ROMANCING THE BULLDOG (20 page)

“Let her say something,” Carl said, “or I’m telling you we are screwed.”

Jason ran his hands through his hair. “No.”

“Have you spoken to her?” Carl asked.

“No. I don’t know where she is.”

“What do you mean you don’t know where she is?”

“Just what I said, Carl! I called the Center but Shameika said she saw Hamp’s press

conference and took off.”

“Shameika? Who the hell’s Shameika?”

“All right, everybody, let’s take a chill,” Dexter said. “We’re getting hysterical here.”

“I understand that,” Carl said, “but this is past feeling now.”

“We’ve got to return fire,” DeeDee said. “There’s no two ways about it. Hamp just

annihilated us! He called you racist and weak and --”

“DeeDee,” Jason said irritably, “I saw the presser. I know what he called me, all right?”

But his mind was on Liz and what she must think of him. He pulled out his cell again and

dialed her number. Again her voice mail picked up. He clicked off.

“I say we accuse Hamp of a few things,” Stephen said.

“Such as?” Carl asked.

“Questionable business dealings, for one.”

Jason frowned. “What questionable business dealings?”

“How should I know? Let’s make that shit up the way he did us! He didn’t give a damn

about any facts, why should we?”

“So your solution is to call a press conference and lie about the man, that’s your solution,

Stephen?”

“Yes. Dammit! That man made us look like the KKK over here, and I don’t like it!”

“Amen, brother,” Dexter said and he and Stephen fist bumped. Jason shook his head and

began to leave.

“I’ve got to go,” he said.

“Go where?” Carl asked, his arms extended, his face unable to conceal his amazement.

They were sinking like lead and he had to go?

“I’ll be back,” was all Jason said to them, and left.

“This is crazy!” Carl said, walking around as if he couldn’t believe it. Nobody responded,

because they couldn’t believe it, either.

***

him, he couldn’t help but smile. He even called Mal before he allowed Liz entrance. “Now

the roaches scatter,” he said to his beloved son, and then he hung up the phone and told his

secretary that he was ready.

Liz walked in without any pretense of wanting to be there. No ‘how are you father,’ no

‘what’s up?’ Her amazement was up and she couldn’t wait to let him know it. “ Is is true?”

she asked him, point blank.

Hamp looked at her. “Hello, Elizabeth. How are you doing this wonderful day?”

Liz folded her arms. “Is it true? Did you tell Jason you were running?”

“Hello, Elizabeth.”

Liz refused to go along. She could hardly contain her anger.

Hamp gave in. “Yes, it’s true.”

“You told him?”

“Yes, I told him, didn’t I just say I told him? What’s with asking me over and over if I

told him. Yes. I told him.

“A week before he had his press conference?”

“Yes, dear daughter, a week before.” Then he smiled, leaned back in his chair. “And yes,

he used you, in case that was your next question. But then why should you question it when

it’s so obvious.”

Liz looked hard at him. “Why do you hate me?” she asked him.

Hamp laughed. “Oh, is that what they call it? You let boyfriend use you, but you question

my love for you? Is that how they taught you in those streets of hard knocks you decided you

preferred? Not Harvard, oh no, not Elizabeth. She wants to do her own think, be her own

woman. Yeah, right. You’re your own woman all right. Letting Jason Rascone, some white

man, use you!”

“Why do you hate me?” Liz asked again, genuinely perplexed. But he laughed again.

“And what’s so funny?”

“What’s funny was that your boy thought he had played his trump card when he stood up

there and announced that my daughter was his girlfriend. He thought he had pulled a fast one

over on me then. But what’s funny is he didn’t pull anything on me, and he didn’t play any

trump card by declaring my daughter was his girlfriend. He overplayed his hand.”

“What are you talking about? I am his girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” Hamp said. “But you ain’t my daughter.”

“I’m not your . . .” Liz’s look went from sincere puzzlement to slowly realized shock.

“What are you saying?”

“What I just said. I didn’t stutter.” He exhaled. Something appeared in his eyes: sadness,

concern, Liz wasn’t sure. But almost as soon as it appeared, it disappeared. “You’re not my

daughter.”

Liz frowned. “What are you talking about? I am your daughter!”

“I’m talking about the truth, that’s what I’m talking about. You always want truth, at least

that’s what you love to say. ‘Let’s keep it real.’ You used to love to say that. So I’m keeping

it real. Truth. My wife was your mother, that’s true, but you was never any kin to me.”

Liz shook her head. For some reason her brain refused to compute what he was saying.

It was as if he went from speaking English to Russian to Chinese and now it was all gibberish.

“I’m not your daughter? You’re not my father?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

“But . . . how? Mother didn’t. . . Are you saying that Mother
cheated
on you?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. She was a trash barrel whore far as I’m concerned and

you followed right in her footsteps. I tried to help you. Was willing to finance your education

at Harvard---”

“Oh, please. Harvard had nothing to do with me. It was all about you and your need to

play the big man. Hamp’s daughter is in Harvard. Hamp’s daughter graduated from Harvard

University. That’s all that was about. Because if you cared anything about my education, you

would have allowed me to go to the school of my choice, not of yours! Harvard was all about

you.”

“Damn straight it was all about me. I raised your butt. I deserved something in return,

some bragging rights, something. Besides, you would have gotten a great college degree out of

it. But oh no, you meet some black flower child who think the world actually gives a damn

about his civil rights and follow him, instead. And expected me to want anything to do with

you after that? Because believe you me, the only reason I even allowed you back into my

home at all was because I knew I would be running for mayor soon and wanted to make sure

those pesky press people wouldn’t try to play up our estrangement. Now I don’t give a

damn.”

Liz just stood there, unable to begin to comprehend the enormity of what he was saying.

This man she had called Father for so many years was really no kin to her at all?

Hamp smiled. “Shocking, ain’t it?” he said. Then his smile left. “Well imagine how I felt

when that two-dollar whore of a mother of yours admitted it. I suspected it all along. You

don’t look nothing like me or Mal.”

Liz stared at Hamp. “Do you know who my real father is?”

“Of course I don’t know! Hell your mama didn’t know. Pick a number, she told me. Get

in line.” This caused Hamp to stop. The pain, for him, was still there.

He exhaled as all of those raw memories began to surface. “When I found out that she

had been sleeping around on me, and with more men than even she could count, and that was

a smart bitch, I kicked her natural ass. She had to be bedridden for a week when I finished

with her ass. The only reason I didn’t kick you and her out of my life altogether was because

the damage had already been done. It wouldn’t have looked right. But after what you and

boyfriend tried to do to me, bump how it looks. I don’t give a shit. You’re no kin to me and

Jason will look like a fool when I go public with it.” Then he laughed again. “Good ol’

Bulldog picked the wrong slut this time!”

The only reason Liz had not ran out of Hamp’s presence already was because she was still

too stunned to move. She knew it was some resentment he was harboring for her, and it was

something bad, but she never would have dreamed it would be that. Not his daughter? She

was not Hamp Morgan’s daughter? She eventually turned and left his office. But it wasn’t

until she got behind the wheel of her Mustang did she breakdown, and shutter.

FOURTEEN

She didn’t say a word and Shameika didn’t ask her anything. It was one of those weird

moments when her boss suddenly appeared at her door, she let her in, and then nothing. No

explanations, nothing. Shameika didn’t know the whole story, but she did know that Liz was

devastated. That press conference by her father, where he insinuated that Jason Rascone was

nothing but a good-for-nothing racist who was using Liz to win reelection, seemed to have

turned her world upside down and the last thing Shameika wanted to do was add to the drama.

But she was curious as hell. Liz’s cell phone kept ringing, for one thing, and a look of

even more consternation would cross her face. When she’d look at her caller ID to see who

was phoning, she’d toss it back on the coffee table. For Shameika, it felt as if she had been

around one woman this morning at work, and now a completely different woman tonight.

Men
, Shameika thought, and wanted to share her thoughts with Liz, but she didn’t. They just

continued to sit in her tiny living room, and listen to a little jazz.

It wasn’t until Liz excused herself to the bathroom, to cry her eyes out no doubt,

Shameika decided, did Shameika herself take action. Because this was ridiculous, she thought,

and grabbed Liz’s cell phone off of the coffee table. She had accessed Liz’s voice mail once

before, and remembered how. Of course back then it was at Liz’s request. But mere

technicalities never stopped Shameika before.

As expected, the calls were coming from the same phone number. Shameika pressed to

listen to the last one. No surprise there. It was Jason Rascone. “Liz, please!” he pleaded.

“I’ve been looking all over this city for you! Please call me back! I need to see you, I need to

talk to you, I have to know you’re okay. Please call me. Everything your father said was a

lie. I’m no racist! And you know I wouldn’t use you, you know I love you. Liz, please, just

talk to me!”

His voice was so agonizing that Shameika knew she had to do something. She liked

Jason. She liked the way he was so protective of Liz, so concerned about her. And the way

he let her keep his car, his fancy Aston Martin when hers was in the shop, and the way he

moved her out of that ratty apartment she lived in, and even had her Mustang repaired from

what Shameika could gather. Why would he do all of that if he was just using her? Why

would he spend all of that money on her, and spend all of his time with her? It didn’t smell

right to Shameika. And that was why she didn’t delay. She called back the voice message.

***

front door. Liz hadn’t been back from the bathroom but a few minutes herself. But it didn’t

matter because as soon as she saw Jason enter Shameika’s home, she bolted for the bedroom.

“Liz, wait!” Jason pleaded but Liz didn’t stop. She couldn’t face him right now. Not right

now!

But Jason had to face her, and he had to face her right now. He ran behind her and

pushed back open the door just before she was able to completely slam it shut. Once inside

the bedroom with her, he closed the door.

“I don’t want to talk right now,” she made clear. “Please.”

“We’ve got to talk.”

“I know we do. But not now.”

“It has to be now,” Jason said, moving further into the room. “It’ll kill me if we don’t talk

about this. I’ve been all over this town looking for you. If Shameika wouldn’t have phoned

me, I still would be searching for you.”

“She did
what
?” Liz said, astounded.

“Don’t blame her,” he said, still approaching Liz. Liz began backing up.

“You can stay right where you are, Jason.”

“Can’t do that.”

“So what are you going to do? Bum-rush me?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not a bulldog, you’re a bully!”

“Yes, I know.” Then her back was against the bedroom wall and Jason had cornered her.

He unfolded her arms and held them over her head.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she attempted to wiggle out of his hold.

“Your father wasn’t telling the truth, Liz. I love you. I would never use you like that.”

“So you didn’t know he was running until his press conference this morning, right?”

Jason’s sudden hesitation in answering caused the agony already on Liz’s face to become

even more pronounced. She turned her face from him. “Just leave me alone!” she said as if