Weapons of Mass Seduction (24 page)

“‘Thank you'? How polite,” he said, hiding his pain behind sarcasm.

“I don't know what love is, Valen. And that's why I'm so afraid of it,” Pia said with a truth that was as new and surprising to her as it was to him.

He paused and said nothing before continuing through the door. Once in the hallway, his body collapsed on its frame. “I could have shown you, if you'd only given me the chance,” he muttered to himself before trudging down the hall and out of Pia Jamison's life.

Inside her apartment, Pia slid down the wall to the floor and began to sob. She'd always known this day was unavoidable and thought she was prepared for the inevitable, but Pia hadn't anticipated how thick the hurt and anger that now clung to her would be.

As she sat on the floor feeling sorry for herself and Valen, Pia felt a flutter in her abdomen. She forced herself to calm down and sit perfectly still. There it was again—the baby was moving. Pia covered her belly with a protective self-hug and leaned her head back against the door.

The irony of this situation was nearly intolerable. She had stopped looking for love, made a plan, and gone on with her life. Then Valen had stepped into her world, wrapped her up in his warm and comforting embrace, and lifted her toward the heavens. And now, as if part of a heart-stopping aerial act in Cirque du Soleil, she'd taken a furious drop to earth and its harsh reality—she had gotten the baby she'd always wished for but lost the man she'd always dreamed of.

“She said she didn't know what love was and that she was afraid of it, but she never said she didn't love me,” Valen revealed to his campaign chief. He was grateful for the trustworthy ear, as keeping this ache inside him was too excruciating.

Ed poured his boss another cup of coffee and allowed him to expel his pain. It wasn't quite noon yet, but he had canceled all of Valen's appointments, sensing his need for a mental health day. This situation with Pia Jamison had rocked his boss off kilter, and Ed needed him to get back on track—fast.

“Val, it was the only thing you could do. We've gone over the scenario a hundred times. You could try to keep the relationship under wraps as long as possible, but in the end, in this political climate, someone would find out, and then what?

“The ‘Respect Yourself' campaign is finally getting the attention it deserves. It was genius to extend it past individual family values into global family values.”

“That was Pia's vision, not mine. I took that from her.”

“Okay, she's a smart woman, but let's face facts—you don't know all that much about her. For all we know she was working for the Dems to set you up. Or she might just be some power-hungry gold digger who gets her kicks screwing power players instead of ball players. Either way, it's not pretty.”

“No. I won't believe she was out to hurt me or my campaign,” Valen insisted.

“Okay, we'll give her the benefit of that doubt. She might love you, who knows, but the bottom line is, she lied. And not just a little lie—a potentially life-altering, career-ending lie. If you stay with her and the Democrats or the liberal press get wind of the situation, your entire family values platform will go down the toilet, along with your credibility and political career. This is a no-win situation for everyone. You did the only thing you could do.”

Valen simply sipped his coffee, trying to swallow the unfairness of it all.

“Val, when you're sitting in that Senate chamber, you two can try again, if that's what you want. But right now we have to concentrate on what you
need
to do, which is cut all ties with Pia Jamison and win this election.”

Chapter Thirty

A
s
The Today Show
's Meredith Vieira finished up her interview with the modern screen legend Meryl Streep, Pia puttered around the kitchen, preparing her latest breakfast craving—cinnamon toast and deviled eggs. It was already 8:50
A.M
. and she should be out in the fresh September air making her way to the office by now, but she proceeded with no sense of urgency. Now seven months along, she was feeling larger and more cumbersome since the baby's recent growth spurt, and
hurry
was no longer an active word in her vocabulary.

With tea, toast, and eggs before her, Pia sat down to eat and catch the local news segment. Following stories on a three-alarm fire in Staten Island and a paralyzed Long Island man who fathered triplets was an update on the midterm elections, which were now heating up. As expected, Valen Bellamy had breezed through last week's primary election, securing his spot on the November ballot for the U.S. Senate seat. But the general election was a different story. The contest between him and the Democratic incumbent was predicted to be one of the tightest races in modern history. The latest polls showed Valen trailing by a mere three points, making it a statistical tie.

Pia stopped chewing when Valen's handsome but obviously tired face appeared on screen. He looked good. Still impressive and charming, still sounding committed and caring. Unable to stop herself, she reached up and caressed his face, still wishing today, like every day since they'd last spoken two months ago, that things could be different between them.

“‘Respect Yourself, Be Respected' has grown into a national movement with a mission to reclaim our individual and national dignity to become the greatest America we can be. But without action and financial commitment behind this movement, it will fade into distant memory like other ineffective, slogan-only campaigns. I will fight to find the money and build the momentum to take back our airways, support our families, and provide for our citizens. We will take back our pride as a people and a country and be respected by the world as the superpower we are, not because we demand it by force, but because we earned it through valor,” Valen said, looking straight into the camera lens.

“Oh, he's a pro, Pom. In thirty seconds he managed to tout bipartisanship, family values, and foreign policy, and look and sound damn good doing it,” she told her unborn child. “And he also stole my ‘Just Say No' argument,” she added, feeling both proud and flattered that in some small way she had had a positive impact on his campaign.

“As Valen Bellamy continues to crisscross the state, bringing his message of hope and opportunity directly to New Yorkers, he has become the Democrats' worst nightmare,” the local NBC reporter voiced. “If he continues to draw support from black Democrats willing to cross party lines, the party's dominance in New York may end, making Mr. Bellamy the first black Republican elected from New York to the U.S. Senate.”

The piece ended and Valen vanished from the television but not from Pia's thoughts. It was almost as if she were mourning the death of a loved one. Not a day went by that she didn't wake up with Valen Bellamy on her mind or go to sleep without wishing him good night. Though she didn't like to watch him on television—the image was too immediate and alive—she followed his campaign in the print media with an almost sick obsession, praying each night that, despite his Republican leanings, success would find him and his dreams would came true. Valen was a good man. He deserved to be happy.

“Hey, what are you doing, somersaults in there?” she asked, rubbing her belly. After a quiet start, little Pom had become quite active these past few weeks. Kicking, punching, hiccupping, all hours of the day and night, letting Pia know that her baby was alive and well.

Her question was answered by another kick, which set off a waterfall of teardrops. The combination of seeing Valen on the television and the baby's activity was too much of a reminder of the profound loneliness that had usurped her life. In her head, giving birth and raising a child alone seemed like a simple proposition, but in actuality, especially after her romantic friendship with Valen, she realized that her mother had been correct all along. She deserved to raise a family with a man she loved.

Love.
Pia rolled the word around on her tongue. It had an odd, unfamiliar taste. In Pia's experience, love was a strange, exotic dish—a mix of familiar and foreign ingredients that always seemed to taste good going down but inevitably left her with heartburn. Over the years, just as she avoided curry, she'd learned to avoid the condition and the men who caused it.

Pia quickly ran through the list of people in her life that she'd truly loved. Her mother and father, of course; her sweet PopPop, whom she adored but who died when she was just five; her lovely grannies, Mimi and Bertha; Jeffrey, her first true love; Rodney and Lamar; hell, she even loved Dee's crazy ass; and Florence Chase was fast moving up the list of the soul-sisters she loved and who she knew loved her back.

But when she dissected the register, it was the women who were still there in her corner, loving her unconditionally. Every man on her list who had loved her had left her—including her father.

Why couldn't she and Valen have remained just pals? Why had he complicated everything by claiming to love her? His feelings came with the natural hope and expectation that she would love him back. And frankly, despite her proven ability to turn a man on in bed, Pia had to admit that she was a less skilled lover outside the bedroom.

Did she love Valen? She knew she adored him and had come to think of him as her best friend. She thought about him incessantly, and every thought was smile-producing. She worried about him, and lusted after him, and she had shared everything—from the mundane to the sublime—with him. But was that love? Aside from the lusting part, didn't she behave the same way with Dee and Flo?

Pia finally rolled into the office at ten-thirty in a cloud of general malaise. She would have taken the day off but she had a meeting at eleven-thirty that she couldn't miss, and besides, staying at home would only mean a day of feeling sorry for herself.

“Dee, could you please call Benita and cancel my session this afternoon?” Pia requested as she dragged herself past Darlene's desk and into her office.

“Sure. Your mom is…” Dee managed to get out before Pia disappeared into her office, “…waiting for you.”

Pia walked into her office and was at her desk before she realized Maizelle was sitting on the sofa, a large shopping bag at her feet, reading the
New York Times.

“You're running late this morning,” her mother commented to a surprised Pia. “Are you feeling okay? You look tired.”

“I am fine. Just a lot of things going on. This is a surprise,” she said, coming over to deliver a quick peck to her mother's cheek. Though the tension between the two had eased considerably, Maizelle's reluctance to discuss the baby left Pia feeling anxious and judged.

“It says here that Valen Bellamy is pledging to build a bridge between Democrats and Republicans. Does this mean you two are still in touch?”

“No, we're not. He's moved his campaign forward without any further input from our company,” she fudged before scrambling to change the subject. Valen Bellamy was one topic Pia did not want to delve into with her mother. “Why didn't you tell me you were coming in? We could have had breakfast or lunch.”

Maizelle gave her daughter a look that made it clear that she was well aware something had transpired between her daughter and the candidate beyond work. But she let the issue go, out of respect but also because the look in Pia's eyes demanded it. “I'm meeting Madeline in a bit, but I wanted to come by and drop something off to you.”

“What's that?”

“Now, I know you don't like yellow,” she said, reaching into the bag and pulling out an infant's pima cotton drawstring gown on a tiny satin hanger, “so I picked up mint green.”

“Mom, it's so sweet,” Pia said tenderly, fingering the cloud-soft material. “And this is really sweet of you.”

“And I got a few other things,” Maizelle said, picking up the shopping bag and handing it to Pia. She pulled out item after green, yellow, and white layette item. She felt deeply touched that her mother was finally coming around to accepting the baby.

“Thank you,” Pia said, swallowing her tears. “You're going to spoil this baby rotten. There's nothing left to get for the shower Dee has planned but thinks I don't know about.”

“That's what grandmas do. We spoil our grandbabies…and their mamas.” Maizelle opened her arms to pull Pia into a warm, accepting embrace. “Pia, I've prayed a lot on your reasons for having this baby. And I asked God to help me put aside my feelings and concentrate on yours. And while I'm not happy about the way you went about it, this is your life and you're a grown woman.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Pia said as the tears fell.

“I think I do understand, sweetheart. When I try to picture my life without you, it is impossible to even imagine. And I wouldn't want you to miss out on the kind of joy you've brought to my life. So, if this is the way it has to be, I will accept it.”

“Mom, you don't know how much that means to me and how much I needed to hear you say that today.”

“I was saving this for the birth day, but that's two months away, so I decided to give it to you now as kind of a peace offering.” This time Maizelle pulled from her pocketbook a small jewelry box. “And the beat goes on,” she said, handing it to her daughter.

Pia opened it to find an eighteen-karat-gold heart filled with three small gemstones—amethyst, peridot, and citrine—floating inside. “It's beautiful,” she said, picking it out of the box to inspect it closer.

“It's a mother's heart with yours, mine, and the baby's birthstones in it. As long as he or she is born any day in November, we're okay.”

“Mom, if you don't mind, I'd like to think the heart is Daddy's and he's holding us all inside.”

“That's perfect,” Maizelle said, touched to the core by her daughter's sentiment. “He'd love that. He loves you, Pia, and he's proud of you. And so am I.”

Pia sat clutching the necklace and clinging to her mother in love and gratitude. It felt good to know the total spectrum of her mother's love again. Pia had missed their close relationship. And for that moment, she felt just a little less lonely.

As soon as her mother departed, Pia picked up the newspaper and, without looking at Valen's picture, threw it in the garbage. She then called Darlene into the office.

“Grandma Dearest is starting the no wire hangers' thing a little early,” Dee said, picking up the satin hanger while inspecting the baby bounty Maizelle had delivered.

“Leave my mother alone. She's finally come around. And I can't tell you what a relief it is. I really missed her.”

“Something else to celebrate,” Dee said, rubbing Pia's belly. “We should have a party.”

“Don't think I don't know you've been planning one for weeks. When is this embarrassing shindig taking place?”

“The date has been set and invitations sent. It's the second Sunday in October. We didn't tell you because we all know you can't keep a secret, so don't you tell Pom. It's a surprise.”