Power Couple (19 page)

CHAPTER 29

A
fter a long day on the set, I was too tired to keep listening to Sophia's voice. It was after ten at night and I'd been on the phone with her for forty-five minutes. She was running her mouth nonstop and I was waiting for a lull in the conversation so I could politely get off the phone.

“I feel abandoned. It's like you've forgotten I exist. With my husband deployed in Afghanistan and my son spending the summer at the military academy, I feel totally isolated—I'm all alone,” Sophia complained. “I'm nauseous all the time and lately I've been having dizzy spells. Oh, and did I mention that I suddenly have varicose veins? My legs look horrible and they hurt like hell.”

Oh, Lord, help me. I can't take much more of this torture.

Ever since I'd begun my whirlwind fling with Michelangelo, I hadn't given Sophia or the baby a moment's thought. Now that she had my attention, she was milking it. Handholding a needy individual was not my strong suit, and my first impulse was to pawn her off on Ellie. But there was no polite way of saying, “Excuse me, I don't have time to listen to you whine. Please call my assistant if you want someone to listen to you gripe about your pregnancy.”

I took a deep breath. “I've read that green tea has medicinal qualities that help with morning sickness.” I'd heard no such thing, but it sounded good. “Do you have any green tea, Sophia?”

“Hmm. I never heard that, but I'll check and see if I have any green tea.”

I could hear her footsteps as she padded to the kitchen. I heard cabinets open and close. I rolled my eyes, regretting I had picked up the phone and accepted her call.

“Okay, it looks like I have chamomile, oolong, Lemon Zinger, Orange Mandarin and…um, I'm trying to see if there's any more packs of tea in the back of the cabinet.”

Oh my fucking God, this bitch is trying to hold me hostage on the phone while she checks every teabag in her fucking cabinet.

“Sophia.” I spoke her name through clenched teeth. “Why don't you make a quick run to a convenience store and buy some green tea.”

“I would, but with the vertigo I've been experiencing…” She paused and allowed a moment of ominous silence. “I don't think it's wise for me to go out alone.”

This needy ho had already been paid good money for her services, and if she thought she was going to guilt-trip me into ripping and running all over creation to keep her stocked in tea, pickles, and ice cream or any other food craving, then she was sadly mistaken.

“Why don't you try the oolong tea? I'm sure it will help with the nausea,” I said, running out of patience, but somehow managing to monitor my tone.

“What about the vertigo? I never experienced dizzy spells when I was pregnant with my son. My doctor says that vertigo is normal in the first trimester, but I know my body, and it's not normal for me. I don't feel comfortable being alone; can you come over and sit with me for a while?”

She had to be kidding. I almost burst out laughing at such a ludicrous request. This bitch was really pushing her luck.

“Sophia, I have to prepare for an interview with the food editor of
Food and Travel
magazine, first thing in the morning,” I lied. “Why don't you call me back tomorrow evening?”

“Okay,” she said in a pathetic voice.

I ended the call and let out a long breath.
That bitch gotta be crazy
if she thinks I'm at her beck and call.
Free from Sophia's needy clutches, I made a mental note not to pick up her calls for the next several months. As far as I knew, I had not signed up to provide emotional support all hours of the day and night. If she wanted a sympathetic ear, then she needed to call her husband in Iraq…Iran…or wherever the hell he was deployed.

Thirty minutes later, my phone rang. The screen read:
UNAVAILABLE
. Suspecting that Sophia had blocked her number, trying to trick me into picking up, I ignored the call. A few moments later, my phone rang again.

Oh, hell. I'd be guilt ridden for life if something was really wrong with Sophia and I ignored her, so I reluctantly picked up.

“Yes?” I said in an aggravated tone.

“Are you upset with me, baby?”

It was Michelangelo, and hearing his voice gave me butterflies. “No, I'm not upset with you. Why would I be?”

“I could see it in your eyes that you didn't appreciate finding me in a cozy situation with Azaria. I know how it looked, but I want you to know that I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was keeping it strictly professional.”

“You're free and single to do whatever you want. I can't control you,” I teased.

“But I wasn't doing anything. She was the one sitting close and who kept finding reasons to rub on my hand.”

“I know what a flirt Azaria is. I was only playing with you.”

“Oh, you enjoy playing with my heart?”

Although he was being playful, I could tell by his voice that he was getting as emotionally attached as I was.

“UNAVAILABLE
came up on my screen—where are you?”

“I'm at a pay phone. I expected it to be hard to find one, but I lucked up and only had to walk a few blocks from the hotel.”

“I'm touched that you went out of your way to contact me, but it was a risky move. With only two days left until the finale, Josh's minions will probably be checking on you guys pretty regularly. ”

“True, but I wanted to hear your voice. I miss you. Believe it or not, I couldn't care less about winning the competition. At this point, the only thing I want to win is your heart.”

Touched by his sweet words, my hand went to my chest. “I miss you, too,” I admitted. “But there's nowhere for this relationship to go, and you and I need to keep things in perspective.”

There was a lengthy silence while Michelangelo absorbed what I'd said.

“Okay. I only called to verbalize my feelings, and now that I have, I'll say, goodnight. Pleasant dreams, Cori.”

“Goodnight,” I responded. I was about to hang up when I surprised myself by suddenly blurting, “Wait! I need to see you. Can you get a taxi and come over?”

“I'm on my way,” he said with a chuckle.

• • •

I was playing with fire, again. I could only pray that my life didn't go up in flames. I had no guilt over cheating on Maverick, but it wasn't wise for me to get emotionally involved with Michelangelo or any other man. Having a friend with benefits was all I had wanted, but apparently neither of us had control over our emotions. And that was frightening.

Financially, I was locked-in with my husband. We were a team. As wealthy as we were, we still had yet to reach the pinnacle of success. We needed to stay together, even if we had to pretend to be happy. Sacrificing was necessary to reach the great heights we'd both dreamed of.

It would be foolish for me to fuck up what I had with Maverick. Undoubtedly, the public would be much more tolerant of Maverick's adulterous ways than mine. If Maverick got caught with one of his whores, there'd be gossip, but it would die down eventually. But if the public discovered that I was having a lurid affair with a contestant, all hell would break loose. The double standard would always exist, and if word got out that I was fucking around with Michelangelo, I could kiss goodbye everything I'd worked so hard for.

I'd always been level-headed with a clear vision of what it would take to achieve my dreams. So, why was I tempting fate? Revenge was the easy answer, but it was more than that. Michelangelo brought out a side of me that hadn't emerged since college. I felt happy and alive around him, and it was time to accept that I'd been holding on for dear life to a marriage that was nothing more than a business arrangement.

Sadly, I wasn't going anywhere and neither was Maverick. Michelangelo would return to Ohio in a few days, and I prayed that I'd be able to get him out of my system after he was gone.

CHAPTER 30

D
epending on traffic and Michelangelo's skill at hailing a cab in New York, I had an hour's wait at the minimum.

My phone rang and I feared that Michelangelo had second thoughts and was calling to cancel, but when I saw Sophia's name displayed on the screen, I quickly hit the “Ignore” button. While waiting for my boo to arrive, I'd much rather fill the time listening to my grandmother's wild tales than have Sophia hold me captive with her pregnancy complaints.

It was irrational thinking, but a part of me believed that there was a personal message for me, hidden somewhere in Grandma Eula Mae's recorded memoir. I believed she was providing me with wisdom from the grave that would help me to navigate through life's challenges.

• • •

After plotting together and turning O'Grady into a slobbering idiot,
Felder and I grew closer than ever. We had an extraordinary love for one
another, but we didn't flaunt our feelings out in the open. As a respected
physician, Felder had a reputation to uphold and it wouldn't have looked
right for him to be gallivanting around town with another woman while
his wife was locked up in the crazy house. And it would have been par
ticularly scandalous if word got out that he was cavorting with the madam
of a notorious cathouse.

Even with all my furs, fine jewelry, and flashy cars, the members of Negro society turned their noses up at me. But I didn't give a damn. I had everything a woman could ask for, including the love of my life.

But things between us changed drastically when Daffodil got ahold of some medication in the crazy house and died of an overdose. Suddenly, Felder was an eligible bachelor and everyone from young debutantes to wealthy widows had their eye on him. He was getting invitations to all kinds of charity balls and cocktail parties, which he turned down, of course
because he wasn't interested in any woman except me.

I had always thought that out relationship would remain the same for the rest of our lives. Who would have thought a physically healthy woman like Daffodil would end up dying so young? Suddenly, Felder started pressuring me about squaring up and settling down. He said he wanted to turn me into a respectable wife. He realized I wouldn't ever be accepted in Philadelphia, where I was well known from being on the front page of colored newspapers every time my place was raided.

He was willing to close down his practice and begin again on the West Coast where no one had ever heard of me.

The average woman would have been thrilled, but I wasn't ready for marriage. It was all too sudden for me. There had been a certain thrill in sneaking around and being involved in an illicit love affair.

At twenty-eight years old, I was footloose and fancy free. I didn't want to give up my freedom yet. There was no way that I was going to start popping out babies and having nothing to look forward to except making beds and cooking meals for a family. The square's life seemed more like a punishment than something to strive for.

So, Felder and I had a big fallout over my refusal to get hitched. He accused me of toying with his emotions. Said he'd been willing to give up
his practice and relocate while I was unwilling to make any compromises
. Then he threw in my face that he'd been willing to kill for me and had risked a long prison sentence when he'd shot up O'Grady with that poisonous concoction.

I'll never forget the pained look in Felder's eyes when he told me our affair was over. Eventually, he remarried a young social worker named Gertrude. She had a rich daddy who desired that his daughter be out of the work force and suitably married.

When pictures of Felder and Gertrude's lavish wedding made it to the society section of
Jet
magazine, I felt sick to my stomach with envy. I could have been the bride wearing a white dress if I hadn't been so foolish-minded. I told myself that there was no way he preferred that candy-faced social worker over me. And I set out to prove it.

I waited until about six months after their wedding before I showed up at his medical practice, after hours. One look at his handsome face and I realized I'd been a damn fool to allow the great love we'd shared to fall by the wayside.

“You'll always be the love of my life, Eula Mae,” Felder told me as we made passionate love on the examination table. “I can't go on without you. You must come back to me. Without you, I feel as if I'm dying inside. Say
you'll come back, Eula Mae—please,” he pleaded.

In that moment, I realized that Felder's love was too precious to give up, and it wasn't likely that I'd find that kind of deep love, ever again.

It had been stupid to choose running a whorehouse over true love. My brothel could be shut down at a moment's notice if the new police commissioner decided he didn't want my place blemishing the town.

It turned out that by getting rid of O'Grady, I had jumped from the frying pan into the fire. The new commissioner was a pious and religious man who despised whores. In the short time he'd held O'Grady's old position, he'd already raided my place five times. There aren't but so many times a woman can get carted off to jail—even if it's only for a week or so at a time—before she breaks from the mistreatment and degradation.

Suddenly, there was nothing that I wanted more than to become Mrs. Felder Bradwell. “I'm ready, Felder. We can run off to the West Coast and start a new life, like you wanted.”

“What are you saying?” he asked, gazing at me with a shocked expression on his face.

“I'm ready to be your wife. I know it'll be scandalous for you to ask Gertrude for a divorce, especially so early in the marriage, but there's no other way around it.”

He stared at me speechless.

“It may take Gertrude awhile to sign the divorce papers,” I rattled on. “But we shouldn't let that stop us from leaving town. We could live as a common-law couple while she's dragging her feet and stubbornly holding up the process.”

“Eula Mae, I can't marry you.” There was anguish in his voice.

I gasped, but it felt more like a scream. “Why not? Don't you love me anymore?”

“Of course I love you. I never stopped. But I can't marry you. Gertrude is pregnant. What kind of man would I be if I left my wife at a time like this?”

“But you said out of your own mouth that you wanted me to come back to you.”

“I do…with all my heart. I figured you were still opposed to marriage and preferred a secret romance like we had before Daffodil passed away.”

Tears filled my eyes. “I've changed, Felder. That's not what I want anymore.”

“But it's all I can offer you. I would never knowingly hurt you, and I'm so sorry, Eula Mae. You made it clear that you'd never give up your independence for me and I was willing to accept that.”

He took me in his arms and held me comfortingly as I cried. Then I pulled myself together and walked out of his life—forever.

The new commissioner finally shut me down for good. Locked me up and tried to throw away the key. I was incarcerated in a women's prison when I discovered I was pregnant—with twins, no less. When I was released a year later, I had a heck of a time getting my baby girls out of
foster care. The court system would not release them to me as long as I was single.

So, I married Reginald Boyd, a plumber who'd done work at my place from time to time. He was a big ol' country boy who'd always been sweet on me. Reginald adopted my girls and gave them his last name. He never asked who their real father was and I never volunteered the information. My daughters never knew that Reggie wasn't their natural daddy. And I never told Felder that he was the father of my twins. What would have
been the point?

Putting my ambition first had cost me the love of my life and forced me into a loveless marriage. My daughters grew up without a man around because I divorced Reginald after five years of misery. They say you live and learn, and I learned the hard way that my idea of success was a fleeting and foolish thing. There's nothing as lasting or as powerful as true love. It saddens me that both my daughters took after me and are married to their careers. They're both successful women, but neither one could keep a husband for very long. One day they're gonna realize that their highfalutin jobs can't keep them warm at night.

Hopefully, at least one of my granddaughters will get her priorities straight and put true love before career success. But I don't want any of my grandbabies to marry the wrong man, either. If a man doesn't place you on a pedestal and treat you with the utmost respect, if he isn't willing to sacrifice his career and even his personal freedom for you, then he's the wrong one.

Take it from me, I had a great love once, but I selfishly threw it away. Although I had many other lovers, I never found that kind of pure devotion I got from Felder, not ever again in life.

• • •

What the hell? Was Grandma Eula Mae speaking directly to me from the grave? Was she telling me that Maverick was a disrespectful,
selfish son of a bitch and Michelangelo was my knight in shining armor? If so, I found her advice to be ridiculous. I barely knew Michelangelo, and from what I'd learned about him, he didn't even have a job. His only possible role in my life could be that of a temporary plaything. Maverick, on the other hand, was a sports icon with numerous lucrative endorsement deals. He was also a well-paid sports analyst. Being hitched to his wagon had opened many doors to me that wouldn't have normally been open. Sure, he was a selfish bastard with kinky sexual predilections, but no one was perfect.

Furthermore, Maverick was the father of my unborn son. Becoming parents guaranteed that we'd be joined at the hip for life.

My grandmother's idea of the characteristics of a good man was outdated and sounded like an unrealistic fairytale. I didn't require anyone to kill or maim for me. I didn't have the kind of issues she'd had in life.

Michelangelo filled a certain void, but I'd be a fool to even consider leaving Maverick for him. Grandma Eula Mae couldn't relate to the problems of career women in the millennium when she was stuck in the forties and fifties.