Too Little, Too Late (22 page)

D
RIVING WHILE CRAZY
!

And Alexis blamed it all on the man she was following on the 134 Freeway. She couldn’t believe she was back here, in her car, trailing Brian as he zipped from lane to lane.

What am I doing?

But she knew exactly what she was doing. This was a well-thought-out plan that had started on Sunday. When Brian had snatched his cell from her, then ran like he had something big to hide.

She hadn’t waited a minute before she tiptoed down the hallway, then stood outside the room with her ear pressed to the door as if she were spying on a cheating husband. She listened. She heard. Tuesday. Nine o’clock. Baby.

She had stayed right there until Brian moved toward the door. Then she dashed back to the living room and grabbed a newspaper just seconds before her husband returned.

This meeting could have been nothing more than what he said: a consultation with a doctor about a surgery. It could have been as normal, as innocent as that.

She doubted it.

And that’s what drove her back to crazy. That’s what had her once again tracking her husband as if she were a bounty hunter.

Twenty minutes later, the light flashed on the back of Brian’s SUV. She wasn’t surprised when he swerved onto Zoo Drive; it was exactly where she’d spent three days just two months before. And it was where the call on Sunday had come from. The Fairmont Hotel.

Her chest ached as she followed Brian until he twisted into the Fairmont’s curved driveway. She drove past the hotel, then slowed at the end of the block. There, she waited. Took deep breaths and counted.

One, two, three…

She needed to give Brian enough time to make his move.

Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…

What would she do when she found him?

Forty-two, forty-three, forty-four…

Suppose he was with another woman?

Sixty!

The tires screamed as she made her U-turn and swerved into the hotel’s driveway. Brian’s SUV was still there, but her husband was gone.

Her fingers tapped an impatient beat on the steering wheel as she waited for the valet attendant. What would she do now? She had no idea what room he was going to. Didn’t even have a name to ask for.

She would just wait in the lobby. And confront him when he came down. If he’d been telling the truth and he was meeting a doctor, he’d just have to understand why she was acting like a fool. He’d driven her to this. He’d have to forgive her, the same way she’d forgiven him.

“Are you checking in?” the man asked as he opened her car door.

“No. I’ll only be—” She had no idea how long this would take. “I’ll be an hour or so.”

She took slow steps toward the hotel and willed her heart to match her pace.

She stepped through the revolving door.

No matter what, she would never make a scene. She was, after all, an aristocrat by nature, if not by birth.

But if Brian was with a woman…

She entered the lobby.

Stopped.

Stared.

Jasmine Larson!

Anger flared up in her like a firecracker.

Detonated!

Alexis stomped across the Persian rug, past top-shelf-suited men and designer-label-wearing women. Decorum gone. Instead, all that was in Alexis’s eyes was red—the color of the blood that would spill when her fingers strangled the life out of both of them.

“Brian!” she screamed. “What are you doing?”

Then she stopped. Noticed that Jasmine was not alone. By her side a man who looked familiar. And an older woman stood close behind them.

But it was the toddler, the little girl who held Jasmine’s hand, that stopped Alexis cold.

She stared.

And the girl stared back. With Brian’s eyes. Brian’s brow. Brian’s cheeks. Brian’s lips.

Alexis gasped. Looked at Brian. Then at the girl. Back at Brian. Back to the girl.

Jasmine lifted the toddler. “Mae Frances, please take Jacquie upstairs.”

“Mama,” the girl reached for Jasmine. But the older woman grabbed the child.

“Mama!” The girl’s cries faded as she was taken farther away.

“Wait!” Alexis exclaimed. She needed to look at the girl again. Figure out what she was doing with Brian’s face. She turned to her husband. “Who…what…” But that’s where the questions stopped. She didn’t need any answers.

She knew.

Then she felt it. Bile from deep, rising higher. And higher. She pressed her hand against her stomach. Tried to close her throat. But she couldn’t stop it.

All her disgust poured out right there in the middle of the lobby of the five-star hotel. With men dressed in top-shelf suits and women sporting designer-label garb looking on.

T
HIS WAS
J
ASMINE’S WORST NIGHTMARE
.

The woman she hated as much as she hated Natasia had come into the hotel—where she was not invited—and then had the audacity to throw up—all over her!

She turned on the faucet full blast, not caring that water splattered everywhere. Her raw silk dress was ruined. Still, she needed to get this filth off her.

Jasmine grabbed paper towel after paper towel. But even with the searing water, the paper did little to remove the stains. Or the stench.

Jasmine wanted to throw up herself.

She looked down the row of sinks. To the one on the other end. Where the culprit stood. Alexis was leaning over the basin, her water running full blast too.

Jasmine shook her head, still not able to believe this. She had to admit, she’d been a bit shaken when Alexis had stormed into the hotel, a crazed woman, stomping and screaming. But now, as she moved her attention from her dress to her three-hundred-dollar sandals, she wasn’t afraid. She was just plain pissed!

She and Alexis had been enemies for a long time. Almost from the moment Kyla introduced the two of them. It was the day after Alexis had moved to Los Angeles, right after she and Kyla had graduated from Hampton University.

“Alexis and Jasmine!” Kyla had exclaimed when the two met. “My two best friends are now going to be best friends too.”

That had never happened.

From the moment they met, Jasmine hadn’t liked the leggy beauty who used her Southern drawl and feminine wiles to take away all the men Jasmine had an interest in.

Even Brian. Jasmine had had her eyes on him first all those years ago at Jefferson’s fortieth birthday party. And Brian would have asked her out, if Alexis hadn’t spun her web that night.

She remembered how she hated Alexis then.

She looked down at her shoes again and really hated her now.

Alexis turned off the water. Stood tall and held wet towels to her face. Through the mirror, she glared at Jasmine. “If I wasn’t so sick…I’d beat you down…right here, right now.”

Jasmine smirked. “And what do you think I’d be doing while you tried to do that? I told you before, I’m not afraid of you.”

“And I told you before, that makes you one dumb trick.”

Jasmine wanted to say it so bad—just say that
her husband
had loved every moment of being with this trick.

But she was trying to live right. So she kept her mouth shut.

“Tell me one thing,” Alexis said.

“Why should I tell you anything?” Jasmine tossed the last paper towel into the trash.

Alexis ignored her words. “Is that child…the little girl…” She inhaled, as if she needed air to continue. “Is that Brian’s child?”

Forget about living right. This day had been a long time coming, when she could get back at the woman who’d spoken down to her, made her feel inferior for years.

A litany of wonderful words that would crush her nemesis marched through her mind.

She opened her mouth, then stopped.

The look on Alexis’s face. A look that she’d seen before. Pain. The same pain had been etched on Hosea’s. And just like when she saw it on her husband almost two years ago, her heart ached.

That made Jasmine mad all over again. She didn’t want to feel anything except anger and hatred toward this woman. But all she did was grab her purse. “You need to talk to your husband.” She brushed by Alexis, and stomped from the bathroom.

H
OSEA STOOD STRAIGHT UP
when Jasmine rushed from the bathroom.

“Is Alexis all right?”

Jasmine halted. Looked at Hosea. Looked at Brian. Standing side by side. Speaking the same words. At the same time.

She ignored Brian. Said to Hosea, “We need to get upstairs to make sure Jacquie’s okay.”

“She’s with Mae Frances; she’s fine. I want to make sure Alexis is all right.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” he said, gently. “We’re gonna wait.”

He could see the steam rising from his wife, but he didn’t move. Not that he wanted to upset Jasmine, but he couldn’t leave Alexis. He saw her face, understood her pain. He wanted to let her know that she would make it through. Just as he had.

“Brian and Alexis need to be alone.” Jasmine glanced at Brian standing behind them. She lowered her voice, “She asked me some questions. I didn’t tell her anything, but she needs time with her husband.”

“I only want to talk to her for a moment.”

Jasmine folded her arms, glared.

He said, “We can’t cause this kind of pain for someone and then just walk away.”

A beat, and then, “I’ll be over there.”

He watched his wife trudge to the other side of the lobby, where maintenance men worked with vacuums and air fresheners to clean up the mess this situation had made.

Hosea took a deep breath, leaned against the wall, and kept his eyes away from Brian. He held back his disgust for the man who had almost ruined his relationship with Jasmine and who was now the reason for Alexis’s pain. All Hosea wanted was one shot—just one uppercut to Brian’s chin. And then he might have peace.

But he reminded himself that it wouldn’t be a good thing to be on the front page of the
L.A. Times
tomorrow explaining why he had beat down his daughter’s father.

He was a minister after all.

So he kept all the urges that had festered for eighteen months inside. And waited for Alexis.

H
E HAD WAITED LONG ENOUGH
.

Brian pushed through the bathroom door. And there was his wife. Glaring at him in the mirror. They stayed that way, eyes glued, saying nothing, saying everything.

Slowly, Alexis pivoted. Took small steps toward him. And then she hit him. Again and again. Beat his chest as if it were a drum.

He stood there, taking it.

Finally, he said, “I am so sorry, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around her, even though she struggled to break his embrace. But he held on—needing to comfort her and himself at the same time.

How could this happen? He’d been so careful, and then in just one minute, it was over.

He kept his arms wrapped around her until she calmed.

“I’m so sorry.”

She shoved his arms away. “Sorry about what?” Her voice was full of tears. “Sorry that you were caught? Sorry that you had a child? Sorry that you’re a liar? Tell me, what exactly are you sorry about?”

“I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you again, but—”

She pressed her palm against his face. “Don’t. Speak. Don’t. Bother. It’ll be a lie anyway.” She crashed through the restroom door and he rushed behind her.

“Sweetheart, wait.”

She whipped around. “I am not your sweetheart,” she spat. “Stay away from me, Brian. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from me!”

Her venom froze him in place. And she dashed away.

He wanted to go after her, hold her and make her understand that this was all part of the disease.

But the way she’d looked at him…maybe she just needed space. That’s what he would give her—space and a little time. Then he would be able to make her understand.

“Alexis,” Hosea called. “Wait.”

Brian watched as his wife stopped when she heard Jasmine’s husband.

He was too far away to hear their exchange, but he could see his wife nod, soften. Brian’s teeth clenched when Hosea took her hand. As if they were friends with much in common.

All he wanted to do was snatch his wife away from that man’s clutches. But he didn’t dare. Space and time. That’s what he needed to give her.

From the side, he saw Jasmine staring. Mesmerized by the same sight. After some moments, Jasmine stood and crept closer to their spouses. But then suddenly, she stopped. As if she were burdened down by shackles, Jasmine stood as frozen by the sight as he was.

She turned. Their eyes met. Without uttering a word, Jasmine and Brian spoke. Said the same thing to each other—that betrayal made strange bedfellows.

And both knew, this could be big trouble.