If You Don't Know Me (7 page)

“M
adison.”

Standing at the foot of the stairs, I waited for a response. “Madison,” I said a little louder. I didn't want to go up to her bedroom where she'd let Granville fuck her in the ass. I'd never lay my body in that bed again.

A flashback of her enjoying sex with another man made me want to go up those stairs and . . . my son smiled at me. Hugging him to my chest, I confessed, “If it weren't for you, dude, I would not be here.”

Madison could finally stop lying about how or why she opened her legs for Granville. My wife didn't owe me an explanation but a sincere heartfelt apology would've . . . done what? Pissed me off more.

What was she doing? She'd been upstairs for an hour. “Madison.”

Sleepily, she answered, “I'm coming, babe.”

Seeing her slowly take one step at a time, as though she was in pain, I felt bad. “I'm sorry. I should've known you were resting.”

“You have to go?” she asked. Her eyes filled with tears that didn't fall.

“Naw, no,” I lied. I had to get to Sindy before she'd be pissed off with me. “I need to change his diaper and I didn't know where they were. Didn't want to go searching through your things.” There was no telling what I would've accidentally found. Pictures. Another video. Some dude's stuff he'd left.

Madison took Zach from me. “I'll do it.”

“But I want to.”

She kept walking up the stairs. “It won't take long. I'll bring him right back.”

A text message registered on my cell. Hey, babe. You home yet?

Texting, Will be another two, I sat on the sofa in the family room, then paused. Better not put a time on it. Had to make a stop. Will call you when I'm in. I hit SEND, switched to VIBRATE, then locked my phone.

I leaned back, clamped my hands behind my head, then spread my thighs. Eight bedrooms. Ten bathrooms. An outdoor garden. An outdoor Jacuzzi. Madison's peach stucco mansion with layered red clay roof tiles resembled a Miami castle. Zach will enjoy growing up here.

Closing my eyes, I imagined Sindy straddling me. I'd run my hands through her hair, hold her face, pull her into me. My lips would caress hers. Unbuttoning my shirt, I could hear her whisper, “Roosevelt, I want to feel you inside of me.”

“Roosevelt,” Madison said handing Zach to me. “He's fresh and clean.”

Madison turned to leave. I called her name. She continued walking. I followed her. “Madison, wait.”

Pausing in between steps, she glanced over her shoulder, then answered, “Yes?”

“Is Zach
my
son?” I had to hear her say it. Hear how she'd respond.

“Of course he is. He looks just like you. Paternity tests don't lie but I understand your asking. I'm tired. Bring him to me when you're ready to go see her.” Tears coated her eyes again. Looking away, she sniffled.

Why should I sympathize with her? That woman could lie like an actress. I was the one who should cry. I held Zach a few feet in front of my face. It was hard to tell who babies resembled most. Hopefully my wife wasn't lying to me again. Did she really think I couldn't change a diaper?

Handling kids was all about coordination. I knew Zach was little but I could've changed and fed him at the same time. The ball skills I'd acquired from being a running back in high school and college were amazing. I got out of the game to pursue a more lasting career. Managing a team was better than coaching or getting beat up on the field. God knew my heart had gotten enough abuse from Madison. I'd rather take a thousand hits on the field than deal with wondering if a kid was mine.

Sitting in the white leather chair, I held Zach in the palms of my hands, one behind his head, the other underneath his butt. I'd love to say seeing a sex tape of my wife with another man didn't matter since the test results proved I was Zach's father, but that was a lie.

Before I arrived at her house, my intentions were to tell Madison, “I forgive you and I'm trying to forget the bad and focus on the good in our relationship.”

When she asked, “Are you sure you want a divorce? Zach deserves both of his parents,” I thought,
And what do I deserve? A whore for a wife?
My emotions were in turmoil.

I laid my son on my lap, then texted Sindy: You're perfect. I want to get to know you better. What if she were an opportunist too? Fool me once. I exhaled.

God whispered, “Trust in me. Sindy is the one.”

Rattling my head, I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone to church, read my Bible, spoken with my pastor, or kneeled to pray. Madison didn't go to church. Loretta. Hmm. She was a member at Lakewood too. We used to be prayer buddies. How did Loretta consider herself a Christian? After setting Madison up, Loretta fell in love with me, a married man. And if I would've given her a ring, I know she would've accepted. I understood why Madison didn't speak to Loretta anymore.

Zach smiled at me, exposing his gums. His eyes were full of light and joy. Respect was free. I shouldn't think of his mother as a tramp. I was hurting because I cared and it seemed as though Madison didn't. Wish I were more like Chaz when it came to women.

The innocence of my lil fella made me remember when my relationship with Madison was pure. I trusted her. Once she broke that trust, I knew the day would come when I'd do the same, to her or someone else, out of spite. Was Sindy a rebound to help me deal with my pain, or did I genuinely care for her?

Hmm. Sindy. What was there not to love about her?

“Hey, little man. I wish I could say I'd teach you how to know when a woman was lying but I can't. I can't protect you against heartaches from girls but I promise you I'll do my best to make sure I never let you down. And Daddy will always be here for you no matter what.”

His legs kicked as his lips curved down. Quickly, I held him to my chest, patted his back. “It's okay, son. I told you. I got you.”

God whispered, “I've got you too.”

I swear I wanted to cry. What was happening to me?

The vibration of my phone made me eager. Anxiously, I looked at the screen and smiled. It was Sindy. I braced Zach in one arm while reading her text: Save some love for me. I have a surprise for you.

Excitement stirred in the pit of my stomach. The last time I'd been this happy with Madison was the day I'd said, “I do.”

My new woman made me want to leave here, go straight to my jeweler, buy her that size six engagement ring, and put it on her finger before I changed my mind. Perhaps what I needed was time, not another commitment. But Sindy was different from Madison. I'd respond later. This was Zach's time.

“You guys okay?” Madison asked entering the family room.

“We good.”

“I couldn't sleep. You want to feed him or you want me to do it?”

“I'd love to feed him,” I said sticking my finger inside his diaper. “He needs to be changed first. I can do that while you fix his bottle.”

“No!” Madison replied, swallowing as she shouted. She coughed. “Something's caught in my throat. I meant to say, not again.”

She took Zach from me, then headed toward the stairs. “I'll change him while you heat up his bottle. It's in the refrigerator. How much longer are you going to be here?”

Long as I'd like, I thought. I'd paid off her mortgage. I know she wasn't rushing me. But I did want to get that surprise Sindy had waiting.

Instead of heading to the kitchen, I turned toward the living room. “I'll call and check on Zach later. I can see myself out.”

I paused, expecting her to ask me to stay . . . but she didn't.

H
e couldn't stay at my woman's house forever. My new cell that Charles Singleton had put in the briefcase was on the table. This time I'd give it ten minutes before checking Chicago's location again. I tapped the heel of my cowboy boot to the floor while juggling my phone from one hand to the other. Glancing at the clock on the wall in the food court, I exhaled heavily. Two minutes felt like ten had gone by. Spinning my phone, I remembered when I used to play spin the bottle. The girls gave me the same dare. “I bet you won't pull out your dick, Granville.” I felt like taking it out now. Playing with my shit took my mind off of everything else.

Indecent exposure was for guys with small wood. I had a two-by-four big enough to spank a woman without my nuts touching her ass. I tapped my heel harder.

I had to tell Madison how Beaux and I were going to start the process to open a Swiss bank account tomorrow. If they questioned how we got the mil, Beaux wanted to say the cash was from us winning the lottery. I decided we'd say it was an inheritance from our recently deceased mother.
No, dude. Don't let Madison know you rich. You want her to love you not your money.
All the madness in my head didn't matter. I wanted my woman by any means.

Holding my phone, if I were a genie, that wouldn't work. I'd have to grant, not make wishes. I liked
I Dream of Jeannie
. Whatever happened to that show? I know Jeannie would've loved me. If I could've gotten her away from Major Nelson. He was cock-blocking like Chicago. I closed my eyes and made a wish: “Dude! Be gone!”

Five minutes left. I put my phone on the table. The Galleria Mall on Westheimer Road was close to Madison's mansion. It was closer to the Grand Lux Cafe where I'd taken Loretta on our last date. Bet that bitch wish she would've kept my engagement ring.

I sat in the food court by the ice-skating rink watching women dash by me on those thin blades. Most of them wore tight jeans and T-shirts. Madison would never wear blue jeans. She was too classy for that. I didn't want any of those girls. One kept smiling at me each time she zoomed by. I found myself focusing more on the dad who was teaching his kid how to skate. Tears clouded my eyes. I was going to bring Zach here when he was old enough to learn how to skate.

I checked the iPhone Charles gave me, and Chicago's location showed him on Kirby Drive. “Yeah! It's about time, dude!” The moment I'd waited for was here. Chicago had left my woman's house. He was on Kirby Drive, probably headed to his condo. Who cared?

I asked myself,
How do you know this thing is working for sure?
What if he was still there or planned on going back?

An incoming call on my personal iPhone distracted me. I pressed
IGNORE
. I felt like a celebrity with two phones. Immediately he called back.

“What's up, bro? I'm busy.”

“Why you lying? I see your ass sitting in the food court.”

I looked up. My brother Beaux was leaning over the rail. I asked him, “What you doing up there by the Michael Kors store? Buying a purse?” I laughed, then sang, “You ain't got no girlfriend.”

Beaux wasn't gay or anything but he hadn't gone steady in a long time. Maybe I should hook him up.

“Meet me up here. I'm starving. Let's go grab something to eat at 51 Fifteen,” he said. “My treat.”

“We ate there two days ago, dude. I'm good,” I lied. I was so hungry I could eat a cow and her calves too. Food could wait. My mind was made up to make Madison let me see my son tonight. “Stop stalking me, dude.”

Beaux's taste buds had gone from Pappas Bar-B-Q to fine dining almost every day since our mama died. He refused to take anything for granted. I felt the same. That was why I had to see my kid. With this windfall, ain't no telling what Beaux would upgrade to. Me, I was forever a Texas cowboy who loved pussy, pretty women, and the simple life.

“I'm not asking,” he said. “We can go wherever you like. Stay there. I'm coming down.”

Soon as he was out of my sight, I ran toward Rainforest Cafe, dashed out the exit, and got in my truck.

In a matter of minutes, I was at Madison's. Chicago's car was actually gone. What did I have to do to start tracking Madison again? My online satellite was blocked. How'd she do that? She would never let me close enough to her phone again so I could download a GPS app like I'd done the night she passed out while riding my dick.

The one time Madison sexed me was the best of my life until our baby was born. Tears clouded my eyes. I parked my Super Duty a block from Madison's house. If she saw my truck, she'd probably get scared. I didn't get out right away.

Had to talk with my mama first. I touched my forehead, chest, right then left shoulder. “I'm getting ready to see your grandson.” I missed my mama. I'd make sure Zach knew who Sarah Lee Washington was. I should've brought a picture of Mama for him. Next time.

Hawking up the mucus in my throat, I opened the door and chucked it in the grass. “Fertilizer.” I sat in the driver's seat. I used the phone dude gave me and typed in
MADISON TYLER
on Facebook hoping she'd posted pics of our son. A few matches came up for her name but none of the profiles were her. I entered
MADISON TYLER-DUBOIS
. She came up but only friends could see her page.

What the hell? Why was I friends with Chicago and not her?

I started to send a request then remembered that Charles Singleton had warned me not to change the Facebook settings on the cell he'd given me. Adding or deleting friends was prohibited too. My sole purpose was to keep track of Chicago until I killed him. If I sent a request from my phone, Madison would know it was me. My friend page had photos of mountains and sunsets. Too many of them to count.

My personal profile name was Kilamandingo. I had lots of friend requests but didn't have a pic of myself anywhere on my page. Didn't want those football fans attacking me for shooting Chicago. I didn't accept any friends. Having no friends was true in my everyday life too. Watching other people was my main reason for signing up.

Getting out of my truck, I strolled past Madison's girlfriend Tisha's home. The next house was Loretta's. I stared at her place. Loretta's lights were on downstairs. I paused for a moment then continued my stride. I didn't care for her anymore. If she called the cops, she'd be doing me a favor. Breaking the protective order Loretta had against me wouldn't count when I explained to the police I was going to visit my son. I had the right to do that.

Sensor lights came on as I approached Madison's front door. I rang the doorbell then waited. Playfully I put my finger over the peephole. Laughing, I moved my hand. Hoping she'd be happy I'd come, I didn't hide my face. “Hello, dear.” I was prepared for Madison not to let me in soon as she saw me but she couldn't leave me standing out here forever.

“You need to get your ass away from here right now nigga and never come back.”

I balled my fists tight, held them high in the air as I turned around and swung.

“You heard me, nigga. I ain't scared of you,” Johnny Tyler said stepping back. “Get!”

“I ain't no dog, dude.” This old man wasn't my boss anymore. I was glad Madison had fired me. Otherwise, we couldn't be together. “You want some, old man? I ain't come here for no trouble. I came to see my kid.”

“I called the cops! They're on the way!”

My head snapped in the opposite direction. My fists were still raised. Dropping my arms to my side, I stared at Loretta standing in her front doorway. “You need to call 1-800-JENNY.”

What did I ever see in her? She still hadn't ditched that dreadful ponytail. I wasn't close enough to see if that raspberry lip gloss was smeared across her chocolate lips. Can't believe I'd sucked it off twenty-three times. Yuck!

She yelled, “Don't leave. I want you to go to jail!”

“Oh, so now you neighborhood watch, bitch! I came to see my son, not you! Did you lick any pussies while you were in prison?” That should shut her up.

She threw up her middle finger. I saw that white T-shirt tucked into those skin-tight blue jeans just before she slammed the door. “You gettin' fat!”

“Granville, you need to leave and never come back.”

My head jerked in another direction. This time it was Madison standing in the doorway of her house. These bitches lived too close together. I looked toward Tisha's place expecting her to be in the driveway, then I heard sirens in the distance.

“Nigga, you deaf?” Johnny said.

“I got your nigga,” I told him then quickly thumped my cowboy boots along the driveway. When I made it to the sidewalk, I saw a cop car heading in my direction. I took off running toward my truck.

A big house with an alleyway leading to a backyard was to my right. Too big and too black to hide in this upscale neighborhood where owners like Madison had motion lights surrounding their property, I kept it moving.

I made it to the corner, dashed across the street while shoving my hand into my front pocket. My keys were on my fingertips and my truck was less than fifty feet away. “You can make it,” I told myself. I looked over my shoulder before crossing the street.

The cop's car bumper was literally on my ass when he pulled into the driveway next to my truck. His door flung open.

The police yelled, “Freeze! Take your hand out of your pocket or I'll shoot!”

I put both hands up in the air. The phone Charles gave me fell out of my pocket. I motioned to bend over to pick it up.

“Ow!” My left knee hit the grass, then my right. My chest was flat against the cement sidewalk. The left side of my body ached. I braced my head inches from cement. I might not be the most handsome man in Houston but my face was not scarred. Had to keep it that way. It felt like blood rolled underneath my armpit to my chest.

The officer said, “Don't move!” then I heard him say, “Suspect in custody. Cancel backup.”

He was the one that needed to back his ass up. “Man, I was surrendering! I don't have a gun,” I said. “You didn't have to shoot me. This is racial profiling.”

“Put your hands behind your back,” he said.

My body was numb. “I can't. I'm shot.”

He grabbed my arms, held my hands behind my back. Tightening the handcuffs around my wrists, he said, “You have the right to remain silent . . .”

I became quiet, praying he didn't realize the Super Duty was mine. Everything Charles had given me was at my penthouse except the cell underneath my shin. I should've gone to dinner with Beaux. Now, I was going to have to call him to get my truck and bail me out of jail.

I'd shot Chicago three times. This cop hit me once somewhere in the back and I thought I was on my way to heaven where my mama was. Mama was not going to be happy to see me. God wouldn't have to whup me. Mama probably had a strap waiting for my behind.

“Get up!” the cop demanded. He placed his hand under my armpit.

“Man, let me go and call an ambulance. Can't you see I'm bleeding?”

“It was a stun gun. You're sweating,” he said. “Now get up before I shoot you for resisting arrest.”

I felt the iPhone beneath my knee. Getting up I placed the heel of my cowboy boot on top of the cell then crushed the screen, praying I'd destroyed the device and the SIM card. Mama had probably put it there. I felt my personal phone in my opposite pocket. The cop never noticed the phone in the grass. He put me in the back of his car and drove off.

Had this Charles dude set me up?