More Than He Can Handle (26 page)

Maybe I should've listened to Loraine and left the past alone,
she thought as she downed her coffee. It was too late to turn back.

“You ready?” Cleveland asked, breaking into Freddie's thoughts.

“As I'll ever be,” she said as she set her coffee mug on the counter.

Cleveland took her hand in his. “Everything is going to work out just fine and when you come back, I'll be right here waiting for you—naked.”

Freddie playfully slapped him on the shoulder. “What am I going to do with you?”

Cleveland kissed her hand. “Love me,” he said. “That's all I need you to do.”

Freddie opened her eyes as the train jerked then came to a stop. No way they were in New Orleans already. She looked down at her watch and saw that she was only three hours into her trek. A conductor walked by and she reached out and touched his arm. “What's going on?” Freddie asked.

“There's a freight train crossing,” he said. “We're just going to be stopped for a short while.”

She smiled sweetly and thanked the man for stopping. Freddie was about to close her eyes again when her cell phone rang. “Hello,” she said.

“I miss you already.”

“Cleveland, I've only been gone for a couple of hours,” she replied with a big smile on her face.

“That's a few hours too long. I'm starting to sound like Darren, all mushy and . . .”

“Don't go changing on me too much,” she said. “I might not be able to recognize you.”

Cleveland chuckled. “And I thought you didn't like it when I was all stuck on myself. What did you call me when we first met?”

“Let me think,” she said. “Probably a pompous jerk. An arrogant jackass. There were so many things I said to you, I just can't remember.”

“Well, that sounds about right,” Cleveland said. “Is everything going all right on the train?”

“Yeah, luckily I have the row to myself. I've just been sleeping and thinking about you.”

“Umm, what have you been thinking?” Cleveland's voice was low. “Because I have been thinking about you and me on a beach somewhere.”

“Really, keep talking,” she said, grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary.

“That body in a yellow bikini and I'm going to have to save your skin, so that means I have to rub your body down in some coconut oil and sunscreen. And you know that I don't follow the rules, so I'm going to slip my fingers underneath your top and run them across your breasts until your nipples are hard and ready for my lips. I'd have to make sure no one is looking before I take your top off completely and give your nipples the kisses they need.”

“Don't do this to me,” Freddie said, “these people on this train are going to wonder why I keep smiling and moaning.”

“The only reason I'm stopping is because my nosy brother just walked in and I don't want to be interrupted when I tell you what I'm going to do once I have that shirt off.”

“You are so bad,” she said, her voice in a low whisper as the conductor passed her seat.

“And you love it. Make sure you call me when you get to New Orleans. I need to know that you made it safely and so I can finish telling you this story.”

“Bye, Cleveland,” Freddie said as she snapped her phone closed. Now she wished that she had taken his car because after that heated conversation, she wanted to turn around and make him do all of those things that he'd been describing on the phone.

Focus, Freddie, focus,
she told herself. The train started moving again and Freddie closed her eyes, trying to think about her parents, but her mind kept drifting to Cleveland as she fell asleep again.

 

 

Darren shook his head as Cleveland hung up his cell phone with a smile a mile wide on his face. “I never thought I'd see the day,” he said.

“What?” Cleveland asked.

“You, Mr. Bachelor, acting like a lovesick puppy.”

“I can't be any worse than you were when you decided that you couldn't live without Jill.”

“I never called my woman up and had phone sex,” he said.

“Damn, you were eavesdropping?” Cleveland laughed. “Don't knock it until you try it.”

“I'm really happy for you,” Darren said. “You've finally found someone that you can open yourself up to and you know she has your back and you can trust her.”

Cleveland nodded and sighed thoughtfully. “Still, I feel like there is a part of her past that she doesn't want to open up to me about.”

Darren placed his hand underneath his chin. “That's not good, because the past can come back to bite you.”

“I don't think it's like what went down with you and Jill,” he said. “It has something to do with her family. It's like she's trying to shield me from something.”

“You know, if she feels that way, maybe you ought to just let it be. When she's ready to open up to you about her family, she will. I hope that's all that it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I'm happy for you and all of that, but you'd better make sure the secret she's hiding isn't more than what she's telling you.”

Cleveland looked at his brother and shook his head. “Freddie's not that type of woman.”

“Are you sure? Don't get me wrong, I do like her and think she's a nice woman, but I've been on the other side of a lie more than once. Just make sure that . . .”

“Whatever, man,” Cleveland interrupted. “I know what's going on with her and there won't be any newspaper exposes or letters in the mail to expose her secrets.”

“Don't bite my damned head off because I'm trying to look out for you. It was hard enough for you to open up to a woman to begin with. I don't want to see you hurt. Because if this doesn't work out for you, I pity the next woman who comes into your life.”

Cleveland stood up with a scowl on his face. Though he knew his brother was trying to look out for him, he didn't need him feeding his insecurities.

“I'm going to write up some incident reports,” Cleveland said, leaving Darren in the break room alone.

When Cleveland got into Darren's office, he thought about what his brother had said. Was there something more in New Orleans that Freddie had to tie up? How well did he really know her?

This is crazy,
he thought.
Freddie has been up front with me. I can understand why she's a little wary about opening up. Her family's past would scare off anyone. But I accept all of her, crazy parents and all. I just hope that is all there is.

Cleveland returned to his reports, but his mind was in New Orleans.

When Freddie stepped off the train, she had an overwhelming urge to turn around and leave. She'd never been afraid to face anything. If her mother had taught her one thing it was to stand tall and face adversity. But this was different. Her life, her family's freedom were at stake. What was waiting for her at the hotel? Would the media be camped out waiting for someone connected with her family to show up? She didn't want to deal with that, so she hailed a cab and headed for St. Vincents, a hotel on Magazine Street. Freddie hoped that no one would recognize her as Loraine's daughter. In the morning, she would try and find out where her mother was and what the status of her case was. Had her mother even been arraigned? She was curious as to whether or not the courts believed her father's allegations about her mother being involved in the murder of the Rev. Nolan Watson. A cab stopped and Freddie got in, telling the driver where she wanted to go.

“You know, chere, The French Garden Inn is a much better place to stay,” he suggested.

“Thanks, but I have a reservation,” she lied. Freddie hoped that the hotel did have some rooms.

The taxi stopped in front of the hotel and Freddie gave the driver the fare and a hefty tip. She was happy that the cab company was living up to their end of an agreement that she and the owner had brokered a few months before Mardi Gras to send visitors to her hotel.

Walking into the hotel, Freddie glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one had followed her.

“Welcome to St. Vincents. Do you have a reservation?” the young desk clerk asked.

“No,” she said. “But please tell me you have some vacancies.”

The woman leaned across the desk and peered at Freddie. “Are you a reporter too?”

“Please, I just came to . . . No.”

“I have a single room, non smoking with a queen sized bed,” she said.

“That's fine,” Freddie replied with a yawn. “I just need the room for one night.”

The clerk typed Freddie's information into the computer and handed her a room key. “Enjoy your stay,” she said.

Freddie took the elevator to her second floor room, ready to get into bed and go to sleep. As soon as she stepped in the room, she missed her suite at her hotel. The bed wasn't exactly queen sized, it was more like a full sized bed. The blanket looked as if it were a hold over from the 1970s. She took off her hotel owner cap as she collapsed on the bed. It wasn't her job to critique the room, she just needed to sleep.

It was a little before eleven when Freddie woke up from her nap. She turned on the television to watch the late news, because she knew the top story would be about her parents.

“The police and the district attorney's office have reopened the case on the murder of Reverend Nolan Watson. The man convicted of the crime, Jacques Babineaux, who had escaped from federal prison, turned himself in, but was granted a conditional release when evidence surfaced that Babineaux isn't the real killer. In fact, the court heard evidence in a hearing this morning that points the finger at Loraine Barker, Babineaux's ex-wife. She was arrested and charged with Watson's murder. In a shocking turn of events, she was granted bail because of her ties to the community. She is expected in court in the morning for a preliminary hearing at eight
A.M.
”

Freddie snapped the television off. “This is too much,” she muttered. Too wired to sleep, Freddie took a long shower and decided that she would go to her mother's arraignment in the morning because she figured that might be the only way she'd get the truth about what was going on.

When she finally went to bed, Freddie's sleep was hampered by thoughts of facing her mother in court.

The next morning, Freddie woke up about five after eight, late for her mother's hearing. She dressed quickly, rushed downstairs to pay for her room and had the front desk clerk call her a cab. As she waited out front for her car, Freddie massaged her temples. She prayed that after today, the answers she'd been searching for would be revealed and she could move on with her life, even though to do that she had to leave behind everything she knew.

“It's going to be fine,” she said aloud as she pulled out her cell phone and called the hotel.

“French Garden Inn, this is Celeste.”

“Celeste, it's Freddie.”

“Hey, I am so glad you called, your mother has been raising hell around here. Three people quit and she said you'd never come back. We've been losing business because her face has been all over the news and reporters are always calling and coming by here. She's out on bail now. Are you really going to stay in Atlanta?”

“I guess she told you all everything,” Freddie said.

“And then some. She walks around muttering about you throwing everything away for a damn man. Is it that sexy guy who was here for Mardi Gras? I knew something was going on between you two.” Freddie could almost see Celeste's smile through the phone. “Shoot,” she continued. “I would've left with him too.”

“Celeste,” Freddie said. “I'm going to come to the hotel and get a few of my things, but I'm not coming to come back to work. There's just too much baggage here.”

“I hear you,” Celeste said. “If I had the means to leave New Orleans, I would. This place just hasn't been the same since Katrina.”

“But it's still New Orleans,” Freddie said. “Still home.”

“Having second thoughts, maybe?”

Freddie thought for a moment, with her eyes closed and images of Cleveland flashing in her mind. “Nah.”

Celeste laughed. “I'll bet not.”

“Is my mother there now?” she asked.

“No, thank God. She's in court.”

“Then I'll see you after the hearing. I need to get some things out of my room,” she said.

“Okay,” Celeste said.

“My cab is here, I have to go,” said Freddie as the car stopped in front of her.

“Where to, chere?” the driver asked.

Before Freddie knew it, she was telling the driver to take her to the Orleans Parish courthouse. The scene outside the courthouse reminded Freddie of something she'd seen on television. Satellite trucks lined the streets, a few reporters were on the steps smoking and chewing the fat about the case. Freddie paid the cabbie and got out of the car. She walked up the steps of the courthouse slowly, paying little attention to the conversations going on around her. Though it did sting that these people just thought of her mother as another headline. As angry as she wanted to be with her mother, Freddie thought about all the years when she and Loraine jokingly called themselves Thelma and Louise.