Whos Loving You (15 page)

“Do we need one?” she asked.

Thinking about the babies growing inside of Summer, the word
yes
, was on the tip of my tongue, but my throbbing dick answered, “No, we don’t.”

I
was excited about a man. When was the last time that had happened?

Nervous, I stood near the luggage carousel closest to Starbucks, waiting for Grant. Peeping in the window, at my reflection, I wondered if my hair looked good. Spreading my fingers, I inspected my natural nails. I couldn’t risk wearing acrylic or gel nails and having one to break as I pulled out my gun to shoot somebody. My French manicure was immaculate.

Did I wear the right dress? I covered up my cleavage. I didn’t want his second impression of me to be the same as the first. I couldn’t believe, here I was, acting like a giddy teenager in love, when I had seen this man only once, hadn’t seen him in more than ten years, and had never been in love. Maybe he could be my first.

My cell phone rang. Eagerly, I looked at the caller ID. This would be a quickie.

“Hello,” I said, listening for my associate’s update.

“Hey, springtime came early. Yesterday to be exact,” she said.

“Peace,” I said before ending the call.

I’d gotten so excited about Grant, I had forgotten I was supposed to visit Summer. I hadn’t made time. Guess I’d underestimated her ability or the system’s capability to process Valentino out. I had to find time to get to Valentino before he made time to get to me.

Wringing my palms, I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, wishing I could bum a cigarette. I wasn’t a smoker. I had to calm down. Inside I was jittery. My nerves were bad. “Okay. I’ll walk around the carousel a few times. Damn. I still want to smoke,” I said aloud. What if he smelled nicotine on my breath and hated kissing smokers? Just about everybody in Vegas smoked something. Why shouldn’t I?

My cell phone rang again. Happily, I cheered, “He’s finally here.” Checking the caller ID, I saw it was Girl Six. Damn. Her timing was bad. “Hey, make it quick,” I said, looking into the crowd for Grant. “You made it in safely?”

“Yeah, but I saw Lace, two women, and a little boy boarding a plane to Los Angeles. They were in the same terminal with me.”

“Are you smoking what I should be smoking? Are you sure? That red-eye flight has you jet-lagged. Lace with a little boy? That doesn’t sound right. Your driver should be waiting for you when you exit the terminal. He’ll be in front of the rental car area, holding a sign with your name on it. Call me back when you get to Lace’s house.” I quickly ended the call. I didn’t want Grant’s call to bypass the ringer of this possessed cell phone and go straight to voice mail. Technology these days had all kinds of quirks the manufacturers hadn’t figured out how to resolve. Sometimes the malfunctions, like dropped calls, worked to my advantage.

“Wait a minute,” I said out loud. Girl Six got in to Atlanta yesterday, not today. What took her so long to call me? Something was up. I’d get back with her later.

A half hour had passed since Grant’s flight had landed. I was beginning to wonder if Grant had changed his mind. Couldn’t say I’d blame him. Wasn’t like his visiting me was business. For me, it was all pleasure. If he hadn’t answered Lace’s phone, eventually I would’ve contacted him. I’d checked his background from my office computer. There were several Grant Hills, but only one was twenty-eight and extremely wealthy. His GH Property Management and Development business license and portfolio were impressive. That had to be him. I imagined Lace fucked only the best. I didn’t care what she’d done sexually with Grant. I had no loyalty to her.

I’d changed my linen, cleaned my entire house, and freshened up the guest bedroom, and I’d cooked a delicious seafood pasta in Alfredo sauce, with sun-dried tomatoes, pesto, and a few capers. My melt-in-your-mouth garlic bread was ready to go in my oven, which was already preheated to 350 degrees. It had been a long time since I’d invited a man over for more than a meal, and I found that having a hot, home-cooked dinner on the stove increased a man’s appetite for sex.

Searching the crowd for Grant, I couldn’t believe…What the hell? Was that who I…I moved closer, praying he didn’t turn around before I made certain my eyes weren’t deceiving me. Standing three feet behind him, I pulled out my handcuffs, then said, “Looking for someone?”

His head jerked in my direction; his body froze. “Aw, shit. I’m not who you think I am,” he exclaimed. “Uh, I’m a hologram. I mean, I’m a ventriloquist. I can explain.” He started moving his hand like a talking puppet, trying to speak without moving his lips. “I had to come back. In fact, I was looking for you. There you are.” He started backing away.

I moved closer, listening to his act. I wanted to bust out laughing, but I didn’t want to encourage him.

He said, “You know, Lace has got your money. And I can help you get it back, ’cause my brother is crazy in love with her. And—”

“And shut the hell up!” That “in love” shit pissed me off. Flipping open my handcuffs, I said, “No need to explain anything to me. Obviously, you thought I was kidding. Turn around. You’re under arrest.” I snapped on the cuffs.

“Ow! That’s too tight,” he said seriously. “I wasn’t even supposed to be here. I was headed to Arizona, and I got confused. The Amtrak, I mean Greyhound, you know, the bus stop outside. I thought I got off in Scottsdale. I was going to the spa. Please, lady, that’s too tight.”

I ignored his protests. “You have the right to remain silent.” I glanced around for Grant, but no luck.

“What am I under arrest for? I’m not even on probation,” Benito said, staring off into the crowd, hoping someone would hear and help him. “I’ma have your badge taken away. Oh, shit. You don’t have your gun on you, do you? You don’t own this city.”

That was where he was right. I didn’t own the city. I owned the entire fucking state and everyone who crossed the state line. I could justify arresting any person in Nevada, including those cyber-bully, no-home-training, wanna-hide-behind-a-computer minors threatening their peers over the Internet.

That shit had gotten out of control. Parents needed to investigate every little thing their children did. I was outraged that a twelve-year-old had hung herself because another twelve-year-old had instant messaged her, demanding that the girl commit suicide. Now the offender had to do time in juvenile. They should’ve tried her as an adult. Maybe I wouldn’t have any kids for Grant. Raising children these days was worse than doing twenty-four-hour surveillance.

Benito’s neck kept snapping left to right.

“Who you looking for?” I asked him, turning him so he faced me.

“Valentino,” he answered. “Can you take these things off of me? I didn’t do nothing.”

“Oh, you looking for Valentino James? I’ll show you where he’s at. You can be his cell mate.” I was testing him to see how much he knew.

Benito laughed at me. “You don’t know everything?”

I did not have time to entertain this idiot. When I did find Valentino, Valentino was gonna be locked up so long, Benito might have to pay him a conjugal visit. Maybe a guardian angel had sent me here not to meet Grant, but to catch this fool. Obviously, he hadn’t taken me seriously when I’d let him go a month ago. I could detain Benito and wait for Grant, or I could take this hysterical hyena in and miss out on the best sex of my life. Or I could let Benito go with a warning. What if Grant had gotten fat? Or what if he’d let himself go and had one of those beer guts that hung over the belt?

“I see you’re not the only one who doesn’t like my brother,” said a voice behind me.

I turned around, and my world stood still. What cloud did this Mandingo god fall from? “Grant?”

“Tiffany?” Grant said, with the brightest smile.

“Tiffany? Who’s Tiffany? That ain’t no Tiffany,” Benito said. “That’s Officer Sapphire Bleu. Man, you’d better not let her handcuff you, I’m telling you. How do you two know each other, anyway?” Benito babbled on. Neither of us paid any attention to him.

Damn. Grant was fine! “Is he really your brother?” I asked, staring at Grant’s dick. I knew I was being rude, but I couldn’t help myself, Lord, Jesus!

Smiling, Grant shook his head, then said, “No blood relation, but I’d be lying if I said he’s not my brother.”

“What do you think I should do with him?” I asked. For all I knew, Benito could’ve been halfway back to where he’d come from. I refused to take my eyes off of Grant.

“You can start by taking off these tight-ass handcuffs. You women have a problem trying to tie a good-looking brotha like me down.” Benito started singing. “We shall overcome some day-ay-ay-ay. Oh, oh, oh.” With each
oh
, he got louder. “Deep in my heart!”

Grant started laughing. “Please, spare us. Let him go. He’s only harmful to himself.”

I didn’t have time to debate the issue. I unlocked the handcuffs. “It would behoove you to get back on Amtrak or Greyhound and get out of Nevada,” I told Benito. “If I see you again, your brother won’t be able to save your ass.”

“Be who?” Benito said, rubbing his wrist. He held out his hand. “Thanks, bro. You heard what she said. I used all my money coming here. Can I get another five hundred? Mom wouldn’t want me in jail.”

Grant reached into his pocket and handed Benito five one-hundred-dollar bills. “Now you have no excuses,” he said.

Skipping away and fanning the money in the air, Benito didn’t look back.

Grant smiled, took a step back, and checked me out. “Well, Tiffany Davis, how are you? I really don’t need to ask that question. You’ve taken excellent care of yourself. I would’ve never guessed, as pretty as you are, that you’re a cop. I see you don’t mind using those cuffs, either.”

There was so much I wanted to say. Speechless, I stood staring in amazement. If anyone had told me I was going to reunite with this man, I would’ve arrested them on the spot for lying to an officer. “You know you look better than good,” I said, trying to maintain my composure. “Let’s get you to my place.”

“I have a room at the Wynn,” Grant said.

“And?” I’d already told him where he was going.

Thank God the ride was short. I parked in my garage. Opening the door, Grant followed his nose to the kitchen. “Wow. You can cook, too. That was a long flight, and I’m famished.”

“I figured you would be. You can put your bags in my room. The bedroom to the right. I’ll fix you a plate.”

I watched his ass until it disappeared out of my sight. After placing the garlic bread in the oven, I warmed the pasta. It wasn’t long before we were breaking bread and talking like we’d known each other for years.

“How do you know Lace?” I asked him, watching him eat and wishing like hell I was a shrimp or scallop.

“I didn’t fly all this way to be interrogated. You first.”

“Okay, I knew of her before I actually met her. I could’ve arrested her for pimping, pandering, and for killing my best friend, Sunny, but I spared her because she seemed a lot like me. We weren’t hard because we wanted to be. Men made us this way.”

“Okay,” Grant said, biting into the garlic bread. “Oh, this is so good. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”
Now get to the point of how you know her,
I thought.

“I’ve heard Honey’s story. That’s what I call her. She didn’t kill Sunny Day. Now what’s your real reason for giving her fifty million dollars and keeping her involved in this? I want to help clear Honey’s name. Seems like you want to have everyone around you on a short leash.”

Clear her name.
I started laughing like Benito was laughing earlier. Grant’s fine ass was now on a shorter leash. He just didn’t know it yet.
Clear her name. Get the fuck outta here.
Officer Sapphire was runnin’ this, not Grant.

S
pending time with Ronnie made me want to have children. I started missing Grant all over again. Right before the announcement of our flight’s departure to Los Angeles, I texted him.
Miss you. Don’t know what happened last night. Care to explain?
I touched
SEND
, then powered off my iPhone.

Ronnie was so sweet and easy to please. He was the kind of child I’d clone if I could. Flying first class, he sat next to his mother on one side of the aisle, and I sat in the aisle seat across from them, with Velvet’s mom next to me in the window seat.

During our short time together, Ronnie had become adultlike. He watched his mother while Velvet went to sleep on takeoff. Ronnie’s love and happiness were genuine. I watched him bounce up and down each time we experienced turbulence. He was smiling, laughing, and singing out loud.

At one point, his little mouth opened wide, he clapped his hands hard, and then he launched into song. “Woke up this morning with my mind stayed on spirit. Walking and talking with my mind stayed on spirit. All day long I keep my mind stayed on spirit. Hallelu, hallelu, halleluuuu-jah.” Then he said, “Mommy, wake up and sing with me.” He grabbed Velvet’s hands, making her clap.

Pulling away, Velvet said, “No, baby. Mommy’s tired. You go ahead.” Velvet seemed lost without her Sidekick to text message G or anyone else.

Frowning back at the people seated around us in first class, I clapped along with Ronnie. “Who taught him that song?” I asked Velvet’s mother. “Isn’t that a bit too old school for such a young child?” The overstuffed business shirt–wearing men seated behind us in the other eight seats, rattling their newspapers, could have used some spirit. I ignored them.

“My mom taught him,” Velvet mumbled. “She sings that song religiously each morning, and he hears it again on Sundays at one of those scientology churches my mother takes him to. Are we almost there yet?” She leaned her head against the window and dozed back off.

Church? Hm. That was a place I’d never been. “Do you go, too?” I asked Velvet.

Her mother answered, “She used to, but not anymore.”

Velvet was sound asleep and Ronnie, too, now. Me, I never slept in public places. I was happy to engage Velvet’s mother in conversation. She seemed wise, and I bet she had one incredible story she could tell. “Have you ever been in love?” I asked her, hoping she could help me understand why I was still in love with Grant when I knew I could offer no logical explanation.

“Hm, in love? I don’t think so. If he loved me, he would’ve never left me for another woman.”

A man leaving didn’t mean he didn’t love the one he left. “You think he left because he stopped loving you, or do you think he loved her more than he loved you?” I asked as respectfully as I could.

“Both, and you can throw in convenience, too. Whatever he wanted she did. Not me. I used to, but all that cooking, cleaning, and taking Velvet everywhere I had to go got old. He wasn’t her father, and he acted like she wasn’t his child. Before we were married, that seemed okay, but after we got married, it wasn’t, but I still couldn’t leave him. I didn’t want to be alone, on my own again, struggling financially. That’s why it hurts me to see my baby work so hard. I help her all the time, but I’ve raised her. I don’t want to raise Ronnie, too.” She stared out the window.

“Hm, well, Ronnie is blessed to have you for his grandmother. You did an excellent job raising Velvet. She’s a wonderful woman.”

Velvet’s mother shot me a look that said, “I’m not so sure about that.”

Finally, after five hours in flight, we landed at LAX. Now the real journey was about to begin. We headed to the baggage claim. Ronnie’s suitcase came first, then mine, and then Velvet’s and her mom’s. I went to pick up the rental car and then met them curbside at terminal one.

After I programmed the address Alphonso had given me into my iPhone, we were in transit to Lincoln Heights. The neighborhood was rather quiet for a sunny afternoon. Parking in front of Alphonso’s home, I checked our location twice, matching the address on my paper to the one on the house.

“Who lives here?” Ronnie asked.

Velvet was quiet. I guessed G wasn’t returning her text messages. Funny how a man could easily create mood swings in a woman. One phone call and she was happy. No contact and she got upset. If a man started out unpredictable, he’d be that way forever. Damn, she probably wasn’t tripping on G at all. Alphonso was the bastard that had raped her, and she was on this trip because of her mother.

“Let me see if this is the right place. Y’all wait in the car,” I said, then walked up the stairs to the front door. Unexpectedly, my legs got weak. I was remembering the day I’d walked up the stairs of my house in my hometown of Flagstaff, Arizona, hoping my father would be happy to see me. He wasn’t. I hadn’t seen my father, my mother, or my mother’s trifling-ass husband since my sister’s funeral.

Before I rang the bell, a tall, heavyset man opened the door. “We don’t accept solicitations,” he said, eyeing me up and down. “You don’t look like any Jehovah’s Witness I’ve seen. Damn, girl, you look good.”

Already he had it twisted. I was a woman, not a girl. Glancing at his first name on the tag pinned to his transit department uniform, I said, “Hi, I’m Honey Thomas. We brought your son Ronnie to meet you.” I moved to my right and pretended to let him look at the parked car, but I was trying to peep through the cracked door.

He stepped outside of his house, closing the door behind him. He grunted, “Didn’t you get my letter?” Grinding his teeth, he stared at the car. “I told you I didn’t want that lying bitch coming to my house, and I don’t want to meet her son. He’s not mine. I’m done with this bullshit.”

“Then you won’t mind consenting to a paternity test while you’re behind bars serving time for rape, will you?”

The door to the house opened, and a woman came out and stood beside him. “Alphonso, who in the world is this woman?” she asked, looking up at him.

“She has the wrong address,” he said, deepening his voice.

Extending my hand to her, I said, “Hi. I’m—”

“What’s all this chatting about?” Velvet’s mom said as she walked up the stairs with her grandson. “Alphonso, this is your son, Ronnie. Ronnie, say hello to your father.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Hold up one fuckin’ minute,” the woman said. “
This
is why your ass kept peeking out the fucking window. You thought I’d be at work today. You had these people show up on my doorstep with an illegitimate child? I can’t take any more.” She shook her head. “Is he yours? You’d better open your damn mouth and answer me, ’cause if he is, you can go wherever the hell he’s going.”

The woman disappeared inside.

“See what the fuck you’ve done?” Alphonso said, raising his voice. “I told you bitches not to come here.”

I looked at Ronnie, then back at Alphonso. “No, I don’t. But I see what you’ve done. Do you have any idea how what you’ve done has ruined all of these people’s lives?” I said, pointing toward the car. “Especially hers.”

The woman returned with an armful of men’s cotton boxer briefs. Bypassing us all, she marched across the lawn and threw the underwear in the middle of the street. She stomped her way back into the house, and Alphonso followed her. “Baby, please,” he pleaded. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Quickly, I stepped inside the house before the door closed. Ronnie and his grandmother were right behind me. We stood in the living room, listening to them argue. I was surprised they didn’t put us out, but Alphonso was too busy trying to cover up his shit.

“Baby, please, my ass. Alphonso Allen, as sure as I’m your soon-to-be ex-wife, I will hurt you if this boy is yours,” yelled the woman. “How old is he? Six?”

“No, ma’am,” Ronnie said, blinking away his tears. “I’m five. Why are you so angry at my daddy? Are you mad at me, too?”

Children had a way of calming the most enraged adult.

Placing her hand over her heart, the woman said, “Everybody sit, and, Alphonso, you be quiet. I want to know exactly why y’all came here today. Start from the beginning, and explain it to me like I’m his age.” She pointed to Ronnie.

Opening the front door, I motioned for Velvet to get out of the car, but she wouldn’t. “I’ll be right back,” I said, going to get her.

Velvet opened the car door. “I don’t want to go in his house. I can’t do it. Just make sure nothing happens to my mom or my son, or else I will be in there all over his rapist ass,” she said, closing the car door.

I went back inside and stood by the door, with Ronnie, just in case some shit broke out. If it did, I could push him out of the house.

The woman calmly said, “Child, what’s your name?”

“My name is Ronnie. Ronnie Allen.”

“Alphonso, you care to explain how this child is yours?” the woman said, patting her foot.

What a fucked-up way for a kid to have to meet his dad. Next time I decided to help someone find their father, I sure wasn’t listening to the grandmother unless she was the legal guardian. I felt sorry for Ronnie and Velvet. Velvet’s mother seemed quite content as she eagerly awaited Alphonso’s response. I looked at the picture above the mantel, and my eyes froze. The face looked familiar.

“I don’t think he’s mine,” Alphonso said quietly.

“Think or know? Which one is it, dammit?” his wife demanded.

Alphonso grimaced. “Well, he—”

“Oh, my gosh,” I said, not realizing I’d spoken out loud.

“What? You know her?” the woman asked. Her tone went from pissed to hopeful. “Do you? Do you know her?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I said. The girl looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure. We were in deep enough already. We didn’t need more drama.

“Think or know?” The woman pressed me for an answer.

“What’s her name?” I asked.

“Tiffany Davis,” said the woman.

“Then, no, I don’t know her. She just looks a lot like someone I know,” I replied.

Velvet’s mother said, “Ronnie, go get in the car with your mother, sweetheart.”

Squinting at Velvet’s mother, I tightened my lips, signaling her to keep quiet. I opened the door and watched Ronnie run to the car. Velvet opened the car door, then stared at the front door. I closed the front door to indicate we weren’t done talking.

The woman’s eyes shifted to the corner, and she stared at Alphonso. Then she looked at me. “Well, if you showed up at my front door, claiming my husband is this kid’s father, then maybe you can help me find my baby,” she said, crying.

Easing toward her, I kept my hand on my purse. Then I said, “I can help you. If you want.”

“That’s an old picture of Tiffany. She’s thirty now. Here. Take this picture of her,” the woman said sadly, handing me a flyer from the stack of newspapers piled against the wall. “Oh, let me write my other cell number on there just in case.”

Why anyone needed more than one cell phone number was beyond me.

My world couldn’t possibly get any smaller if the girl on the flyer was Sapphire Bleu. Naw, couldn’t be. Could it?

Handing the woman my business card, I glanced at Alphonso. The eerie look on his face sent chills through me, which Velvet’s mother must’ve felt, too.

It was time for us to leave. I offered a closing statement. “Mr. and Mrs. Allen, we don’t want to impose on you any longer. We’re in town for a few days, and we’d like to arrange supervised time for Ronnie to spend with his father. Oh, and thanks for the seventy-two thousand dollars in back child—”

“What the fuck did you just say?” the woman yelled. Her neck must’ve done a 360-degree turn. “How much? What? Alphonso Allen, your broke ass don’t have that kind of…” Picking up the phone, she pressed a few buttons. She pressed a few more. “Here I was believing the bank made a mistake, and you took the money. That’s what I get for opening a joint account with you, you bastard! You know I struggled to save that money. Now how am I supposed to pay a reward if someone finds Tiffany?”

A reward? Hm.

The telephone that was in her hands landed against Alphonso’s forehead.
Damn, she’s good.
I wanted to throw something at his sorry ass, too.

Alphonso bit his lip, then rubbed his head. Exhaling, he swallowed hard, then said, “This shit ain’t my fuckin’ fault! What the fuck you hit me for?”

Velvet’s mother walked up to Alphonso. What the hell was she doing? Trying to get all of us killed? I wasn’t sure if I should walk up to him. Nah. I stayed back, holding my purse closer. I couldn’t bring my gun with me on this trip, but I had a piece of steel the size and shape of a hot dog, and if I hit that big-ass motherfucker in his temple hard enough with it, he’d die or black out.

“Velvet says you told her you raped that girl. You even told Velvet her name was Tiffany Davis. And if Tiffany hadn’t run away…” said Velvet’s mother. She started crying. “You said you wouldn’t have raped Velvet if Tiffany hadn’t run away. I hope you go to jail and those men gang-rape you so you can see how it feels to be raped. I’ve changed my mind. Velvet was right. I don’t want you anywhere near my grandson. We won’t be coming back here ever.”

I’d seen that evil, burning look before in the eyes of my ex-husbands. I ushered Velvet’s mother out the door. I was right behind her, and Alphonso was right behind me.

“You lying old bitch!” he yelled, slamming the door.

Turning the key in the engine, I heard someone scream, “Aaaahhhh!” Quickly I drove away, pretending not to hear the scream. I dialed 9-1-1.

Ronnie asked, “What was that?”

Immediately upon getting a response, I gave the 9-1-1 operator the address, told her there was a 217 in progress, then ended the call.

Velvet looked at her mom, then flatly said, “Told you so. Satisfied? Now can we stop by my agent’s office?” Velvet started text messaging again.

I was speechless. I wanted to go back to help Alphonso’s wife, but somehow I didn’t think she was the one who needed help. Hopefully, she was kicking his ass, and it wasn’t the other way around. Size didn’t matter when a person was outraged or in fear for their life. I knew the remarkable strength a person could conjure up in heated confrontations. If I were her, I’d shoot him first, then pistol-whip his ass. I should’ve let her borrow my steel hot dog. The only reason I didn’t stay was because I couldn’t live with myself if anything had happened to Ronnie, his grandmother, or Velvet.