Deadly Satisfaction (16 page)

“Go ahead and tell her,” Phillip urged.

Lauren lowered her voice. “I was hoping I could stay here for a while.”

Phillip's phone rang and temporarily distracted everyone. Charlene watched as he looked at the number, frowned, and then returned the phone to his back pocket. Charlene refocused, turning her attention back to Lauren. “What do you mean, stay here for a while?”

Lauren glanced at Phillip with a look that let Charlene know she wanted her big brother to help her explain something that was so bad it had left her unable to speak up for herself. But Phillip shook his head as if to say she was on her own. Finally, Lauren cleared her throat and spoke. “I'm not going back to med school, so I was hoping I could stay here for a little while until I figure out what I want to do next.”

“Wait a minute.” Charlene blinked rapidly. “When did you suddenly make this grand decision? It had to have been this morning when you packed all this luggage and boarded your flight, because as of yesterday afternoon when I talked to you, you didn't say anything about dropping out of school.”

“Mom, I'm not dropping out. I withdrew, and—”

“Withdrew!” Charlene said, raising her voice. “When did you withdraw from your classes?”

Lauren lowered her voice to a whisper. “A few weeks ago.” “Lauren, what's going on with you? And don't you dare give me a sarcastic answer.”

Lauren let out a loud sigh. “No one ever listens to me.”

“I'm listening to you right now, but you're not making any sense.”

“No, Mom. I'm making perfect sense, just not to you. And that's the problem. You and Phillip keep asking me what's wrong with me, over and over again, but neither one of you have taken the time to listen to what I've been saying. I'm fine and there's nothing wrong with me. I've decided to make some changes in my life, and just because you guys don't approve of them, or understand me, it doesn't mean that anything is wrong with me.”

“You can't possibly believe what you're saying,” Phillip said.

Charlene stepped toward Lauren, folded her arms, and looked into her daughter's eyes with a serious stare. “Are you doing drugs?”

Lauren laughed and shook her head. “Unbelievable. Now that I'm finally taking control of my life and making decisions that are best for me, you think I'm on drugs.”

“Baby, you graduated valedictorian from Tuskegee and you have a full . . . let me say it again . . . a
full
scholarship at one of the most prestigious medical schools in the country, to pursue a career you've dreamed about since you were a child. And now you want to throw that all away? Yeah, that's why I asked if you're on drugs, because you clearly don't know what you're doing.” Charlene shook her head with worry. “Lauren, I'm going to ask you again, what's going on with you?”

Lauren let out a deep, frustrated breath of air. “There you go again. You're still not listening to me. Mom, I'm not on drugs and I'm not depressed, or whatever else you've made up in your mind that you think is wrong with me.”

“Phillip,” Charlene said as she turned to her son, “did you know about this?”

He shook his head. “She told me after I loaded her bags in the car at the airport.”

“I know you two don't respect my decision,” Lauren said defiantly, “but I know what's best for me. Why can't you guys just be supportive?”

Phillip's phone rang again. He quickly pulled it out and frowned for a second time when he saw the number. He hit the Ignore button to silence it before placing it back into his pocket. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Listen, sis, Mom and I love you, and we're not gonna stand around and let you mess up your life when we can both see that something's wrong with you.”

“I should've known you two wouldn't understand,” Lauren huffed. “Hakeem was right, I should've just stayed with him in our apartment in Maryland instead of coming back here.”

“Who the hell is Hakeem?” Phillip asked.

“He's my boyfriend, and right now he's the only person who respects the fact that I'm capable of making my own decisions.” Lauren looked directly into Charlene's eyes. “I didn't graduate number one in my class or win a full scholarship by making bad decisions.”

Charlene balked. “That was the old Lauren. I don't know who I'm dealing with now.”

“You're dealing with a grown woman who knows what's best for her. Just because my decision doesn't please you, it doesn't mean I'm wrong. I know what I'm doing and I don't understand why you two find that so hard to believe!”

“Because it's coming out of the mouth of someone who has mustard stains smeared across the front of her sweatshirt, breath that smells like onions, and hair that looks like a bird decided to build a nest in it, that's why,” Charlene said in a matter-of-fact tone. “You've got to be on drugs.”

Phillip's phone rang again, and this time when he looked at the number he smiled.

Charlene shook her head. “Please cut that phone off, or tell those women who keep calling that you're busy with a family emergency.” She watched as Phillip answered the phone.

“Hey,” Phillip said in a soft tone, dripping with sweetness. “Hold on a minute.” He looked at Charlene and then at Lauren. “I'll be back in a sec.”

Charlene watched as her son rushed off to the family room.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Lauren said, then turned and practically ran down the hall and up the stairs.

Charlene stood where she was, frozen in disbelief and despair. She looked up toward the ceiling above, listening to her daughter stomp her way down the hall upstairs, oblivious to the fact that she was making the biggest mistake of her life. Then she turned her eyes and ears toward the family room, where she could hear her son speaking softly, probably to the woman he'd been with last night, no doubt trying to juggle her into his rotation. “Lord, please, please help me.” She was worried about her children, and she felt helpless to what she could see were big problems brewing for both of them.

Then Charlene's mind turned to her own worries, and the terrible mistake she'd made that was now looming over her head. And once again, she knew she had to focus only on what she had the power to change. For now, that meant dealing with the person who'd sent her the cryptic text. So instead of spending happy family time with her children while she prepared the food they would eat for tomorrow's Thanksgiving dinner, Charlene walked down the hall to her study and sat behind her desk. She turned on her computer, typed in a name search, and wrote down the information she found. She opened another browser window and sent an e-mail to Shartell Brown, the person whom she now knew had sent the infamous text message.

D
ONETTA

D
onetta slowly opened her eyes and blinked. She was thankful that her throbbing headache was gone, along with the terrible pain that had gripped her entire pelvic area. She was still experiencing pain, but compared to how she'd felt earlier this morning, she was thankful it wasn't worse. “What time is it?” she mumbled in a groggy voice. She rubbed her eyes and looked at her digital alarm clock, only to see that she'd slept straight through the morning. “Damn, that Dilaudid knocked me out for the count.” She looked around for Phillip and realized he wasn't there.

“Close your eyes and rest.” Those were the last words Donetta remembered hearing Phillip say before she'd drifted off. She picked up her phone to dial his number and saw that he'd sent her a text while she slept.

Donetta couldn't help but smile at the thought of him. She actually felt giddy, which until now she'd thought was an emotion reserved only for teenage girls. But that was how Phillip made her feel: like a young girl full of hope. She shook her head, still trying to wrap her brain around how suddenly her love life had changed, as well as her frame of mind. When she'd awoken yesterday morning she'd been lonely and filled with pessimism about the holidays. Now, a little more than twenty-four hours later, she was in the beginnings of a new relationship and she was excited about the possibilities that were to come.

Donetta thought about Phillip and remembered how gentle he'd been with her that morning when she'd been in excruciating pain. They'd shared passionate moments last night when they made love, but that physical nirvana paled in comparison to the emotional intimacy and connection they'd formed this morning when he'd slid her panties up her legs, and then tucked her into bed. He'd turned an awkward moment into an endearing memory that she'd never forget. She dialed his number and he picked up on the first ring.

“Hey,” he said in a sweet but hushed voice. “Hold on a minute.”

Donetta could hear female voices in the background. She turned the volume button up and held the phone close to her ear so she could listen to what was being said. But the more she strained her ears to make out their words, the farther away the voices sounded. Even though she didn't know what they were talking about, she could tell by the women's pitch and tone that they were arguing.

“Sorry about that,” Phillip said, still talking in a low, hushed voice. “I'm back. How're you feeling?”

“I'm better. Is everything okay?” She didn't want to rush to any conclusions, so she held her breath and waited for him to explain the commotion going on around him.

“Good, I've been worried about you. I'm glad you're better.”

“Thanks.”
And by the way, where are you and who the hell are those women that I hear arguing in the background?
She wanted to ask.

“Did you eat your breakfast?”

“Uh, no . . . not yet, but thanks for making it for me. I just woke up, read your message, and called you.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I hope you'll enjoy it.”

He sounded preoccupied, and it made Donetta wonder even more what was going on. The noise in the background had escalated, and then suddenly subsided. She refused to remain in the dark any longer. “Phillip, I hear women arguing. Where are you?”

“I'm in the middle of a family situation. It's, um, it's not good. I picked my sister up from the airport after I left your place, and now she and my mom are going at it.”

Donetta started breathing regularly again. “Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.”

“It's a really bad situation here . . . you have no idea.”

“As much drama as I've experienced in my life, I completely understand. Do you need to go?”

“Yeah, I think I do, before things get too out of hand between them. Do you have plans for today?”

“None.”

“Can I come over later this afternoon?”

She smiled. “You better.”

“In that case, I'll see you in a little while.”

Donetta hung up the phone feeling happy. Slowly, she rose from her bed and felt a twinge of pain. But that small discomfort couldn't take away her joy. She walked over to her cream-colored vanity on the other side of the room and lit a lavender-scented candle. As she watched the flame grow, she thought about last night and this morning and how incredible it was that life could change in the blink of an eye. But then doubt set in.

Every time Donetta thought she might be on the verge of something good, it had always turned bad, and that's why she'd learned to accept hurt and expect disappointment. She'd come to believe that if something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. What was happening with Phillip was almost magical, and she wanted desperately to hold on to it. She wanted to believe in it and trust it. But she also knew it had the real possibility of ending, especially once she told him that she was trans.

Donetta had been living life as a woman for many years well before her reassignment surgery, and she'd always been up front about who she was with the men she'd dated. She knew that first and foremost it was a matter of honesty, and she didn't want anyone to feel as if they'd been deceived. Most of the men she'd dated had known from the beginning that she was trans, as she'd been introduced to them by friends, or she'd met them online through LBGT forums. But there were instances when she'd met men who didn't know her background, and that had always been tricky.

In those cases, Donetta wanted the man to get to know her for who she was before she told them her full story. But she never let the truth linger beyond the first date. Even though none of her relationships had ultimately lasted, most of the men she'd met had continued to see her once she'd told them she was a trans woman. They'd accepted her for who she was, inside and out, and some had even been intrigued. There had only been a few who'd taken it badly, but those few situations had been disastrous. That was how Donetta learned the valuable lesson about how to break the news—never in person. The risk of danger in doing so was much too great.

Donetta had learned from talking with other trans women, and from her own personal experiences, that it could not only be dangerous, but sometimes it could be fatal, to tell a man you'd just met—face-to-face—that you were trans.

The incidence of hate crimes against trans people, especially trans women of color, was higher than that in any other minority group, and with the number of black trans women being killed skyrocketing over the last few years, Donetta was extra-cautious. She'd been the victim of violence several times in her life, and on a few of the occasions she'd gotten the better of the men who'd mistaken her slender frame for weakness. But ever since she'd begun her steady regimen of estrogen and anti-androgen drugs a few years ago, her bravado had softened, her physical strength had decreased, and she knew that put her more at risk if she ever found herself in a compromising situation again.

Last night, when she'd been getting dressed to go out with Phillip, she'd decided that if things went well she would tell him the next day. But in her wildest dreams she'd never thought she'd wake up lying beside him the next morning. Now she was in a quandary about what to do. Donetta looked at her reflection in the vanity mirror. “I already like him so much . . . How am I going to tell him?” Suddenly, her bright, airy mood turned dark and sullen. She rose from her fur-lined vanity stool, walked over to the window, and looked out her blinds. The dark clouds hinted that rain was on its way. “Just my luck.”

She was about to go into the kitchen to heat her breakfast in the microwave when her phone rang. When she looked at the screen, she was surprised to see Shartell's number appear. She'd just done the nosy, worrisome woman's hair yesterday, and she wondered what Shartell wanted now. “What do you want, Shartell?” she asked.

“Well, good afternoon to you, too, Donetta.”

“Uh-huh. Why're you calling me?”

“Damn, must you always be so rude? I thought after your hot date last night, you'd be on top of the world this morning.”

Donetta froze where she was standing in front of the window. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Awww, don't play coy with me. You should want to spread this good news all over town. There's nothing wrong with gettin' a little lovin' for the holidays.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. And furthermore, why're you calling me, trying to get in my business?”

“Girl, I'm happy for you, I just wanted to call and congratulate you, that's all.”

Donetta knew she needed to proceed with caution. She'd always had a love-hate relationship with Shartell, going back to the days when Shartell used to work at Heavenly Hair Salon with her and Geneva. Even though Donetta detested that Shartell was always into everyone's business, she respected the fact that the woman's information was always accurate and 100 percent true, which made it gossip rather than rumor. If Shartell opened her mouth to spread some news, you could bank on it being the truth. But what Donetta found troubling, and why she took issue with Shartell, was the way Shartell went about getting her information. Donetta was sure that whatever methods Shartell used, they had to be underhanded, because no one would willingly divulge the type of dirt that she had been able to uncover.

“I'm not playing your little game,” Donetta said. “I've known you long enough to know that you're tryin' to get in my business for a reason. So before we fall out, you need to tell me what the hell's going on. And I promise you, if you lie to me, not only will I never do your hair, ever again, I'll personally come to your house—'cause I know where you live—and beat your ass!”

Shartell huffed. “Oh, stop it with the threats. You're always tryin' to break bad.”

“Because I have to protect myself. Now, tell me why you're in my business.”

“Okay, okay.” Shartell let out a sigh. “You know that article I was telling y'all about yesterday at the salon . . . about finding love during the holidays? Well, I thought it would be really cool to feature some diverse stories about love. I know for a fact that you haven't dated in a while, but now that you're back in the game, I thought . . .”

“Who says I'm back in the game? Where's all this coming from?” Donetta's heart started beating fast. What if Phillip wasn't the sweet, caring, upstanding man she'd thought he was? What if he was really a low-life gigolo who went around romancing women and somehow Shartell knew him? All these thoughts sprinted through Donetta's mind and made her head hurt again. “Tell me the truth, Shartell. I've always been straight-up with you, and now I need you to be straight-up with me. What makes you think I'm seeing anyone?”

“Because you were with him at the Roosevelt Hotel last night.”

Damn!
Donetta shook her head and bit down on her bottom lip. She didn't remember seeing Shartell at the Roosevelt last night. As a matter of fact, she was almost positive that Shartell couldn't have been there. Donetta had paid special attention, taking in every square inch of the beautiful scenery around her, and although Shartell might be a major sleuth, she was a hefty-sized woman who always dressed in blindingly bright colors, so there would've been no way she could have gone unseen. Plus, Donetta knew Shartell's MO, and she could tell by the way Shartell was talking that she was fishing for information. Otherwise she would have led off by mentioning how handsome Phillip was. Again, Donetta proceeded with caution. “Were you in the hotel last night?”

Shartell hesitated, and Donetta knew she'd been right. Shartell hadn't been there. “I asked you a question,” Donetta said, “and I expect you to answer it.”

“Well, not exactly.” There was a long pause. Donetta refused to say another word, so Shartell spoke up. “I was downtown late last night because I had to pick my aunt up from the train station, and on my way I saw you walking into the hotel all dressed up. It was a great outfit, by the way. Loved the zebra-print jacket.”

“I could've been going there for any number of reasons. What makes you think I was there with anyone?”

“I can't reveal my sources.”

Right then Donetta knew it had to have been a member of the hotel staff. Entertainment reporters were known for having inside contacts at hotels, restaurants, and retail stores, who fed them information about customers for a price, and Donetta was sure that was the case with Shartell. “You're really low, you know that?”

“Donetta, I've done nothing wrong. As a matter of fact, I'm doing you a big favor because I'm coming to the source first, rather than just going ahead and printing the information in my article.”

“You're not doing me any favors, and you know it.”

“How can you say that? I'm on the phone trying to talk to you about it, aren't I?”

“Only because your hotel contact obviously couldn't give you the accurate information you need. I know how you operate, Shartell. You probably called them, described me, and then asked them who I was with, and when they couldn't give you a name, that's when you decided to call me.”

Donetta was thankful that Phillip had pulled out two crisp hundred dollar bills to pay for their appetizer and drinks, rather than use his credit card; otherwise his name would end up in Shartell's online column. Donetta knew that the way gossip spread so fast, Phillip might find out things about her before she had a chance to tell him.