If You Don't Know Me (22 page)

T
he game was a big W for my man and getting him back was an important win for me.

Defeating Madison was gone-with-the-wind fabulous. The spooked expression on her face when I entered The Royalton was worth two million dollars. Looking pathetic, she stood beside her mother, who was holding precious little Zach. If Madison hadn't cheated she would've been 100 percent sure that Roosevelt was indeed Zach's father. She made my leaving her on that curb easy.

I bet she felt another punch in her gut when she saw Granville had a gorgeous wife who adored him. Guess there really was someone for everyone. The note I'd given Granville had Madison's cell number on it. I'd gotten it from Helen, knowing Madison would never give Granville her contact info. Madison had lost the battle. I did not feel sorry for her. She was sorry. She was also a sore loser not to be underestimated. Hopefully, she'd move forward with her life and not contest the divorce.

Roosevelt would never have to forgive me for what he'd never know. Zach was his biological son. The only persons who knew the truth were the laboratory tech and me. Being tied to Madison the rest of our lives was not going to happen. I would give Roosevelt as many babies as he wanted.

After we settled into our seats, the flight attendant handed us flutes of champagne. Holding my glass, I stared out the window glad Martin and Helen weren't with us. Helen could speculate forever but there was no way I was going to tell Roosevelt, Helen, or Martin the things I'd done. My confession was more like a statement. I'd planned to have them over to my house during the Christmas holiday, before New Year's Eve. Timing had to coincide with the football games. My preplanned celebration was trifold: the belated birth of Christ, Kwanzaa, and Roosevelt's divorce.

First, I had to complete what I'd started. Instead of transferring Roosevelt's condo into my name, I had a different plan. Once Granville's lease expired, he'd move out, and I could close that chapter of my life and seal the record.

“Babe, I'm so glad I have you back in my life,” Roosevelt said touching my leg.

This was the first time I'd flown on the team's plane. Every seat was like being in first class. Chaz and Numbiya were seated across the aisle.

“I feel the same,” I said. My heart wanted to express, “I love you,” but I'd wait for him to say it first.

Roosevelt's job was to ensure everything for game day was in place. He resumed his online preparation for our upcoming home game.

It was no longer a secret to the players and coaches that Roosevelt was temporarily residing at my home. Having him there was wonderful. His sleeping in the guest room wasn't what he preferred but I insisted. His argument of my sleeping in his bed when he had his condo was valid but I wasn't at his place every night.

Temptation was not my friend. I refused to give up my virginity until after I was married. Soon as the plane touched down at Bush International, Roosevelt retrieved my carry-on from the overhead compartment. I powered on my cell and texted Nyle.

I need another favor.

Glad he responded right away with Okay I typed: I want you to sell the condo. I'm not transferring it into my name.

Madison had probably already done a property search to find out who'd bought Roosevelt's condo. If my name were associated with the transaction, she'd have her attorney use that information against Roosevelt. Strange things happened in court and Madison could potentially benefit from Roosevelt's cohabitation with his mistress. I hated referring to myself as a mistress. Thank God, alienation of affection was not a Texas law. If it were, I knew she'd sue me. I had no intentions of suppressing my feelings for Roosevelt.

Another commission for me?

Definitely. Or you can pay me for it.

Consider it sold. I can't afford that place.

“Babe, we gotta go,” Roosevelt said standing over me.

I texted Nyle a sad face with a teardrop. I was not generous to give away seven figures to anyone.

“Sindy, we have get to the office for our two o'clock meeting, girlfriend. Let's go,” Numbiya cheerfully said.

Chaz was good for her and she was great for him. Numbiya was always upbeat. Before she'd met Chaz, she was a happy woman. Being with him made her happier. That was the way life was meant to be. Men were supposed to make women better, not bitter. My girlfriend's personality was unlike mine. I was the serious, loving type. She was the jovial, loving woman who brought sunshine to everybody's life.

As I stood, another text registered. Your father had a heart attack. Come to Methodist now. The text came from my father's number.

I fell into my seat. When had that happened? I texted: Who is this? Call me, please.

Roosevelt sat beside me. “You okay? I know you're not pregnant,” he said jokingly.

His comment was untimely and definitely not funny. “My dad had a heart attack.”

“What? Where is he?”

Softly, I said, “Methodist.” Looking at my phone, I saw there was no response to my question.

Numbiya stepped into the row behind me, then leaned over the seat. “What is it?”

Roosevelt responded, “Charles had a heart attack.”

“Move,” Numbiya said to Roosevelt. She held my arm, then lifted me up from the seat. “We've got to go.”

“Babe, I'll have my driver take us straight to the hospital,” Roosevelt said.

Chaz commented, “Take your time, bro. I'll hold it down at the office.”

“I'm going with Sindy,” Numbiya said still holding me up.

“Of course,” Chaz said. He kissed Numbiya, then told her, “I love you. Call and let me know how he's doing.”

Based on my girlfriend's “I love you too,” obviously this wasn't their first time exchanging those three words.

Did my dad love my mom? Did Roosevelt love me? Madison? Or both of us? I definitely believed it was possible to be in love with more than one person at the same time.

Exiting the plane, Roosevelt led the way to baggage claim. His driver was there waiting. “We have an emergency. Come back and get our bags. We need to go to Methodist.”

Despite our differences, I loved my father. Daddy was a fighter. I convinced myself, saying out loud, “He'll be fine.”

“Yes, he will,” Roosevelt said, then prayed, “Heavenly Father, We ask you watch over and protect Charles Singleton. Restore his health, oh Lord, and with each moment we pray he gets stronger.”

Roosevelt held one hand, Numbiya held my other. My dad was a complicated man. If he died today or lived another fifty years, I wouldn't understand what made him devalue people's lives.

Siara came to mind. If Daddy died, I didn't want to tell my sister via Skype. Regardless of how she felt about my not meeting her family, I'd have to go to Paris. We'd have to handle the details for our father's estate together. His trust was in order. I'd made sure of that. Everything he owned was divided equally between my sister and me.

The driver parked in front of the Emergency entrance. Numbiya took charge. She found out where my dad was. We arrived at the nurses' station on his floor and were directed to his private room. His two bodyguards stood on opposite sides of the door.

“I'll wait out here,” Numbiya said. She didn't like seeing sick or dead people.

Roosevelt held my hand. I was glad he had. I didn't want to go in alone. Slowly, I opened the door. Softly, I said, “Hey, Daddy,” then waited for the nurse to complete his vitals.

If he were well, I would've called him Charles. Why did I wait until my father might be dying to care enough to respect him? He had tubes in his nose, an IV in the back of his hand, and a monitor attached to his heart. “When did this happen?” I asked.

Faintly, my dad said, “Yesterday. If you're trying to kill me, Sindy, by being disobedient, congratulations.”

“Yesterday?” I opened the drawer on the stand beside his bed. Shuffling pens and paper side to side, then front and back, I asked, “Where's your phone?” If he died, I had to have it.

“I don't know. Why do you care?”

“I'm not going to allow you to leave here making me feel guilty. Where is it?”

I was more concerned with how Roosevelt felt about what my father had said than my dad's intentions. I was at a game cheering for my man and our team while my dad was in the hospital. I could've been anyplace else on earth and my father's outcome would be the same. Understanding I had no control of his health, I couldn't change a thing.

Death sometimes happened when we least expected it. Charles could've died without my having a chance to say good-bye and that would've been okay. If it was his time, God had made that decision, not me. When Madison had taken Roosevelt off of life support and he lived, that was God's decision too.

Roosevelt looked at Charles and said, “Hang in there, man,” then walked out of the room.

The nurse looked at my dad, then asked me, “Can you step in the hallway for a moment.”

I kissed my dad's forehead. “I'll be right back and you'd better be right here watching that television. If you haven't done so already,” I told him, “Repent.”

“Sindy,” he said. This time his tone was affectionate.

I told him to repent, not confess. If he'd killed my mother, I did not need to know that now. Jasmine's name had better not come out of his mouth. Looking in his eyes, I waited to hear what he had to say.

“Ask Roosevelt to come back in. Alone.”

T
he moment I saw the tubes, heart monitor, and IV, I wanted to regurgitate. I had to get the hell out of there.

Charles Singleton's body was practically skin to bone. His face was sunken in. Maybe that was how he'd looked before being hospitalized. I had no images to compare. Standing in the hallway, I swallowed to keep from throwing up.

Seeing Charles flooded me with memories of my being on life support for thirty days. For a month, I fought to stay alive. Loretta was by my side every day. I knew how it felt to do nine things right, one thing wrong, and have the people you helped the most turn against you. Long as my team was undefeated, I was the best. Whenever the inevitable happened, and my losing season came, I'd be one paycheck away from being replaced.

Loretta had betrayed Madison, not me. But I, like most spouses, found it easier not to blame my wife. Truth was, the person who stood at the altar, had taken a for-better-or-for-worse vow, and had signed her name to take me off of the respirator believing, or hoping, I'd take my last breath, should be held accountable.

I didn't need any more surprises. I said to Sindy, “I'll go in only if you agree to enter the room with me.”

She lowered her head, then nodded.

Reluctantly, I'd gone into Charles's hospital room. Being with Sindy made me believe if she were my wife, and I were ever in a life-or-death situation, she'd do the opposite of what Madison had done. Married or single, I wasn't taking that chance again. My mother would have power of attorney. I knew she'd do what was right.

What could her father possibly have to tell me? We stood at his bedside.

“Sindy, leave,” he said in a demanding tone.

“If she goes, I go too,” I told Charles.

He shifted his eyes to the corners and stared in silence at Sindy. I not only saw but also felt his hatred toward her. Maybe it was resentment. Whatever it was, I'd only witnessed that from my opponents while playing college football.

Some of the dads yelled and called their sons obscene names during a game. Those were the ones who thought they'd go pro, didn't, and now their kid had to make it into the league for both of them. Whatever Charles had to say, I didn't want to hear it. I had to.

“Babe, wait for me outside. Please. Don't leave me,” I said. Kissing her lips, I stroked her hair. I wanted Charles to see how much I loved his daughter.

Sindy had done right by me. If being in this room with her father meant I had to overrule my desire to curse him out and hear what he had to say, I would do that. Seeing him stare at her that way made it harder for me to listen without judgment. But I had no respect for this man.

Soon as the door closed, Charles said, “I'll get straight to it. You may hate me after I tell you this but by the time you get over being angry, I'll be dead. My daughter loves you the way every man wants to be loved by a woman. Sindy loves you with every molecule in her body.”

“I feel the same about her,” I told him.

He shook his head, then said, “You don't get it. Men protect and provide. That has little to do with love.”

I was not going to acknowledge him but that was why I'd stayed with Madison. I wanted to provide for my son. I couldn't do for Zach and not take care of the woman who had to care for him.

Charles said, “Men are incapable of loving deeply like women. We're not wired that way.”

“Respectfully, I disagree.”

“Doesn't matter. Let me explain why I said that. Sindy went against my plan to have you killed. I was the one who wanted you dead, not Granville. If I wasn't dying, there'd be a price on my head for fifty million dollars. And one on yours for two.”

He couldn't be serious. Was that why Granville moved into my building? To kill me? This was the time for me to listen and not speak but I wanted to snatch Charles out of that bed and beat his ass.

“Sindy has a younger sister named Siara. I was paid ten million by one of the wealthiest Parisians alive in exchange for her. Siara was eighteen and a virgin at that time. Now she's twenty-eight.”

I swear I wanted to pull his damn plug. I stepped closer to the head of his bed, then glanced toward the door.

“I have no regrets. I did the right thing. He's treated her well. She's given him three children. The fifty million I received was for Sindy. There's a man living in Dubai still waiting to marry Sindy. I don't care anymore if she goes or not. I'm dying.”

Dirty bastard!
I felt no sympathy for him. My jaw tightened. I wanted to ask, “Does the man in Dubai want me dead?” Sindy never spoke of her family—mother, sister, and seldom Charles. I had a lot of questions for her.

How selfish of me to frequently have her in the company of my family and not have asked about hers. That was going to change today. I wanted to meet her sister, her mother, and whomever she wanted to introduce me to.

“I may not have time to say what I'm going to tell you twice. Stay focused,” Charles said. “The billionaire in Dubai requested Sindy because she's a Singleton and she's a virgin. We're descendants of the Singletons from Lancashire who settled in Texas.”

I remained expressionless on the outside but thought,
Damn, for real?
Sindy has never had vaginal intercourse. That explained why she didn't want me to penetrate her. “I don't understand the significance of your family history.”

Charles said, “What difference does it make? He's a nice guy but I couldn't deliver because Sindy is saving herself for . . . you. Can you say you've put my daughter first? Ever? You don't have to answer that. We both know you haven't. You still believe you love her the same? You don't have to answer that either.”

When he'd said that, I felt like a fucking fool for letting Madison manipulate me.

“Ever since you became the youngest GM, all she talked about was one day meeting and marrying you. Before you became GM, she used to go to your college games just to watch you play. I know that you don't know any of this because I know my daughter. She was in love with you when you didn't even know she was alive.”

A part of me was angry with this man I didn't know. What makes a father sell his daughters? I don't give a damn about where they came from. Everyone in America was from someplace else, including the Kennedys and the Rockefellers. Hearing Charles acknowledge the dirt he'd done, I loved and respected Sindy even more.

“Sindy is a jewel. I respect her for standing up to me but she put my life in jeopardy. She . . . here,” he said handing me one large envelope. “When the time is right, after I'm six feet under, open this and give the letters to my daughters. One is for you. The fourth one is for, well, you'll see.”

“Granville?” I asked taking the envelopes. Lifting my shirt, I shoved the envelope in the front of my pants, covered it with my wife-beater, and buttoned down and prayed Sindy didn't discover it was there. I knew she'd touch my back but I'd have to avoid hugging her until I could secretly hand the envelope to my driver.

Had Charles told Granville not to kill me? I was concerned, not afraid. God had me here for a purpose. It was time I start trusting in Him.

“I'm done talking. Do as I've said.”