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Authors: Victoria Christopher Murray

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Religious

Too Little, Too Late (18 page)

BOOK: Too Little, Too Late
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THIRTY-EIGHT

“D
O ME A FAVOR
,” B
RIAN
said to the receptionist as he rushed toward his office, “hold my calls.”

Inside his office, he locked the door. It only took moments to find the number in his BlackBerry.

He thought again about the plan that he’d come up with as he drove from Dr. Perkins’s office.

It had been his prayer to just tuck this part of his past away. But the secret he held kept rearing its head, this time with a vengeance. Alexis knew he was hiding something and the way she had walked out on him just an hour before…he shook his head as he remembered her face filled with disgust.

Were you ever with anyone I know?

He’d tried to answer, but he just couldn’t say the name. Because if he said “Jasmine,” at some point he’d have to add “baby.” And he didn’t even know if that baby was his. Before he did anything, he had to know.

He clicked the track wheel on the phone, then waited as it rang.

“What’s up?” J.T. answered.

“Hey, this is Brian Lewis.”

“Dr. Brian. What’s up, man?”

“Nothing much, what about you?”

“Still hanging. Where’ve you been? We haven’t seen you much around here and I know you miss the honeys. We’ve got the best in the Valley, but you know that already, don’t you?” J.T. laughed.

It was true; Brian did know. J.T.’s nightclub, de Janeiro, was a mecca for women. Many nights—after surgery—he’d gone there, scoped the crowd, ended up with a woman of his choice who had the pleasure of spending a couple of sex-crazed hours with him.

He shivered. He didn’t even want the memories. “Listen, I’m calling for business, actually.”

“Ah, that’s no fun.”

“I need to get in touch with your friend Malik. The guy who owns the club in New York.”

“You making a run to the city?”

“Thinkin’ ’bout it.”

Brian jotted down the number, then gave the excuse of a waiting patient to end the call. Still, J.T. wouldn’t let him go until he promised to come by the club soon.

He hung up and for minutes stared at the paper. Malik—Jasmine’s godbrother. Just one more call and he’d get to Jasmine.

Is this the right thing to do?

It was obvious that Jasmine had claimed her husband as the baby’s daddy. And that’s the way it needed to be.

Until now.

He sighed. He didn’t care for Jasmine; still, he hated bringing this drama into her life. But if she cooperated, they would be able to do this in secret. Get a paternity test and if God was on their side, rule him out as the father.

He tucked the number into his pocket. At least he had that now. But before he did anything else, he wanted to see his wife. Talk to her and convince her that all was well in their world. If she still didn’t believe him, then he’d make this dreaded call.

THIRTY-NINE

A
LEXIS STOOD ON THEIR BALCONY
high above Wilshire Boulevard.

Seldom was she home in time to watch the cars and trucks that crawled beneath her window during the rush-hour exodus. But she didn’t notice the street below. Instead, she was focused on memories from this morning. Each time she remembered Brian’s refusal to answer her questions, her heart stopped.

What was he so afraid to tell her? What could be worse than him being a sex addict? Whatever it was, it had to be big. She was almost afraid to know. But she was even more afraid not to know.

“Hey.”

Startled, she turned around. She hadn’t heard him come in. Her eyes fixed on his face. And then his hands. And her heart stopped beating again.

Brian kissed her and offered her the bundle of flowers he carried.

She didn’t touch the roses. Just brushed past him. “I didn’t expect you home so early.” She glanced, once again, at the peace offering he held. This time, there were at least four dozen roses in the bundle. The size of his apology let her know for sure that they were in trouble. “Those are not going to help.” She pointed to the flowers.

“I’m just trying to say I’m sorry.”

“Instead of telling me you’re sorry, tell me the truth.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “Never mind.” Took a short breath. “We need some time apart.”

He shook his head. “No. Dr. Perkins said it’s important for us to be together now and I agree.”

“But if you’re not going to be truthful…” She paused, giving him a chance to tell all. “What’s the point?” she finally asked.

He stood stoic and silent, but his eyes were glazed with sorrow. Made her heart stop beating once more.

What is it?
she screamed inside. But she refused to ask him again.

He said, “Sweetheart, I really do want you to know everything.”

“Then. Just. Tell. Me.”

He waited a moment, as if planning his words. “I need…some time.”

“You’ve had nothing but time.”

“I need a little more. A few days.” When she shook her head, he continued, “I know this is hard, Alexis, but, it’s hard on me too.” She glared at him, not believing he was trying to convince her that he shared her pain. “It’s hard,” he continued, “because I’ve hurt the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“Every time I hear something new, I hurt.” She paused. “But it’s part of the process, because I have to know.”

Alexis could see the thoughts behind his eyes. See the way that he was making choices and decisions that would affect the rest of their lives.

Finally, he said, “I know this is a lot to ask, but trust me.”

She chuckled, although it sounded more like a groan. Folded her arms. Told him without uttering a word that he hadn’t done anything to be trusted.

“Trust me,” he said again softly, ignoring all that she’d told him silently. “I need a few days to figure this out. And I promise…I’ll tell you everything.”

His words—the way he spoke them, and his eyes—the way they moistened, told her that she had much to fear.

He pleaded, “Trust me this one last time.”

It has to be love,
she thought. Love that made her act so stupid. Love that made her want to believe. Love that gave her hope, even when deep inside she knew that it was love that was going to hurt her again.

Love made her say, “Just a few days, Brian. But that’s it.” She walked away, leaving him standing in the middle of the living room, still holding the flowers.

FORTY

H
IS WIFE WAS ON THE
edge.

But it still took Brian four days to build the courage. He’d come to his office on a Saturday so that no one would overhear. Still, he locked himself inside and then dialed the number quickly before he changed his mind.

“This is Malik,” the voice on the other end said.

The sound of his voice made Brian want to hang up. But he inhaled, stuck out his chest like a man. “Malik, I don’t know if you remember me,” he said, thinking that if he’d been forgotten, that would be a good sign. “This is Brian Lew—”

Before he could get his full name out, Malik said, “I know who you are. Wasn’t that long ago when we last spoke.”

Malik paused long enough for Brian to remember how he’d called and told him to stay away from Jasmine and her baby. Brian had been more than happy to abide by Malik’s wishes. His plan had been to stay away from Jasmine forever. But life changed things.

Malik asked, “So what’s up?”

Brian took a breath. “I know what we agreed, but I need to talk to Jasmine. I’m not trying to pull anything or to get with her…or anything,” he rambled. “But this is important. Urgent really, and I don’t have her number.”

Several beats and then, “Straight business?”

“Yeah.”

Another beat. “All right.”

Brian frowned. He’d expected more resistance—or maybe more resistance was what he wanted.

Malik continued, “Jasmine and Hosea are in Los Angeles.”

“Really?” That was not good news. He didn’t want to share this half of the country with Jasmine and her husband—and his wife. “They moved to L.A.?”

“Nah, just there on an extended business trip. They’re staying at the Fairmont. Give me your number and I’ll call Jasmine. If she wants to talk to you, she’ll call.”

He gave Malik his cell number.

Another pause, and then Malik asked, “Man to man, this is straight up?”

“Definitely. I’m happily married, faithful to my wife…now. Just need to talk to Jasmine for a minute.”

“Good, because she and Hosea are happy. No need for drama.”

“There won’t be any,” he said, and prayed that would be true.

“Then I’ll call her for you,” Malik said before he said good-bye.

For long minutes after he’d hung up, Brian sat, tormented by his questions. Why had Malik been so amiable? Had Jasmine told Malik that she wanted to speak to him? Had she been looking for him? And if she had, why?

Now he needed the same answers that his wife wanted.

Malik had said Jasmine and her husband were at the Fairmont. He called information, got connected to the hotel, and then asked for the Bushes. He said a quick prayer, and made a plan to hang up if Hosea answered.

“Hello.”

It wasn’t a warm greeting; she sounded frantic. “Jasmine?”

“Speaking.”

“Jasmine. This is Brian. Brian Lewis.”

He heard the phone fall to the floor and he knew that was a sign. He knew he was in trouble.

Jasmine and Hosea, Alexis and Brian

AUGUST
2006

“Give Me the Reason”


LUTHER VANDROSS

FORTY-ONE

“J
ASMINE
?”

She could hear him calling her through the phone, but all she could do was stare at the receiver that she’d hurled across the room.

“Jasmine?”

Deliver me from evil…

She picked up the telephone and squeezed the handset, hoping somehow that would choke the caller at the same time. She found her voice. “Brian, what do you want?”

“Are you all right?”

“What do you want?” she demanded to know.

“We need to talk.”

She could not believe this man was calling. Surely he remembered their last encounter in New York. When she was face-up on a stretcher being wheeled into an ambulance.

That should have been the end of him—of them.

“I know you’re surprised to hear from me.”

“That doesn’t even begin to explain it.”

“Believe me, I don’t want to be calling, but I have a reason.”

“You always do.” Her next move was to slam the phone down with enough force to cause major damage to his eardrum. Then he’d get the message that she—and her marriage—was not to be played with.

But before she could make that valiant move, he said, “I’m calling about the baby.”

Jasmine pressed the phone to her ear. Sank onto the bed. “What baby?” she asked as if she didn’t know.

“I need to see you.”

Jasmine tried to keep the trembling that threatened to make her drop the phone again out of her voice. “That’s not possible.”

“I know you’re here in Los Angeles.”

“How…“She stopped. It didn’t matter how he found her. All that mattered was getting this man off the phone; out of her life. So that she could get back to what was really important—slaying the other snake, Natasia, who was slithering through her backyard. “There’s no reason for us to get together.”

“I’m not trying to cause trouble, but I need to see you. Alone.”

She frowned. Thought about all the pain their trysts had brought her and the man she loved. Thought about how she’d almost lost Hosea because of Brian. “I cannot believe—”

He interrupted her tirade. “It’s not about that, Jasmine. I love my wife.”

“And I love my husband.”

“Then we’re in the same place. But I still need to see to you. And since I want to talk to you about the baby, I know you don’t want your husband there.”

Ah,
she thought,
this must be some kind of shake down.
She couldn’t wait to blow up his plan.

He said, “This meeting can stay a secret, but we need to talk.”

“I don’t keep secrets from my husband.”

“You’ve kept this one—”

“What secret? The one where you’re Jacqueline’s father?”

She heard his deep gasp.

“He already knows.” She imagined his despair as his plan fell apart. But she felt no joy in this victory. She just wanted him off the phone.

“Why…did you tell your husband that?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“You had a paternity test?” It was his voice that trembled now. “Without me?”

“Didn’t need to. Hosea and I were never together while you and…” She closed her eyes, tried not to remember.

“So, I am—” he said.

“Jacqueline’s father,” she finished for him.

“Jacqueline.”

She was sorry she told him that. He didn’t need to know the name Hosea had chosen for their daughter.

“So,” she began, “your blackmail plan is dead before it got started.”

“Blackmail? That’s not why I called.”

“I don’t care why you did, but now that you know about
my
baby, you can just go about your business.”

“But, my wife. If Alexis finds out—”

“That’s
your
drama.” She slammed down the phone and prayed that would be the end.

Except it couldn’t be the complete end. With the way she was trying to live, she had to tell Hosea about this call. That was the deal—no more secrets, no more lies.

Except now, Hosea had a secret that felt a lot like a lie.

No! This wasn’t about Hosea. This was every bit Natasia—she could smell that slut all over this so-called business trip to Oakland. It was a standard skank ploy—tricking somebody else’s husband to be somewhere, without his wife, to be alone with you. It was a trap that she’d set herself, when she lived that scandalous life. She couldn’t count the number of times it worked.

Just like it worked for Natasia.

Jasmine grabbed the phone, dialed her husband’s cell. It went straight to voice mail. What was she supposed to say—get Natasia out of your bed? She left no message.

She hung up, dialed the hotel directly.

“May I speak with Hosea Bush?”

“Mr. Bush has checked out already.”

Glancing at the clock, she realized he was probably with Dr. Marshall—he’d said they were meeting first thing this morning—if that was even true.

She called Hosea’s phone again. Voice mail. And then again. Same thing.

There was only one thing left to do.

She dropped to her knees, leaned against the bed. “Lord, I don’t know what’s going on up there, but You know. Please, Lord, please, keep that hussy away from my husband.”

And then she did something that Mae Frances had advised her to do weeks ago.

“This prayer thing really works,” Mae Frances had said, as if she’d discovered something new. “All you have to do is pray three times—once for the Father, then the Son, and close it out with the Holy Ghost.”

So that’s what Jasmine did—prayed that prayer three times before she pushed herself from her knees. Now while God did His thing, Jasmine knew she had to do something too.

It didn’t matter that Natasia had a contract. Her happy behind needed to be on the curb by Monday. And no matter what excuse the two would come up with about what happened in Oakland, she was going to make it clear to Hosea that Natasia needed to crawl back to whatever sewer she had climbed out of. This time, Natasia was going, and Jasmine wasn’t going to accept any kind of no for an answer.

BOOK: Too Little, Too Late
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