“Tell Mom to hang in there. I'm on my way.”
As Shayna hung up, there was no way for her to know the depth of Jarrell's anguish. It was irrational, but he felt responsible for Beverly's illness. He had once suggested that she feign sickness to get Shayna down there, alone, away from Michael. He'd thought that if he could be with her for an extended period of time, under the same roof, he could get her back. They'd somewhat put the plan in motion, dropped hints here and there, leading up to the phone call that was going to come next month, when Beverly would tell Shayna she'd been put on bed rest and needed her help. It wasn't supposed to be true. But it was. Beverly Powell, Shayna's only living relative, was in the University Medical Center in Las Vegas, the same hospital where rapper Tupac Shakur had taken his last breath. Unbeknownst to each other, both Shayna and Jarrell were praying that it wasn't the place where Beverly breathed hers.
46
“They said it's placenta previa.” Shayna was on the phone with Michael, having gone to the hospital as soon as she landed in Vegas. She was still wearing the mohair dress and chocolate boots, the panties she'd shed during the tryst while overlooking all of New York still in her coat pocket. Once he'd learned what had happened, Michael had chartered a jet so that Shayna could get to the hospital as quickly as possible. She'd arrived in Vegas at two in the morning. Jarrell had picked her up at the airport and whisked her to the hospital. “She's still in danger of severe hemorrhaging; they're considering a cesarean section, even though the baby is less than twenty-four weeks. But that will likely cause major complications for the baby, so they're only going to use that as a last possible option.”
“Baby, I know I told you that I had to stay here, but if you really need meâ”
“No, Michael, it's okay. Larsen hasn't left the hospital and Jarrell has been in and out with his girlfriend. I called Coach, told him what was going on and that I'd be back at practice next week. I just want to stay here until everything with Mom and the baby stabilizes.”
“How long will that be?”
“We don't know.” Shayna looked up and saw Jarrell coming toward her. “Look, I have to go. I'll call you later.” Her questioning eyes made words unnecessary. “She's okay,” Jarrell said, enveloping Shayna in a tender hug. He'd done that quite often since this arrival: at the airport, when Shayna teared up after seeing her mother in the hospital (a first for this only child), after he'd accompanied Shayna to a private visit with the doctor, and now. It was an act that Shayna barely noticed; her entire focus was on her mom. But every nerve ending in Jarrell's body was on full alert, aware of everythingâthe feel of her hair, the way she smelled, the softness of the body-hugging dress that he wanted to remove, and the way her curves fit his frame perfectly. Every time he held her he remembered how it had been for them to make love. Every time they parted he vowed that it wouldn't be long before they made love again.
“Shayna, have you eaten?”
“I'm not really hungry.”
“Yes, but you need to eat something, babe, to keep up your strength. Let's go grab a little bite, okay?”
“Okay.”
A short time later Jarrell and Shayna sat in the booth of a popular diner. When they'd ordered, breakfast sounded good. But now Shayna pushed around the French toast on her plate while Jarrell made quick work of his steak and eggs. She watched him, and thought of Michael, thought back to their first breakfast in Cape Cod. And missed him.
“Don't be sad, babe,” Jarrell said, mistaking the lonely look in her eye. “Your mother is going to get better. But I want to ask you something, Shayna.”
“What?”
“Would you ever give consideration to moving down here, to help your mom with this new baby?”
“Why, did Mom say something about that?”
“Not exactly, but she talked about how different it would be raising a baby now than when she was eighteen. And that was before she got hit with this complication. I mean I know you have your life in LA and all, and Beverly said that it wouldn't be right to ask you to move, that even if she did, you probably wouldn't say yes.”
“So you guys have talked about it.”
“The subject came up. I'm just telling you what she said.”
Shayna took a bite of French toast and pondered what Jarrell had told her. Did her mother really need for her to be around like that, and could Shayna answer the call if it came to that? For sure there were a couple months that she could do it, a couple meets that weren't qualifiers. If she didn't compete in every event, it wouldn't affect her bank account, or her career. The more she thought about it, the more Shayna felt that spending time with her mother and the little sister or brother that she was carrying might be a good thing, might help them to form the type of family bond that Shayna had always wanted, the type of relationship she felt the Morgans shared. It was the first time in her life that Shayna could remember her mother possibly needing her. For some inexplicable reason, the thought felt good. “If it came to it, I probably could get some time off,” she eventually said to Jarrell.
“You'd do that? You'd leave LA and move here?”
“Not move,” Shayna clarified. “But I could probably arrange to spend a good amount of time down here, get to know my sibling and reestablish a connection with my mom. The way we used to be when you and I were growing up.”
“She'd like that,” Jarrell said.
“You think so?”
“I know so,” he assured her as he pulled out his wallet to pay the check.
And so would I.
47
Three days passed before Shayna caught a flight back to Los Angeles. Ironically, Michael was arriving home the same day, at about the same time. They'd ridden together in his town car, to her house, where she was staying just long enough to get her schedule situated with Coach, pay some bills, check in with her roommates, and throw a few clothes together into a suitcase. Then she was heading back to the airport and back to Vegas. And even though Michael had asked her the question what seemed like a million times, the answer was the same as the first time: “I don't know how long I'm going to be there, Michael. I guess as long as she needs me.”
Michael tried to remain calm. He'd told himself that he was tripping, that he was being inconsiderate given that Shayna's only living relative was critically ill. But his drawers had been in a bunch ever since he'd called Shayna's phone and Jarrell had answered.
Why had she let that asshole answer her phone?
She'd told him, but before he could stop the words, they came out of his mouth. “Tell me why Jarrell had your phone again?”
Shayna pulledâtranslated: yankedâa sweater off a hanger. “Why? Have you forgotten the answer I gave you an hour ago?”
“Come on, Shayna, Iâ”
“I told you, Michael. I had gone into the room to see Mom. My phone was in my coat, which was next to where Jarrell was sitting. I didn't ask him to answer it. I told you that I don't know why he did. Maybe he thought it was one of my roommates, who knows? Maybe he thought it was you and wanted to piss you off.” She huffed out of the walk-in closet and tossed the clothes in the suitcase lying on the bed. “Looks like he succeeded.”
“Baby, I'm sorry about your mom and I know he's her husband's brother, but I just don't trust that dude. He's the type who will try and take advantage of the situation.”
“How's he going to do that?” Shayna walked into the bathroom, tossed the necessary toiletries into a bag, walked out, and placed them in her carry-on. She said this, but once she'd gotten on the plane her mind had gone back to the times that Jarrell had hugged herâespecially the last time when she felt him kiss her cheek. She'd asked him about it.
“Girl, you're trippin',” had been his answer.
“I'm still with Michaelâhappily so.”
“No doubt. And I'm with baby girl.”
“Where is she?”
“She had to work and then she's going out of town. Don't worry about her though; we're good.”
That's what Jarrell had said and Shayna wanted to believe him. And even though she felt now was not the time to tell Michael, she too had reservations about Jarrell's helpful ways. What she didn't doubt was that he loved her mother. And right now, that's who Shayna had to focus on. Bottom line.
“Remember when we first got together and I found out about
all
of your women?”
“Shayna, this isn't about meâ”
“No. It's about trust. And just like you asked me to trust you when it came to all of the lovers that came before me, I'm now asking you to trust me with the one”âstrong forefinger in the air for emphasisâ“other man that I've had.”
Her argument was sound, but this didn't make Michael feel any better. If possible, he'd put all of his meetings and appointments on hold and head straight to Henderson. But he couldn't. The event of the football season was happening in two weeks. Skipping the Super Bowl was not an option. Aside from the two clients who'd be playing in the big event, the days leading up to the Sunday prime-time game were awash with networking, partying, and lining up deals. Michael had planned to take Shayna, who along with him had been invited to sit in the XMVP-hosted suite. When the women found out he was rolling solo, especially any exes who might be in attendance, things were going to get crazy. He already knew.
He walked over to where Shayna stood zipping up her luggage and put his arms around her. “I'm trying not to sound unreasonable, baby. I know your mother is the priority. I just loâ”
He stopped.
She stopped.
Did the earth stop spinning? If Michael were getting ready to say the
L
word, then the axis on old terra firma might need to get checked!
Shayna recovered first. “You just what?” There was a hint of a smile and a sparkle in her eye as she asked this. No pressure much.
“I just lo . . . okay at the situation andâ”
“That's not what you were getting ready to say!” she exclaimed, delivering this keen observation with a slap on Michael's arm.
The tension was broken. He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “Okay, I'll admit it. I love you, Shayna Washington. There, I've said it. Now, will you somehow find a way to stay away from Jarrell while you're handling your mom?”
Shayna sighed. “Hmm, now you're getting a little taste of how it feels to have somebody clamoring all over your significant other.”
Good mood shifted, smile replaced. “Oh, so he
has
been trying to talk to you.”
“No, Michael! I'm just saying that how you're feeling now is how I felt when we first started datingâwhat wiggled in just a little bit when Ms. Boobs came around the corner from your living room.”
“I wasn't there, Shay.”
And when I was there, I made sure the women put their tops back on.
“I know.” She raised up on tiptoes and gave Michael a kiss.
“Uh, don't you have something that you want to say to me?”
“Yes,” she said. Michael smiled. “I wonder where the girls are? I need to talk with them before my flight leaves.”
“Somebody considers themselves a comedian.”
“Ha! I'm just messing with you, Michael.” The sound of keys jingling in the door signaled her roommate's arrival. “Do you have to leave or can you hang out for a while with me and my friends?” she asked.
“I'll make time.” Shayna turned to leave, but Michael reached for her arm. “I'm going to miss you, Shayna. Don't stay too long, okay?”
“Okay.”
48
Beverly sat in her pink satiny tower, otherwise known as her king-sized bed. She'd just gotten released from the hospital and had been given instructions for strict bed rest. Getting up to use the bathroom was pretty much it. Otherwise, for the next eight to ten weeks, her bed was her new throne. She looked around the room and wondered how she'd gotten here. Getting pregnant to keep her husband had sounded like a good idea at the time. But things had changed in the twenty-five years since her last pregnancy. Namely, her body. She hadn't planned on being sidelined, with even less of an opportunity to keep tabs on her husband than she'd previously had. Larsen had been attentive, for the most part, but the way he'd been talking and texting on his cell phone, she wondered who else was on his mind. Shayna's visit was probably the best thing that had come out of her sickness. It hadn't been her idea, but having her daughter here had turned out to be a good thing. And maybe it was the way her hormones were fluctuating, but last night they'd connected on an even deeper level than her previous visit. Beverly had to admit that her daughter had grown up to be an amazing woman, and didn't miss the irony that she was just now actually realizing this fact.
Reaching for one of the dozen or so magazines on the bed, Beverly picked one up and began flicking through it. But she wasn't really seeing the pictures on the pages. Her mind's eye was going through the photos of her own life, memories that had been dredged up by Shayna's questions, both from her last visit and this one, memories that she'd buried a long time ago. Not so much the things that she'd shared with Shayna, which were bad enough, but that which had remained unsaid. She'd told Shayna the truth about the uncle who'd assaulted her. She left out the part about how her mother tried to help her and Beverly refused, why the reason she went to stay with her father had less to do with her being a daddy's girl, which she was, and more to do with her being wild. Wanting sex, liking it, and not wanting to be under her mother's strict hand. Beverly's father had taken her in and then pretty much left her alone. He was too busy setting up his own house to notice what was going on in Beverly's world. Shayna had not been her first pregnancy. She didn't feel her daughter needed to know that either. It was a secret that not even Big Mama knew about. Beverly knew that she hadn't been the best mom, and wasn't the best daughter, but she also knew that at all times of her life, at any given moment in her past or her present, she was doing like everybody else was doing . . . the best that she could.
And it wasn't all bad. Lying back, she thought of what had turned out to be a great time. Shayna's recent visit.
Â
Â
“How are you feeling, Mom?”
It was after midnight, but because sleeping was just about all she'd been doing, Beverly was wide awake. “I'm okay. Where's my husband?”
“He said he had to make a run. One of the drivers called in sick.”
“Where's Jarrell? Why didn't he go?”
“We sent him to get the food, remember?”
Beverly nodded, then winced a little as she shuffled the pillows.
Shayna was immediately by her side. “Hold on, Mom. Let me help you.”
“I would rather Jarrell had done the run. I want Larsen here. Where I can keep an eye on him.”
Given her mother's condition, Larsen's faithfulness or lack thereof was the last thing that Shayna wanted to discuss. But clearly her mother had other ideas. “Why do you think he's cheating? Maybe he's working, just like he said.”
Beverly snorted. “I see there's still some things about men you need to learn.”
“Not all men are bad, Mom.” She talked about Michael, and shared some of what she'd learned about his father, Sam Morgan. “You've never wanted to talk about my father, Mom. Why not?”
“Oh, Shayna . . .”
“I'm not asking for a year-by-year account of his life. Or even about your relationship with him. But no matter what you felt about him, he was my father, Mom. You're getting ready to have Larsen's child. Would you not want the baby to know its father? Unless there's something dark, or evil . . . like he was a rapist or murderer or something. And even thenâ”
“No, Shayna. He was none of those things.” Beverly let her head fall back. She looked at the ceiling so long that Shayna thought she wasn't going to answer. “I loved your father,” she said at last. One tear rolled down her face, and then another. And then her mother was sobbing, with her head in her hands.
“Mommy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.” She climbed onto the bed and over to her mother. She hugged her before repositioning the pillows and running her hand over her mother's shoulder and back. “Shh. We don't have to talk about it.”
Beverly gazed at Shayna through her tears. “Yes, Shay. We do need to talk about it.”
“But it's making you so upset. Why would you want to continue?”
“Because there is something I need to tell you. Something you need to know.”
“What's that?”
Beverly looked away from Shayna as fresh tears followed. “I don't know any other way to say it except straight out.” Shayna's heartbeat raced as she thought of the possibilities. Had her mother been raped, and that's how she was conceived? Was her father also a relative, and was she the product of a sexual assault? In the span of a few seconds she thought of one outcome after another, each one worse than the next. But nothing prepared her for the truth when her mother spoke it.
“Shayna, your father is alive.”