S&M III, Vol. II (16 page)

“Sounds good!” Mariana beamed.

Caprina waited a few moments and put her sunglasses on. She was dressed in a long coat and had a scarf covering her head. She thought she was inconspicuous. She hurried out of her hotel room and followed the pair a safe distance. They were holding hands and Mariana was going on about some little girl nonsense; Caprina couldn’t give a damn what that child was talking about.

“Shit!” Scott exclaimed. “I forgot my sunglasses. I’ll be right back,” He gave Mariana the keys to the rental Mercedes, “I’ll meet you at the car.”

“Okay, honey,” Mariana headed out to the parking lot.

Scott went back into the hotel room and grabbed his sunglasses. When he stepped out of his room, he thought he felt someone behind him. He turned around and looked. There was nothing. He decided it was just hearing things. Maybe he thought he saw someone. He kept walking to the car.

Caprina kept a safe distance behind Scott. She had almost been caught when he went back into his hotel room, and her plan would’ve been blown. She had to be more careful. She needed to present herself at the perfect time for Scott. If he saw her now, it wouldn’t be a surprise and he would blow her off. She had to trap him.

It was time for drastic measures.

Caprina snuck into a small corner and placed a call to Dominic. “Dominic? It’s Caprina. Do you know when Scott Reed is departing Georgia? I need to have that information pronto!”

“I can get the information but it will cost you,” Dominic mentioned over the phone.

“I don’t care. Money is not an object now. I
need
to know what day and time he will be leaving Georgia.”

“Wire ten thousand dollars to me and I’ll get that information to you by the end of the day,” Dominic commented.

Caprina paused. Her private investigator was charging her an arm and a leg to give her what she wanted. But he never disappointed her before.  He was worth the price. “Fine. I’ll find a bank within the hour. You better have the information.” She hung up.  She put on her sunglasses and tightened her scarf. It was time for her to get serious.

****

Dominic placed the phone back on the receiver. “She’s getting desperate,” he said.

“It’s only temporary until she gets what she wants,” Sanora sat on Dominic’s desk. Her legs were crossed and she flipped through a magazine.

“What else do you want me to do, Mistress?”

“Wait for the money to transfer and then give her the information.” Sanora had made a fortune off Caprina through the years. When someone was desperate for information, there was no limit to what they would do to get it. Sanora had discovered that was one of Caprina’s weaknesses and zoned in on it.

Sanora looked up, and a small curl formed on her lips. “I’m sure she’ll time her arrival at the airport perfectly.”

S
IXTEEN

“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, Debbie,” Andrew greeted his ex-wife as she approached him.

Deborah and Andrew had kept a cordial and friendly relationship with each other since their split many years ago. Despite her personal feelings about Andrew, she never mouthed a bad word about him in front of Christine and Scott. She wanted her children to form their own opinions about their father, without her help.

Deborah and Andrew kissed each other’s cheeks and sat down at the restaurant. “Not a problem. You said it was urgent and I needed to be here so here I am.”

A waiter came by with glasses of water and dropped off menus. “We need to talk about Chrissy.” Andrew pressed.

“Oh?” Deborah was surprised. “What about?”

“Deborah, I know that was a rhetorical question,” Andrew replied.

“Drew, you know how your daughter is. She’s very strong-willed and she won’t listen to anyone but herself.” Deborah reasoned. “She’s always been like that.”

“Strong-willed is one thing, Debbie,” Andrew countered, “a racist is a completely different ballgame.”

“You know good and well that I have tried to convince her to change her mind many times over,” Deborah defended, “but she won’t listen to me.”

“Probably because you share the same views,” Andrew shot back.

Deborah forced herself to remain calm. She felt her blood boiling and Andrew’s face itching to be slapped like if there was a mosquito on it. “I did not come here to be insulted,” she quietly replied.

“I’m not insulting you if it’s the truth, Deborah,” Andrew met her tone.

“I’m leaving,” Deborah stood up and grabbed her purse and sweater, “I did not come here to be…”

“Sit your ass down,” Andrew warned. His eyes became cold and his nostrils flared.

Deborah slowly sat back down on the chair before her ex-husband and placed her sweater and purse on the seat next to her. Andrew leaned forward. “Thank you for listening. As I was saying, I’m going to need you talk to Firecracker and have a come-to-Jesus meeting with her. It’s crucial you do it because she won’t listen to me for obvious reasons.”

“Because of Jasmine?” Deborah asked.

“Because of Skipper.” Andrew replied. “I had lunch with him and Mariana the other day. Sweet woman. Beautiful spirit. He’s going to marry her soon. They talked about it at the lunch.”

Deborah warmly smiled. She wanted her son to be happy, no matter what. She hadn’t seen him that happy in years. “He’s very happy with her.”

“He’s extremely happy with her,” Andrew pointed out. “He would be happier if he knew the two most important people in his life were behind him.”

“We supported him marrying the Great Disaster,” Deborah countered. “And look how that turned out!”

“That’s not the only reason Skipper hasn’t been back to Decatur, Deborah,” Andrew replied. “Should I spell it out why you and Firecracker haven’t seen him in years?”

Deborah sighed and a large frown grew on her face. “He shouldn’t have gotten mixed up with that one.”

“Her race had nothing to do with how evil her soul is,” Andrew grabbed Deborah’s hands and held them. “Listen, I’m sorry for all of the hurt and anguish I caused you and our family. It took Skipper a long time to forgive me and I know it took me a longer time to forgive myself. And it makes me sick, just absolutely sick knowing that I somehow contributed to you and Firecracker’s thinking that all Black women are the devil. I’m truly sorry for that. But you can’t have your personal feelings get mixed in with how Scott feels. You always wanted him to be happy, right? He’ll be happy knowing that you support his relationship.”

Deborah wiped the tears falling down her cheeks. Andrew was speaking the truth to her, no matter how uncomfortable it was to hear. She and Scott used to have a close bond, practically joined at the hip. He didn’t mind being labeled as a mama’s boy as long as it meant he respected his mother.

Now he would send her Tiffany gifts and expensive gift cards in lieu of actually seeing her in person. He couldn’t stand to be around her and didn’t want to admit it. She just saw him a week ago and she couldn’t remember the last time she saw him before that.

Deborah missed her son terribly. “I want my son back, Drew,” she sniffled.

Andrew squeezed Deborah’s hands. “Then fight for him.”

****

Scott was sitting in a department store chair, waiting for Mariana to come out and give him a fashion show when he received a text from his mother.
I want you and Mariana to come back over for dinner tonight.

Scott’s lips curled into a half-smile. His technology-challenged mother was texting him. It only meant his father was with her and they had an interesting conversation with each other.
Or he politely threatened her, which seems more likely.

If Deborah invited Scott and Mariana, it also meant she sent the same text to Christine and Hassan. Scott texted his mother back.
We’ll be there tonight. I’ll bring wine.
Scott looked back at his text. “Yep, I’ll need a lot of wine for tonight.”

S
EVENTEEN

Christine Reed Alhamadan looked down at the test message she just received. She shook her head and tossed the cell phone aside. There was no way she was going to be in the same room with her brother, her father, and their Black girlfriends. It was bad enough she had to stomach that three times separately; she wasn’t about to go for a fourth helping.

“Something troubling you, Chris?” Hassan asked.

“No,” she replied, “nothing really.”

“Which means, something is bothering you,” Hassan walked over to his wife and sat beside her. “Wanna fill me in?”

“We were invited to dinner by Mother. She wants all of us there. My dad was with her; that’s why she sent the text,” she clarified.

“Ah, I wondered how she was able to text you,” Hassan nodded.

“I’m not going,” Christine was adamant. “I’m not going to go over there.”

“Chrissy, don’t you think you’re being immature about all of this?”

Christine shot an annoyed look at her husband. “No.”

“Chrissy…”

Christine got up from the living room sofa and walked over to the window. “Hassan, you don’t understand!” she quietly said.

“Then please fill me in,” Hassan begged, “What is it that I don’t get?”

“I can remember the day when I came home and Mother was in the kitchen. She was nursing a bottle of red wine and sitting quietly as my Dad was saying something to her. I couldn’t figure out what he was saying to her but all of a sudden, Mother went into a rage. She smashed the bottle on the floor and she screamed out, ‘I knew you were leaving me for that Black bitch!’ and other things I don’t care to repeat.

“Father quickly packed up a week’s worth of clothing and headed out. I rushed to see Mother in the kitchen and she was sobbing on the floor with splattered wine all around her.  And she was crying, Hassan…” Christine’s lips trembled as she fought back tears. “She was crying.”

Hassan got up and walked over to his wife. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the back of her head as Christine continued. “Scott was over at a friend’s house, so he didn’t see any of this. I told him when he got home and he was angry with Father. He was angry with him for a long time, but they worked out their differences and became really, really close. My mother dated several men but that was just to have someone in her bed. But she never allowed us to go anywhere with Dad’s Black girlfriends because of how she felt. I never understood what she felt until I went into social work and I dealt with it myself. And I hated him. I hated
them.
And when Scott brought home, Caprina? Forget it!”

“But Jasmine is different,” Hassan said quietly. “So is Mariana.”

Christine shook her head in silent protest. “Two different ones don’t erase the lifetime of bullshit.”

“Don’t you think you’re acting strange given what I go through on a regular basis?” Hassan asked. “I constantly have people follow me around, thinking I’m about to scream something in Arabic and run while a bomb goes off. Do you know how many times I’ve been pulled over just because the police have suspected something? Mind you, this was before I moved here.”

“What you go through is different, Hassan,” Christine turned around and faced her husband, “People are ignorant. They think all Arab people are bomb-makers and terrorists.”

“Just like how you think every Black woman is ghetto and a welfare recipient?” Hassan smiled.

“That’s different and you know it,” Christine warned.

“Well, Chrissy, I don’t know what to tell you,” Hassan didn’t want to fight with his wife’s obvious ignorance, “but I’m going to go over there and have a good time. If you want to stay here and mope, suit yourself. But the only one being hurt by this is you.” Hassan picked up his keys and left.

Christine watched Hassan start the car and leave. She hated to admit her husband was right, but she was damned to go over to her mother’s house and put on a show for everyone. Scott was hell-bent on marrying a woman he had only known for a few months, just like the last one. And her father? He was into that hippie bullshit.

Christine looked around her large home and noticed how deathly quiet it was. Everyone else was over at her mother’s house, probably joking and laughing and eating some of her famous peach cobbler.

Begrudgingly, Christine picked up her purse and jacket. She determined she wasn’t going to stay long. Just long enough for a slice of peach cobbler and that’s it.

E
IGHTEEN

Scott stood outside his mother’s home and looked at the place he had grown to love and loathe. So many wonderful memories were of that very place. Like the time when he won his first Little League game and his parents celebrated all weekend. Or the many times he was playing around in his Sunday best suit before church and all the whoopings he received for dirtying up his clothes.  Or when he graduated from high school and his parents threw a graduation party before he left on a full scholarship to USC.

Scott then thought about the awful memories. The many times he came home to find his mother passed out on the floor from drinking her problems away. Or the numerous screaming matches his parents had when they thought he couldn’t hear them. Or the many suitors his mother had entertained in front of him and his sister as if she were a salesperson.

Truth to be told, Scott left Decatur to get as far away from his mother and sister as possible. Sometimes he wondered if California was far enough.

Andrew had wanted to take Scott and Christine away from Deborah, but Scott knew if he left his mother, she would die. He couldn’t in good conscience at the ripe age of ten years old do that to his mother. So he prayed. And he prayed. And he prayed. He prayed to God to heal his mother. He prayed to Jesus to give her a blessing.

He prayed to everyone to save his sanity.

The prayers worked. Deborah got help for her depression and turned her life around. Scott felt comfortable enough leaving his mother behind in Georgia while he pursued his career in California. He remained close with his family and often went home to visit them.

Until he met Caprina. And that’s when it was shot to hell.

Caprina was the best and worst thing that had ever happened to Scott. It took him years to clean up his reputation, which she damaged so viciously in the press. Over time, word got around— not through Scott’s doing—that Caprina’s version of events was made-up of lies. Her career suffered while his steadily climbed. Every so often, Scott wondered what his life would’ve been like had he not met Caprina.