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Authors: Naomi Chase

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Chapter 27
Fiona
Fiona rocked back and forth on the rickety porch swing, watching as rain fell from the night sky like glass-bead curtains. Because the inclement weather had chased her neighbors indoors like rats scurrying from light, the street was empty, and the old shotgun houses had an air of desolation.
Fiona took a deep drag on her blunt and exhaled, sending soft clouds of smoke floating toward the wet sky.
Ever since Tamia moved out, she’d been entertaining the idea of selling the house and striking out for greener pastures. God knows she made more than enough money now to afford a nicer place. Maybe she could move somewhere downtown that was close enough to Tamia to piss her off but not close enough to make Fiona seem like a stalker.
She scowled to herself. This was a free country. So there was nothing to stop her from packing up the house and moving on, just as her sister had done.
But this was the only home Fiona had ever known. Every time she pondered leaving, she was gripped by a sense of panic that immobilized her. So she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Toking on her blunt, Fiona opened the old photo album she’d brought outside. On the first page were pictures of her as an adorable, chubby-cheeked baby with a head full of curly hair.
She began turning the pages, smiling nostalgically at images of herself nestled in her beautiful mother’s arms, or propped up on Tamia’s lap as they both beamed into the camera.
Her throat tightened painfully at a photo of Mama Esther. She was flanked by Tamia and Fiona, their small hands tucked into each of hers as they stood outside the house one Easter morning, dressed in their Sunday best.
As guilt assailed Fiona, she quickly turned the page.
When she came to a photo of her father, she froze.
Sonny Powell leaned proudly against a gleaming black Iroc-Z—a car he’d never admitted stealing, though everyone knew he had. He was a tall, good-looking man with a charming smile that seduced while masking a violent temper that made category five hurricanes look like child’s play.
Fiona stared at Sonny’s picture as she toked agitatedly on her blunt. The smoke that filled her mouth suddenly tasted as bitter as if she’d just inhaled ashes. She swallowed hard, then ran trembling fingers over her father’s smiling image.
She’d hated and feared him.
Loved and revered him.
But she’d spent one too many afternoons sitting on the porch steps, waiting for him to show up and take her to all the exciting places he’d promised. But he never had. And with each broken promise, her love had grown dimmer and dimmer, slowly evolving into a cold, seething hatred that would eventually consume her.
Suddenly her cell phone rang, interrupting her reverie.
Swiping tears from her eyes, Fiona snatched the phone off the porch swing and answered, “Hello?”
There was no answer.
“Hello?” she repeated impatiently.
Silence.
A fine chill ran through her. Nervously she glanced up and down the dark, rain-washed street.
“Hello?” she croaked into the phone. “Is someone there?”
Still no answer.
Just as she was about to disconnect the call, a soft, eerie voice whispered, “
Guilty ...
”
Fiona’s blood ran cold.
Seconds later, the line went dead.
Chapter 28
Tamia
“To recap our top story this hour, local businessman Dominic Archer was denied bail at a hearing this morning after he was arrested for violating a restraining order filed by Tamia Luke. According to police reports and a statement issued by Assistant District Attorney Cal Hartwig, Archer went to his former mistress’s home and assaulted her over the weekend. At today’s bail hearing, the judge ruled that Archer poses a threat to Luke, so he will therefore be held until trial. Miss Luke, who was recently acquitted of the murder of Archer’s wife, was absent from today’s court proceedings and could not be reached for comment. In other news—”
Tamia cut the ignition, plunging her car into silence.
On one hand, she was glad to hear that Dominic would be spending more time behind bars. After everything he’d done to her, he deserved to get a taste of what she’d gone through.
On the other hand, she hated having her name back in the news. After the trial, she’d hoped to be forgotten by the media so that she could resume some semblance of a normal life. But thanks to Dominic’s reckless behavior, she’d be dragged into another three-ring circus whereby the lurid details of their affair would be rehashed with renewed vigor.
If Tamia didn’t know better, she would think that Dominic had gotten himself arrested on purpose. Because the timing of this incident couldn’t have been worse. Not only had she begun making progress with Brandon, but she was scheduled to report for her new job at Chernoff, Dewitt & Strathmore today. She’d already expected to be the object of curiosity, stares, and whispers. But now, in light of Dominic’s shenanigans, she might as well have a giant spotlight on her when she made her entrance.
Heaving a deep, resigned sigh, Tamia checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. Satisfied that her hair and makeup passed muster, she smoothed the creases from her gray pencil skirt and brushed stray strands of hair from her ivory blouse, then climbed out of her Honda Accord.
Armed with her leather attaché case, she strode across the underground parking garage to reach the elevator, which whisked her up to the forty-ninth floor of the building.
As she stepped off the elevator, she had a flashback to the last time she’d been there. It was the night she’d shown up unannounced to beg Brandon to take her back. But she’d never gotten the chance to make her appeal. When she’d arrived at his office, she’d found him fucking Cynthia like his life depended on it.
Shoving aside the painful memory, Tamia entered the elegant reception area paneled in rich, dark wood and gleaming marble. A middle-aged white woman wearing a phone headset sat behind the large reception desk, efficiently manning the phone lines.
When there was a lull in incoming calls, Tamia smiled at her. “Hello, Iris. How are you?”
“I’m doing jus’ fine, missy,” the woman responded with a thick Southern accent that raised eyebrows even in Houston. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“Same to you.”
So far so good
, Tamia thought. “How are your grandsons?”
Iris beamed. “Are you kidding? Those boys are as busy as ever! I’ll have to show you their latest photos when you get a moment later.”
“I’d like that,” Tamia said warmly. “I bet they’re growing up so fast.”
“You know it! Anyway, hon, I was pleased as punch when Brandon told me you’d be working here. Which reminds me—” She retrieved a thick envelope from her desk and passed it to Tamia.
“What’s this?”
“Some HR paperwork for you to fill out while you wait for Noemi to get out of her meeting and come fetch you.”
“Okay. I know it’s only nine-thirty, so I’m early.” Tamia hesitated. “Is Brandon around, by any chance?”
“He’s with a client. But I’ll let him know you’re here as soon as he’s finished.”
“Great. Thanks, Iris.”
“Sure thing, hon.”
As Iris returned to answering the phone, Tamia took a seat in the plush reception area.
No sooner had she pulled out her pen than she was joined by Cynthia, who sat down right beside her and crossed her legs, one Prada-clad foot tapping in the air.
“Since Brandon didn’t have the heart to rescind his job offer,” she said tightly, “I was hoping you’d have the decency to politely decline. But it’s obvious that I gave you more credit than you deserve.”
Tamia smiled coolly. “Hello to you, too, Cynthia. Are you the welcome committee?”
Cynthia smirked. “Very funny.”
“
I
thought it was.”
Cynthia glanced toward the reception desk, where Iris was pretending not to watch them as she spoke on the phone.
“Can we talk in my office for a moment?”
Tamia hesitated. “I’m waiting for Brandon’s assistant.”
“I’ll take you to her cubicle when we’re finished.” Without waiting for Tamia’s assent, Cynthia stood and started from the reception area.
Tamia sighed heavily. After tucking her paperwork inside her attaché case, she got up and reluctantly followed her nemesis down the corridor.
Once they reached Cynthia’s small office, she closed the door and motioned to the lone visitor chair. “Have a seat.”
“No, thanks,” Tamia declined. “I won’t be staying long.”
Cynthia frowned, perching on the corner of her desk and folding her arms across her flat chest. “I think we need to have another woman-to-woman talk.”
Tamia blinked innocently. “About what?”
Cynthia’s eyes narrowed. “Nice try. I know what you’re trying to do, Tamia. But I’m here to tell you it won’t work.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence, bitch. You’ve been enjoying the role of damsel in distress—”
“Enjoying?”
Tamia echoed in disbelief. “I spent the past five months confined to a prison cell not much smaller than this office. I was on trial for a murder I didn’t commit, facing the possibility of serving a life sentence or worse. Please tell me what could
possibly
be enjoyable about what I’ve just described?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Cynthia hissed accusingly. “You’ve been milking your misfortune to play on Brandon’s sympathies—”
“What!”
“—and I’m sick and tired of it! Do you have
any
idea how much bullshit I’ve gone through for you? I could have been a total bitch when Brandon told me he planned to represent you, but I wasn’t. I put aside my own personal feelings and supported his decision without ever once complaining, even though you tested my patience with your constant phone calls and needy demands. I held my tongue because I love Brandon, and I looked forward to having him to myself again once the trial was over. But I should have known you had no intention of leaving him alone!”
Tamia arched a brow. “You mean the way
you
left him alone when he was mine?”
Cynthia gave her a look of outraged innocence. “What the hell are you talking about? I
did
leave him alone! As I told you months ago, Brandon and I were just friends!”
“But you wanted to be more,” Tamia shot back. “Every time I turned around you were there, hanging around him. I still remember the first night I met you. Brandon and I were supposed to be spending some time together, but when I got here,
you
were cozied up to him in his office. You’d let your hair down, kicked off your shoes, and made yourself
real
nice and comfortable. Remember that, Cynthia? Remember how you
innocently
fucked up my special evening with Brandon?”
Cynthia just looked at her, nostrils flaring.
“Yeah, you remember,” Tamia jeered. “Deny it all you want, bitch, but you knew
exactly
what you were doing that night. So how does it feel now that the shoe’s on the other foot? How does it feel now that Brandon’s
your
man, but you find yourself feeling threatened by the other woman in his life, the one who simply refuses to go away?”
Cynthia swallowed visibly.
A slow, satisfied smile curved Tamia’s lips. “It doesn’t feel very good, does it? Tell me something. Have you and Brandon started arguing about me yet? Have you found yourself questioning his true feelings for you? Have you often wondered just what you have to do to make him see that you’re better for him than
I
am?”
Cynthia glared at her. After several seething seconds, she pushed abruptly to her feet, stalked around her desk, and sat down hard.
“Get out,” she snapped.
Tamia laughed. “Oh,
now
you want me to leave? And just when our woman-to-woman talk was getting good.”
“I’ve said all I wanted to say to you,” Cynthia spat.
“Is that right?” Tamia taunted, sauntering over to the desk. “Then allow me to offer
my
closing argument. I’m not going away, Cynthia. I love Brandon—”
“Some love!” Cynthia scoffed caustically. “You fucked another man and lied to Brandon about
everything
! If
that’s
how you treat the people you love, God help everyone else!”
Tamia congratulated herself for not flinching with shame.
“You’re right,” she conceded humbly. “Cheating on Brandon was a terrible mistake that I will regret for the rest of my life.”
Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Cry me a damn river.”
Tamia frowned. “Mock me all you want. Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn what you think of me. All you need to know is that I love Brandon, and if I’m lucky enough to get a second chance with him, I’m
never
letting him go.”
Cynthia smirked at her. “That’s so sweet, but let’s keep it real, Tamia. Do you honestly believe that Brandon will ever marry you? You dated him for
nine months
before he reluctantly decided to introduce you to his parents. That should have clued you in to the fact that he’s just not that serious about you. Yet you insist on clinging to the misguided notion that you could actually be the one. Why? Because you’re a former porn star who knows a few tricks? Bitch, please. A guy like Brandon can get good pussy anywhere, so what else do you have to offer him?”
Tamia glared at Cynthia, wishing she could dismiss the malicious barbs that had spewed from her mouth. But she couldn’t, and they both knew it.
As Cynthia’s expression grew even smugger, Tamia’s gaze wandered across the desk to a framed photograph of Joseph and Coretta Yarbrough. It was one of those professional studio shots that made the couple look good enough to grace the cover of a magazine.
“Awww, isn’t that sweet?” Tamia cooed mockingly. “You keep a picture of your parents on your desk.”
Cynthia gave her a haughty look. “You make that sound like something to be ridiculed. I’m very blessed to have two wonderful parents who love each other so much. I hope to have what they have someday.”
Tamia smiled sweetly. “I hope you do, too.”
Cynthia’s eyes narrowed.
At that moment, Tamia had an overwhelming urge to tell Cynthia her father’s dirty little secret. The bitch would be devastated, and she’d undoubtedly confront daddy dearest to demand the truth. Once the scandal broke, Bernard Chambers would throw Bishop Yarbrough under the bus faster than President Obama had ditched Reverend Wright. And there was no way he or his wife would allow Brandon to marry Cynthia.
Which was exactly what Tamia wanted.
So what’re you waiting for?
an inner voice demanded.
You’ve been handed the perfect opportunity to eliminate your biggest rival. If the shoe were on the other foot, you know Cynthia wouldn’t hesitate to use a damaging secret against you!
But Tamia had promised not to betray Honey’s trust. So no matter how tempted she was to revert to her old scheming ways, she had to honor her word. Right?
Right?
Suddenly there was a firm knock at the door.
Before Cynthia could call out, the door opened to reveal Brandon standing there.
He looked from one woman to the other, then frowned.
“Iris told me I’d probably find you in here,” he said to Tamia. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Tamia said smoothly. “Cynthia was just explaining to me how things work around here.”
Brandon stared at Cynthia until her face reddened.
“Aren’t you due in court this morning?” he asked softly.
“Yes.” Nervously she began gathering papers on her desk. “I was just about to leave.”
He regarded her another moment, then shifted his gaze to Tamia. “Come here.”
She obeyed without hesitation.
When she reached him, he took her attaché case from her hand, then turned to Cynthia. “Whatever this was”—he pointed between her and Tamia—“don’t let it happen again. You feel me?”
Cynthia’s mouth tightened at the edges, but she nodded.
Brandon looked expectantly at Tamia.

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