If You Don't Know Me (6 page)

T
hirty minutes was exactly what I needed to get presentable for my husband.

I ushered Papa to the front door. “Roosevelt is on his way. Whatever it is you have to say can wait.” Papa's jacket was draped over his arm. His white button-down shirt was crisp, ash-gray pants perfectly creased. “If you're going home, tell Mama I'll see her tomorrow. Bye.”

He stood on the wrong side of the threshold. “Don't bite the hand that's fed you all your life, sweetheart. I need my job and I want Tyler Construction back. Tell Roosevelt that.”

Whatever amount of money Roosevelt had given my dad, I was sure my mother didn't know how much or where it was. Papa was smart. He still had that money and his private jet. His lifestyle hadn't changed but his ownership had. I didn't blame him for wanting complete control over his assets. He'd created his problems and added to mine.

“I'll think about it. Now go.”

He moved one step closer to the doorway. It felt strange hearing Papa, once a proud business owner, say the word “job.” He'd worked hard to build his company. Greed to expand beyond his means created his demise. The lack of commitment he had to our latest development project cost us hundreds of thousands. With my newborn and my upcoming surgery, I couldn't put his agenda ahead of my own.

Helen never cared much for Papa but the fact that I'd told Roosevelt that my father was sexing young girls instead of taking care of corporate duties put Papa on Roosevelt's termination list. If everything went my husband's way, by the time I was divorced, Papa would be unemployed. I wasn't going to let that happen but my dad should suffer the consequences for his infidelity.

Nudging my dad outside, I was not jeopardizing my chances to remain Mrs. Madison Tyler-DuBois by defending my dad's dishonor. “Go home, Papa. Call me later. And tell Mama I love her.”

“Madison, wait. Zach—”

Now I had twenty minutes. I closed my front door.

He needed to go home but God only knew where my dad would end up after he left my house. Mom was probably at peace when he wasn't there with her. Awkward as my situation was, I didn't want Roosevelt and me taking one another for granted. I couldn't undo removing my husband from life support when he needed me most but if I made the proper decisions moving forward, my marriage was salvageable. My husband should never underestimate what I'd do to keep him.

Carrying Zach upstairs, I placed him in his crib, then turned on the television.
Yay!
I'd managed not to spy on my husband after my release from the hospital. “You're doing great. Don't do it, Madison.” The more I resisted, something inside my head made me click a few buttons on my remote. I didn't need to see this.

The video cameras I had the contractors install at Roosevelt's condo before I'd given birth to our son were still working. The contractors did an impeccable job of hiding the lenses in the corners between the crown molding in each room. The crib, playpen, and baby toys I'd set up in Roosevelt's second bedroom were still there. Sindy might have a slim chance of replacing me as Roosevelt's wife but no other woman could trump that I was the mother of Roosevelt “Chicago” DuBois's first child.

Elated that I'd done something right, I showered, changed clothes, and refreshed my make-up for my husband. Brushing my short platinum-blond hair, I made sure not a strand was out of place. If I was going to stay ahead of this younger woman Sindy, I had to be flawless. Five, almost six years wasn't a major gap but the fact that I was almost four years older than my husband meant I had to keep myself together at all times. Having a baby and no breasts were no excuses for me to let myself go.

Zach was seven days old and my stomach wasn't flat as it used to be. In another week I was hiring a nanny and a personal trainer. I detested wearing body shapers. Those hideous garments were designed for women who didn't keep their mouth shut and their ass moving. Desiring help to temporarily restore my former hourglass figure, reluctantly I put on the one I'd bought from Victoria's Secret.

“Damn, I look better but I can hardly breathe.”

I fastened my custom-made 36-double D padded bra, then dabbed my favorite perfume at the nape of my neck. Didn't want the fragrance to make contact with Zach's skin. I eased into a short blazing cerulean cotton dress that softly hugged my hips, then carried my shoes and our son downstairs.

The man in the BMW I'd waited for arrived. I slipped into my shoes. Cradling Zach in my arm, I stood in the doorway waving and smiling.

Roosevelt's blue suit, red shirt, and striped tie were impeccable. The dark designer sunglasses were different from the ones I'd seen him in. I liked these more. Hopefully Sindy hadn't given them to him. His shoes were polished to perfection as always. His thin mustache was neatly aligned with the corners of his mouth. I missed having his lips all over my body.

“I'm glad you guys won today,” I said puckering for a kiss.

“Hey little fella,” he said sliding his hand behind Zach's back. Roosevelt paused, pressed his lips to mine. He looked into my eyes, said, “Daddy loves you,” then scooped his son out of my arms.

Men often sent mixed signals but I had my situation figured out for him. I was certain there was hope for us staying together.

I closed the door. “You want something to drink?” A part of me felt like a stranger to my husband. The other half was all too familiar.

“I'm good. I can't stay long but I'm coming by tomorrow to get him. My family wants to see the baby. I can keep him overnight to give you a break.”

Time away from my baby wasn't what I needed. “Let's give it another month or two before he's around other people.” I was genuinely concerned. I didn't want strangers touching Zach's face and hands. What if he got sick? Who was going to care for our son? Not Roosevelt.

If my husband didn't change his mind about divorcing me, we'd have to let the judge determine his custodial rights. For now, I had complete control over our son's whereabouts and I refused to relinquish my power.

Roosevelt stared at me. His lips tightened as his eyebrows drew closer together. Speaking between clenched teeth, he said, “You've controlled enough, don't you think. I'm not asking. I'm coming to get my son tomorrow. I'll be by around three after I'm done at the office.”

I slid my hand down his back, and he stepped away. “I only said that because Zach is only a week old. His immune system has not developed and he could catch something.”

Roosevelt's lips relaxed.

“Baby, are you sure you want a divorce? Zach deserves both of his parents.”

Silence filled the room until Zach cooed. Roosevelt kissed his son on the mouth, then held Zach to his chest. “Daddy got you, dude.”

Tears filled my eyes. “Have me too. We both need you.”

Roosevelt shook his head; he tightened his jaw. Silence.

He didn't have to say anything. I was winning and he hated it.
Take another bite of my apple, babe.
Inside of me, I screamed, “I hate you for having a life of leisure and I'm stuck in the house with our son by myself!” then I cried uncontrollably.

“Don't perform in front of my son. We're not raising him to see us argue and no matter what we have to deal with, I don't want him to see you cry.”

On the inside, I smiled then prayed for a positive outcome. Why did he always have to take the high road? The more in control he was the more I felt that I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Hmm. Would he divorce me if I faked one?

Kicking off my heels, I told him, “I'll give you guys time alone. I'm going upstairs. Call me when you're ready to leave.”

I had to say and do that before I did something I'd regret. Screaming “You cheating bastard! Why did you have that bitch in your suite?” wasn't going to make him love me the way I loved him.

Removing my dress and body shaper, I kept on the bra and put on a short silk gown and slightly longer robe to expose my long sexy toned legs. Loosely, I tied the belt. I skipped the panties, turned off the television, then lay across my bed and cried myself asleep.

I'd do whatever I had to do to keep my husband.

A
lone time wasn't best for me so I'd taken on extra hours at my job.

Mama always said, “An idle mind is the devil's workshop.”

Sitting high in an excavator, I backed up the construction equipment. I loved operating this gentle giant machine. Powerful, big, and smooth, the SL 210 LC was kinda like me. The main difference was I didn't need anybody making me do anything.

I hit the controls to spin the cab a hundred and eighty degrees, then drove forward. Dropping the bucket onto a mound of dirt, I maneuvered switches until the bucket was full. Driving a short distance, I released the load, picked up another, then transported it a few feet. I'd shoveled, leveled, compacted, and excavated dirt for the past two hours.

My son should receive my health benefits. Madison couldn't control my adding Zach as one of the two beneficiaries on my life insurance policy. My brother Beaux would get paid after I was buried. Mama would want it that way. I was going to provide for my kid even if I couldn't see him. Now that Mama was dead, I needed someone to take care of.

“Granville,” my supervisor yelled, flapping his arms.

Looking down at Manny, I turned off the engine, then answered, “Yeah, boss!”

Manny was six feet tall and he was fluent in English and Spanish. Speaking loud was the norm. It was hard to hear people talking on the site with machinery humming, banging, and drilling. Our eyes had to be our ears. Sometimes I made up country songs that went along with the motion of my machine to make my job fun.

“
I was digging her. She wasn't digging me. Until I went deep. She was feeling me.
” Well, who cared what I sang. They couldn't hear me.

“Can you work another split shift tomorrow? I need you!”

“Sure thing, boss!” I cranked up, dropped my last load, safely parked the excavator, secured all components, then hopped down. My blue jeans, denim shirt, and steel-toed boots were covered with dust.

I snapped my teeth like a starving animal. The ruggedness made me feel manly. The extra hours made a big difference in my clothes. There was no way I was changing to come back and get grimy again. The best part was the extra money in my paycheck. I was so hyped I felt like I could do ten hours seven days a week without a problem.

“You're doing an excellent job,” Manny said patting me on the back.

At least someone was proud of me. “Thanks, boss.”

“I'm thinking about promoting you to site supervisor. You want the job?”

The smile on my face gave him my answer but just to be sure, I yelled, “Helllll yeah!”

Driving home I wished I had a woman waiting for me. A hot meal on the stove. My bathwater waiting. I could walk through the door and say, “Honey, I'm home and guess who made supervisor?” Picking her up and spinning her around, I'd give her a big ol' juicy wet kiss. Loretta hated my kisses. I liked hers. Yum. Raspberry.

Suddenly I became sad. Where was my son? Who was holding him? Had he gained a pound? Was he happy? I imagined he was but I wanted to be happy with him and Madison. I could afford to buy Zach whatever he needed. How much could a one-week-old eat?

I laughed. Mama used to say, “Boy, you gon' eat us out of a house and a home.” Wasn't that the same thing? I missed my mama.

Taking a detour off of Westheimer Road, I drove by Madison's house. Chicago's car was parked in her driveway. I stopped, stared at the front door. Turning off the engine, I opened my truck door, got out.

Looking up at the house next door, I saw Loretta standing on the balcony. She placed her hand on her hip, rolled her eyes, then went inside. The protection order she had against me was still in place for another few years. I wasn't here to see her but Madison's house was less than one hundred feet from Loretta's. Just in case Loretta was calling the police, I didn't need any trouble. My boss might fire me if got arrested. I couldn't hold my son while wearing these dirty clothes anyway. I got back in my black Super Duty and headed home.

We didn't have assigned spaces but I liked when my favorite one was available. Didn't have to worry about my neighbor's car door hitting mine. I parked at the end. Walked up to my penthouse on the second floor. Opening the door to my one bedroom, I headed straight to the fridge, grabbed a brew, then sat on my couch.

My funk. My filth. My furniture. I stared at the suitcase Charles Singleton gave me. If the million dollars, the gun, and the cell phone he mentioned were actually inside, I would need that promotion for an incentive to stay. Actually, I loved my job. If I'd won a million playing the lottery—guess I'd have to play first—I'd still work.

But if I carried out Mr. Singleton's request to kill Chicago, I might end up back behind bars. Beating attempted murder charges was one thing but there was no way I'd get off for first-degree murder. I sat my beer on the floor, placed the case on my coffee table.

What was Charles Singleton's motivation? I mean, I loved Madison but did Charles love her too? Why did he have his bodyguards show up at my apartment, break in, and force me to go to his place? Then he sat in the dark so I couldn't see his face. That day felt like a movie scene. I didn't know that dude. But I'd bet he knew all about me. I hadn't checked this case because . . . what was really inside? I'd waited long enough.

“Let me see.” I opened it. “Shit! Fuck!” I covered my mouth. That old dude wasn't lying!

My body trembled. I'd never seen this much cash in my life! I picked up my cell, dialed my brother.

Beaux answered, “What's up, bro?”

“Get your ass over here right now,” I said then ended the call. Since I'd heard on the news recently that the government was eavesdropping on everybody's calls, I couldn't take a chance on them overhearing me. I knew they'd come get my black ass.

I downed my beer, grabbed two more from the fridge, then spread the money out on my living room floor. Waddling in it like a kid, I yelled, “I'm rich, bitch!”

Bet Loretta wished she could get some of this cash and dick. I squeezed my shit so hard I almost came, then I started laughing.

Bam. Bam. Bam.
“Open the door!” my brother said.

Beaux was going to be in for the shock of his life. Grinning like a kid left alone in a candy store, I cracked the door. “Close your eyes, dude.”

He pushed. I shoved him back.

“What you up to? Move out the way,” he said trying to force open the door.

It didn't budge. “Seriously, do it now. Shut your damn eyes.”

Beaux did as I said. I released the door, then touched his shoulder. “Don't open them until I tell you. Now come in.” Locking the door, I said, “Open them.”

My brother's eyes grew the size of gumballs. “Nigga! Who the fuck you robbed?”

“I know, right?” I didn't want to tell him everything but I couldn't lie. “I told you on the way to Mom's funeral that I had a million dollars.”

“Now tell me how you got it,” he said picking up a handful of hundreds. One at a time, he held them up to the light.

“You think my shit is fake?”

“I don't know,” he said holding up another. “Probably.”

What if it was? I hadn't thought about that. I could kill Chicago, get away with that, and still end up in jail for pushing counterfeit dollar bills. Charles wouldn't do that. Tomorrow after my first shift, I was taking two of them bills to the bank to make sure dude ain't tryna play me. I couldn't ID his ass. I didn't know where he lived, but my fingerprints were on shit in his house. He had my address. I couldn't call him. But he had my number.

I told Beaux, “I haven't earned it yet. I'll get another mil after I kill Chicago.” That idea that I had after Mama's funeral might work.

He slapped the back of my head. I barely felt it. He said, “What the fuck, bro? Are you stupid?”

“The worst that can happen is I'll end up behind bars and you'll be a millionaire. But, if I dump this into an offshore bank account, let it earn interest, and never attempt to kill Chicago, I can give Charles Singleton back his money and we can keep the interest.”

Beaux slapped me hard, on my back this time. I stumbled. “Bro, you just made Mama proud. That's the way to go. I got your back on that.” My brother fell on top of the money.

“Dude, we're gonna be frickin' millionaires!” Madison loved my dick. I bet she'd crawl on her knees and beg me to take her back when she found out that I was a rich man.