Fortune & Fame: A Novel (29 page)

J
asmine released a long sigh as she tossed back the duvet, then climbed into bed. “Well, the kids are finally settled,” she said as she snuggled close to Hosea. “I’m not sure if I’ll do that again. I didn’t think Jacquie was ever going to fall asleep.”

Hosea rested his head back against the headboard, laid his iPad in his lap, and chuckled. “She was pretty excited. Her TV debut.”

“It went well, though it didn’t start out that way with all of that drama with Mary and Nathan.”

“I know. I’ve been talking to Lester almost every day. He’s really upset about all of this craziness.” He paused. “I’m glad the only drama we have in our lives is whether or not to let Jacquie and Zaya be on the show.”

Jasmine sat up and kissed Hosea’s cheek. “Thanks for going along with that. I really wanted people to see that Jacqueline’s Hope is all about the children.”

“That’s why I agreed to it. Plus, I knew you would never let them make our children look crazy.”

“Not at all. Not that our adorable kids could ever look crazy, though I wasn’t sure since Rachel’s brats were there.”

Hosea shook his head slightly. “Is it always going to be this way between you and Rachel?”

Jasmine shrugged. “I don’t know. It is a weird kind of dynamic. I can say anything I want to about her, but when other people start messing with her . . .”

He laughed. “Y’all act like sisters.”

“No. Serena and I love each other and you never hear me talking about her that way. Rachel is just . . . special. You know what I mean?”

“I’m not sure you meant that as a compliment, but I’m glad today went well.”

“Yeah, it was cool. And the crew was great with the kids. Everyone . . .” She let her voice trail off as the questions came to her mind once again.

Natasia hadn’t been on the set all week; all they’d been told was that she was recovering from a cold, or the flu, or something. Every time someone told that lie, she and Rachel exchanged glances.

But Jasmine and Rachel hadn’t said a word. There was no need to, since all of their attention was now focused on Mary and Nathan and the plan that Mae Frances was putting together.

But while Natasia was no longer in the bull’s eye, Jasmine did wonder what Hosea knew and when did he know it? And did he know what was going on now?

She and Hosea had kept their agreement—she wouldn’t ask any questions; she would just trust him. But she couldn’t keep silent any longer; she just had to know what was going on. So, she said, “Natasia hasn’t been at work. . . .” She didn’t put a period nor a question mark at the end of that sentence. It was open ended for Hosea. She wanted him to fill in all the blanks.

Hosea moved his iPad to the nightstand, then stared straight ahead.

She watched him for a moment before she asked, “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, but still said nothing for a while. Then, “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

The pounding in her chest was immediate. Natasia had died and no one had told them! Jasmine couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe that it was over. That woman would never cause her anymore problems. She was glad about that, but still, this was so sad. Natasia was young and she had died pretty much alone.

“Jasmine?” Hosea called out to her.

She blinked back the images in her head.

He said, “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, what do you want to tell me?”

“Well, not exactly tell you, but . . .” He twisted his body so that he faced her. “I need to ask you something. Now, before you say anything,” he held up his hands, “let me finish everything that I have to say.”

“O . . . kay,” she said slowly. Before Hosea could speak, though, Jasmine had it already figured out in her mind. Hosea wanted them to plan the funeral. Even though Jasmine hadn’t liked Natasia in life, she could be much more compassionate in her death. Planning a funeral wasn’t something she wanted to do. She’d already been through it two times too many with her mother and father.

But she would set aside her discomfort. If this was what Hosea really wanted, she would help him. Definitely! She wasn’t going to give him any grief at all.

So, her mouth was ready to say yes when Hosea said, “I want Natasia to come and live with us.”

“Of course, I’ll do it,” she said. But then Hosea’s question caught up with her, Jasmine jumped out of the bed as if a snake had just attacked her.

“Wait. What? You want her to come live with us? I thought you wanted me to plan her funeral.”

“Her funeral? Natasia’s not dead.”

“She’s not?” Jasmine held up her hands to stop him. “Wait, can you just start all over?”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t even come to you with this if I had any other solution. But I’ve gone over a million scenarios and I think this is best.” He inhaled. “When Natasia showed up at the church that Sunday, she told me she was dying. She has lupus.”

“I know,” Jasmine said, and then she told Hosea all that Rachel had told her. “So, when you said that you wanted to talk, I put two and two together and with Natasia not being at work, I was thinking she’d died and you wanted me to plan her funeral.”

“Wow! You put two and two together and came up with one hundred and thirteen.”

“And whatever you put together, you came up with something that will never happen.” She paused. “Really, Hosea, you really asked me if she could move in with us?”

He nodded. “Her kidneys have failed and she’s going to be on dialysis. Plus, with her fainting, it’s not good for her to live alone.”

“And that’s my problem . . . how?”

“Jasmine . . .”

She crossed her arms. “You know you lost your mind, right?”

“I knew that this would be a heavy lift, but she is really sick and has nowhere else to go.”

“I can think of a couple of places where I can tell Natasia to go.”

“Jasmine . . .”

“Look, Hosea, I’m sorry she’s so sick. I really am. But that doesn’t have anything to do with me. And how could you even ask me to do this after everything she’s done to me and what she tried to do to us?”

“This is asking a lot, I know that. But what I also know is that no one is as bad as the worst thing they’ve ever done. We
can’t judge Natasia and her whole life from what happened before.”

“That’s all I have to go on,” Jasmine said.

“Well, I forgave her a long time ago, and now I believe it’s our calling to help her.”

Jasmine shook her head as she tried to find the words. “You have been helping her, Hosea. All this time, you’ve been helping her, keeping her secret, going to see her, and the whole time, I’ve had to suck it up because you told me to trust you.”

“And you did. And I thank you for that.”

“And that’s enough. I played my part. Not many wives would have gone along with that much, but I trusted you, I let you be with her, and now it’s over.”

“She’s not dead,” Hosea repeated.

“Well, it will be over soon. And between now and then, you can go and keep doing what you’ve been doing. But her coming to live here . . .” She paused. “Is. Out. Of. The. Question. It won’t happen, Hosea.” Before he could say another word, she whipped around and stomped out of their bedroom. “Ugh!” she groaned as she marched straight to Mae Frances’s room.

She knocked on the door, but opened it before Mae Frances could invite her in.

“Jasmine Larson!” Mae Frances peered at her from her bed. She put down the Bible she held and crossed her arms. “You better stop barging in my room like I’m one of your children. I need my privacy, you know.”

“What? You’re not asleep.”

“Well, I may not always be sleeping. You might come in here one night and your vision will be ruined for life! You better recognize.”

As images went through Jasmine’s mind, she scrunched up her face. “Ewww . . . and you say that with the Bible in your lap.”

“So? God created every single body part, every single thing on me. He must’ve put it all there for a reason.”

“Mae Frances, I don’t want to go into this with you,” Jasmine said, pacing from one end of the bedroom to the other. “I have a real problem.”

She sighed. “What did Preacher Man do?”

Jasmine stopped moving for a moment. “He wants Natasia to come and live with us.”

Jasmine had known Mae Frances for a long time and her friend had helped Jasmine through just about every impossible situation imaginable. But never before had Jasmine seen Mae Frances like this . . . with her eyes open as wide as her mouth, and not a word or a laugh coming out of her.

“Did you hear what I said?” Jasmine asked because that was the only explanation she had for the silence.

It still took a moment for her to speak. “I . . . what . . . really?” was all Mae Frances could come up with.

Jasmine dropped onto her bed. “He said she’s really sick, needs dialysis, and now she needs someplace to live.”

“What’s wrong with where she’s living?”

“They don’t want her to live alone, I guess because of the dialysis, plus, she fainted. But that’s not my problem,” Jasmine ranted.

“You got that right.”

Jasmine stood and started pacing again. “I cannot believe he would ask me that.”

“I know what you mean.”

“I mean, who does that? Who would ask their wife to let their mistress come and live with them?”

“Technically, Jasmine Larson, she never was his mistress. She was his first love. That’s different. That’s special.”

Jasmine glared at Mae Frances. “You’re not helping.”

“Well, I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you to ask me the question.”

Jasmine frowned and Mae Frances explained, “I’m waiting
for you to ask me what you always ask. I’m waiting for you to ask for my help.”

Jasmine waved her hand. “Even you can’t help with this, Mae Frances. Unless one of your connections can give my husband a brain transplant, there’s nothing you can do.”

Mae Frances shook her head. “After everything I’ve done for you, I can’t believe you, Jasmine Larson.”

Jasmine slowed her steps. “Are you saying . . .”

“I’m saying that I know how to fix this. Just like with everything else, Mae Frances has the answer.”

Jasmine pressed her hands together like she was praying. “Thank you, Mae Frances! Thank you! So, what are we gonna do?”

M
ary Frazier was seeing her husband through new eyes and she didn’t like what she saw.

The man who came into her life, pulled her out of her depression, convinced her to fight for her freedom, and even introduced her to God, had actually turned out to be the devil himself. Reverend Nathan Frazier was no better than her ex, Craig, a bona fide con man. Only Nathan’s cons were done under the pretense of religion.

As he paraded back and forth across the pulpit, Mary felt sick to her stomach at his hypocrisy. She couldn’t understand for the life of her how, on Saturday night, he beat the crap out of her, then on Sunday morning, he could stand in the pulpit and profess his love of God. Yet, that’s exactly what he was doing.

But last night had been the final straw. They’d had a huge fight after the taping on Wednesday because of course, he blamed her. She was the reason he looked a fool. She was the reason he looked bad on camera. He was especially angry at her “coddling Alvin” as he’d said. According to him, the whole plan
was falling apart thanks to her. Poor Alvin had never been so glad to go to his grandparents. Nathan wouldn’t talk to him the entire ride home. He wouldn’t acknowledge him. He wouldn’t even tell him goodbye.

Then, last night, when Nathan’s parents had dropped Alvin off because they were going out of town, Nathan’s anger flared up again. Mary shivered as her mind replayed that scene. Nathan had stormed into the living room where Mary and Alvin were watching TV.

“What’s wrong with you?” Mary asked. The fury on his face immediately made her want to send Alvin racing for cover.

“I just talked to Rod, one of the editors from the show,” Nathan barked. “He told me that the edited version of that last taping painted a jacked-up picture of me.”

Mary wanted to ask him what he’d expected, because he was jacked up. But she remained silent.

“Oh, so now you don’t have anything to say?” He kicked the TV stand. “You sitting up here watching reruns on TV. You need to be watching some reality shows and taking notes because obviously you don’t know how to be a successful reality star.”

“Nathan, that’s your dream, not mine.” The words left her mouth before she knew it.

“What?” He walked over closer to her. “Now you getting smart?”

“Dad, I don’t—” Alvin began.

Nathan spun on him. “Was anybody talking to you?”

Again, Mary instinctively put her arm up in front of Alvin. “Nathan . . .”

Just mentioning his name sent Nathan into a tailspin and he snatched her up by her hair. Alvin screamed as he jumped up and ran into a corner, cowering as Nathan dragged Mary off the sofa and across the living room floor.

“I am so sick and tired of you! I wish I had left you in
prison.” He slammed her head against the floor. “Trifling wench! You’re probably working with those tramps on that show to make me look bad!”

“Nathan, stop. Please,” Mary cried, tugging at her hair to ease the pain. He had her hair wrapped around his hand as he dragged her around. She felt like her hair was being ripped from her scalp.

“I have everything riding on this and you’re just blowing it!” He released her hair, then kicked her in the side again. She let out a piercing scream.

“Shut up!” Nathan yelled. He raised his foot to kick her again, but before his foot could connect with her side, Alvin jumped on his father’s back.

“Stop it! You’re hurting her!” Alvin’s fists pummeled his father. The move caught Nathan off guard momentarily before he reached up and flung Alvin off him like a rag doll.

Alvin hit the wall and slid to the floor next to Mary, who scrambled over to cover him before Nathan could hurt him anymore. She covered her stepson with her body and braced herself for more beatings. But after a few seconds, she saw Nathan take a deep breath, then retreat from the room without saying a word.