so I opened the door.

“Carmyn, I was so worried about you,” Sylvester said as he tried to hug me.

“I haven’t been feeling well,” I mumbled pathetically, staring down at the dusty teak floor in my foyer. I looked a hot mess.

“What’s the matter? Have you seen a doctor? Do you want me to take you to the emergency room?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said.

“I’ve been sending you text messages for days. Why haven’t you answered them?” Sylvester asked.

“I turned my phone off,” I said.

“Carmyn, I’m so happy you’re okay, but please don’t scare me like that again. I was afraid something bad had happened to you.”

“Sorry, Sylvester,” I said. “I’ve just had a tough couple of days.”

He came close to me and put his hands around my waist, but I pushed him back.

“You know I care about you,” he said.

I lowered my chin, shook my head in shame, and said, “Not if you knew what I did.”

“What are you talking about?”

After a heavy silence, I said, “I’ve been living a lie and now it’s come back to haunt me.”

“What’s going on? Does it have to do with Brady? I noticed he didn’t play well on Saturday. I always check out his statistics on my computer,” he said.

That surprised me, because Sylvester didn’t strike me as the computer type.

“I know, and it’s my fault entirely,” I said as tears began to spill down my face.

“Let’s sit down, and tell me what happened.”

We sat at my dining room table, where the easy flow of tears continued and I struggled for the right words.

I told Sylvester about Woodson, that awful night, and how he treated me the next morning. I told him about the letter Woodson wrote to me and that I’d kept it all these years like some form of punishment. I also told him how my parents reacted and that I felt I needed to protect Brady from their judgment.

“Carmyn, time has passed. This guy might not feel the same. He was a young guy, and sometimes they make rash decisions. It sounds like it’s just as much his fault as it was yours.”

“He had every right to be upset with me. I mean, who wants a slut for a girlfriend, especially when the whole campus knows what happened?” I said.

“You’re not a slut. Anyone who meets you can tell what kind of woman you are. Besides, he’s the one who left you in the room with those guys. And even if it’s true, it’s only one night of your life, Carmyn.”

“I should have known better. I wasn’t raised that way,” I said.

“Have you ever tried to get in contact with him?”

“No. Why?”

“To tell him he has a son.”

“Sylvester, don’t you hear me? I’m not certain that Woodson is Brady’s father. It could be any of those guys,” I said as shame covered me again.

“You think he’s still in Texas?”

“I don’t know. When my parents made me leave Texas, I promised myself I would never return.”

“If he continued to play sports, he could be found easily. I bet you could also get a list of names of the guys who were there for the recruiting trip that weekend. The university has to keep that type of information.”

“Why would I do that?”

“So that you can find out once and for all who Brady’s father is. He has every right to know.”

“I don’t know,” I said sadly.

Sylvester took my hands, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, “Don’t you want your son back?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you have to find his father.”

“How am I going to do that? I would need to find every guy who was in that hotel suite that night.”

“I can help,” Sylvester said.

“How are you going to do that? I mean, you work all the time.”

“I know people,” he said confidently.

“What people? What are you talking about?” I asked, wondering how an hourly worker could help me with all the expense and time it was going to take to find Brady’s father.

“Look, Carmyn, I haven’t been totally honest with you.”

“What?”

“There are some things about me that I haven’t shared,” he said as he looked away.

“Are you going to tell me? I’ve just told you the biggest secret in my life.”

Before Sylvester could answer, a female voice called my name. It was Kellis. She walked into the kitchen and looked shocked at seeing me there with my nightclothes on and Sylvester holding my hands.

“I used the key you gave me. Is everything okay?”

“Hey, Kellis. I’m sorry I haven’t called you back,” I said.

“Yeah, I understand. Looks like we’ve been busy,” she said in a teasing voice.

“This is Sylvester,” I said.

“And I was just leaving,” he said as he got up. He extended his hand toward Kellis and said, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’m sure,” Kellis said.

“Carmyn, I’ll call you later. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” he said in a voice full of concern.

“I will. Thank you.”

Sylvester walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway. Kellis sat down with a smirk on her face and said, “So, Carmyn, what have you been keeping from me?”

“Nothing really,” I said. “He’s just a friend.”

“Yeah, right. So this is why you don’t have time to meet any of my friends. Looks like you’re doing fine all by yourself. He’s real handsome. He looks like someone I saw in a magazine or something. Is he a model?”

“No, he works as a clerk at the Croissant Corner,” I said.

“A what?”

“A clerk, and before you say anything, please don’t.” I didn’t need Kellis judging Sylvester.

“Who, me? Honey, if he’s rocking your boat, then that’s all that matters. But he just looks familiar.”

“Maybe you saw him at the Croissant Corner,” I said.

“I don’t ever go in that place unless I’m with you, but I’ll figure it out. Is he married?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You mean you didn’t check? Honey, I get the social security number of every man I meet and run a credit and background check before I get serious about him,” Kellis said.

“It’s not that serious,” I said.

“Looks that way to me.”

“Trust me, it’s not.”

“So where have you been? I’ve called and called. Is everything okay?”

“How much time do you have?”

“I ain’t got nothing but time,” Kellis said.

“Then let me put on a pot of coffee and make you some breakfast. I got a story to tell you.”

CHAPTER
31

Brady’s Baton Rouge Beat Down

D
on’t you think you’re being pretty tough on your mother?” Lowell asked.

“I don’t know, what do you think? She’s lied to me my entire life,” I said. I didn’t want to sound sarcastic or ungrateful. I was halfway through a double cheeseburger Lowell had cooked for me after practice. I knew he had invited me over so that we could discuss my current relationship with my mother, but I just didn’t want to talk about it. Right now my main concern was getting my football mojo back after running for only fifty-five yards against LSU. The second straight game where I’d failed to run for a hundred yards and we’d lost.

It was one of those November evenings that was neither hot nor cold. Lowell and I sat on his deck with only long-sleeved T-shirts on. If my mom was here she would tell me to put on a jacket.

“Have you sat down and tried to find out why she decided not to tell you? She’s had a really hard time,” Lowell said.

I took another bite of my burger and said, “Lowell, I know you mean well, but I have to work this out by myself. I got other things on my plate.”

“Like what?”

“You’ve heard how badly I’ve been playing the last two weeks. We only have three games left, not counting a bowl game, and I got to get back on track and help my team.”

“What do you think the problem is?”

“I don’t know. Well, yeah, I do. The stuff with my mom and then trying to keep up with Barrett,” I said.

“How’s that going?”

“I’m a goner. So sprung,” I said.

“What is ‘sprung’?”

“It means I’m in love. Real talk,” I said.

“How do you think she found out that information about your father?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it does. Your mom only shared that with me, and I didn’t tell anyone,” Lowell said.

“Would you have told me?”

“That’s not my place, Brady.”

“Do you think I should try and find my father?”

“Do you want to?”

“I’ve wanted a dad my whole life,” I said.

“I understand that, but be careful what you pray for,” Lowell warned.

“I got something to tell you, but you can’t say anything to my mom,” I said.

“What is it?”

“You got to give me your word first.”

“I don’t know about that,” Lowell said.

“But you would do it for my mom. What kind of crap is that? You’re my godfather and you’re supposed to have my back,” I said.

“Is it something that puts your life in danger?” Lowell asked.

“No,” I said quickly.

“Okay, so I won’t say anything. What is it?”

I just held both of my hands up in front of Lowell’s face.

“What?” he quizzed.

“Do you notice anything different?”

“Not really,” Lowell said.

“Dude, come on, now. Work with me. No ring. I’m not claiming to be celibate anymore,” I said.

“Oh shit. Carmyn ain’t gonna like this,” Lowell said.

“She don’t need to know,” I said.

“It won’t be the first time you’ve kept something from her,” Lowell said, eyeing me with a serious look on his face.

“Are you talking about Chloe?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t tell her about that, did you?”

“I promised you I wouldn’t, but that situation could have gotten out,” Lowell said.

“Thanks for having my back on that,” I said.

“What are you going to do when you two reconcile?”

“I don’t know if that’s gonna happen too soon if Mom doesn’t accept Barrett,” I said. “I think I’m going to ask Barrett to marry me when the season is over.”

“Brady, get over yourself. You haven’t known this girl for more than three months, and just because she gave you some pussy doesn’t mean she’ll make a good wife. Maybe your mother was right about her,” Lowell said.

“My mother doesn’t know Barrett,” I said.

“And you do? Where is that ‘real talk’ you’re always saying?”

“That’s what’s up.”

“I guess you’re saying the Brady your mother and me tried to raise is gone.”

“Long gone, sir. I’m a different man now,” I said.

“Brady, getting a piece of pussy doesn’t make you a man. Did you talk to Delmar about the stripping thing?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, I’m still trying to figure that out. If it’s true, I don’t know if he wants to talk about it. Besides, I’ve been spending most of my time with Barrett, so we haven’t been talking as much,” I said.

“Okay, but he’s your friend. You can’t forget about everybody and everything just because you got a girlfriend,” Lowell said.

“I’ve lived my entire life to please my mother and she kept from me the one thing she knew I wanted. Now it’s about Brady,” I said as I beat my chest.

“I don’t believe that, and you don’t either,” Lowell said.

“I’m telling you, man, I ain’t the boy I used to be. That Brady is gone,” I said as I took a last bite of my burger.

“Well, just let me know when the old Brady comes back,” Lowell said.