Vengeance (25 page)

Last, there are those who love their careers. They thrive on their work and can’t wait until Monday mornings arrive. They hate having to shut down their offices or businesses for the weekends. They find it to be a ridiculous concept because their motto is “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” The weekends actually bring them a great degree of stress. They can’t relax. Why the hell should they when money was out there to be made? They are the ones who look uncomfortable lingering by the bar with a beer in their hands while the rest of their buddies are joking and laughing and relaxed, completely appreciating their mini-sabbaticals from the office. They spend time with family and loved ones more out of obligation than a true desire to do so. While everyone is sitting around talking about the latest movies, or gossiping about who did what at their offices the past five days, they are worrying about how they can make up for lost time once Monday gets there, and it can’t get there fast enough for them.

Based on Bianca’s descriptions of her husband, and my own observations over the past few months, Herman Hudson fell into the last category. Bianca definitely fell into the first. If Herman could’ve seen patients or performed surgeries every Saturday and Sunday, he probably would have. But orthopedic surgery was rarely an emergency or life-threatening intervention so sans a few people who didn’t want to take their sick leave off work—most embrace taking it—people preferred to have their surgeries performed during the week.

On any given Monday, Herman generally did in-and-out surgeries in his fancy-
schmancy
clinic in the Buckhead area of Atlanta in the mornings, followed by a lunch break from noon to one, and consultations in the afternoon. If he could’ve done away with a lunch hour for his staff, he probably would have, but they had rights. He didn’t take Mondays or Wednesdays off like many of his peers. The theory of having a three-day weekend or a two-day, one-day, two-day split week was beyond his comprehension. He hadn’t busted his ass getting a four-year undergraduate degree, a four-year medical degree, and spending five years in a hospital as a resident to not swallow up every dollar he could make. He’d decided on orthopedic surgery because they tended to be one of the highest-paid specialties, averaging about a half million a year in take-home pay, comparable to a cardiologist.

I had been joking with Bianca when I kept talking about him playing with feet all day. I was amazed that she had not corrected me that day at the restaurant. I was very aware that an orthopedic surgeon was not a podiatrist. That while they could treat hammertoes and club feet, they also treated patients with cerebral palsy, severe arthritis, fractures, sprains, spinal issues, and many other things. Herman was brilliant, and that was nothing new. He had been very smart back in school, especially in math. He was to be the one who explained what the teacher had said in class to the rest of us.

But Herman was also evil. I clearly remembered him being the ringleader homecoming night. He thought that shit was funny and cute. Now I was going to show him how you could be trudging along in life, with everything seemingly golden one minute, and then a single incident could change it forever.

Herman’s first consultation patient after lunch on this particular Monday was Louis Abbey—real name—a fifty-two-year-old Caucasian man who was complaining of back pain. Louis Abbey was about to do both of us a huge favor. It took me a minute to find the perfect person for what I had in mind. He and I had never spoken personally. In fact, I had put up a Chinese wall between us. An insurmountable barrier, especially to the passage of information and communication. I had utilized a business associate who I knew I could trust—because he loved money and knew that the better job he did, the more I would come back to him—to initiate the process. It trickled down to at least five or six more people before someone approached Louis with the plan.

Louis was a recovered drug addict but still had a serious gambling problem. He would often leave his wife at home alone, even though their four kids were grown, and head to Cherokee, North Carolina, to try his luck at Harrah’s. He was
never
lucky, and the decent wage that he made working construction was quickly swallowed up upon his arrival. His wife, Ivy, was on depression medication at that point, struggling to believe that the man who had once promised to love and protect her was now putting their home and hopes of retirement at risk. Ivy was a schoolteacher, and everything had started to affect her ability to deal with the students. I only knew all of this because I had them both watched carefully before I pulled the final trigger on Plan B. I needed to make sure that Louis would not cave under pressure when the proverbial shit hit the fan. The only concern that I had was whether he had shared what he was about to do with his wife. From what I had heard, unlike her husband, she had morals, and sometimes people with morals thought it was better to do what was right instead of doing what was easy. Either way, her life was about to change, and I hoped she could handle it. No one was forcing her husband to participate. He had been paid well and would be paid again after he filed a multimillion-dollar lawsuit against Herman.

Obviously, I wasn’t there in the office that day, or in the exam room, but things must have gone as planned. By the next morning, Herman’s face and name were plastered all over both the news and Internet. It was a breaking news item about a prominent Atlanta orthopedic surgeon who had been accused of sexually molesting another man during a consultation. The fact that Herman was black and Louis was white meant the racist media outlets went on the warpath, digging deeper into Herman’s business, interviewing staff, friends, neighbors, and other patients. It was a chance for several people to get fifteen minutes of fame that they never would’ve gotten otherwise. I was banking on that and it paid off in a serious way less than a week later.

Opportunists will always embrace an opportunity. There is an old proverb that goes: “Dear Optimist, Pessimist, and Realist: Thank you. While you guys were arguing about the glass of water, I drank it. —The Opportunist.”

I did not know the number who would come marching, but I was convinced they would come and boy, did they. At last count, there were at least eight other patients, both male and female, who claimed that Herman had done something to them when there was no nurse present in the examination room. Then one of the nurses decided to hop on the gravy train and accused him of sexually harassing her for years.

Herman was arrested, charged, and his bail was set at a million dollars. He was looking at hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees for the criminal charges alone. Then there would be all the civil suits. People claiming that he had destroyed them, and Louis would be leading the pack. He had already been set up with an attorney to file his case before he ever stepped a toe in Herman’s office. He would be the main plaintiff in a class-action lawsuit and the attorney, also acquired via a Chinese wall, would have a slate of clients that he would make a third off of and, like most class-action cases, he would walk away with more wealth than all the rest. It was a win-win for everyone except for Herman . . . and Bianca.

For a second, I almost felt like I had gone too far. Then I came to the conclusion, “Fuck nah!”

Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.

—Mark Twain

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

2:37 p.m.

35,000 Feet Over the Atlantic Ocean

I
couldn’t believe that I was actually doing what I was doing.

“How does it feel to be forty?”

Jonovan was sitting beside me on my private jet. We were both sunk into the tan leather seats, sharing a bottle of Duhart-Milon red Bordeaux.

“Honestly, it doesn’t feel any different, other than realizing that my life is probably at least halfway over at this point.”

“That’s a dismal way to look at it. I have a few more months before I hit the hill, but I’m actually kind of excited about it.”

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe females embrace age differently than men. While it may seem like you are not what you used to be, I’m simply glad that I’m not
a used to be
. Make sense?”

I analyzed what he said. “Maybe I’m drunk but no, it doesn’t make sense to me.”

He leaned up in his seat. “I’m glad to still be alive. A black man in society, past or present, considers it a blessing to live forty years. They’re so many things working against us.”

“I agree with that to a degree, but I also see a lot of black men using that single fact as an excuse. Yes, racism is still alive and there are clear-cut and obvious disadvantages, but there are also a lot of advantages that did not exist before. A lot of people are still under the impression that more black men are in prison than in college, and that’s not accurate.”

“True enough, but there is definitely a disproportionate amount in prison, and in the graveyard.”

“Don’t get me wrong; we live in a very sick and depraved world. But even with what I’ve been through, I’d still like to believe that most people are good and simply trying to do what they can with their dash.”

“Their dash?”

“The time between the day they are born and the day they die; what’s reflected on their tombstones.”

“You’re a deep woman.”

Jonovan and I grinned at each other.

“Thanks for inviting me to share your birthday with you. I must admit that you took me by surprise.”

“I took myself by surprise!” I finished off my glass of wine. “It’s so out of character for me. I’m not sure what came over me.”

“Whatever it was, I hope the trend continues.”

I blushed. “I even left my assistant and bodyguards at home, so we could get to know each other better.”

Being alone with Jonovan had not been an easy thing to pull off. I’d had to pull another fast one. If I ever needed to find another career, I would’ve made one hell of a spy. I was a fantastic liar, and conniving and manipulation could’ve been my middle names. I’d convinced KAD that since we were going to Daddy’s private island off the coast of Norway, the armed guards there would be sufficient to protect me. They were there around the clock to protect the property itself. I told Daddy that KAD was going and was hoping he didn’t try to verify it. There was no reason for him to think I was lying, and the staff on the island had no reason to blow the whistle. I had learned that most people get caught doing things because they act guilty. They overthink every word that comes out of their mouths and overreact to the point where people get suspicious. Some people even overanalyze the fact that they overanalyze. It wasn’t that serious in my case. Worst-case scenario would have been reminding everyone that I was grown and needed my space.

“I still feel like we have crossed paths before.”

“Another time, another place. Maybe in a prior life, but it most certainly wasn’t in this one,” I lied. “Like I told you before, I’ve never met a stranger.”

“You keep referring to that, but you seem like a recluse.”

“Since you cover a lot of people in the entertainment field, that should be self-explanatory. Most creativity happens in solitary confinement and most celebrities can’t trust anybody.”

He chuckled. “You have a point.”

“It’s a fact. Some people amaze me. If they put as much effort into
being
a good person as they do
pretending
to be a good person, they’d actually
be
a good person.”

“Never thought of it that way, but you have yet another point.”

The pilot’s voice came over the cabin speakers: “Ms. Wicket, we are beginning our descent and should be landing within the next twenty minutes.”

I’d decided not to bring a flight attendant with us, either. Even if I had banished her to the back of the plane, she may have still been able to overhear us.

“I’ve never been to Norway,” Jonovan said. “I heard it’s lovely.”

“We won’t be around a lot of other people, just the staff, but the island itself is breathtaking. Plus, it’s still summer solstice.”

“What does that mean?”

“That you can see the sun around the clock, even at midnight.”

“Wow, like in Alaska?”

“Yeah. You’ve been there?”

“Nope, never. It’s going to be so strange to see the sun at night.”

“It’s strange and then there are the times of the year when it’s polar night and it is dark throughout the day . . . like in some of those horror movies.”

“Those things are about to play out. They put one of those out at least once every other year.”

I giggled. “You sound like you know that because you’ve seen them.”

Jonovan tried to suppress a laugh, but he couldn’t. “Okay, okay, I confess. I have a thing for cheesy movies and bad horror flicks. Sometimes watching other people make stupid choices, or die with the benefit of special effects, can make the time go by.”

“Speaking of making the time go by, how are things going with the woman you’re dating?”

The grin disappeared off Jonovan’s face. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I was in a serious relationship. I’m not that kind of man.”

“Who said I’m trying to get with you romantically?” My low self-esteem was about to jump out the closet like a skeleton. “Don’t assume that I asked you to come with me because I want to have sex. I’m not that easy.”

He had no idea! My hairbrush had a better shot than he did of getting into my panties!

“That’s where you’re mistaken about me. I can get sex anywhere, and I realize that a woman like you is not going to be down for games. You asked me to come and spend your birthday with you on a private island, and while I am hoping that we can sneak in a romantic moment here or there because of the surroundings, I don’t have any expectations of this going anywhere. Dating someone doesn’t mean that I’m having sex with them, and the woman you saw me with is not the only one who I spend time with.”