Love Delivered (27 page)

“Why are you acting as if it’s a farfetched concept? We dated for almost two years, Stenton.”

“And didn’t meet an occasion where I wasn’t wearing a rubber. Did I miss something?”

Erika straightened and reclined in her seat. I knew it. I saw the flash response of her doubt. Before meeting Zoey, I had one pregnancy scare with a woman I was dating, and that was because I was dumb as hell, running up in her raw from time to time. That one scare had me using rubbers each time I’d engaged since. The only woman I found that difficult with was Zoey. That shit killed me over the past week. I knew if I wanted to forego the rubbers, Zoey would have been more than okay with it. She would have been thrilled, but my guilt from getting her pregnant still haunted me, forcing me to do the responsible thing with her until she was officially mine and wanted more kids, a complicated process that had me one hundred percent sure Erika was lying through her fucking teeth.

My phone rang. Angrily, I snatch it from the table and saw Zoey’s name and image.
Fuck! I don’t need this shit right now!
But I had to answer. I never ignored her calls or needs.

“I’m in the middle of dinner. I’ll hit you back as soon as I’m done,” my tone was colder than intended. I was that fucking blistered over this shit.

“Well, this won’t take long,” her voice was unnervingly low. “If what you wanted to talk about when you returned was you expecting a baby with Erika, you could have supplied that information before ramming your dick in me all week. I didn’t need it to pacify me from the pain. I’m good on my own. Continue to enjoy your dinner with her and your new family.”

Click.

Goddamn…

My eyes glided over to Erika observing me closely.

“You’ve fucked up now, E,” I advised calmly as I stood from the table to leave.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To do damage control with my team who you didn’t give the courtesy of a heads up before compromising my family. Do yourself a favor. Delete my number. You don’t contact me directly. The only number you’ll need for me is my attorney’s.”

I turned to leave the restaurant. The following days were just as bleak as those moments with Erika. Of course, I tried calling Zoey immediately to explain to her what was happening and assure her this was all a fucking hoax. But she didn’t answer one call, text or voice message. Her wall had gone up again. I got Sarah on the phone, feeling the need to explain to someone in the Barrett family that I wasn’t as reckless as being portrayed. I wouldn’t accidentally knock someone up like a dumb ass kid. Sarah tried to ensure that she understood, but the bitterness of the accusation was still strong.

Then the shit hit the fan. When my PR team released a statement declining Erika’s accusations, the public responded harshly. I was deemed insensitive and irresponsible. Apparently, the world got too attached to Erika and me being a couple and weren’t ready for us to part, and certainly wouldn’t have me denying “our baby.”
What the hell?
Erika knew that was Shirez’s baby just as much as I did. She knew I had iron clad proof of their affair. He even knew. He’d bragged about it to mutual friends.

But the lid really flew off when pictures of Zoey and me together that week surfaced. The night we went out to eat and ran into Kenneth James at
Bajwa
in Philly and let his photographer take flicks of Zoey in my arms, wanting the world to see my prize, emerged at the wrong time. Our days in the Hamptons when Zoey swore she saw a camera flash? Sure enough, that shit hit the Internet, too. The fondness of having her on my back and in my mouth at the same time was tainted by the timing of it all. I couldn’t give a damn about the world knowing about my time and connection to her. What I didn’t want was her exposed to the negativity of it all. 

And negativity it was. Zoey attacked me and the world attacked her. The morning after she hung up on me, I got a call to check her Facebook page. Zoey posted the lyrics to Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know” and left the signature of “ImOverIt.com” at the end. Because I wasn’t familiar with the lyrics of the track, only the popularity of it when I was a kid, I Googled it. I was sick. The spirit of the song was vile. The lyrics laced with pure anger.

A day later, I got a call about hecklers harassing Zoey and her staff at her bakery. In another incident, eggs were plastered on the glass windows when she arrived to open for business. Overnight, her safety became an issue. My life had once again spun out of control.   

~~~~~~~~~~

~
Zoey
~

My life had gone from bliss to crap in a matter of hours. Tynisha sent me the press release about Erika’s baby and I fell backwards, hitting my head on my desk behind me. Thank goodness I didn’t hurt myself too bad. No matter how many times I told myself not to call Stenton, my anger got the best of me and I did it anyway. When he shouted into the phone that he was at dinner, it was a gut blow. I couldn’t believe he betrayed my trust. Was I that easy? Did he not have to work at all to get into my bed? He certainly owned my heart, that was no difficult feat. I felt like a fool. I’d disappointed myself.

My troubles didn’t end there. Just days after that announcement hit, pictures of Stenton and me frolicking around like two having an affair, flooded the Internet. Viewing the total bliss in my eyes while wrapped around or under Stenton drove the dagger in my chest even deeper. Bloggers were speaking against my character, creating false backstories about me and why Stenton never married me. Others labeled me as victim number one.
E!
Network even contacted me, offering a few episodes on “
Envying the Ercegs
” where I would “assist” Erika through the pain Stenton caused her. How pathetic.

I closed the bakery for almost a week, losing revenue to keep my staff safe when we had eggs cover the windows and my cleaning guy almost got into an altercation when he found someone rummaging through the trash. Chesney encouraged the closing and even provided solutions as to how to pay the staff while business was suspended. He actually flew to Philadelphia to check on me. His presence was welcomed support from a friend. We’d softened toward each other tremendously over the years. I needed his friendship and services during this dark time. It was horrible.

While we were on the hiatus, Angela informed me of her and Timmy’s separation. I knew they were experiencing rough times over the months, but had no idea they were the type that put them on the road to
Splitsville
. She attributed it to getting married too young, before being fully developed beings first. It reminded me of Angela’s and my old pact to not get married before
we
decided we were ready and not anyone else. Overall, she appeared okay about it, which relieved me. Her news was still disappointing, though.

The morning we opened back up for business, I arrived early to
Niña’s Sweet Cakes
to be sure everything flowed smoothly. Seconds into preparing to start the day, two burly men walked into the door, appearing suspect, too official for my comfort.

Just when I thought this nightmare was coming to an end.

“Is Elizabeth Zoey Barrett around this morning?”

“I’m Zoey, how can I help you?” I walked toward the door with a racing heart.

“I’m Tad from Marsh Securities. We’ve been assigned to monitor this location of your business.”

“Security? I didn’t hire security,” I clarified.

“It was arranged by Mr. Rogers, ma’am.”

“Again. I didn’t arrange for security, so you can leave.”

I watched as he pulled out his phone and mumbled a few words into it before handing it over to me.

“I’m not using that.” I crossed my arms over my abdomen.

He murmured into the phone again then tapped a few times before holding it in the air.

“Zoey,” I heard the familiar tenor call out. “Zoey!”

I shuffled in place, attempting to hide my discomfit. Stenton’s voice always evoked an involuntary reaction from me.

“This is Zoey.” My eyes fluttered at that weak reply.

“Please let the guys do what they’ve been hired to do.”

“I don’t need security, Stenton. This will all blow over soon. I have fifteen minutes of fame and just like everyone else’s, they’ll expire.”

“Damn it, Zoey, this is not a joke. Someone could really try to hurt you!”

Angela jumped in place at the shrilling he caused in the phone.

“I can take care of myself, Stenton.”

“You’re not the only one to be considered!”

“I only hire adults, Stenton. We’re fine. Philly’s finest are only a call away—”

“Fuck, Zoey!” he shouted. “My goddamn son is there weekly! Don’t play fucking cute!”

This time, everyone in the room reacted in some sort of manner. Tad, holding the phone, blinked several times. The guy behind him stretched his neck. And I trembled in my ‘Verses.

“Zoey, please just accept the damn security!” he tried with a controlled tone that time, though I knew he’d hit a brick wall.

“Fine! Is that all?”

“Yes,” he breathed and that arrested my attention. There was too much relief emitted with that one word.

He was stressed, it was palpable. I was hurt. It was miserable. Once again, Stenton and I were at an impasse. It had become our thing.

“Goodbye, Zo,” his tone was softer.

I gave a firm nod of assent, but not saying goodbye to Stenton; informing Tad he could disconnect the line. 

~~~~~~~~~~

November 2011

~
Stenton
~

I paid a considerable cost to straighten that pregnancy shit out with Erika. With the coordination of my legal and public relations teams, it took months to clean and repair my reputation. We’d even hired an entertainment attorney by the name of Jenna Kline to do damage control. I wanted to sue the shit out of Erika and
E!
for running the lies about my denial and neglect, but the new attorney cautioned against it, fearing it would further assault my image. It took manipulation of Jackson’s genius to repair my image.

With great hesitation on my part, all it took was a manufactured rumor of me preparing to interview with Barbara Walters where I would publically apologize for distancing myself from my responsibility to Erika’s baby, and admit to it being because of my anger from all of the “false allegations” of her still having an affair with Shirez. In the admission, I would also speak to how foolish I realized the prospect of Erika sneaking out on me with Shirez was, because he couldn’t match my caliber. It took two days after that “rumor” hit the streets for Shirez to go on
Hot 97
morning radio show and tell the world he was the father of Erika’s baby and provide proof of their creeping over the years and her informing him of being a father. 

Who knew all it took for the truth to come out was compromising the ego of a man? In no time, the word got out about Erika’s scam and America was right again with Stenton Rogers. But at the end of the day, I’d been cleared of wrongful accusation, left with a hefty legal bill, and without Zoey.

The bullshit!

What was somewhat of a distraction from that miserable period of my life was getting to know Jenna, the new attorney brought in just for the Erika issue. She didn’t groupie me. I mean, she couldn’t because her ass would have been fired before laying a hand on my file. We’d spent countless hours together strategizing and going over texts and emails to prove Erika had still been sleeping with her ex. Some of those events were just us together where I got to see her, still wearing her professional cape, but lower her guard to talk about the risks of high profile relationships.

High profile relationships transitioned to relationships in general and before I knew it, months had passed and I was walking out of a bar with her at two in the morning, celebrating our victory of having my name cleared of Erika’s pregnancy when Jenna proposed a pact.

“Hey,” she called out, stopping to face me.

I noticed the slant of inebriation in her chocolate eyes. I didn’t say anything, but Jenna knew she had my attention. She hesitated a bit.

“Now that it’s over, we won’t be hanging out, grabbing beers anymore.”

I snorted. It wasn’t for any particular reason other than acknowledging her comment. She was right.

“So, why don’t we agree to stay in touch so we can maybe be real friends?”

“Why do you seem so shaky about asking to be friends? You’re not marketing yourself very well.” I joked with her.

Jenna’s face sobered and she waited a few seconds before continuing.

“Because I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. I don’t want to be more than just friends and I need that to be clear. I understand a man in your lifestyle is highly sought after using that line that’s accompanied by a hidden agenda. I’m not about that. I just want to be friends. You’re a cool guy and I’ve come to kind of trust you, something that’s a rarity for me. I don’t have friends because I have a hard time with trust.”

“That’s cool with me, Jenna. I’ve come to trust you a bit, too. Now that you’ve helped me bury a demon, I can clear you as cool in my book.” I smiled.