Some Came Desperate: A Love Saga (31 page)

       He had left Simone’s hotel room early, before she had awaken, and went straight to his office.  He changed there (he kept a change of clothes there) and then headed to court.  Even half-prepared he did well, although he didn’t do as well as he should have done.  But he had so much more on his mind.

       He stood behind his bar and held his cold drink up to his warm forehead, his mind unable to disentangle itself from thinking about Simone.  He had wanted her so badly last night that he could still feel the throb.  And he still wanted her.  That was the bad news.  He still wanted her desperately.  This married man.  This man who had no right wanting any woman but the woman who had been his woman since she was young and beautiful.  But he couldn’t stop thinking about the other woman, the one human being that he was convinced was in every way perfection.

       He closed his eyes.  He wanted to be with her, to be inside of her, so badly that he could taste it.  He even licked his lips, remembering how hers tasted on his.

       “Well,” a familiar voice said and Nick’s heavy-lidded eyes slowly opened.  Delia, in her wheelchair, had rolled herself in front of the bar.  “The prodigal son has returned.”

       Nick exhaled.  Here we go, he thought.  “Good evening, Del.”

       “So who was she?”

       Nick stared at his wife.  “Who was whom?”

       “Oh, don’t hand me that.  Who was the bitch you spent the night with, let’s not play any more games.  We are both too old for that.”  Delia said this and then began one of her coughing spells.  Nick quickly began to hurry from around the bar to assist her, but she held up her free hand. “I’m fine,” she said in a choking tone between coughs.  Nick, knowing that Delia hated her helplessness, remained stationed behind the bar. 

       He looked at his wife, his girlfriend, his companion of nearly half his life.  And despite her anger, despite her bitterness, despite the fact that she blamed him for every wrong turn her life had ever taken, Nick still loved her.  He still cared about her mightily.  He remembered the Delia of old, who used to command the room.  Who used to be so alluring, so desirable that men all over continents wanted to be with her.  She remembered it too, Nick also knew.  That was why she so hated herself now.

       “Who was she?” Delia, her coughing now under control, asked again.

       Nick sighed.  She never let up.  “It was nothing like you think, Del,” Nick said.

       “I’m sure it wasn’t.  But that’s not answering my question.  Who was the bitch.  That’s my question.”

       Nick took a long sip from his glass and then sat it on the counter top.  “Nobody,” he said.

       “It was Simone, wasn’t it?”

       Nick looked at Delia.  Even after the accident she had never mentioned Simone by name.  Nick had always assumed it was because she didn’t know Simone’s name.  Just knew that he was fooling with another woman.  “Simone?” he said, testing her.

       “Yes, Simone.  The little flirt Ethan Graham had here last night. 

       Nick hated the way Delia denigrated Simone, and he knew she saw that hate in his eyes.  “Graham had asked me to take her home, if that’s what you mean.”

       “And why couldn’t Ethan take her home himself?”

       “He was called away on a case.”

       Delia smiled and then laughed.  “‘The called away on a case trick,’ was it?  You people must think I’m a fool.  Don’t you know I know good and well that that sophisticated woman wasn’t thinking about messing around with some smooth joe like Ethan Graham.  Please.  I know he was your cover.  I know  she’s one of your numerous women and the only way you could get her in our home was to hook her up with junior.  I saw it as soon as I saw her.”  Then Delia paused, the anger in her eyes.  “So tell me, Nicky, when did you meet this one?  When you was on that so-called business trip last week?  Or maybe it was during that convention in Chicago last month?  When?”

       Nick closed his eyes and sipped his drink.  Delia was so off-base that it was annoying.  He hadn’t been with another woman in seven years, seven long years, until last night, when he kissed and held Simone.  He, in fact, had abstained from sex for all seven of those years because he was married to Delia and Delia was unable (maybe even unwilling) to give it up, and he had been faithful to her every day of their marriage.            But Simone was back now.  Back in his life.  His only shot at happiness was within arm’s reach again.  And he wasn’t at all sure if he could keep his hands off of her much longer, or convince himself that being faithful to a woman who now hated him, was enough to keep him away from Simone.  Then he exhaled.  He was in trouble, and he knew it.

TWENTY-FOUR

Ross Hamilton leaned back at his dinner table and listened as the front door opened and closed.  As the footsteps walked across the hardwood floor and appeared headed for the stairs, he threw his napkin on the table and walked into the living room.  His daughter Mina, her eyeglasses off of her face, had already climbed the first two steps. 

       “Min!” he said and she turned at the sound.

       “I can hear you, Dad.  Like, you don’t have to yell.”

       “Do you know what time it is?”

       “Not really, no.”

       “It’s after eleven, young lady.  And don’t hand me that cockamamie bull about spending the evening with Jasmine because I called there already and she didn’t know what I was talking about!”

       “Okay, so I wasn’t with Jasmine.  Big deal.”

       Ham hesitated.  He wasn’t accustomed to his daughter speaking to him that way.  “Where were you?” he asked her softly.

       “I went clubbing, Dad, okay?  For once in my life I did something completely spontaneous and completely fun, okay?”

       This stunned Ham.  “Clubbing? Clubbing where?”

       “To clubs.  That’s where.”

       “What clubs, child, you know what I’m asking you.”

       “Like, how should I know?  Clubs.  You’ll have to ask Shay-Shay for the names.”

       Ham frowned.  “Shay-Shay?  What does Shay have to do with this?”

       “I went with her.  Your girlfriend, remember?  The one you dumped because black Barbie showed up.”

       “What?”

       “I saw how you treated her at my party.  Just because that female showed up.  Your so-called fiancée.”

       “How did you hook up with Shay Rivers?  I told her to stay away from here.”

       “This wasn’t the first time,” Mina said, although she didn’t elaborate.  Her father still didn’t know that she had snuck out of the house on the night of her birthday.  “She picked me up after school,” she went on.  “In her cool Corvette.  We spent the day together and then went clubbing.  And I loved it.”

       “That woman is not my girlfriend and I told you to stay away from her.”  Ham felt his heart pounding.  He pointed his finger at his daughter.  “You stay away from that whore,” he warned her.

       “Oh,” Mina said, “so like she’s good enough for you to lay up with, but she’s not good enough for me to associate with?”  Mina shook her head.  “You are such a hypocrite,” she said and continued her stomp up the stairs.

       Ham watched his daughter, his only child, as she ascended away from him.  Since the divorce and she decided to live with him, she was the only family he really had.  And no-way would he allow that  Shay Rivers to destroy that for him.  Not that tramp, he thought.

Jules answered the door before the knob could turn, knowing that it was Jeremy.  She had seen his car drive up from the window.  She opened the door smiling. 

       “I thought you said you would be late tonight,” she said cheerfully.

       “Yeah, well,” Jeremy said, not smiling at all, “I lied.”  He began walking in without returning her smile.  Jules, knowing that he was in one of his “moods,” exhaled and closed the door.  She decided to keep the smile going strong anyway. 

       “You look tired, honey,” she said, beginning to move toward the kitchen.  “I’ll get you something to drink.”

       “I don’t want anything to drink,” Jeremy said as he walked further into the livingroom.  “I didn’t come home to drink.”

       Jules shook her head as she watched his strong back make its way to the sofa.  He was readying for an argument, a big argument, when all she wanted to do was relax.  She began following him to the sofa.

       “I’ve had a long day too,” she said as he sat down.  “You should have seen my new contract.  The things MRJ wants us to do.”  She sat in the chair across from the sofa.  If he was going to be a tough act to entertain tonight, she wanted to be out of arm’s reach.  “They must think we’re super humans or something.  First they wanted us to create an ad campaign that included models that could sing and dance.  I said what?  This isn’t a entertainment agency.  But he didn’t want—”

       “Jules,” Jeremy said in a way Jules knew meant nothing but trouble.  Jules stilled herself.  “Jules?” he said again, rubbing it in.

       Jules exhaled.  “Yes?”

       “Does it look like I care?”

       Jules swallowed hard.  He wasn’t just in a bad mood, she thought.  He was in a dangerous mood.  “What’s wrong?” she asked him.

       “I don’t like to be played, Jules.  You know I don’t like that.”

       “I don’t like it either.  Nobody likes it.  But what does that have to do with this attitude you have?”

       Jeremy looked at her point blank.  “Who was the guy?”

       Jules frowned.  “What guy?”

       “Who was the guy at the gas station, Jules, don’t play with me.”

       “I’m not playing with you.  I just don’t know what you mean. What guy at what gas station?” 

       But as soon as she said it, as soon as she looked as if Jeremy was off his rocker with such out of the blue pronunciations, she realized who he meant.  Les.  Former high school classmate Les Carson.  But all she did was say hey and bye to the man.  What was the big darn deal?  And who in the world would have mentioned it to Jeremy?

       Jules decided to smile.  “You must mean Les,” she said as if that said it all, but Jeremy only stared at her.  “He’s a friend from high school,” she continued.  “I knew him in high school.  I hadn’t seen him in years.”

       “But yet you let him put his hands all over you.”

       “What?” Jules asked, astounded.  “That is such a lie.  Who told you that lie?  That man never touched me.”

       Jeremy exhaled with such a harsh release that it made Jules jump.  And then he stood up quickly, and made his way up to her.  “You must take me as the biggest fool alive,” he said to her. 

       She looked up at him, fear beginning to overtake her.  “Jeremy, what are you talking about?  All I did was say hey and bye to that man.  Nothing happened.  You can ask Simone.”

       “I wouldn’t ask that witch a darn thing.”

            “Or, or Shay.  Shay was with me too.”          

       When Jeremy let out a one-syllable, ha laugh, as if Jules had to be joking, it was then that it

hit Jules.  She frowned.  “Shay told you?” she asked.  “Shay was the one who told you about

Les?”

       “So now you admit it’s true?”

       “No!  I’m just—”

       “He was black too, wasn’t he?”  Jeremy said, lifting Jules out of the chair by her arms.  She stood toe to toe with him.  “One of those big, black bucks.”

       “What big, black buck?  Jeremy what are you talking about?” 

       “What is he?  A drug dealer or a rapper?  That’s all they are, you know.  Drug dealers or rappers.  And that’s what you want!”

       By now Jules was puzzled, confused, a combination of both.  But Jeremy wouldn’t let up.  He didn’t give her time to be outraged.

       “They think they’re hung so big.  Always bragging about how big they are.”  Then Jeremy began escorting, dragging Jules toward the bedroom.  “I’ll show you big,” he stated.

       “Let me go!”  Jules demanded.

       “I’ll show you whose got what it takes!  What did he think?  That I was going to groom you, make you the woman you are today, teach you how to have a little class about yourself and then he just waltz in here and take over?  Take you from me?  He must be out of his collard greens, fried chicken-eating mind!”

       Jules snatched away from Jeremy.  “That’s enough!” she said so fiercely that even Jeremy was momentarily taken aback.  But only momentarily.  Because before Jules realized the danger, it was all over.  He slapped her violently across the face.

       “You don’t tell me what’s enough!” he shouted.  And then he was upon her, his fist balled up, as it knocked her down and over the chair, causing both her and the chair to flip over backwards. 

       “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do!” Jeremy said this as he picked her up by the catch of her hair and began dragging her to the bedroom.  By the time he slung her on the bed and slammed the door, her screams were echoless. Because they were meaningless.  Because he tore off her clothes as she knew he would, flipped her onto her stomach as he’d done so many angry times before, and began spanking her, beating her, as if he had every right, every right to remind her of her place.