Darius Jones (16 page)

T
he police had cause to arrest me when they'd handcuffed Valentino.

I struggled internally to find the true Lace St. Thomas. Spooning with Grant, I wondered what Valentino thought as he slept alone in the adjacent bedroom. “Grant?” I glanced over my shoulder, looked in his eyes.

“Yes?” he said, easing his hand under my waist.

I faced him. Lay my head on the pillow. We were eye to eye. “Do you believe I'm attractive on the inside? Be honest.”

He smoothed back my hair. “Yes. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you were attractive.”

Hmm. He'd said think. That meant he was unsure. “What could I have done differently to protect Luke and London?”

“I wondered the same.”

We became quiet. I blamed myself. Found fault in Grant. Was angry at Jada. Hated the people at the hospital. Maybe I was…“You think I deserve this?”

“Not this,” Grant said.

“But you believe I deserve to have something bad happen to me?”

I was abusive to my prostitutes, not to mention having killed Reynolds. But I wasn't a bad person. What about my ex-husbands who abused me? What about my mother? Had bad things happened to Rita?

Grant looked at me, then answered, “If you believe in karma, yes.”

Drug dealers expected to but never wanted to be killed. Politicians illegally spent taxpayers' money but they never expected a payback. Husbands cheated on their wives but felt cheated when they had to give up more than half of their assets in the divorce. Guess my selfish ways weren't much different.

I turned my back to Grant; we spooned again. The human touch was amazingly healing. Lying in the spoon position with Grant's arm around my stomach gave me some comfort. I still worried about my sons, about Valentino.

Valentino had asked to stay a few days with me at Velvet's. Said he needed time to find Summer and his boys before he could attempt to go back to his family. He said her parents probably lived in the same house or town. Sapphire agreed to help Valentino find his wife but somehow I doubted he honestly wanted to go back to Summer or Nevada.

“You awake?”

Grant kissed the nape of my neck. “Yeah, I can't sleep either. I was hoping you were asleep. That's why I hadn't said anything.”

“Do you think they're safe? Or hungry? My breasts are about to pop like a balloon with all this milk. They hurt. Not as much as my heart though.” I sniffled, letting my tears soak into my pillowcase.

“Let's stay positive. You know you hear about other people's kids missing all the time. But it doesn't hit you how much they're suffering until it's your own,” Grant said.

“You tell your mom and dad about the boys?”

“Nah, not yet. My mom would go insane. My dad would go insane because of Mom. Whenever she worries, he worries more. I'm not sure how to break this news to my parents. They didn't want us together.”

“Say what you mean, Grant. They didn't want you with me.”

I'd met Grant's parents one time. What should've been a happy Thanksgiving was a man-made disaster. I learned a valuable lesson that day. I'd lived three years with Grant's adopted brother and never once asked to meet his adoptive family. Benito disowned them so I disowned them too. The disconnect was easy because I disowned my family. But when I arrived at Grant's parents' house with Grant and saw Benito at the table, my relationship with Grant changed instantly and I could've killed Benito on the spot for not introducing me to his family.

Benito was the type of man that nothing fazed him. He pissed away the money he'd made in the NFL. His parents paid his child support and helped raise his son. I was shocked when Benito's son's mother took him back. He had no job, no income, and she took him back. Well, they say money can't buy love. With all my millions, I did love Grant, but I wasn't in love with him anymore. Someone had to protect my heart.

“Honey?”

“Yes.”

“I'm truly sorry for all I've put you through. I was an idiot. You're right. Jada's right. I don't know how to love. It's scary, you know. Opening up, being vulnerable. What you made me realize is I have to take ownership and responsibility for your feelings and be considerate of you no matter what. Can I ask you a question?”

“I'm listening.”

“Did you have sex with Valentino?”

“Did you have sex with Jada or anyone else since you've been here in LA?”

Did he forget he was lying next to an ex-prostitute and madam? Real women never tell. Once a man gets a picture in his mind of his woman fucking a man who he knows, every time he sees that man that's all he's going to think of and the first time things go wrong, he'll throw it in her face.

“You're right. I shouldn't have asked that question. Here's another one. Can you forgive me for all I've done, let me start over, and teach me how to love you?”

It was easy to forgive that which you didn't know, until the shit hit you in the face. I wasn't giving up freebies for free.

“You might want me to answer that later. I'm going to press charges against Jada. I believe she had something to do with our missing boys. And I want you to tell the police she was the last one seen with the twins and that you were the one who saw her.”

H
ad to try one more time to find the two-headed lady. Fuck breaking the love spell, she was gon' give me back my engagement ring or I was going to second-line all over that bitch.

Her ass claimed she was headed to Bourbon Street to save leftover sinners. She'd best be worried about saving her own ass. I was headed back to the French Quarter. I checked out of the Windsor Court Hotel on Gravier across the street from Harrah's Casino. I handed the valet attendant my ticket, got in my National Car Rental SUV. Once I crossed Canal Street, S. Peters changed to Decatur. Made a quick stop at the twenty-four-hour Café Du Monde, ordered three beignets and a café au lait to go.

Opening my car door, I stopped, stared at the statue of Andrew Jackson across the street at Jackson Square. “Yeah, you may be a hero for the Battle of New Orleans but I'm about to replace your ass for whuppin' the Voodoo Queen,” wherever her ass was.

I closed the door, made a U-turn on Decatur, right on St. Peters. These Peters—South and Saint—were starting to confuse me. I parked between Pat O'Brien's Bar and Preservation Park. I grabbed my bag of beignets and my purse, made my way to Bourbon Street.

There was no place in the world like this joint. I described the two-headed lady to a few people and asked if they'd seen her. A man said, “Ba-ba, I ain't afraid of no two-headed nothing, no. They best be 'fraid of me, yeah. You must be from Californya talkin' all proper and thangs.” He mimicked me. Wasn't in the mood to give him 950,000 volts this early but I did. Kept it moving.

All the natives talked different. Rolled their words together. Separated syllables that should've been connected. Some spoke what they called Cajun, a combination of French and English. A few more blocks up Bourbon toward Canal I ran into a street party. “This early? Do they ever sleep?”

Rebirth Brass Band played that zydeco music that I'd heard on Spike Lee's documentary of Katrina. Everyone danced as though they were having a séance. At the sound of the first note heads bobbed, bodies jerked, legs wobbled side to side, people closed their eyes, dropped toward the ground, sprung back up but they never touched the ground and their feet never stopped wobbling. Umbrellas popped open like popcorn, then twirled in the sunshine. White handkerchiefs waved above their heads but no one was crying.

“I've never witnessed anything like this. The whole parish is possessed. If I never come back here, it'd be too soon.”

Forget the two-headed lady, I had to get back to LA. Hadn't seen my Darius in two days. Still no Facebook postings from him. I stepped over the guy I'd tased a few minutes ago, made my way back to my car.

An hour later I was at my gate at MSY airport wanting to hop a flight to Cleveland but in order for my love spell to work I had to do something good for someone first. What if my good wasn't good enough? The only thing I could think of was to return the twins. I didn't need them anymore, especially that crybaby.

Waiting to board my plane, I checked in with Rita.

“Hey, Bambi. I need a break. I need my money. You gotta come back here.”

“I'm boarding my plane. I'll be there in eight hours tops.”

“I got a question for you,” Rita said in a matter of fact tone.

“Okay.”

“Are these my grandbabies?”

She'd caught me off guard with that one. “Why?”

“I can call my daughter and find out for sho.”

“No, don't do that. Honey asked me to keep the boys,” I lied.

“You lying. I can tell. You trying to set me up? 'Cause Rita will tear you a new asshole if you tryin' to come between me and my daughter. And who you got in them coffins up in that bedroom?”

I held my forehead. This bitch better be lucky I can't do some
Matrix
shit and transport myself through this phone. “You've messed up, Rita. You don't give a damn about your daughter. You cross me again and I'll frame you for kidnapping.”

“Rita ain't afraid of nothing living with two legs but a grizzly bear. Double my money and I'll keep my mouth shut or Rita gon' sang like a canary.”

Double? Was that all? “Sit tight until I get there. I'll double your money and I'll explain the whole thing,” I lied. I didn't owe Rita or anybody an explanation. “Rita?”

“Yes, Bambi,” she said the loudest I'd ever heard.

“If you call your daughter or the police, that will be your last call.”

I powered off my cell and got on board.

T
hankful for a new day, I rolled over, picked up my cell from my nightstand, and phoned Ashlee. I hadn't heard from her since she'd left the hospital with DJ. I missed my grandbaby.

“Hey, Jada.”

“Oh, hey, Ashlee, hi. Where are you? Where is my grandson?” I asked, ready to go pick him up if I had to.

“We're good.”

I waited for her to keep talking but she didn't. “Oh, okay then. Great. Let me say hi to DJ?” He'd tell me where he was.

“That's not a good idea, Jada. How's Fancy?”

What the hell? My eyebrows raised at her response and question. “Are you okay?”

“Are you okay?” she snapped.

“I can come get DJ if you'd like. Your weekend visitation is over.”

“Darius didn't tell you? And you haven't seen the news? What's wrong with you? Depressed? The only way you'll see DJ is if you show up at the custody hearing.”

“Hello? Hello?” Ashlee was gone.

Custody what? Hearing? Was this the same sweet little Ashlee I'd helped raise? I picked up my remote, turned on the television. The remote slipped between my fingers, my mouth opened. I picked up the remote again, turned up the volume, changed the channel. My son's picture was on every station.

“Darius Jones was caught in his car with an alleged prostitute last night near the sixty-five hundred block of Hollywood Boulevard. The prostitute refuses to speak with the press but here are pictures of her getting out of Darius's car.”

I was stunned. She looked more like a supermodel than a prostitute but why would Darius do this to Fancy now? Guess he really is like his biological father, wherever Darryl was. Hadn't heard from Darryl since Darius went pro and refused to let his dad be his agent.

“His solicitation for sex comes at a time when Darius's wife is hospitalized and fighting for her life. This is worse than the O'Neal, Woods, and Phillips cases shaken together. No warrant has been issued for the arrest of Darius Jones at this time. Reportedly Darius is on a plane headed to D.C. for a custody hearing tomorrow. I guess he can kiss his son and that MVP award good-bye.”

I dialed my son's number. It went to voice mail. “Oh, my God. Baby, I just saw the news. Call me as soon as your plane lands. We're going to make it through this. I'm going to have Bambi flood the media with positive information about you. I love you. Call me immediately.”

Prostitute? I called Bambi, got her voice mail. “Call me as soon as you get this message.”

Custody? Over DJ? Custody made me think of Grant. I prayed they'd find his babies but was glad he had stopped bothering me. Was that nurse serious? I couldn't go to the hospital. I had to see Fancy. I prayed she wasn't coherent enough to understand what the reporters were announcing. Maybe she wasn't watching the news. This news might send her into shock. Dear God, why was the news always negative?

I called the hospital. Asked them to transfer me to the nurses' station on the third floor. “Yes, I'm calling to inquire about the status of my daughter-in-law.”

“Sorry, we're not allowed to give patient information over the phone,” she said.

“Well, how am I supposed to find out if I've been told not to come see her?”

“What's your name?”

“Jada Diamond Tanner.”

“Darius Jones's mother?” She snickered.

“Yes, and it's not what it appears. My son is innocent.”

“Hold on just a moment, Ms. Tanner.”

I overheard her talking to someone. “No, she can't come to this hospital period. I told her that.”

Whosoever that was in the background, who in hell put her ass in charge? Making up her own rules. I wish she would try to stop me from seeing Fancy. Why hadn't Darius called me before he left?

Someone said, “But.”

But what? What are they talking about? I increased the volume on my cell phone but couldn't make out what they were saying. Then I heard, “Oh, yeah. That's right. Tell her she can come.”

The woman told me, “Ms. Tanner, you can come.”

“Great, I'm on my way.” I ended the call, turned off my television, showered, and left.

When I arrived at the hospital, several news vans were parked out front. I prayed they weren't questioning Fancy. I stopped at the registration desk. I didn't want no mess from these people. The same security guard who escorted me out stood in the lobby watching me. I flashed my visitor's badge in his face, attached it to my blouse, and waited for the elevator.

The doors opened to the third floor. I stepped into a crowd of reporters. A police officer approached me. Video cameras rolled. Digital cameras' lights flashed. I covered my face, stepped backward to get back on the elevator. The doors closed before I could leave.

“Are you Jada Diamond Tanner?” the officer asked.

“What's this all about?”

“Just answer the question, ma'am.”

“I have the right not to talk to you. I don't have to tell you who I am until you tell me why you're asking.”

The nurse who'd told me not to come back to the hospital walked up to the officer. “That's her. She's trespassing.”

Before I responded, Grant came from the back of the crowd. “Yes, that's her, officer. She's the one who kidnapped my twin boys.”

The ordeal was surreal. I was speechless. I wanted to kill Grant as the officer tightened handcuffs to my wrists, then said, “Jada Diamond Tanner, you're charged with trespassing and kidnapping. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you….”

“Where's the warrant?” I demanded.

“Right here,” the officer said, waving a piece of paper in my face.

I was no criminal. Had never been behind bars. Darius was on a plane. Hadn't spoken with Bambi all day.

Who would bail me out?