Color of Deception (19 page)

Chapter 46

“Girl Kisha, I’m telling you, Roger’s been acting real strange for the past few weeks. I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s up!” Porsha said to her friend and fellow stylist. Porsha stood behind her client cutting layers in her hair. She didn’t care that she was putting her business out there. That’s what people come to the salon for anyway – to hear other people’s problems while getting their hair done. Besides, Porsha was pissed. Her husband had been a lil too happy and acting out of character lately. Well not so much out of character, but she’d noticed that on his days off she would come back home finding him smiling like a Cheshire cat, like he just had the best sex of his life – or something else. And that was really ticking Porsha off – big time! Especially since she wasn’t the one he got the sex from lately. She’d chewed him out, asked him what he was up to, he denied any wrong doing and for the life of her she couldn’t find any reason to not believe him. But still she knew he was lying. He was acting shady just like he was before she found out he was sleeping with Carlisha. Not that she was a faithful wife – but she’d be damned if she allowed him to just run around with some hoochie. It was about respect as far as she was concerned, in her delusional world.

Kisha boldly rolled her eyes at her friend, thankfully Porsha didn’t notice. She loved her friend, but she was so beyond Porsha and her drama. Plus it was so unprofessional for her to be putting her personal business out there in front of the clients. Kisha added a spiral roller to her client’s long natural hair. “Why you always think your man up to something?” Kisha indulged her reluctantly. She didn’t even know why Porsha was tripping when she just left the shop yesterday to have lunch with a dude with dred locs down to his waist and tats all up his neck, she could’ve only imagined how much ink he had on the rest of his body. Everyone in the shop knew she slept around on her husband like it was second nature.

“My womanly institution is telling me—”

“You mean your womanly
intuition
,” Kisha corrected. Her client snickered.

“Yeah, whatever!” Porsha snapped. She was done cutting her client’s hair in a bob and was now checking to make sure the cut framed her face perfectly. “I think he’s cheating on me Kisha. And when I find out for sure it will be hell to pay!”

Kisha bit her tongue not to ask Porsha how she could trip over her man’s affair when she so boldly acted on her many.
What kind of freak show relationship they got going?
Instead she asked, “Have you confronted him about your suspicion?”

“You know no man gonna come out and admit his butt is cheating. But it sure as hell would save me on having to get all Nancy Drew on his behind.”

Kisha mentally commended her friend for even knowing about the fictional character Nancy Drew and using it in a correct context. “Well girl, do what you got to do. That’s why I’m single – I don’t have time for all that mess,” Kisha said, waving a spiral curler in her hand.

Porsha’s mouth dropped open when she noticed the woman that just walked into the beauty shop. She held the flat iron in her hand that she was about to use on her client’s hair. The woman that just entered, five feet four inches tall, wore tight dark jeans that molded her size sixteen frame perfectly, along with a hot pink sweater with black boots, she walked up to the receptionist at the desk.

“I can’t believe this heifer had the nerve of coming into my shop,” Porsha gritted through her teeth.

Kisha turned toward the entrance to see who she was talking about. “You know her?”

“Yeah I know her. I had to get Jackie Chan on her behind when I found out Roger had hooked up with her last year.”

Kisha’s mouth fell open. “What! You went after her when your man was the one cheating?” She just couldn’t understand all this foolishness, again, that’s why she was happily single.

“Yeah. She should have known he was married!”

Again Kisha held her tongue and not remind Porsha of her own bold acts of infidelity.

Porsha placed the flat iron back down on the counter. “Give me a sec,” she bent over and told her client in her ear.

“Porsha girl, don’t start no mess in here today,” Kisha said to her friend’s retreating back.

“I’m not going to make a scene!” Porsha snapped still walking forward.

“You got some nerve showing up here!” Porsha spat standing beside the woman that had entered the beauty shop.

The woman and the receptionist turned their attention toward Porsha.

“Excuse me?” the woman said igniting much attitude with each pronunciation of the words.

“Porsha, don’t –”

“You heard me,” Porsha said, cutting off the receptionist.

The woman’s eyes widened from recognition. “Porsha Smith,” she said as if the words tasted like bile. “Damn, y’all let ghetto riff-raff work in here? I’ll be taking my business elsewhere,” the woman said to the receptionist.

“Bit–”

“Porsha! I’m running a business here,” Nicole, the owner of the salon stepped in, standing behind Porsha. “Get back to your client before I escort you off the premises,” Nicole said in her ear. “I’ve warned you about your drama and you’re walking on very thin ice.”

“Hmph!” Porsha threw daggers with her eyes at the woman who had a smirk on her face.

“I’m sorry ma’am. Please forgive my stylist…”

Porsha walked away fuming.
If Roger is sleeping with that trick both of them will be six feet under when I’m done with them.

Kisha shook her head at her friend returning to her client, she wondered when she would get her act together.

Chapter 47

“Wow, you are hungry,” Roger stated, sticking a spoon with a healthy portion of organic applesauce into Carl’s mouth. Carl reached for the spoon with his chubby fingers to help himself, he was propped up, securely fastened in his car seat that sat on the kitchen table.

Roger had brought Carl to his house today for his weekly visit instead of taking him to his boy’s house because his friend had company coming over to his place and Roger didn’t want to intrude. Roger was reluctant, he almost called Pete and told him he couldn’t make it today. He didn’t want to chance Porsha coming home and seeing them, but he’d checked her schedule on her phone when she was sleeping and she looked pretty booked for the day with hair appointments, plus she didn’t let anything mess with her money.

“You want to do it yourself, huh?” Roger watched as his son held the spoon to his mouth. He got applesauce all over his cheeks and chin and his tongue hung out licking it up. Roger smiled.
This is my son!
“Here, let me help you out a bit lil man.” Roger took the spoon from Carl and dipped it into the applesauce before handing it back to him. Carl was babbling while reaching for his father’s hand.

A few minutes later Carl was all done with eating. Roger had changed him out of his two-piece outfit, because it got messy from eating, and into a onesie. He figured when it was time to take him home he would put his jacket on him and place a blanket over his legs so he wouldn’t be chilly.

Roger got up from the couch where he was playing a video came, Carl was in his car seat propped on the couch, securely fastened, mesmerized by the colors and movements on the TV screen while holding a squeaking toy in his chubby hands. “I’ll be right back lil man, I gotta take care some business in the bathroom.” Roger walked toward the back of the house.

“Roger!” Porsha shut the front door behind herself. She stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed from the entryway the baby in a car seat on her couch. “I know this mutha…”

“Ahhh goo, ga,” Carl said at the TV still mesmerized by what he saw.

Porsha walked further into the family room, looking around silently for Roger. After her run in at the salon with the woman she caught Roger sleeping with last year she had been royally pissed. And having her suspicions about Roger didn’t help matters either. She had a fully booked schedule today but she couldn’t concentrate on fixing anyone’s hair when all she could think about was how she was going to kill Roger for allowing that heifer to walk up in her place of work. She was able to reschedule some of her appointments today and the others she traded off to Kisha and one other stylist. She never allowed anything to come between her and her paper, but she was itching for a smack down with Roger.
Now low and behold he has a gotdamn baby in my house! Carlisha’s baby I bet.

“He can’t be serious,” she muttered.

Porsha sat down on the couch next to Carl. He turned and looked at her when she sat, but he didn’t cry, he looked at her with childlike fascination. Porsha looked around again wondering where Roger was.
He never looked after any of our kids like this
, she thought while staring at the handsome child next to her. Looking at him, she couldn’t deny that the baby did look like Roger. Jealousy crept inside her as she envied the dead woman who was able to give her husband a child. Part of her had always assumed Roger was sterile – but the evidence in front of her told her otherwise. She would never admit that her sleeping with multiple partners and Roger ensuring they used protection the majority of times they had sex, prevented her from getting pregnant by him.

Porsha pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her pants pocket. She’d quit a couple years ago, but the urged to smoke overcame her as she’d stressed over what Roger was up to. She lit the cigarette with the lighter she also purchased, then took a long pull, inhaling deeply, getting lost in the sensation of the nicotine. Carl watched wide-eyed at the red-orange color from the tip of the cigarette and the smoke that floated up in the air. Porsha turned and blew the smoke in Carl’s face which brought a sinister smile to her beautiful face. He coughed and closed his eyes.

Seconds later Carl was screaming at the top of his lungs. Roger ran out from the back, turning pale at the sight of Porsha sitting on the couch next to Carl with a cigarette between her fingers. He didn’t even have time to figure out how she got in without him hearing her. He walked out of his shock and went instantly to pick up Carl, who was screaming bloody murder. Roger had never heard him cry like that before. His wails were enough to raise the dead.

Roger shot a deadly look at Porsha, not putting anything past her. “What did you do to him?” He asked through clenched teeth. Roger looked his son over to make sure he wasn’t physically hurt, he would kill Porsha with his bare hands if she did anything to hurt his child.

Porsha put her cigarette between her lips and inhaled deeply, then exhaled, tilting her head back to blow smoke in the air above her. “Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your precious child.” She leaned back against the couch, calmer now than when she was during her drive home. “I find it interesting, you being a doting father when you denied his mother was even pregnant with your bastard seed,” she spat as Roger soothed Carl by holding him against his broad chest and patting him on the back. She hated the sight of them.
He NEVER held our kids like that
. Rage started to boil inside her again. Her free hand clenched into a fist.

The truth of her words stung Roger as his son held on to him for comfort. He’d admit that he was wrong with how he treated Carlisha, but he couldn’t change the past. Besides, he was trying to do right by his son now. “If you lay a finger on him—”

“You’ll do what?” Porsha stood getting in his face, not caring that her raised voice only reignited Carl’s cries that had subsided a bit. “Pullease, I could call an army to beat your ass if you even think about laying a finger on me, then turn around and call the cops and let them know about your extracurricular activities. And won’t Carl’s white daddy be delighted to hear about the real cause of his precious wife’s death.”

Roger’s mouth clammed shut. He hated the power she had over him. He needed to get his son out of there, he wished he’d just cancelled his visitation for this week. He placed Carl back in the car seat, buckled him up and placed a blanket around him.

“How dare you bring that child in my house, some other woman’s baby,” Porsha continued.

Roger picked up Carl’s diaper bag then started toward the front door.

“You better not bring that baby back in my house!” She smoked on her cigarette with one hand on her hip as she watched Roger leave with Carl in tow.
At least he ain’t screwing that skank
, she thought as she threw her weight down on the couch after Roger slammed the door shut.

Chapter 48

Debra watched as Carl crawled around the family room. All the breakables were out of his reach and sharp corners were covered with buffers to protect him from hurting himself. She had placed various toys on the carpeted floor for him to play with. Carl crawled over to an opened interactive book on the floor. He pressed a button and Mickey Mouse began to sing. Debra smiled as Carl giggled.

It had been weeks since she and Pete made love. She’d been successful in avoiding bringing up what had transpired between them. Work was not difficult in doing this, they kept everything strictly professional. Things at the printing shop had been a little tense, well at least for Pete because since he’d fired Rachel, who was doing his bookkeeping and he was left to handle the books himself, which he hated. Debra had taken an accounting class and had considered telling Pete she could assist him, but after all the drama with Rachel – she didn’t want to give the girl any more reason to think that she was moving in on Moriah’s or her territory. Avoiding Pete at his home was little more difficult however, but she worked around that as well by still insisting on having Carl over at her place and keeping all their conversations about Carl or anything other than
them
.

That evening she went over to Pete’s house after work in order to meet Roger when he brought Carl back from his visit. Leah and Noah were out of town celebrating their wedding anniversary and Pete had a late interview with a potential bookkeeper. Roger had just left about twenty minutes ago. Debra was happy now with the outcome of the visitations Carl had with his father. Roger seemed to really care about his son.
Whatever kept him from not wanting Carl in his life before Carlisha died certainly had changed
. Again she wished Carlisha was there to witness how well her son was growing.

“Ewww,” Debra said, scrunching her nose then getting up from the couch and taking a few steps toward Carl. “Did you just poopey?” Carl looked up at her as if he was admitting guilt, then his chubby cheeks lifted up in a smile. “Oh boy! I sure wish Pete was here to change you,” Debra admitted. She scooped Carl up and started toward the stairs. “Let’s go get you in a clean diaper.”

Moments later she was wiping Carl clean when he yelped loudly as if he was in pain which was cause for her alarm. Tears rolled down the side of his eyes. “Oh sweetie I’m sorry, I’m almost done cleaning you.” Debra looked as she wiped his butt and front. Something caught her eye. A small, round red mark on Carl’s inner thigh. It was swollen.
What in the world is that?
She touched it gently. Carl cried louder. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, all thoughts of crazy scenarios was running through her mind. She looked at the mark closely trying to figure out what it was.
Is that a burn? But from what?
She quickly continued changing Carl so she could comfort him. “Did your daddy hurt you?” she asked the baby. He looked up at her, arms stretched out for her to pick him up. As soon as she fastened his diaper she swept Carl in her arms and hugged him snuggly to her chest. His cries subsided immediately.

Debra was fuming with anger at the thought of Roger viciously burning his own child – her godson. As soon as they were downstairs again she dialed Pete’s cell phone, he should be on his way home at that moment.

Pete answered his Bluetooth after two rings. “Hi Debra.”

“Pete,” Debra cried, putting Pete on immediate panic. “He burned Carl!”

“What?” Pete asked, making a left onto Indian Head Highway route 210 in Maryland.

“I… I just changed Carl and he has a burn mark on his inner thigh, at least that’s what I think it is,” she explained trying to keep her anger under control as she held Carl on her hip.

Pete gripped the steering wheel tightly causing his knuckles to turn pale. His jaw clenched.
I’m gonna kill him!
He tried to get his rage under control as he drove up a bit in the bumper to bumper traffic. He suddenly felt like a caged animal as his anger boiled. “Call Child Protective Services,” he ordered. “Call Carl’s pediatrician for an emergency visit.”

“Okay. When will you be here?” she asked anxiously.

“I have to make a stop first. I’ll be there in an hour,” he gritted through his teeth. “How is Carl otherwise?”

“He’s fine now, it only hurts if I touch it. I’m going to put something on it to stop the inflammation,” Debra said, moving Carl to her other hip.

“Okay. Please make those calls for me Debra. I’ll be there soon.” He hung up. He was seeing crimson red. His hand gripped the steering wheel even tighter as he imagined his hands wrapped around Roger’s neck. The knowledge of him hurting Carl was creating a monster inside of him as he impatiently waited in the traffic.

**KC**

BAM! BAM! BAM! The banging on the front door had Porsha’s tongue heavy with cuss words to greet the unwanted guest on her doorstep. She flung the door open with a hand on her hip ready to relinquish her displeasure when the sight of the heaving, nostrils flaring, red faced tall man that stood before her calmed her tongue immediately. Pete looked like a madman and Porsha was suddenly afraid when she saw the fire burning in his blue eyes. She stepped back in response.

“What the hell are you banging on my door for?” she finally asked, knowing who he was. She brought the cigarette she was holding to her mouth and took a draw in an attempt to calm her now raging nerves.

Pete’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the lit cigarette in Porsha’s mouth. The reason of Pete’s surprise visit registered in Porsha’s mind when she saw his reaction, she pulled the cigarette away from her mouth with shaky hands. “Where is he?” Pete demanded barging into the house looking around like a huntsman, brushing Porsha aside as he entered.

“I told him not to do that to that baby,” Porsha lied. Pete turned to look at her with accusing eyes. “I could have told you he wasn’t a good father. He sure as hell isn’t with our own kids,” she continued, diverting her eyes to the floor. Pete walked further in the house, the entryway, the living room, looking around for Roger. “He must be out hiding somewhere because of what he did to that poor baby. When I saw him with the cigarette I tried to stop him, but he pushed me away.” She went on with her well-constructed lie off the top of her head, as she watched Pete search her house.

“Tell that punk that I’m looking for him,” Pete snarled after he walked back in front of her. His hands fisted at his side. He looked at her with contempt. He half believed what she’d just told him and the fact that she was a woman was the only thing stopping him from hurling her across the room. He wouldn’t allow anyone to get away with hurting Carl. And if Porsha had in fact played a role in hurting him she would pay in another way. Carlisha left Carl for him to take care of, and he’d be damned if he stood back and allow anyone to hurt the child that helped give him his life back, his faith in God back.

Pete marched out of the house still heaving and needing badly to smash the heck out of something to help settle the twitching in his fists. Just as he was about to open the door to his car, Roger’s car pulled up in the driveway. Jaw clenched, Pete stood and surprised himself as he watched patiently as Roger exited his car and walked toward him. Porsha had already closed the front door after Pete left.

Roger was surprised to see Pete at his house, but since Porsha already found out today about him having visits with Carl, which he’d planned to deal with as soon as he got in the house, he didn’t suspect any other problems with Pete’s appearance at his home. Other than the fact that he’d promised Pete he wouldn’t bring Carl there in the first place in case Porsha tried something stupid, which Roger suspected she did.

Before Roger could say anything to him, Pete lunged at him, hitting him square in the jaw with his fist. Roger stumbled back, pain throbbing in his jaw as he tried to regain his balance. Roger, stumped over, barreled into Pete knocking him against his car. Pete’s back shot with pain from the impact. The last time he had a physical fight was when he was in high school. He wasn’t old at forty-eight, but his body wasn’t in top shape as it was when he was in his teens and twenties, and he was sure Roger surpassed him in the muscles department, but his rage was what carried his stamina.

“Wha… what the hell is going on man?” Roger asked through deep breaths as he and Pete went back and forth blows for blows.

Porsha watched from the window. She’d just hung up the phone with her mother that asked when she was coming to pick up her kids. Porsha told her it wouldn’t be for a couple more hours. She saw the men both holding their own as they fought, she didn’t know what to do. Calling the police wasn’t an option.
This is why Roger shouldn’t have brought that damn baby in my house!
She swore under her breath. But her old nosey neighbor across the street was sure to dial 911 if the men didn’t stop fighting soon.
What to do, what to do?

“You burnt Carl with a cigarette and you thought I wasn’t going to find out!?” Pete snarled. Roger pushed away from Pete and stepped back a few feet, giving them both a chance to catch their breaths as they stared at each other bloody and bruised. “I should’ve NEVER agreed to you seeing him,” Pete heaved taking in large gulps of air.

Roger’s own rage changed then, now knowing what Porsha in fact had done to his son.
I’m gonna kill that bi…
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of police sirens, then a Charles County Police cruiser parked in front of the driveway. Two uniformed officers exited the vehicle and approached Roger and Pete.

“What is going on here gentleman?” one of the male officers asked.

“This man hurt my son!” Pete stated pointing at Roger. Blood stained his light blue jacket. He had a black eye that ached even more every time he blinked. “He burnt my son with a cigarette,” Pete continued.

“I didn’t hurt my son!” Roger shouted. He held his jaw with his hand in an attempt to ease some of the throbbing pain. It was already swollen, black and blue.

Both officers were confused as they looked back and forth between Pete and Roger. “Whose son is it?” the second officer asked for clarification.

“MINE!” both Pete and Roger answered in unison.

The officers shook their heads still completely confused.

“Where is the child?” The first officer asked.

“He’s
safe
at home. Child protective services are being called and I asked Debra to call his pediatrician…” Pete answered before being cut off.

“Who is Debra?”

“She’s… she’s Carl’s godmother. Carl is the name of my son –”

“He’s my SON!” Roger roared.

“Okay we’re going to have to take you both down to the station to get this all sorted out,” the second officer stated losing his patience.

Porsha continued to watch the scene outside from the window. She was afraid to go out there, afraid of what would happen next as she watched the two officers talking to Pete and Roger. After almost being accused for Carlisha’s death, the last thing she needed or wanted was to get caught up with the law again. She cursed Roger repeatedly for getting them in the predicament to begin with.
He should have never messed around with Carlisha, stupid prick!
Remorse for burning Carl with the cigarette never registered as an emotion in her heart as she frightfully watched the men outside. Her mind raced with possible schemes she would need to use to clear her name.