Never Keeping Secrets (24 page)

 

D
anielle had never let the pitfalls of her life lead to a pity party. Never. She grew up in foster care and faced things she had thankfully learned to bury. She yearned to know more about the parents she never met but never was successful. She wanted to attend college but couldn't because at eighteen she was solely responsible for herself and her bills. She just learned that one of her biological parents gave her a kidney disorder that would one day end her life far earlier than the current life expectancy.

She always tucked down her feelings, lifted up her chin, and made a way when there was none.

The one good thing in her life—the one unspoiled thing—was her job as the co-anchor at
The A-List
. Her newfound fame and fortune were just the added perks of working hard for something and winning it.

Danielle took a deep sip of her red wine, enjoying the taste of it, even though she knew it wasn't good for her. One glass of red wine? Helpful, actually. Nearing four? Suicide.

She just didn't give a fuck anymore. The one man she loved was in Jamaica and the one she thought she could care deeply for had revealed himself to be a poser who wanted nothing more than to pay her back for a high school prank.
Fuck you, Omari . . . Xavier. Whatever. Fuck you.

“I cannot believe that my entire relationship might be fucked over something we did in high school?”

“My marriage too,” Latoya said.

Danielle finished her glass of wine by tipping her head back and getting every last drop. No family. No kids. No husband. And now no career because she had no idea how they would handle news of a serious health condition and a scandal over just how she got started in journalism. She just wanted to do her job and enjoy the best of it. She had every intention of resigning as soon as her doctors told her it was too much on her body. She was going to give them plenty of time to hire a new co-anchor.

Danielle eyed her empty glass and then raised her hand to summon the cute waiter who served them.
I just want to go numb. I just want to go numb. I just don't want to feel this anymore.

She crossed her legs and placed her hand in her lap as her foot seemed to swing back and forth on its own volition. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to be on the beach with Mohammed, her head on his chest and her legs entwined with his as they watched the sun set over the ocean. She could die peacefully right there in his arms. Mohammed knew the best and the worst of her. Whatever Xavier had in those file folders would not make Mohammed stop loving her. That she knew. That she took pride and solace in.

She reached for her goblet and smiled a little as she took a deep sip.

Not even the fact that he pursued and seduced her into his bed was that worrisome to her. No matter how he looked at it. She got just as good as she gave. He ate just as much of her pussy as she blew him. And they were tied nut for nut.

Sex as a weapon?
Wrong bitch, loser
.

But for him to know about her illness and still continue with his ruse? Xavier was one slack-ass man.

Danielle had no one to go home to. No one to even hurt with her secrets. All she had was her career and now that bastard was snatching that away from her. Her stomach twisted to think of the call she would get summoning her to the executive producer's office. There would be nothing she could do but sit there and take it, their polite request for her to pack up her shit and get the hell away from
The A-List
with her sex scandal.

A celebrity with sex drama? Reportable.

A celebrity reporter with sex drama?
Deuces, bitch. It was good while it lasted.

Danielle sipped her wine and waited for the appropriate time to pull away from their reunion to have the driver take her the short distance to the Newark Airport. She stared off at nothing with her thoughts on how Xavier gloated and berated them while he strutted like a fancy peacock before them.

That's what I
should've
said,
she thought.

Once he identified himself in that ballroom she could just make out a little bit of similarity between his figurative before and after. She was sure he at least got his teeth fixed, Lasik on his eyes, some dermatology on his skin, and plenty of milk to do that body good.

Keesha picked up her phone.

Danielle set her wineglass down and looked at Latoya before looking back at Keesha.

Danielle winced and leaned back a bit at the sounds of Corey's angry voice echoing through the phone. Keesha looked crushed as she rushed to end the call and cut his tirade off before he was done.

Her eyes went to the diamond solitaire on Keesha's left ring finger.
Not bad, Corey. Not bad at all. Too bad Xavier just shitted all over it.

She shook her head a bit and took another sip of her wine as the annoying sound of Keesha's vibrating phone continued. She fought the urge to pick it up and fling it against the floor.

She felt the fatigue of everything weighing her down until she could barely raise her arm to lift up her glass of wine. Even through her fatigue, her bottomless glass of red wine, and her own life's hiccups, Danielle could clearly see that Keesha didn't think she deserved to be loved.
And how can you respect and honor something if you don't know its worth?

Danielle covertly checked her watch. She knew she had to be heading out to make her flight soon.

“Do you think we can press charges?” Latoya asked.

“For what, being stupid?” Keesha said a little sharply.

They all fell silent. They could just as well catch up on each others' lives but it seemed too hard for any of them to focus on anything but someone from the past completely destroying each of their futures.

There was enough doom and gloom around the table and she hadn't wanted to add to the oppressive weight of it by dwelling on her illness. She swallowed down her own issues to ensure she added nothing extra to their plates.
Just like I did in the past.

And that didn't sit well with her. Ever since her days in foster care she had learned not to show her constant hurt and disappointment. Not to let anyone see what she really felt. She carried that trait into her friendships with these ladies, putting their feelings first as she buried her own. In time she had come to resent their reliance on her as the strong one, the problem solver, the Mama Bear.

I can't go back to that,
she thought.
Especially now when I have less time left to honor myself and what I want and need for me.

And she knew then that even as she yearned for them in the hospital the night she collapsed that she would not share her diagnosis with them. Everyone was deep in the forest of their own troubles and she wouldn't add this additional fret to their lives.

Five years had passed but she loved them too much to do that. Just like Mohammed.

Danielle pushed her half-filled glass of wine away as she forced herself to sit up straighter in her chair and as she glanced again at her watch. She not only had to go, she
wanted
to go.

“I am not done with Xavier Lofton,” Monica said.

Danielle eyed her but she looked away.
I have a life to live and no time to focus what's left of it on Xavier.

There was nothing for any of them do.

Danielle felt sadness as she watched Latoya rise and walk into the bathroom. She knew she was going to deal with it all with her pills. Keesha turned to eye Danielle meaningfully and kept looking at her until she stood up and went to the bathroom as well.

Monica stood up to come and sit in Keesha's chair, which was to Danielle's right. “You okay? Is there anything you need? Do you want to talk about it?” she asked with true concern in the dark depths of her eyes.

And such a simple gesture of friendship even after five years of no contact was the straw that almost broke Danielle's emotional back. Her breath caught as she felt her tears rising along with the words she wanted so desperately to spill to someone. To tell someone that she was not yet thirty and looking death dead in the eye and knew she would not win.

“No, no, I'm good. I swear,” she said, blinking rapidly as she picked up her Birkin and then reached past the folded file to pull out her shades to put on. She also removed the Tiffany platinum case holding her business cards. She removed three and pushed them into Monica's hand as she rose to her feet as well.

“Tell Latoya and Keesha that these are my numbers, and to call me to keep in touch,” she said, her voice beginning to break. “I have to leave now to catch a flight to LA. Okay?”

Monica took the cards and also took Danielle's hands into both of her own. “Give us a chance, Danielle. Give us a chance to help you,” she said, her own eyes filling with tears. “To be there for you like you have always been there for us.”

Danielle forced yet another of her
A-List
smiles and hugged Monica close before she turned and rushed from the restaurant like fire was on her heels.

“I
s there a package for Mr. Steele?” Monica asked the doorman in the foyer of their building.

“There was but I took it up to him about a couple of hours ago,” he said.

Monica nodded and smiled as she turned from his front desk. She felt light-headed and had to force herself to take every step to the elevator. Every single step.

Xavier hadn't lied. He deliberately made sure the second batch of packages were delivered while they sat like lambs to the slaughter in that ballroom.

She dreaded this moment but there was no escaping it.

Monica rode the elevator alone as she tried to think of just what she would say to Cameron. But that was difficult when she didn't know just what he knew and by what method it was delivered. Just how bad was it?

As soon as she walked into their apartment and closed the front door she took slow steps across the foyer but saw Cameron sitting almost in complete darkness and silence. He was dressed in dark denims and a dark midnight navy shirt, sitting in one of the four chairs positioned around an ottoman in front of the ceiling-to-floor windows. He looked out at the city landscape with his chin resting in his hand.

Monica came to a stop behind the sofa.

“I see you made a friend,” he said, never once taking his eyes from whatever they focused on outside the window.

“Cameron—”

He held up his hand and shook his head before tapping his ear before he raised his hand and pointed the remote toward the flat screen over their marble fireplace.

Seconds later the sounds of Monica moaning in pleasure filled the sound system while the video of Xavier eating her on the wall of her office filled the television. She diverted her eyes. “Cameron, let me explain—”

He whipped his head to look at her with his eyes so filled with pain that she felt weakened by it. He picked up a black leather box and walked over to her. “Explain what?” he asked. “Huh? Explain how this stupid shit got delivered to me at our home? Huh?”

He opened it.

Monica rushed over to him and snatched the box away from him to slam it closed.

“Did he send this to me?” Cameron asked, stepping in front of her to tightly grip her chin as his eyes bore into her like black diamonds. “Huh? Is your lover making a play for you? Does he want you?”

Monica tried to jerk her chin free but Cameron's grip tightened. “You're hurting me, Cameron,” she told him, bringing her hands up to try and pull downward on his forearms. They felt like bands of steel.

“Is he the reason you won't have my baby?” he asked, finally freeing her with a jerking motion that made her head snap back a bit as her hair swung back and forth across her shoulders.

“I would never leave you. I would never cheat on you,” she told him, wanting to reach out and touch him but not trusting the heated anger that was clearly etched in the lines of his face.

He laughed bitterly. “So what's that?” he asked, slashing his hand across the air to point to the screen.

Xavier had to have looped the image because Monica knew their little interlude had not lasted this long.

“I was drunk and I apologize for making a horrible decision but I promise—”

“Your promises don't mean shit to me anymore, Monica,” he said coldly.

Monica felt weak with anguish and allowed herself to lean against the high back of the sofa as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Cameron, please—”

“Who is he?” he barked.

Monica raised her head and looked at him. Was now the time to explain about Xavier and his schemes? It wouldn't change the fact that she had let herself be seduced by him. “I am not in a relationship with him. Never slept with him. I'll never see him again. I was drunk and angry at you and it was stupid and I ended it. I stopped him from—”

“Eating your pussy,” Cameron supplied with a sarcastic shrug as he began to pace back and forth before her.

“Cameron,” she said.

“Is this because I got laid off? Because I am still the one paying the bills in here,” Cameron told her, stopping in his pace to pierce her with his eyes.

“You know what?” he said, throwing up his hands and walking past her. “I can't stand to look at you right now. I'm out of here.”

She reached for his arm. “No, please don't leave me. Please Cameron you don't understand,” she begged, clutching to him desperately. “Please.”

He shook her off and continued his steady pace to the door. Seconds later it slammed shut.

Monica stumbled back but stopped just short of falling to the floor. She took off behind him and rushed out of the apartment just as the elevator doors shut him off from her view. She felt desperate and kept pushing at the buttons like it would make the elevator go in reverse.

Wanting to reach him before he left the building, she took off down the hall and pulled the door to the stairwell so hard that it swung back and slammed into the wall. Her heart pounded and her hair flew around and at times behind her as she took flight after flight of stairs. At times she moved so quickly that she stumbled down the steps or slid into the wall of the landing as she pursued her man at a feverish pace that she refused to give up.

By the time she reached the lobby floor her throat was dry from her gasping for breath. Her heart felt like it was kicking with steel-toe boots to be free of her chest.

“Shit,” she swore, her chest heaving as she fought hard not to collapse.

Monica licked her lips as she pulled open the door to the lobby and rushed across the beautiful marbled floor. An elderly woman with her dog on a leash entered the building and walked directly into her path. Monica's momentum forward could not be stopped and she tripped over the dog and its leash.

She cried out as she hit the floor and the dog cried out from its leash being jerked forward by her foot.

“Ju-Ju,” the woman exclaimed.

Monica turned onto her back to undo her foot from the leash. “I'm sorry,” she said, turning back over to climb to her feet and race out the doors of the front of the building.

She looked up and down the street for any sign of Cameron. She thought she spotted him a block up the street and took off behind him. Nothing short of rich white folks staring at her kept her from screaming his name.

Monica had barely made it ten or fifteen feet before a man stepped into her path and she collided into him like he was a solid brick wall. She stumbled back and shook her head. “Excuse me,” she said, attempting to sidestep him.

He sidestepped with her.

Monica frowned. “I said excuse me,” she said with attitude, looking up at him.

She gasped in shock as she realized she was standing before Rah, her ex-boyfriend who went to jail for assault for stomping on her leg and breaking it in two.

He was thicker in size and much meaner in demeanor as he grabbed her arm and roughly jerked her close enough to him to press a gun to her side. “I swear to God I would gladly blow a bullet in your guts and kill you, bitch,” he said, his voice rough and his eyes wild.

She looked down at the gun as it gleamed from the streetlight above.

“I knew if I just waited around I'd catch Miss High Society all alone,” he said, digging the gun in deeper as he led her to a van illegally parked around the corner.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he said in a voice that just sounded like murder and mayhem.

He attempted to push her into the back of the van but Monica used the last of her strength to resist him. He reached out quickly and backhanded her. Monica fell backward into the van.

The gun.

Fuck this shit.

She moved back into the darkness of the van just enough to shield her from him as she unlatched her purse and pulled the 9mm out. She removed the safety.

He heard the gun before he saw it and quickly pointed his arm inside the van to point his at her as well.