Love, Lies & The D.A. (2 page)

I don’t
know if I will ever get the sights and sounds of what I am witnessing out of my
system. Soon, I realize tears are streaming down my face. I clear my throat and
attempt to find my voice.

“Both
of you. Get the fuck out of my house,” I’m finally able to say.

They
both suddenly look up at me, frozen in their sexual positions.

“It
looks like you’ve been caught red-handed. Now just get out,” I say, rather
quietly I might add. I’m devastated.

I
observe their frantic attempts to hurriedly pull themselves together.

“Jada.
Honey—” Richard starts his plea.

Koto
hastily tries to slip on her red thong while hopping on her red platform heels.
Richard rapidly pulls up his underwear. Then I notice the strangest thing—he’s
fucking her on my desk, and he’s not even wearing a condom. It’s more than I
can take.

“Don’t
honey me!” I scream. “I don’t want to hear it—from either of you. Now get out!”

In a
moment of pure rage, I pick up a vase of orchids on a nearby side table, and I
throw it straight at them. They both move out of the way as it explodes on the
wall. Glass, water, and flowers scatter around my office.

How
many times has he done this? How many times have they done this?

Somewhere
in the back of my mind, I can hear Koto’s crocodile tears. She’s telling me how
sorry she is. I don’t know why, but I walk out of the room to the kitchen
island, pick up my cell phone, and call Solace.

“Hi,
Jada. What can I do for you?”

“Call
my gynecologist and make an appointment for me to see her first thing tomorrow.
Tell her it’s urgent.”

“Is
that all?” Solace asks politely.

“No.
Get your notepad out. I need you—”

“Jada,”
Richard says, resting his hands on my shoulder. “We have to talk about this.”

I don’t
know where it comes from, but as if I was floating on air, I find myself
swinging my palm backward then lunging my hand forward, and I feel my hand
hitting his face. Before I know it, I am screaming.

“Don’t
touch me! Get-the-fuck-out-of-my-house. Both of you. Or I will call security up
here and have you both thrown out.”

I turn
my back and continue with my phone conversation. My palm stings.

“Solace,
are you still there?”

“Yes.
Jada, are you alright?”

“No,
Solace. I’m not. I need you to send out an email to all the wedding guests. Use
the same template as a press release. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“I am
sorry to announce that my engagement to Richard Preston and our wedding, which
was due to take place one week from Saturday, is officially cancelled. At this
time, I ask that you all respect my privacy, as I would prefer to be alone
during this difficult period. Thank you. Jada McLean.”

“Jada.
I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.
Please call Netjet and tell them I’ll be leaving here tomorrow afternoon. I’ll
let them know where I’ll be going in the morning. Cancel all my appointments
for the next two weeks. Tell Ian, as of tomorrow, he will be running Bleu
Resorts. I need to have a conference call with him in ten minutes.”

“Jada,
I’m worried about you.”

“I’m
fine. If anyone calls for an interview, give them a copy of my press release,
and tell them I will be unavailable indefinitely. Don’t schedule any
appointments for me until I return. Tomorrow afternoon, I will need you to get
rid of some things, and I have some stuff I’ll need you to handle during my
absence. I will email you the list and leave the info at my concierge.”

“How
do you want me to get rid of them?”

“Don’t
worry. The list will have all the details.”

“Is
that all?”

“For
now, yes. Tell Ian I’ll be waiting for his call.”

I end
the call, and when I turn around, I’m surprised to see Richard still standing
there.

“Jada,
I’m sorry.”

“Here’s
your ring,” I reply, pulling the 5-carat diamond ring off my finger then handing
it to him. “And your keys
…
” I say after digging for them
in my purse. “Now for the last time, get the fuck out of my house.”

He
remains in place. I don’t know if he’s being arrogant or he doesn’t believe I’m
going to call security. He doesn’t leave.

With
my phone in my hand, I walk past him and to my bedroom. When I realize he’s
following me, I quickly shut the door in his face and lock it.

“Jada,
please…” he says through the door.

“You
and I are finished. It’s over. Now get out. I have nothing left to say to you.”

“Jada…”

I
ignore his calls. From there, I call security. Minutes later, through the door,
I can hear voices. Three guards, I think. Moments after, the ping from the
elevator, then—silence.

Staring
in silence at the San Francisco Bay view, my phone rings—it’s Ian. We discuss
what will need to be done during my absence for over an hour. I end the call.
Then I prepare myself for perhaps what might be the most difficult call I’ll
ever have to make. I take a deep breath, I dial the number, and I wait. I know
this will disappoint her.

“Jada.
I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

“Sorry,
Mommy. It’s been a crazy day. I got your message.”

“Sweetie,
I’m so sorry, but the flight was overbooked and—”

“Don’t
bother to come. The wedding is off.”

“What!
Why?”

For
the first time since walking in on my fiancé and my best friend having sex on
the desk in my condo, I feel intense sadness.

My
throat tightens. “I walked in on Richard and Koto having sex this afternoon.”

“Oh Jesus,
no… Sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m
sorry too,” I whisper.

“I’m
still coming, Jada. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I
need to be alone. Don’t come. If you do, I won’t be here.”

“Jada,
please let me be there for you. This is the same thing you did after Daddy
died.”

“And I
managed fine. Now, I promise I’ll stay in touch. Remember to check your email.”

“I
love you, Sweetie.”

“I
love you too.”

After
I end the call, I make a list of things I will need to have Solace handle as
soon as I leave.

·
        
Change
all locks and security codes at penthouse.

·
        
Call
lawyers—have them cancel all shares of Bleu Resorts that were due to be
transferred to Richard Preston on Monday, September 30, 2013.

·
        
Call
interior designer—Zoë Jenkins.

·
        
Redecorate
the entire penthouse—everything in white, blue accents.

·
        
Cancel
the wedding with the venue. Have them charge any fees necessary to the card on
file.

·
        
Close
joint bank account between Richard Preston and Jada McLean.

·
        
Mail
a check for whatever the balance is on the account after all wedding expenses are
paid to Richard Preston.

·
        
Sell
my wedding dress and accessories if it’s not possible to return it.

·
        
Return
all wedding gifts. (Please include a letter of apology.)

·
        
Put
personal effects in storage while penthouse undergoes renovation.

·
        
Return
personal effects once renovation is complete.

·
        
Sell
all gifts from Richard Preston. See box on kitchen counter. Give the proceeds
to charity.

·
        
Set
up an auto mail responder saying I’m unavailable and Ian Holmes is in charge
during my absence.

Once
complete, I email the list to Solace.

What
next? I should pack. Where should I go?

At first,
I thought I’d go out of the country. Now, I wonder. The California mountains
must be stunning this time of year. Maybe I should take a cool drive. Somewhere
beautiful. I go in search of my laptop and boot it up. Moments later, I Google—
beautiful
California destinations
. Half an hour later, I decide to pack some things. Tonight,
after the traffic dies down, I will take a nice drive to Lake Tahoe. It will be
my first trip there.

Then I
remember I need to visit the doctor. I scroll through the numbers in my phone.

There
it is… Dr. Selena Torrez
.

I call.
After explaining to her that it’s urgent that I see her, she tells me to come
in immediately. Glancing at my watch, it’s nearly five. I rush through traffic,
and remarkably, I’m at her office in less than twenty minutes.

“Jada,
so nice to see you. Have a seat, please.”

“Thank
you for seeing me on such short notice,” I reply.

“Congratulations.
You must be so excited. I saw your wedding announcement in the Chronicle.”

“I was
excited. However, that all ended this afternoon when I walked in on my fiancé
and my best friend having sex in my condo.”

I
astound myself. It’s shocking that I can say this with absolutely no emotion in
my voice to a woman I’ve known since I moved to the US sixteen years ago.

“And
to top it off, he wasn’t even wearing a condom.”

Dr.
Torrez gasps, looking at me in utter disdain. “Jada. I am so sorry. Are you
alright?”

“I’ll
be fine. I need you to please have me tested for every sexually transmitted
disease there is under the sun.”

“You
realize the way you’re handling this is not normal?”

“Dr.
Torrez, with all due respect, I’m not here to discuss my emotional state. Just
test me to ensure that I am physically healthy and I have not gotten any
diseases from that asshole.”

“That’s
better,” she replies, her lips attempting to curve into a smile.

Within
half an hour, after she tries to convince me to seek some counseling, I leave
her office and head back to the penthouse. As I drive by the building, at least
ten reporters gather in the front.

So
much for respecting my privacy
…

I
return to the penthouse in time to finish packing. Then I take a shower. After
I dress, I call the concierge and ask them to send someone up to take my bags.
I leave some things on the kitchen counter for Solace, and at precisely eight o’clock,
I start on my journey to Lake Tahoe. I should arrive in three-and-a-half hours.

As I
leave, I remember I asked Solace to call Netjet and Dr. Torrez to set up
appointments. I have her cancel then I plug in my iPod and off I go.

The
problem with
driving alone for three-and-a-half hours is
that it gives you plenty of time to think. Forty-five minutes into my drive,
somewhere around Fairfield, I start to remember what I witnessed this
afternoon.

Koto had
been my best friend since I moved from St. Lucia. I remember my very first day
in college as a foreign student studying business and hospitality at UCLA. We
had our first marketing management class together, and we met for the first time
when we sat next to each other. We’d been inseparable since then. Never in a
million years did I ever think she’d sleep with my boyfriend, let alone my
fiancé that I was due to marry in a week.

Then there
was Richard. We’d been dating for almost two years before he popped the
question last Christmas. He was supposedly so sweet, calling my mom to ask her
permission. I thought he was a good person, honest and kind. I thought we were
happy. His utter disrespect for me and my home… it makes me question
everything.

Am I
completely insane? How did I not see this coming? How could I not suspect
anything? Have I been too trusting? Have I been completely naïve? How long has
this been going on? Was he screwing her the week we all spent in Utah two years
ago or on the cruise we all went on to Catalina six months ago? She had a
boyfriend back then. Was she screwing both Mark and Richard at the same time?
Is that
really
why they broke up?

In
retrospect, this afternoon, my subconscience knew something was wrong;
otherwise, I would not have been covered with goose bumps for no apparent
reason. Then there were the sights, the sounds
…
the
awful sounds ring through my head. I can still hear her moaning, ‘Oh Richie, oh
Richie…’

It was
never Richie in my presence. When did they graduate to such familiarity with
each other?