Bad Blood (25 page)

Chapter 48

Seth

T
HE MONTHS SEEMED TO BE FLYING BY.
I
T WAS
J
ULY, AND THE
weather was so beautiful, I wanted to get naked and run up and down the street like I used to do when I was a child.

I was in such a good mood this particular day, I couldn't wait for it to end so I could pick up a dozen roses for Darla and take her to dinner. Eating out was something she enjoyed tremendously. I didn't find out until after we were married that she didn't like to cook that much....

But no matter how happy I was, there was one thing I couldn't do anymore: waste time thinking about Rachel. It had been so long since I'd seen her, I rarely thought about her anymore, anyway. Besides, I had so many other things on my plate that occupied most of my time. Having lunch with a current or potential client was one of my favorite pastimes. For one thing, he or she usually paid the tab.

Today I had insisted on footing the bill myself.

My lunch companion, a jovial old geezer named Warren McGinnis, and I occupied a table in a corner by the bar in Betty's Creole Cuisine restaurant near city hall. I wanted Warren, the owner of McGinnis's Authentic Soul Food Restaurants, to know how generous and eager I was to work with him, so I had encouraged him to order whatever he wanted, despite this restaurant's extremely high prices. Two of Warren's three sons had been in some of my classes before I dropped out of Berkeley High, and his mother and my father's father were now in the same nursing home. Warren was a light-skinned, ordinary-looking man in his fifties who was about the size of a jockey. I was tempted to ask him how a man who provided some of the most fattening soul food in town managed to stay so thin, but I didn't want to be rude. He had just opened his third Bay Area restaurant. This one was in Oakland, near Mills College.

We had finished our lunch and were working on our third shot of scotch each.

“Seth, I hate to admit it, but whoever they have in the kitchen here, cooking that gumbo we just had, he or she could sure give my chef a run for his money,” Warren told me with a chuckle as he picked his teeth with a red toothpick.

“I feel you on that one. They've even got my beautiful mother beat, and her folks come from Louisiana.” I covered my mouth with my hand to stifle a belch.

“Speaking of beautiful women, I hear your beautiful bride is going to give birth soon.”

“Darla's due any day now,” I replied with a proud grin. “This one's a girl,” I added, rolling my eyes. “But as long as she's healthy, that's fine with me. We plan to have at least two more, and I'm sure I'll get lucky one of those times and get that boy!”

“One thing about us men is, no matter what our age, race, or economic status is, we all want to duplicate ourselves with a son. I feel so blessed to have three boys, one by my ex and two by my current wife.”

“I have one son already,” I said with a touch of sadness in my voice. “He lives with his mother in L.A., and I don't get to see him much.”

“That's a damn shame. How old is he?”

I cleared my throat first. “Uh, believe it or not, I was fifteen when he was born. He'll be seventeen on his birthday this year.”

“My God,” Warren gasped. “You and my son Mike are the same age, and he just had his first child!”

“I didn't want to be a father at such a young age, but, you know, things happen. I love my son, and I don't regret having him.”

“I know it's none of my business, but are you taking care of him? We black men have such a bad rep when it comes to taking care of our kids.”

“That boy does not want for a thing. I've been there for him from day one,” I said proudly.

“Then I take it you and his mother get along all right? My ex went out of her way to turn my son against me, and she almost succeeded. When he finally realized she was lying about what a dog I was, he and I developed a wonderful relationship. He works for me now, and he's one of my best workers. I believe in giving back to the community. Most of my staff is black or Hispanic, and when I hire family members, I am only interested in the ones who are
not
looking for a handout or a free ride. I'm a considerate and caring man, but I'm not a damn fool.”

“Tell me about it.
I—” I
stopped talking because our waiter suddenly approached our table.

“Gentlemen, please excuse me. We have a problem,” the waiter growled, looking directly at me with a menacing scowl on his face. I had no idea why he was looking at me with so much contempt. I blinked at the Visa in his hand, which I assumed was the one I had given to him a few minutes ago.

“Oh? And what problem might that be?” I asked.

“Your credit card is invalid, sir,” the waiter told me with a smirk on his face.

I blinked and shook my head. “There must be some mistake. That credit card is good. Put it through again, please.”

“I've already tried twice, sir. Do you have another card?”

I didn't want to make a scene, so I promptly reached into my breast pocket and pulled out my wallet. “Good old American Express,” I said with a grin. I took out my gold American Express and handed it to the waiter. He snatched it and swished away immediately.

“As you were saying—” Warren gasped and suddenly stopped speaking. “Have mercy on me!” he exclaimed with a hungry look on his face. “Now, that's a fine specimen of a woman, if I don't say so myself.”

I whirled around to see the fine specimen of a woman he was referring to. My heart almost burst out of my chest. Sitting just a few feet from me, at a table for two, was Rachel!

“If I was thirty years younger, I'd ask that sister for her telephone number! With juicy lips like hers, I'm sure she can give a mean blow job.” Warren made a slurping noise with his mouth and shook his head. “Oomph, oomph, oomph!”

“I . . . I see what you mean. Uh, she is easy on the eye,” I blubbered, clearing my throat as I turned back around. “But I would never cheat on my wife.”

“I hope you mean that. I know from experience that it's not worth it. And I'm paying the hefty alimony payments to my ex to prove it.”

I took a drink from my shot glass and mopped sweat off my brow with my napkin. I couldn't stop sweating. I had not seen or heard from Rachel since last year. I had instructed my family and friends not to mention her name to me. Since I had convinced them all that she was a phony who had strung me along for all those years, they had agreed that I should put her out of my mind completely. Rachel was one woman who was very hard to forget. Memories of some of my more pleasant experiences with her were on my mind when the waiter returned. This time he looked twice as angry.

“Sir, this card isn't any good, either!”

I was stunned, and for more reasons than one. One reason was I didn't have any other credit cards with me or enough cash to cover the three-digit lunch tab! The other reason was, I didn't want to look like an irresponsible jackass in front of a potential client.

“That can't be!” I yelled at the waiter. “My card has a zero balance!”

“Then you have a problem that you need to resolve with your bank.” The waiter sniffed. “Now, how do you wish to pay this check?”

I could not believe this waiter's nasty attitude. I couldn't wait to get back to my office so I could compose a strongly worded letter of complaint and send it to the restaurant's owner. “I come here all the time. Just put it on my tab, and I will settle with you later today,” I said with confidence. I would send my secretary to the restaurant to pay my tab as soon as I made it to an ATM and back to my office. One thing was for sure, I was not going to include a tip!

“That's not acceptable, sir.” By now this mean waiter had attracted the attention of every other patron in the restaurant, including Rachel. I could see her out of the corner of my eye, sitting there, sipping on a margarita, with a smug look on her face.

“I got it,” Warren said, already pulling out his wallet. He handed his platinum MasterCard to the waiter. “I
know
my card is good. . . .”

“Uh, I don't know what's going on with these credit card companies. But this is not the first time this has happened to me. It happened with another card from a different bank,” I said, wiping more sweat off my brow. That was one thing I should not have said. Warren's eyes got big, and he leaned back in his seat.

“Oh, you've experienced this before?” he said. “I'm surprised to hear that coming from you, Seth. I thought your company was doing so well. . . .”

“We are! What I meant was, I've had problems with banks screwing up my accounts.”

“Tell me about it. My brother-in-law has the same problem with his bank.”

“As soon as I get back to my office, I'll send my secretary to your office with the funds to cover the check.” I blinked rapidly a few times and wiped sweat off my face with my napkin. I should have stopped while I was ahead, but I didn't. I chuckled. “This is so embarrassing!”

Warren gave me a stone-faced look, but he didn't seem the least bit amused. “Don't worry about it. It's on me.” Warren finished his drink and began to tap his fingers on top of the table. “I have a feeling you have enough to worry about. Well, we've all had our crosses to bear.”

Now, what the hell he meant by that, I didn't know. But it didn't sound good for me.

“I am sure I will enjoy working with you. There's nothing I like more than helping another brother succeed. I can assure you that with our unique method of promoting business, you will see a huge increase in your sales.”

Warren cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. I could see that he had become uncomfortable, because he was sweating now, too. Not only that, he wouldn't look directly at me when he spoke. “Uh, let me get back to you on that,” he said, looking at the floor.

As far as I was concerned, those words were the kiss of death. Warren had all but said, “I'm not going to trust a deadbeat who doesn't keep up his credit card payments to handle my business.”

I was not about to give up so easily. “How about another drink later this evening? Or even dinner? At my house, if you don't mind. I'm sure my wife would love to meet you. We still have to discuss the terms of the contract I proposed.”

Warren gave me a long hard look before he responded. “I already have plans for this evening, and I have your contact information,” was all he said. The waiter returned, and Warren promptly signed the receipt. With a mildly disgusted look, he told me, “Good luck.” And then he got up and left without saying another word.

I didn't turn around to look at Rachel again until I had finished my drink. When I did look in her direction, she was looking at me with an expression on her face that sent a chill up my spine. She looked like she wanted to eat me alive. I got up and rushed out of the restaurant and sprinted all the way to my car two blocks away. I spent the rest of the afternoon in my office, doing some paperwork and screaming on the phone at the credit card representatives, who both told me that the cards I had attempted to use to pay for lunch had been canceled.

Seeing Rachel had upset me more than the credit card fiasco. I was still upset by the time I got home, but then I had another dilemma to deal with.

Darla met me at the door with a frantic look on her face. “I think I'm in labor!” she yelled. Those five words made me forget about everything that had happened a few hours earlier.

When I saw my squalling baby girl for the first time six hours after I'd taken Darla to the hospital, I was so overjoyed, I squalled like a baby myself.

Having a new baby made it easy for me to forget about my chaotic lunch with Warren. I never heard from him again, but because of my new daughter and everything else that was going so well in my life, the next few months were heaven for me, anyway.

Chapter 49

Rachel

I
COULDN'T BELIEVE THAT IT HAD BEEN A YEAR SINCE THE NIGHT
I slashed the tires on Seth's car.

I was glad that fall had arrived. It was my favorite time of the year because the brown leaves on the ground and the mellow weather reminded me so much of Alabama. But every time I thought about my home state, I thought about my family and how much I missed them. Even more so on holidays.

Uncle Albert and Kingston had invited me to their place to eat Thanksgiving dinner with them this year. Even though I was not in the mood to put up with them and their party-boy friends, I had accepted the invitation. As it turned out, this was the first time I attended one of their soirees where I was the only guest. But I was not in a holiday mood.

“You didn't eat much, and I spent all morning standing over that hot stove, preparing this feast,” Kingston complained. He sat at the head of their opulent table in their spacious dining room. I occupied the chair directly across from Uncle Albert. My uncle's eyes were glassy, so it was obvious that he was stoned, but he continued to puff on a thick blunt, dropping ashes into a gold-plated ashtray next to his plate.

“I wasn't that hungry,” I explained, blinking at the huge turkey leg with all the trimmings on my plate. I lifted my head, which felt like it weighed twenty pounds, and looked around the room. A life-size ceramic bust of Elvis Presley sat on the mantel above the fireplace. A huge mural of some Chippendale strippers covered the whole wall facing the fireplace. “The place looks wonderful,” I commented.

“Well, it should. We put enough money into it,” Uncle Albert said.

“And we're not done decorating it yet,” Kingston added. “Rachel, do you want a slice of that pumpkin pie Al made?”

“Thanks, but I don't want any right now. I'll take a plate home. But I wouldn't mind having another glass of that potent Japanese sake you brought back from Tokyo last month. It gives me a really nice buzz.”

After dinner, Uncle Albert left the dining room and went to another part of the apartment. Kingston and I moved to the living room. He eased down onto the plush blue couch, and I plopped down on the hassock, facing him.

“Uh, I know you've been depressed for a while, and I wish I could do or say something to help,” Kingston began. “I know what it feels like to be hurt by someone you love.”

“You and Uncle Albert are doing all right, I hope.”

“We are now.” Kingston leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Um, that little incident that happened when Al broke his leg . . . I've been trying to make it up to him ever since. As soon as he came back to me, I took him on an all-day shopping spree at Bloomingdale's, Macy's, and Neiman Marcus and told him to get anything he wanted.” Kingston paused and shook his head. “That little excursion set me back thirty thousand bucks. You would not believe how much his new girdle cost—and he doesn't even really need one! I'm going to treat him to a butt lift for his birthday and a week in Aruba. But I've told him, and I'm telling you, if he ever mistreats me again, I'm going to make him suffer.”

Kingston paused and looked at his fingers, then back up at me. “I care about you as much as Al does, and I'll do anything for you. I know how you're feeling about what Seth did to you. I can sense your anger. If there is anything I can do to make you feel better, I will.” Kingston gave me a mysterious wink.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Kingston?”

“I made Al suffer for hurting me, and you should make Seth suffer in some way for hurting you. I can even teach you some martial arts moves that would do the trick. He'd have to eat and drink everything through a straw for weeks. Either that or I can have some of the Vietnamese goons I know rough him up a bit, break a few bones and whatnot.”

I shook my head. “One of my girlfriends already offered to get somebody to beat Seth up. I tried violence with another man who betrayed me. It didn't make me feel any better, and it got me arrested.” I laughed for a few seconds, but then I got serious. “I'm not that girl anymore.”

“Well, if you change your mind, just let me know.”

I didn't feel much better when I got home that evening, and none of my close friends were around for me to talk to. Lucy was on another cruise. Paulette was in San Diego, spending the holiday with relatives, and Patrice had to work the flight to Miami. For a brief moment, I was tempted to call up Skirt. But that thought didn't stay on my mind for long. For one thing, Paulette had already told me that Skirt had just moved in with a new woman. Knowing that and the fact that he and I had not spent any time together since I'd met Seth, I didn't think Skirt would want to start back up with me, anyway.

 

I was still down in the dumps when December rolled around. I was not looking forward to the two weeks the school was closed down for Christmas. Everybody I knew was, though. Lucy was going to spend that time lying on a beach in Mexico with her new man. Paulette and Patrice planned to spend time with their families. I didn't want to spend Christmas with Uncle Albert and Kingston, which meant attending the party they planned to throw at a restaurant, with over a hundred of their friends in attendance. I was definitely not in the mood for that. I had also turned down dinner and party invitations from a few coworkers and people in my apartment building. But I still didn't want to spend the rest of the year alone.

Apparently, somebody else didn't want me to spend it alone, either. A week before Christmas Seth's father knocked on my door.

“Conrad, what are you doing here?” I asked as I waved him into my living room.

“I came to wish you a Merry Christmas,” he replied, already unbuttoning his coat. He paused and looked around my living room. “Are we alone?”

“Yes, we are alone. You didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?” I asked with my arms folded.

He shrugged. “I thought you'd want some company. If you know what I mean . . .”

“You'd better leave,” I said.

Before I could go back to the door and open it, he grabbed me and kissed me long and hard. As soon as he released me, I balled up my fist and hauled off and socked him in his right eye with so much force, my knuckles began to throb immediately.

“If you ever come near me again, I'm going to hurt you.”

“You just did that, bitch! And don't think I'm going to let you get away with socking me in my eye,” he yelled as he rubbed his eye.

“I'm going to call the police first and then your wife,” I threatened, walking toward the telephone.

“I'm leaving!” he hollered, holding up his hand. He practically ran to the door and opened it. But before he left, he glared at me and said, “I'm glad my son didn't marry your countrified ass! You belong in a fucking cage in a zoo! You bitch!”

For the first time, I was glad that Seth had called off the wedding. Me having to deal with Seth's snooty mother and a lecherous father-in-law would have caused more problems than I cared to think about. Because of my violent confrontation with Seth's father, I felt more alone than ever now.

The next day I scrambled around until I found an affordable ticket for a flight to Alabama. I couldn't wait to see Mama and my siblings.

I didn't sleep much during the five-hour red-eye flight on Christmas Eve. As a matter of fact, I usually didn't sleep much any other night, either. Not even in the comfort of my own bed. I didn't know who it was who said, “Time heals all wounds,” but it was not true in my case. It had been two years since my breakup with Seth, and I was still angry and hurt. I knew that I had already caused him a considerable amount of grief, but I had no intentions of stopping until I was satisfied that he had suffered enough. I had no idea how much suffering he had to endure for me to get to that point.

And until then, I planned to continue my reign of terror....