If You Don't Know Me (11 page)

“I
s Madison going to let us get Zach today?”

Babies were adorable, cute, and innocent. If Zach were Roosevelt's, I had to accept him into my heart, help rear him as though he were mine. He'd have two moms. Lucky kid didn't know how amazing his life was going to be.

I recalled the day Madison was in labor with him. The moment I stepped into her birthing room, Roosevelt was magnetically drawn to me. That was not the case right now.

I wrapped my arms around him. Roosevelt shook his head. He slouched on his sofa. Clamped his hands behind his neck.

“You look like you could use a hug,” I told him.

He sat motionless beside me. I held him. There was no reaction.

I knew Madison didn't want me in her delivery room a week ago. But with her being in bed with her legs up, what could she do? Her mother was passive. Rosalee hadn't told me to leave, nor had she attempted to escort me out.

“Baby, what's wrong? Talk to me. Are you upset from last night? Was it my not wanting to have intercourse?”

“Sindy, please.”

Please, what? Go away? Shut up? That wasn't going to happen.

If my mother had spoken up, she might still be alive. It was foolish of me to hold on to the possibility of her not being dead. My father had done ruthless things but I'd never proved him a liar. My mother hadn't seen any of my sister's three children. Someday I wanted two, maybe three kids by Roosevelt. I'd never give up on them or him.

If that were me in that birthing bed, and my husband's mistress walked in, and my mother was there, I was sure the other woman wouldn't have made it past step two. But what would Roosevelt have done?

He moved his hand, then moved my arms. “Please, Sindy. Not now.”

Had the things I'd done with him, to him, made him reject me? I went to the kitchen, poured a tall glass of orange juice. The doorbell was a welcome interruption. “You want me to see who that is?”

Roosevelt didn't move. “Sure.”

I opened the door.

“Hey, Sindy,” Chaz said kissing me on the cheek. “Hey, man. Why you not answering your phone? We're late. Let's—” Chaz paused then looked at Roosevelt. “Not this again. Let's go. We can discuss it on our way to the office.”

Slowly, Roosevelt got himself together. He picked up his cell, wallet, and keys. “I'll call you later,” he said somberly.

Why was he acting and sounding like someone had died?

“Long as we have our health, honey, everything else is secondary,” I said trying to lift his spirit. “I'll lock your door on my way out.”

He knew that but I didn't know what else to say.

Normally, he'd respond, “I love having you here. Stay long as you'd like.” This time he didn't say anything. Men internalized too much. I was not wasting time speculating. When he was ready, he'd bring it up.

When the door closed, I called my contact, the prison guard at FDC.

“Hey, I haven't heard from you since we took care of Nyle last night. That GM must have you on lockdown.” He laughed, then asked, “Do I hear wedding bells?”

“We're getting there. Listen, I called to find out if you know anything. I know why Granville was arrested but what is he saying?” It was best to start the conversation discussing business first.

“He's pretty much kept to himself. The judge is making him do the full thirty. It's only been two days but he's staying out of trouble.”

Narrowing my quest for information, I asked, “Does he talk about family?”

“Aw, man. I see where you're headed. When I processed him in . . . that dude is bent on seeing his kid. Claims Chicago's baby is his. I don't know if he's crazy but he's definitely bananas over that lil boy. Hopefully he won't do anything stupid like kidnap the kid. Have you seen the online posts about that dude?”

I thought about Roosevelt's sudden mood change. Had Nyle started spreading the allegation of Granville attempting to kill Chicago? “Thanks. I've got to go.”

“Anything for you.”

We ended our call at the same time. Swallowing a sip of juice, I placed the glass on the counter, then retrieved my iPad from my purse.

A reminder popped up. My Skype session with Siara was in fifteen minutes.

I googled “Granville Washington.” OMG. This was not what I expected. We had a major problem. Nyle was ahead of me. I texted him: Don't do anything else until we speak.

Instantly, he replied: What about Port Arthur?

Nothing.

He responded: OK

The threats had to be the reason Roosevelt was despondent. Calling my dad wouldn't help my position. I googled “Sindy Singleton +Granville Washington.” Various listings popped up. Nothing connected Granville and me. Did the same with Nyle Carter. Thank God there were no pics of us together.

Exhaling, a search for “Granville Washington+Madison DuBois” didn't reveal a connection. I sensed that baby was his. At least I prayed it was. Now I had to prove it.

Inside contacts at FDC were invaluable. One call to my friend at the Federal Detention Center and I'd concluded Granville had no intentions of violating his protective order to harass Loretta. Madison's home was his destination. Still, I needed Granville behind bars until I reevaluated my strategy. If my father hadn't hired Granville to kill my man, I'd talk to the judge, request Granville's release, and help him present a case for paternity.

Granville had a heart. A huge one. His emotions made him dangerous enough to kill. He needed an incentive to do right, not wrong. That man believed Zach was his son and I did too. Now it was time for Sindy to form a stronger alliance against Madison and my father. I had the perfect personal assistants in mind.

First, I had to face-chat with my sister. Opening Skype, I clicked on her screen name. Her eyes sparkled. “Hey, you look more amazing than usual. What's the good news?” I asked.

“The kids are excited. We're leaving for Toronto tomorrow. My husband has business there so we're all going.”

I waited for an invitation. There wasn't one. “This is a good opportunity for me to meet your husband and kids.”

The shine in her eyes faded. “You know that's not going to happen,” she said.

Was I indirectly responsible for making the people I love unhappy today? There was no point in mentioning Mom. That would make Siara sad. “Look, I have to run off. Got some important matters to tend to,” I said.

Siara smiled, then asked, “How's Roosevelt?”

“He's fine.”

“Sindy, I do want you to meet my family. When the time is right. I feel like I've waited so long, I don't know how to introduce you to them.”

“It's okay,” I lied. “I know you still blame me for what Dad did to you. But you don't hold him accountable.”

Was it easier for her to suppress what had happened? If I didn't address the situation, she wouldn't. I had my own problems.

“Sindy.”

Watching Siara was like staring in a mirror. Seemed as though my mom had twins two years apart. “Yes?”

“I respect your decision not to marry the man in Dubai but you could at least meet him. Dad was wrong for marrying me off but I love my husband. I love you too. Dubai is a beautiful country. Don't say no until you're sure.”

“Bye, sis. I love you too.”

Ending our session, I left Roosevelt's condo. Twenty minutes later I parked my Bentley in the driveway in River Oaks and rang the doorbell.

Greeting the woman of the house, I extended my hand. “Sorry to come without notice but I'm here to discuss your son.”

“Next time call first. Come in,” Helen DuBois said opening the door wider. “I know Chicago is a little upset. I just got off the phone with him. Have a seat here in the guest room. Give me a moment to make us tea.”

My mother and Helen exhibited similar hospitality. Whenever company came by, Mom always prepared tea. Depending on how long guests visited, she'd prepare hors d'oeuvres.

Helen didn't wait for a response. Roosevelt's mom headed toward her kitchen. Her silk pewter dress loosely hugged her flattering figure. Pearls circled her neck. Rubies clung to each earlobe.

I wasn't sure how old she was but her flawless mocha skin, high cheekbones, and pepper and salt shoulder-length hair indicated she'd taken excellent care of herself over the years. Fifty was my guess. Not a day over would've meant she had Roosevelt when she was eighteen. Somehow I doubted that.

Standing in front of the mantel, I stared up at the DuBoises' family portrait. Roosevelt's mom and dad stood behind a woman seated in a large Victorian chair. I presumed she was the matriarch. But was she Helen's mother or Roosevelt's father Martin's mom? Between Helen and Martin a tall handsome man had his left hand on the shoulder of the woman seated in the chair. Presumably that was the woman's husband.

“Yes, dear. That is the DuBois family,” Helen said entering the room carrying a silver platter. On the tray were an old-fashioned white ceramic teapot decorated with blue flowers and streaks of gold, two tiny cups, a small dish with lumps of brown sugar cubes, honey, and lemon.

“Please, let me help you with this,” I said taking the platter.

I placed it on the coffee table, then sat on the sofa.

“Come, dear,” she said, walking to the mantel. “That's Martin's mother.” She pointed at the woman in the chair. “You met Martin's father, Wallace, in Chicago's suite at the game.”

Ah, of course,
I thought not wanting to interrupt
.

“And you know the rest of us. This portrait was hand-painted by a famous artist twenty years ago. I was forty then.”

I stared at her. “You look stunning,” I complimented. “Compared to what, my dear? If a woman takes care of herself, age never comes before beauty. Come. Sit next to me on the sofa and tell me what's so significant that it's brought you to my front door unannounced.”

“I apologize. It won't happen again.”

“Indeed. Out with it dear. I have commitments and I won't be late.”

I wouldn't dare tell her my father had arranged a hit on Roosevelt by the same man who had shot her son three times. If I had, I think Helen would've gotten her gun and killed Granville and my dad. She definitely appeared to be the kind of woman who could handle a firearm and a man with no problem.

“It's about Zach.”

She raised a brow. “Continue.”

“I don't believe he's your grandson.”

“Well, hell, Sindy. Neither do I. If all you have are suspicions you're wasting our time.”

Continuing, I said, “That's why I believe Madison won't let Roosevelt keep the baby. She knows something she's not revealing.”

Helen held up her wrist, glanced at her diamond Rolex. I had one on too. Women with money had an unspoken respect for one another. I'd work for someone else if I merely had Madison's money.

Obviously Madison was financially dependent upon Roosevelt after her father, Johnny, signed over Tyler Construction. Every day they remained legally married she'd get a little more in the divorce settlement. If I thought Madison would go away, I'd write her a check today.

“Darling, the tea is cold and I must go.
Call
me when you have facts and not speculations.”

“I respect that. But I need your help. When Madison has her breast implants done, you will offer to keep the baby—”

“That won't work.”

Why was this woman apprehensive? I had to keep trying.

“Or you can request Zach over the Thanksgiving holiday.”

Helen shook her head.

“Hear me out. If you don't want to keep the baby, I will. But we have to get Zach long enough to have Granville take a test.”

“Are you trying to divide my family, young lady?” she asked standing.

“No, ma'am,” I responded shaking my head. I stood not knowing what to say next.

“Haven't you heard that Granville is back behind bars?”

“Yes, and that's perfect. I'm a lawyer and I have friends at FDC. I can have Granville's blood drawn and sent to the lab for a DNA test. I love your son, Mrs. DuBois. I want to marry him.”

“No need to buy the cow,” she said. “Don't get ahead of yourself, dear.”

“No ma'am. I'm nothing like Madison. I'm still a virgin.”

She raised that one brow again. Scanned from my face to my feet then met me eye to eye. Shaking her head, she said, “I've got to go and so do you.”

S
he was with him again.

When Roosevelt had left, she'd walked out shortly afterward. When he returned to his condo, she was with him. My heart ached knowing I'd pushed him into her arms. The one thing I was not doing again tonight was watching those two engage in sex of any type.

Sindy was a tease. She dangled her pussy in front of his face. Not once had I seen him penetrate her. For that I was grateful. At least if she'd claimed she was having his child, I could prove her a liar.

The way she was monopolizing his time pissed me off. He had a baby. Just because I'd said he couldn't keep Zach overnight didn't mean I wanted Roosevelt to abandon us.

Tired of waiting for him to call, I dialed my husband. Soon as he answered, frantically I said, “Roosevelt, I need you to come over right away. I don't know what's wrong. I don't know what to do. I need you.”

“Whoa, slow down. Is Zach okay?” he asked. The compassion in his voice made me lie.

I was prepared for him not to have concern for me. She was by his side. If that bitch wasn't there, he would've picked up keys, been out the door, in his car, and on his way here.

“I'm not sure what's the problem. He feels really hot.”

I bucked my eyes, then narrowed them. Clenching my teeth, I stretched my mouth wide. Zach cried, “Whaa!”

Teasing him one day, I discovered scary faces made my baby wail as though I'd taken a bottle out of his mouth while he was starving. I didn't want Zach to continue crying.

“Hurry, Roosevelt,” I said ending the call.

He called right back. Zach was still crying. “Daddy is on the way. I'll be there in twenty minutes. Call me back if you need to.”

Rocking Zach in our favorite chair, I kissed him knowing he'd be asleep by the time Roosevelt got here. “Shh, sweetheart. Mommy loves you.”

Staring at the monitor, Roosevelt kissed Sindy. “That was Madison. I'll be back. I have to go check on Zach. He's sick.”

“You want me to leave?” she asked tucking her hair behind her ear.

That cutesy move wasn't going to work forever. In fact, it started to irritate me. “Tell her yes.”

“No, baby. Please, stay. I'll text you the details.”

Huh? About our son? She didn't need to know anything.

I raced upstairs, put Zach in his crib. I showered, brushed my teeth, then slipped into a long semi-sheer white gown. I styled my hair, but it was too perfect. I scratched my scalp all over with my fingernails until it looked like I hadn't combed my hair all day. I brushed a light coat of red blush on my cheeks and smeared a hint of smoky gray shadow under my eyes. I was tired but wanted to make sure I looked exhausted.

I had to hurry. I got a fresh onesie, sprayed water on the front and back, then balled it tight in my hands. I turned his bottle upside down and let a few drops of milk stain the chest area, then rubbed it in. Removing his clean dry T-shirt, I replaced it with the damp one, then tucked his body in a cotton blanket. Tugging at the center, I made sure the stains on the front of his shirt were visible.

When my doorbell rang, I lay Zach in his crib and raced downstairs. Leaving my baby in my bedroom was the only way I'd get Roosevelt upstairs. Opening the door, I gasped. Roosevelt was more attractive every time I saw him. Maybe that was because I seldom saw him in person.

“Is he okay?”

“I'm good,” I said. Closing the door, suddenly I felt foolish for making myself look sickly. He hadn't asked how I was. What if he found me undesirable?

“Where's Zach?” he asked. He didn't give me any indication that he noticed my see-through nightwear.

If I took it off . . . I paused my thoughts. I'd forgotten to put on my padded bra. At this point should I put it on or leave it off for sympathy?

“Upstairs. He's dozing a little but I can't figure out what's wrong with him. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. That's my boy.”

Roosevelt led the way to my bedroom, went straight to Zach. He placed his phone on the dresser, then gently picked up our baby. This was the first time he'd been in my bedroom since he'd seen the sex tape of me riding Granville in my bed.

Hopefully, Roosevelt would notice that bed was history and so was Granville. I'd bought new furniture, rearranged the room, and replaced my bedding—sheets, sham, bed skirt, comforter, and pillows. The room was repainted and I had the carpet replaced.

I'd prayed every night that Granville would grow old behind bars. Someone should beat his ass while he was in prison and extend his stay. I prayed for the kind of aging that made one's hair turn completely gray. He should have the life sentence that would make his spine curve and feet drag against the floor. I never wanted to see him anywhere. Maybe I should have Vermont file a protective order for me against Granville in case he was thinking about coming back to my house. I didn't care if Granville had a personal revolving door at the Federal Detention Center, county, or state.

“Thanks for coming, Roosevelt. He spit up on his shirt. He was running a high temperature earlier but I think it's down.” I got the thermometer. “You check him.”

“How?”

I placed the tip in his ear. “Hold it there for a few seconds. You know the old-fashioned way is to insert the tip into the rectum.”

Sindy probably hadn't given Roosevelt's ass an oral massage. I missed licking my husband's asshole. He loved that. Maybe I could convince him to let me do it tonight.

“Not my son. The ear is fine. Did you call his doctor?”

“Yes,” I lied. “He said every hour give Zach water and check his temperature.” I started to say, “And give him a cold bath,” but stopped. Roosevelt would want to bathe Zach and I wasn't ready for him to see our son's big, dark genitals. I continued, “If he's not feeling better in the morning I should bring him in.”

This was his last night in town before his road game tomorrow. Desperately, I wanted this man. Legally, I had the right to have him to myself. I had to make sure he stayed with us tonight. That would give him three days away from Sindy and time for me to figure out how to get rid of her.

“I'm going downstairs to get a bottle of Pedialyte water for Zach.”

“I'll get it. You lay down and rest. You look tired.”

Maybe my make-up and no bra made him notice. “You sure? I'm used to doing it all by myself.”

“Positive, babe.”

Soon as he left, I picked up his phone. A security code was set. Quickly, I entered 4263 for g-a-m-e. That didn't work. I tried 8463 for t-i-m-e.
Damn!
I couldn't set his phone to
DO NOT DISTURB
so I switched the side button to
VIBRATE
, powered it off, placed it back on the dresser, then lay across the bed on my stomach. Using my ass to tempt my husband wasn't going to work. I had to get close enough to lick his. I slid under the cover, turned my back to the door, then pulled the sheet up to my neck.

“The divorce hearing is coming up soon,” he said entering the room. “I don't want to fight you on this. Whatever you need, long as it's reasonable, I'll agree.”

I heard him open and close a few drawers in Zach's dresser. “Why didn't you change his clothes? He's wet.”

Sleepily, I said, “I'm exhausted. Can you stay for a while? I need a break.”

“I'll clean him up. When was the last time you changed his diaper?”

Shit!
I hadn't thought about that. I lied again. “Right before you got here. His diaper is fine.” I'd change Zach soon as I could.

“There you go, Daddy's big boy. I love you, dude.”

I felt my husband lay in my king-size bed. He placed Zach between us, then said, “He seems to be doing better. He's not hot anymore.”

“Maybe he just needed his daddy.” I really meant we, not he.

“Yeah, he does. He has two parents, Madison. We don't have to wait for the judge to grant me custody. Let me keep him when I get back.”

“Okay,” I lied.

I remember my mother saying, “If you'll lie, you'll cheat. If you'll cheat, you'll steal. If you'll steal, you'll kill.”

I'd done two out of four. Or was it three? I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. Since I couldn't sue little Miss Sindy for alienation of affection, I'd have to use Zach to get my husband back.

Roosevelt quietly said, “If you fight me on this, I'm filing for sole custody.”

I wasn't sure what his intentions were, but giving up my parental rights was not happening.