Authors: Michelle Stimpson

Someone to Watch Over Me (25 page)

BOOK: Someone to Watch Over Me

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He trudged up the porch ramp at Aunt Dottie's house, and on into his room. I heard him shuffling around only for a minute or two, then nothing.

I planned to follow suit, but a text from Kevin sent a new ball in motion.
In Houston 2nite. Will be in Phx 2morrow. Love you.

Maybe if I'd lived in Phoenix, this might be a good thing. But I was in Bayford. Even more of a problem were the last two words. Kevin never told me he loved me unless I asked him.

Chapter 26

S
leep eluded me all night. Most of the week, actually. I was so restless, I did something different with my hair every night. Twists, blow-out, deep conditioning.

“Tooor,” Aunt Dottie asked Wednesday night after service, “uukaaaay?”

“No, I'm not really okay, Aunt Dottie. There's a lot I need to figure out when I get back to Houston.”

I'd saved Kevin's text, reviewed it repeatedly.
Maybe I shouldn't jump to conclusions
.
Or maybe I shouldn't be this stupid.
I had a mind to hop the next plane to Phoenix and see what this “Love you” was all about.

Praise God for Sunday service, but first thing Monday morning, I called Lexa and told her I'd be in to work later that afternoon through Wednesday. This, of course, set me up for a mandatory return to Houston. No turning back now.

“'Tis about time,” she tried an Irish accent.

I made arrangements with Jacob and Joenetta to help with DeAndre. Maybe it would do DeAndre good to get back in the habit of being with his grandmother again. Now that he'd become a bookworm, he could escape her madness through literature.

Driving back home gave me the chance to solidify thoughts. Nothing like three hours alone with yourself to build up nerve, talk yourself into an air-tight case.

When I finally arrived in the building, I had my confrontation speech ironed out like a button-down cotton blouse. “Kevin,” I'd say, “I need to talk to you.”

He'd say, “What's up, babe?”

I'd ask him twiceâno, three timesâif he was seeing someone else. He'd deny it, of course, then ask me where I got such a silly idea.

Then I'd say, “I have my sources.”

I'd let him panic for a few days, then I'd drop his text blunder on him before heading back to Bayford. He'd deny it, but I'd have proof and he'd eventually have to confess. Then I'd promptly break up. For the record, the official reason for our demise would be his cheating. His guilt would give me a while to figure out the logistics of this breakup. I needed a place to stay. Needed a moving date.

Kevin could live the rest of his life feeling like an idiot. The end. Well, unless he found Jesus or something, which I wouldn't bet on considering his distaste for all things religious.

My heart pounding with adrenaline, I flung the door open. Then my heart came to an abrupt halt. There was Kevin. Naked Kevin. Naked woman. They both jumped from the couch, reaching for blankets, pillows. She screamed, “Oh my God! Kevin, who is this?”

I wanted to ask the same question, but I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. She ran back to
my
bedroom, her plastic breasts barely bobbing. She was short, blond, and thin, from what I could gather of the flickering image blurring past me.

Kevin, too, fell speechless. Eyes fixed on each other, we both knew this was the end.

The end.
For some reason, the realization of finality unleashed a fury of tears. All the good times we'd had together flashed before my eyes. The cruise. His brother's graduation. Logging hundreds of miles around our block. Maybe we weren't the most romantic, sentimental couple, but we were a couple. Or so I thought.
The end.

“I'm sorry, Tori,” he apologized. “I've wanted to tell you, but the opportunity never presented itself.”

“Well, you sure couldn't have planned a better unveiling than this one here.” Sarcasm to the rescue.

He lowered his head. “You're right. I'mâI'm a dog. I'm a dog, okay? You deserve better.”

Miss Stiff-Breasts appeared again wrapped in
my
terrycloth bathrobe. “What's going on here, Kevin? Why does this woman have a key to your apartment?”

“It's
our
apartment,” I corrected her. “And that's
my
robe you're wearing.”

She flashed a smug grin. “Oh no. See this
T
on the pocket?” She pointed at the embroidery. “This stands for
Taylor.
”

“Well, my name is
Tori,
which also starts with a
T
. Kevin gave me that robe last year for Christmas.”

She flipped her hair back and landed her gaze directly on Kevin. He secured the blanket under his elbows and buried his face in his hands. I'd never seen anyone look so stupid.

Pity took a backseat to anger, however, as I continued the interrogation. “So where do you live, Taylor?”

She answered me but continued staring at Kevin. “N'Orleans.”

Even better. “So, who's in Phoenix, Kevin?”

“Everybody out,” he muttered.

“Are you crazy? I'm not leaving. I live here.”

“I'm not leaving, either,” Taylor huffed. “Not until I get to the bottom of why my son's father has a woman living with him in Texas.”

My mouth gaped open. “You two have a child?”

She smacked her lips. “Yep. Five months old.” Now it was her turn to cry. “How could you do this to us, Kevin? You know how much I love you!” She snatched up the lamp from the end table and threw it at his head.

Lucky for him, he ducked just in time. He lost the blanket, though. The lamp crashed against the bar, showering glass on the bar stools and floor.

“Hey! Get a hold of yourself!” he yelled. Standing there in the buff, his command seemed almost comical.

“Don't tell me to get hold of myself! I hate you! I hate both of you!” Taylor grabbed one of Kevin's dress shoes from the floor and pitched it at me this time.

Her force was sapped by sadness, and I easily dodged the shoe. “Kevin, you betta get your baby's momma.”

“I'm not his baby's momma. I'm his fiancÃ©e!” She lunged toward me, but Kevin stepped between us. His bare backside blocked my view of Taylor.

“You're engaged, Kevin?”

“Yes, we're engaged!” Taylor screeched.

Suddenly, her knee appeared between Kevin's legs. He went down with a strident moan and a few choice cuss words for Taylor.

She and I were face to face now. I hadn't fought anyone since second grade (when Amy Crawford dunked my shoe in a toilet) so I was rusty. This Taylor girl was obviously well-practiced in hostility.

Calm words turn away wrath.
“Look, I'm not going to fight you.” I pointed toward Kevin's body, curled up in the fetal position. “He's not worth it.”

Taylor kicked him square in the behind.

“Yowwww!” And another string of expletives.

She spit on him. “You're right. He's trash.”

She stomped off to our bedroom again. Kevin had barely struggled to his feet when the deafening sound of a single gunshot rang in my ears and I watched him tumble over again.

Taylor stood at my bedroom door's entryway looking like a straight-up Charlie's angel.

“Are you crazy?” he bellowed, grasping his arm as blood spilled onto our hardwood floor.

“Taylor, think!” I reasoned with her from behind the bar. Don't even ask me how I got there because I can't tell you.

“He doesn't deserve to live.” She cocked the gun again. “I could kill you and claim postpartum depression on top of temporary insanity.”

Wait until I leave, Taylor.
“Think about your son, Taylor. He needs a mom. I know. I have . . . a son, too.” Anything to make her give up the gun.

Kevin cried out in sheer terror, “Listen to her, for the love of God. Don't shoot me again!”

God, please don't let her pull the trigger.

The faint resonance of police sirens caused Taylor's arms to shake. She dropped the gun, grabbed her purse from the love seat and left the scene of this crime she'd committed.

I sank to the floor, catching my breath as the sirens drew nearer.

“Tori,” Kevin called to me. “Help me.”

“The police are coming.”

“I know,” he winced. “I'm freakin' naked.” His warped sense of priority eased any doubt that he'd survive the injury.

“You're also bleeding, Kevin. Stay where you are.” For real, I wasn't blowing my cover until officers secured the premises.

“Will you . . . will you go with me to the hospital?”

Every ounce of common sense within me said this was the perfect opportunity to give Kevin a taste of his own medicine. I could leave him high and dry. And hurt.

When I didn't answer immediately, he begged, “Please. I don't have anyone else I can call.”

Stay.

Once the police were sure I wasn't the trigger woman, they wrapped up their investigation quickly. I followed the ambulance closely, wondering why on earth I'd agreed to help Kevin through this ordeal. Maybe he could get his Arizona woman to fly out and tend to his needs. Or maybe he had one in New Mexico. Might have had one down the street, for all I didn't know about him. This was a hot mess.

Tears poured again, though I wasn't quite sure why. Hadn't I been planning to break up with him in a few days anyway? Confusion, utter confusion.

I called Lexa and told her I might not make it in today after all.

“What the heck?!” she practically shouted at me.

In my most professional tone, I requested that she lower her voice before we proceeded any further with our conversation.

“I . . . I can't believe you're not coming in today.”

“You act as though we'd been planning this meeting for weeks. We spoke
this morning,
” I reminded her.

“Ugh. How soon can you get here?”

“I'm caravanning with an
ambulance
right now, LexaâI have no idea how long I'll be at the hospital. My guess is late afternoon.”

“Oh my gosh, an ambulance?”

Finally, she'd shown a sense of humanity.

“Yes, I'm behind the ambulance.”

“Well, if the sick person's already in an ambulance,
they
don't need you.
I
need you!”

Wrong on so many levels. “Good-bye, Lexa.”

“No. Fine. I'll wait here all night if I have to.”

“Have it your way.”

X-rays showed the low-caliber bullet missed all major blood vessels and bones. The doctor simply sewed up both sides of Kevin's arm and sent him away with a prescription for antibiotics, an anti-inflammatory drug, and pain medication.

Kevin whined for his pain medication all the way home. I had to stop at CVS and fill the prescription before we even left downtown. He swallowed the pills with the warm waterâmy waterâstationed in the console.

After the day's events, him taking my water without permission was the straw that broke the camel's back. “Did you ever love me, Kevin?”

“Of course.”

“When?”

“I still do.”

“Your drugs haven't kicked in yet, but you're talking crazy.”

He reached up and fingered my afro.

I shirked away from him. “Don't touch me.”

“I seriously do love you, Tori. These other women . . . they just happened. I'm always on the road working. Talking to people, wheeling and dealing. Sometimes I want someone to listen to my heart, not my sales pitch.”

“
I
don't listen to you?”

“You listen, but you don't
adore
me. You don't drink every word that drips from my mouth. You don't make me feel proud of myself.”

“And Taylor does?”

“Yeah, but she's crazy.”

“Agreed.”

“I've been trying to get rid of her.”

I glanced at him through the corner of my eye. A spacey expression set on his features. Perhaps I could get the truth from him under these circumstances.

“How many girlfriends do you currently have, Kevin?”

“Three. You, Taylor, and a friend in Phoenix.”

“How many children do you have?”

“Just one.”

I breathed heavily. “Are you engaged to Taylor?”

“I'm engaged to two women, actually.” He rolled his eyes to a close.

Process of eliminationâhe was engaged to everyone but me. I had to know. “Why didn't you ever ask
me
to marry you?” The more the merrier, right?

BOOK: Someone to Watch Over Me

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