Buying Time (25 page)

With Dre’s help, Shawntay grudgingly rose from the chair.

“Do Ms. Prim and Proper know what you do?” Shawntay asked, as Dre dragged her away.

Angela watched them weave their way through the packed club and out of the door. She pretended not to notice the curious gazes from other people in the club who had watched Dre leave with Shawntay. It was another ten minutes before they returned and headed in opposite directions.

“Sorry about that,” Dre said, sitting down again. His face still had a stern expression. “Now where were we?” He tried to take Angela’s hand, but she locked her arms across her chest.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“Nothin’. Absolutely nothin’.”

“Excuse me? I think you owe me more of an explanation than that.”

Dre exhaled. “Hey, I’m sorry. I just got a little baby mama drama going on.” He leaned over and kissed her, but Angela did not reciprocate. “She’s just tryin’ to cause me problems, which she’s pretty damn good at. I swear she’s psycho.”

“She’s the mother of your son. She must not be too psycho.”

“Shawntay was never my woman, okay? You have nothin' to be jealous about.”

“Who said I was jealous? I’m not even sure I can compete. I see you like your women a little rough around the edges.”

Dre appeared genuinely embarrassed. “Let’s just call it a lapse in judgment on my part. She was just something to do.”

“What did you do? Take her outside and scold her?”

“Basically. I kick her down with way more child support than she needs to take care of my son and I’ve also agreed to pay her rent until Dre either graduates from high school or comes to live with me. She knows I ain’t about to stand for no ghetto girl crap.”

A pout remained etched into Angela’s face.

“C’mon, babe, forget about her.” He kissed her on the neck.

Angela still wasn’t satisfied. “What did she mean when she asked if I
know what you do
?” Angela mimicked Shawntay’s voice.

Dre stiffened. “Uh, let’s just say I wasn’t always the goody two-shoes that I am today.”

“Oh, so you used to be a bad boy?” she asked, finally in a playful mood again.

“You might say that.” He kissed her again and this time, she kissed him back.

Just when Angela was beginning to relax, she followed Dre’s gaze across the room. Shawntay was sitting at the bar shooting him a nasty look.

“Shawntay doesn’t look too happy. Are you sure you two are really done?”

“Hell yeah. Ignore her ass. She’s crazy.”

“That’s fine,” Angela said, turning back to him. “As long as she doesn’t get crazy with me.”

I
t was after nine o’clock at night and Waverly had just circled the block—his own block—for the third time.

He finally eased over to the curb several houses away. While he’d been running away from his problems all of his life, there was one person he had to face. His wife deserved better. She’d left three voicemail messages on his BlackBerry that he’d been too much of a coward to even listen to.

Waverly wished he’d kept a change of clothes at the office as he had in the old days when he never knew when a last minute court appearance might be necessary. His shirt was wrinkled and he reeked of sweat and brandy. This wasn’t how he wanted to make his plea. Maybe he could slip in and clean himself up before facing Deidra.

He had no idea what he was going to say. He turned the key in the ignition and drove slowly toward the home that had brought him so much joy. When he was two houses away, he pounded the steering wheel in frustration.

“Damn!”

Leon Barrett’s Lincoln was now parked out front. Waverly pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine, but did not get out. He wanted to have a private conversation with his wife, but her father’s presence meant that would not be possible. He hoped her mother and sister weren’t there, too.

Just as he climbed out of the car, the front door opened and Leon marched down the walkway as if this were his domain.

“I didn’t think you’d show up this soon,” Leon said, his hands gripping his waist. “You really surprised me.”

Waverly walked past him as if he had not been standing there. Deidra’s mother stood in the living room. She didn’t say a word, but the castigation in her eyes didn’t require verbalizing.

“Where’s Deidra?” Waverly asked.

He followed Myrtle Barrett’s eyes down the hallway.

Deidra was standing halfway out of the bedroom. She looked almost as frazzled as he was. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red and she had a tattered tissue in her hand. He half hoped she would run into his arms, but she didn’t move.

Leon marched in and blocked his view of Deidra. “Let’s hear it. I can’t imagine what you could say to account for all the lies. But let’s hear what you have to say anyway.”

Even at a distance, Waverly could see the hope in Deidra’s eyes. She wanted him to say something to make this all disappear. But there were no words that would accomplish that.

“I want to talk to my wife,” Waverly said. “Alone.”

“We’re not going anywhere. Whatever you have to say to Deidra, you can say to us, too. Though I doubt your lies will be worth listening to. You were disbarred and you never even told your wife? You’re really a piece of work.”

Waverly wanted to sling him out of the way, something he could probably accomplish with a simple sweep of his hand. “Leon, this is between me and my wife.”

“Oh, the hell it is. I—”

“Daddy, can you please give us a minute.” Deidra crept further into the hallway. “Just go in the family room, okay?”

Leon stood his ground, fixing Waverly with a hateful stare. Then he turned and stalked off. Deidra’s mother followed.

Waverly hurried toward Deidra. He now regretted the long length of the hallways. Two people didn’t need a house this big. As he reached out for her, Deidra shrank away.

“You need to explain,” she said, her lips quivering with either anger or sorrow, maybe both.

She stepped into the bedroom and Waverly rushed in behind her.

Deidra sat down on the edge of the bed and stared up at him looking very much like a scared child. “Is it true? Were you disbarred?”

Waverly wished there was some lawyerly explanation he could offer her. Something that wasn’t exactly the truth, but was close enough to it. “Yes,” he said.

“And you couldn’t tell me?”

“I wanted to. But I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“So you never planned to tell me?”

No, not if I could help it.
“I couldn’t face letting you down.”

Deidra wiped a tear with the shredded tissue. Waverly had never seen her in such a distraught state before.

“And this new business of yours,” she said derisively, “is it really making money off of dying people?”

“It’s not the way that reporter made it sound. I’m really helping people. People who need money in their dying days.” His explanation sounded too much like a pitch to an investor.

She stared up at him with disgust and, for the first time, he saw her father’s daughter.

He was about to speak when Deidra stood up, her eyes boring into his. “Are you killing people? Is that how we’re able to live in this house? Because you’re killing people?”

“Hell no!” Waverly shouted as if a louder response might be more convincing. “That’s a complete lie!”

“
The L.A. Times
isn’t the
National Enquirer
. Why would the reporter say that then?”

“She didn’t say it. She implied it.”

“And it’s not true?”

“No.”

He tried to reach for her again, but she pushed him away. “We aren’t going to lose this house are we?” She was suddenly dry-eyed and angry. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me? I’m never going to be able to face my friends again.”

Now, Waverly grew pissed. “Yes, Deidra, it
is
always about you, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you dare put this on me!” she said angrily. “I want no part of this. I want you out of here. You have thirty minutes to pack your bags.”

Waverly chuckled. “You watch too many Lifetime movies. You’re not kicking me out of my own house. I pay the bills here, remember? You want to leave, fine. Just make sure you take your mama and daddy with you.”

Waverly walked past her into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Ten minutes later, feeling clean and refreshed, Waverly lay back in bed, his fingers hooked behind his head as Deidra stormed around the bedroom, throwing clothes into a suitcase. He thought about asking her not to go, but actually wanted to be alone.

Longing for a drink, he jumped up from the bed and walked into the family room. He ignored his in-laws sitting on the couch and grabbed a fifth of brandy from the shelf behind the bar and poured himself two shots.

Leon stalked up to him. “You’re a disgrace. How dare you—”

“Deidra’s packing,” Waverly said, taking a swallow. “I’ll tell her you’re waiting for her in the car. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

Leon’s face darkened. The body language of both men signaled the approach of a physical altercation.

Myrtle grabbed her husband’s forearm. “Leon, let’s go wait in the car. They can work this out without our help.”

Leon continued to sneer at Waverly for several seconds, his fists balled at his sides. “C’mon, Myrtle,” he said to his wife. “Didn’t I tell you this guy was up to no good? I knew it the minute I laid eyes on him. But nobody ever listens to me.”

He paraded out of the room, slamming the front door behind him.

Waverly finished the rest of his drink and refilled the glass. He heard Deidra coming out of the bedroom and went to meet her. She was pulling a large suitcase on rollers with one hand, while struggling to hold on to an overstuffed duffel bag with the other.

“You need help with that?” he asked, reaching for the duffel bag.

Deidra turned up her nose at him. “I can manage.”

Waverly threw up his hands. “Okay, fine then.”

He stepped aside and Deidra walked out of the front door without another word.

Peering out of the bay window, he watched as Deidra climbed into the backseat of her father’s Lincoln. He felt a pang of regret for the pain and turmoil he had caused her and wondered if he’d be able to fix things between them.

As he headed back to the bar for another refill, he focused on the bright side. At least he hadn’t wasted his money buying her that Benz.

A
ngela lay in bed watching Dre sleep. She turned on her side, her head propped up by her hand and began gently twirling Dre’s chest hairs between two fingers.

He opened his eyes, then smiled. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven.”

Dre yawned. “How would you like it if you woke up and found
me
playin’ with
your
chest?”

Angela laughed. “I might actually like it.” She continued her exploration, tracing the outline of a tattoo near his left shoulder. “Does getting a tattoo hurt?”

“Naw,” Dre said. “Not if you’re a real man like me.” He flexed his arms and made his pecs move up and down.

She laughed. “Show off.” She fingered a faded symbol on his bicep. “What’s this supposed to be?”

“An owl, but the guy screwed it up.”

“Why an owl?”

“It symbolizes wisdom.”

Angela ran her finger to the left side of his chest. “This one’s an anchor, right?”

“Yeah,” Dre said.

“And the symbolism?”

“It’s important to keep your feet on the ground. No matter how good life gets or how screwed up things are, you have to stay anchored. Otherwise, circumstances can beat you down.”

“Wow, you are so deep,” she said facetiously.

“Thank you.” Dre smiled. “I try to be.”

“So who’s L.D.?” She pointed to the letters stenciled on his upper right shoulder.

“Little Dre, my son.” He turned on his side and faced her. “How many tattoos you got?” He lifted the blanket and started running his hands over her naked body.

“Stop it,” Angela said, laughing. “I’m really ticklish.” She squirmed away and climbed on top of him, sitting up.

“I don’t have any tattoos, but I was thinking about putting your name right here.” Angela pointed to her left breast.

“You always got jokes this early in the morning?”

“Yep.”

Dre pulled her to him and kissed her. “I really like kickin’ it with you.”

“Ditto,” Angela replied. “I feel like playing hooky today. Let’s go see a movie.”

“No way,” Dre said. “You’re not gonna blame me when you get fired.”

“I have loads of vacation time. Let’s just hang out today. What do you have planned?”

“I’m rehabbin’ a property on Western. They’re almost done with the kitchen. I want you to come over and check it out when it’s finished. I’m hopin’ I can put it on the market in another month.” He gave her a pensive look.

“Got something on your mind?” Angela asked.

Dre’s eyes held hers. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay,” she said, surprised at his sudden seriousness. “I’m listening.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Really? So tell me.”

“I will,” Dre said. “When the time is right.”

“How come you can’t just tell—”

A loud knock boomed from the living room.

Angela’s face clouded. “Someone probably has the wrong apartment. The only person who knows I live here is my sister. And she never gets up this early.”

The knock suddenly turned into pounding and whoever it was started leaning on the doorbell.

“Angela, open the door! We need to talk!”

Angela jumped out of bed and scrambled into her robe. “I don’t believe this!”

“Is that the judge dude?” Dre asked, sitting up.

Angela cringed. “I’m afraid so.”

Dre snatched his jeans from the chair next to the bed and stepped into them.

“No, Dre, just stay here. I don’t want a scene. I’m not even going to open the door. Maybe he’ll just go away.”

They waited, but the pounding only grew louder.

“Angela, please open the door!” Cornell sobbed. “I need to talk to you. I love you.” He was obviously drunk.