Suspicions (25 page)
Authors: Sasha Campbell
37
Noelle
I sat behind my desk going over the monthly expenses and couldn't help but grin. Although the economy was bad, Situations was continuing to make a profit. Not too many independent businesses could say that these days. In no way was I taking my good fortune for granted. I was definitely blessed for someone whose life was a mess.
“Can I come in?”
My head snapped up and I had to do a double take.
No she didn't bring her ass in my salon
.
No she didn't bring her ass in my salon
.
“I don't have anything else to say to you.” We both knew the only reason why I hadn't jumped across the desk and snatched them braids out her head was because she was pregnant.
“Fine, don't talk, just listen.”
I cut my eyes at her. Whitney was trying to look scared and confused, but I wasn't buying that shit for a second. There was nothing naïve about her decisions. She knew what she had been doing and played my ass in the process.
It had been a week since I found out my best friend seduced my son. The only thing that stopped me from whooping her ass was that baby growing inside her stomach. For twenty years, twenty long years, I had loved Whitney like a sister, and yet she stabbed me in my back.
Fine, she wanted to talk, then let's talk. “If you want to tell me anything, then tell me why? How could you seduce your godson?”
She gave me this solemn expression that made her look more pathetic than she really was. “It wasn't like that. If anything, Scott seduced me. He's been hitting on me for years. It's just that he finally got to me and I couldn't resist.”
“I guess next you're going to tell me that the two of you fell in love?”
She paused and I could tell she was trying to choose her words carefully. “I've always loved Scott like he was a son. It wasn't until he started coming on to me that I noticed that he was a man, and a handsome one at that; but even then I was able to resist his advances. But after Landon and I split up and I was hurting, Scott came by to see me and when I told him about it, he comforted me, and one thing led to another and before I realized what was happening, we were seriously involved.”
I glared across the desk, wanting desperately to claw her eyes out. “You just don't know how sick that shit sounds. I can do the math, and Scott wasn't even eighteen yet. You're nothing more than a pedophile!”
Grant had called last night and after talking nonstop about his job, I told him about Whitney and Scott. I didn't at all get the reaction I expected. It's amazing how if a man sleeps with a teenage girl, it's rape; but if a teenager sleeps with a grown woman, it symbolizes he's a man.
She held up her hands in surrender. “Noelle, I'm sorry that you see me that way, but I didn't initiate the relationship, he did, and once I was in it, I couldn't walk away from it.”
Whitney is a prime example of a woman with low selfesteem. How else could she have allowed herself to be seduced by Scott? I'm clearly aware of my son's charm with women, but you would think a grown-ass woman with money and looks would be mature and confident enough to know game when it was being fed to her.
“All Scott did was use you.” It wasn't a question, it was a fact. I knew how my son thinks. If I didn't give it to him, then he went and found someone else who would get it for him.
Whitney nodded in agreement, and if it had been anybody else's son but mine, I might have felt sorry for her. “You're right. To him I was an older woman, and after I bought him anything he wanted and made sure he never went without, he got tired of me.”
I started laughing angrily at how ridiculous this whole situation was. “Scott has sex with anything wearing a skirt. How could you have been so weak?”
She shrugged. “I was lonely and Scott happened to be there when I was most vulnerable. I guess I confused my love for him as something else.”
What else was new? In the years we've known each other, Whitney had been in love more times than I could count. She'd been engaged at least five times, and she believed every man who told her he loved her. It was a vicious cycle with her. Was she ever going to learn she has to love herself first if she expected to be loved by someone else?
“I will never forgive you for sleeping with my son. There are some things we do and others we don't. You were my best friend, but you betrayed my trust.”
“Noelle, I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. I made a mistake. I'll give you some time to thinkâ”
I held up a hand, cutting her off. “There's nothing to think about.” I had already written her off like a bad debt. The only person I needed to discuss this situation with was Scott, but apparently Whitney got to him before I did because he refused to answer his phone when I called and all my messages have gone unanswered. I even texted the knucklehead the way he instructed and got no response. “Please, get the hell outta my office and don't come back.”
She just didn't know when to give up. “Noelle . . . I hope in time you find it in your heart to forgive me.” Tears were running down her face and her bottom lip quivered, but I was unmoved by both.
Was she stupid or what? Did she really think I would ever have anything else to do with her again?
Whitney started toward the door, then stopped and held on to her stomach.
I immediately became concerned. “What's wrong?” I wanted so badly not to care about her, but I wasn't made that way.
“I-I'm not sure. I've got a sharp pain here. Ouch!” She buckled over and used the wall to support her weight. “It really really hurts!”
I rose and came around the desk and immediately noticed the blood trickling down her leg onto her white sandals. Whitney must have felt something warm because she looked down, saw the blood, and screamed. I caught her just before she hit the floor. Tiffany came rushing into my office.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Call an ambulance!”
It felt like forever before they finally arrived. Blood was everywhere and, for a while I thought she might have lost consciousness. I rode in the ambulance with Whitney and held her hand while she screamed and cried all the way there. Her relationship with my son was the furthest from my mind. Despite how she betrayed me and my trust, I would never want anything bad to happen to her. If she died, I would be losing a piece of my life.
By the time we got to South Shore Hospital, the doctor was waiting and Whitney was hurried quickly into a room and examined. “Whitney, it looks like you're about to have a baby.” The doctor forced a smile, but I could see the concern in his eyes.
“No, it's too soon!” she cried. “You can't take my baby yet.”
She was right. The baby was barely seven months.
He shook his head. “I'm sorry, but we don't have a choice.”
The nurses started rushing around getting the room ready for delivery. There was still blood and Whitney was screaming. I was ready to fall apart myself, but I couldn't do that. She needed me to be strong.
“Whitney, honey, you got to hang in there for your baby. Everything is going to be just fine,” I said soothingly.
“No, it isn't!” she screamed. “Something is wrong with my baby. God is punishing me!” She was sobbing and becoming hysterical.
The nurse gave me a concerned look. “She has to calm down; otherwise, we're going to have to put her to sleep.”
I turned to Whitney and took her arms firmly in my hands. “Whitney! Calm your ass down! Otherwise, they're going to cut your stomach open and take the baby and you're gonna have that ugly-ass scar like your sister Vicky for the rest of your life.”
That got her attention.
Whitney sat up on the bed and her crying calmed somewhat. As vain as Whitney was about stretch marks, I knew that as far as she was concerned, having a cesarean section was worse than losing a limb. The nurse got the bed disassembled and the stirrups in place just as Whitney was hit with the next contraction. I held her hand and since I was supposed to have been her Lamaze partner, I showed her how to breathe. This went on for hours, with her squeezing my hand and pushing on the doctor's cue. And shortly after 9 PM, she gave birth to a four-pound eleven-ounce little boy. I was crying and laughing at the same time. He was so little, but he was perfect.
“Noelle, how many toes does he have?” Whitney asked as the nurse carried him over to the warmer. I didn't miss the desperation in her voice and tried to get as close as I could, but they were working fast to get his vital signs, and then they raced out the room with him and down to the neonatal intensive care unit. Whitney's eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily with exhaustion. “Noelle, is he okay?”
I watched as the nurses left the room, then moved over beside her bed and mopped her damp forehead. “Whitney, he's perfect. Five fingers, toes, and eyes to die for.”
“That's . . . good. I wanna name him . . . Michael.”
Her hand went limp and the machine next to her started beeping. I called Whitney's name, but there was no response. Then nurses came racing back into her room and told me to get out the way. I stepped outside just as another young nurse rushed in pushing a crash cart.
38
Tiffany
I parked at the corner, waiting for Kimbel to come out of his house. Can you believe that fool turned my cell phone off? Hell, it was his idea for me to give up my old wireless subscription and move to his plan, yet last night I tried to use my phone and it was dead.
Well, I'll show his ass.
At seven-thirty, Kimbel stepped out of his house in his black suit and tie. As usual, he looked luscious. He always had and to me he probably always would. Unfortunately, he played with my emotions and took my kindness for weakness. And I'm learning that everything that looks good doesn't mean it is good for you.
As Kimbel rounded his Jaguar to the driver's side, I held my breath and next thing I knew, he slammed his suitcase to the ground and started kicking the front tire. I started laughing my ass off. Kimbel was angry, which meant he wasn't too happy to find that at three o'clock this morning I had parked down the street, crept up to his car with a pocket knife, and carved HERPES along the driver's side. There was no way he could miss it. The words were the length of the door. There was also no way he was going to be seen driving his most prized possession to work.
I peeled away from his block, loud enough for Kimbel to see me leave. I even waved like I was a beauty queen. He-he! I was laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes and had to pull over. That will teach him to mess with me. By the time I got myself together, I had hoped to finally feel vindicated. Only instead, I felt just as miserable as I had the day before. Getting back at Kimbel no longer excited me as it did in the beginning. In fact, I was starting to feel like I had crossed over the line to stalker status, and I wasn't having any part of that. It really was time for me to finally just let go. But no matter how I felt, I wasn't a fool. Kimbel wasn't getting the ring back even after I made him pay for everything. The ring was my consolation prize. Nevertheless, I did need to close that painful chapter in my life, and I wasn't going to be able to do that until I took care of something first.
I was back at the salon working full-time again. I guess everyone had heard what happened because no one asked about my fiancé, which was a good thing. A couple of weeks ago, I probably would have gone off if anyone asked, but now I was in a much better place.
“Tiffany, you got a call!” the sales clerk yelled from the shop.
“Tell them to hold on.” I finished wrapping my client's hair and stuck her under the dryer and headed to the lobby. “Brittany, go ahead and take a seat in my chair. I'll be right with you.” I moved up to the counter and took the receiver from Claudia. “Hello?”
“Is this Tiffany Phillips?”
“Yeah, this is her. Who's this?”
There was a chuckle. “The pretty lady forgot about me already. My feelings are hurt.”
Oh my goodness!
I knew that accent anywhere. “Baughn! How you get my number?”
I knew that accent anywhere. “Baughn! How you get my number?”
“You told me you worked in a beauty salon in Chicago, so I found you.”
I turned away from the counter, grinning like a damn fool. “Damn, but there's over a hundred salons in the Chicago.”
“Yeah, mon. I discovered that,” he replied with a chuckle.
I was definitely flattered by his determination. “I can't believe you're calling me all the way from Jamaica.”
“I'm not in Jamaica, mon. I'm in Indiana.”
“Indiana. W-What are you doing there?” I stuttered.
He laughed. “I'm a student at Indiana University.”
What? I couldn't believe it. Baughn was here. In the U.S.A. When I left, I never expected to see or hear from him again.
“Why didn't you tell me you were a student?”
“You didn't give me a chance. After that night I called you and discovered you had left. My feelings were hurt.”
Closing my eyes, I breathed, “I'm sorry. I just figured what happens in Jamaica . . .”
“Stays in Jamaica. I understand. Unfortunately, that wasn't at all what I was tinking. How about I drive down and take the pretty lady to dinner next Friday? That's if you are free?”
The thought of spending the evening with him was too tempting an offer to pass up. “I'd like that.” I gave him my new cell phone number and made plans for him to call me later that evening. When I finally hung up, I was tingling all over.
“Who was that?” Debra asked the moment she saw me hanging up the phone. I cut my eyes at her.
“None of your business,” I snapped. She was at it again.
“Come on. You're not smiling like that for nothing,” she teased.
The client sitting in my chair chimed in. “Uh-huh. She look like she's about to get her some.”
Okay, I've had it with all these nosy-ass folks in this place.
“Okay, listen up! My personal life is just thatâprivate. So quit asking about who I'm seeing or what I'm doing. It's none of your damn business.”
“Okay, listen up! My personal life is just thatâprivate. So quit asking about who I'm seeing or what I'm doing. It's none of your damn business.”
“Damn, Tiffany. We just playing.”
I whipped around so fast I made that chick jump and she almost dropped the hot comb from her hand. “Debra, you play too damn much. I'm tired of you eavesdropping on my calls and spreading my personal business. You need to quit worrying about what I'm doing and focus on trying to figure out who your baby's daddy is.” Yesterday I had heard her on the phone saying the DNA results on the dude she suspected as her youngest child's father had come back negative.
I waited for a quickie comeback and there wasn't one. Debra just stood there styling someone's hair, trying to pretend she hadn't heard a word I said. She heard as well as every other nosy female in the salon. Maybe now she'd know to stay out of other people's business. I went back to work, chuckling inside.
That'll show her.
That'll show her.
Around three, I took a break, went out, and sat in my car while I made a call on my cell phone. “I would like to make an appointment with Dr. Clark.”
“What are you being seen for?”
I swallowed before speaking. “I need to be checked for sexually transmitted diseases. I want to be tested for everything.” If Kimbel gave me herpes, there's no telling what else he might have given me, and I needed to know before I infected someone else.
Game over.
It was time to get my life back.
Game over.
It was time to get my life back.
While I waited for her to make the appointment, I closed my eyes and prayed I hadn't given anything to Baughn. Even though we used a condom, I had been reckless. Baughn hadn't given me reason to see him as anything other than a good guy and he deserved better. There was no way I could even think about having sex with him again until I knew for sure whether I had been infected.
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