Moments of Clarity (23 page)

Chapter 19

Sasha looked over at her fiancé and shook him slightly on the shoulder. “Honey, wake up. We have his and her appointments at the spa.”

Sexton eyed her wearily. “Why did you make the appointment so early? You know how I like to sleep in.”

“It's not that early. It's after ten o'clock.” Then she added, “Don't blame me, I didn't know that you would be up half the night gambling. How much of your money did you lose?”

“You mean how much of our money did I lose,” he replied, covering his mouth with a yawn. “Let's just say that you might have to work until you're seventy.”

“Just so you have dinner ready for me when I get home.” She chuckled at the thought of Sexton meeting her at the door sporting an apron.

They walked downstairs to the Paris Mandara Spa. The attendant was the spitting image of Iman and Sasha whispered, “I'll have what she had.”

“You look better than her,” Sexton whispered back.

“Sure I do!” Sasha scoffed.

“You do to me and that's what matters, isn't it?”

“You always know the right thing to say.” She squeezed his hand.

“May I help you?”

“We have reservations for the Paris for Lovers Package.”

“What is the name, ma'am?” The attendant's tone was pleasant and she made Sasha feel as if they would be well taken care of.

“Mr. and Mrs. Sexton Johnson.” Sasha took a credit card out of her wallet, placed it on the counter, turned to Sexton and gave him a wink.

Several hours later after body massages, pedicures, manicures, and facials, they were walking hand in hand down the Las Vegas strip. They felt and looked like a million bucks.

Throngs of people walked scorching sidewalks and several times Sasha almost lost her footing in her stilettos as she was jostled by intoxicated people hurrying into casinos trying to dodge the heat and reach the gaming tables. They acted as if they had the inside track as to which numbers on the roulette wheels would come up, or which slot machines were going to pay out.

Sexton moved from Sasha's side, grabbed her hand, and led her into Caesar's Palace. “They have any and everything here that we need for the wedding.”

Sasha turned to him and said, “You can't go shopping with me for my wedding dress. It's bad luck.”

“I know, but we have to get wedding bands. Once that's taken care of, we'll split up and I can get my suit.”

Sasha sat in a velvet cushioned chair at the jewelry store. “We want matching wedding bands,” she said emphatically. Then she looked over at Sexton in the seat next to hers and asked as an afterthought, “That is what you want, isn't it, Honey?”

“That's want I want.” His eyes twinkled at her and she knew that he was thinking that he might as well.

Sasha tried on over a dozen rings and after she had narrowed her decision to three she looked at Sexton and said, “I can't decide. Which do you like best?”

Sexton reached over and picked up the plain twenty-four carat gold wedding band. “I like this one. Its simplicity makes it eye catching, and it won't look as if it's competing with your engagement ring.” Then he picked up the matching band. Sexton slid the ring on his hand and it was a perfect fit. He smiled gently at her. “Now I'm living the dream.”

Her lips quivered from emotion and the jewelry clerk bowed his head in silent apology for intruding on such an intimate moment.

* * *

Sasha dialed Sexton's room number from her suite in the Venetian Hotel. She had been stunned, yet charmed, when Sexton had insisted that they separate until they were married. “When our daughter asks us about our wedding day, I don't want to have to tell her mommy rolled over and told me it was time to get up.”

At twelve o'clock Sasha and Sexton stood together in the Venetian Wedding Chapel. Calvin and the minister's wife stood off to one side to witness the union.

She had purchased a white wedding dress that was cut close to her ankles and matching pumps from the shops in Caesar's Hotel. In her arms she held a bouquet of white calla lilies. Sexton looked debonair in a crisp white shirt and a black double-breasted suit.

Throughout the ceremony, Sasha and Sexton's eyes never wavered from each other's. In her subconscious, she heard the serious tone of the minister but her full concentration was on Sexton. Her eyes filled with tears of happiness at the beginning of the ceremony but she didn't attempt to wipe them away, preferring to let them slide down her cheeks as testimony to how much she loved the man standing beside her.

At the close of the ceremony, Calvin produced a broom and placed it on the floor in front of them. Sexton took his hands in hers and together they jumped over it. The minister smiled and said, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Sexton turned to Sasha and she melted in his arms. He bent his head to her and when his lips touched hers, she slid her arms around his neck. Sexton explored her lips as if it were the first time they had ever kissed and when he finally withdrew his mouth from hers she felt her face grow hot when she remembered that there were other people in the room.

Calvin gave a discreet cough, and when they looked at him he teased, “Man, you act as if this is the first time you've kissed her.”

Sexton put his arm around Sasha's shoulders and said smiling, “This is the first time I've ever kissed her as my wife.”

Calvin grinned, held out his hand and vigorously shook Sexton's. Then he turned to Sasha and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Congratulations. May you have a long and happy marriage.”

“Thank you.” Sasha's voice was husky from emotion.

“I have to go now because my plane leaves in about an hour. I was due back home yesterday, but I refused to not be here for the big day.”

“Thanks, Calvin, you're a good friend.” Sexton sounded choked up.

“You can thank me by naming me godfather of your first child,” he declared, picking up the suitcase that he had hidden in the back of the chapel during the wedding.

“Absolutely,” Sexton spoke to Calvin's retreating back.

That afternoon, Sasha leaned on Sexton as they rode in their private gondola in the green canals of the Venetian Hotel. The gondolier sang as he paddled his gondola and between the combination of his music and the murals of Venice it was easy to forget that they were in the States and not Italy.

Hours later, Sasha sat in their hotel room at a round table lit with candles. She was dressed in a cream negligee with matching satin slippers, and as Sexton gazed at her he thought that she was the loveliest vision he had ever seen.

“I never thought that I could be so happy. I love you very much, Mr. Sexton Johnson,” Sasha murmured.

“We're going to be very happy together, Sasha.” Sexton picked up his glass of champagne and raised it, motioning for Sasha to do the same.

“I love you,” he vowed, “for today, tomorrow, and forever.”

The clinking of the glasses was the only sound in the room. Sasha emptied her glass in one draught.

Sexton smiled, “Don't get too tipsy. I have more in store for you tonight.”

“I'm eagerly looking forward to it, young man. You haven't slept next to me for three days,” she complained. “I think that's the longest time we've ever spent apart when you weren't traveling.”

“Well, you're mine now, Sasha Johnson, and I'm never going to let you go.”

Sexton stood and let fall the brocade robe that Sasha had purchased for him the day she'd bought her wedding dress. He stood there, naked and glistening, unabashed that his body showed how much desire he had for her. He leaned over and blew out the candles. Then with cat-like steps, he went to stand in front of Sasha. He held out his hand to help her to her feet, then bent and picked her up in his arms and cradled her as if she were a baby.

“Oh, my!” she gasped.

Sexton pivoted and walked with her to the bedroom and kicked the door closed. Then he gently laid her on the bed that was covered with rose petals and joined her, covering her body with his.

* * *

Very late the next morning, Sasha opened her eyes and they focused on a note leaning against the lamp on the nightstand. She knew without turning over that she was alone in the king size bed because she didn't hear the familiar light snore that she had become so used to during the last few months.

Reaching for the note, she read Sexton's words:

“I didn't want to disturb you so I went to the gym to work out. We have tickets to Cirque de Soleil at five o'clock. I'll be back no later than three so we can go to a late lunch before the show. Love, your husband, Sexton.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Sasha knew she had a couple of hours before he would return, time for a long, leisurely bath.

The doorbell rang and Sasha pulled on the negligee she had worn the previous night and padded barefoot to the door. Looking through the peephole, all she could discern was a Federal Express emblem. Leaving the chain bolt across the door she opened it barely an inch. “May I help you?”

The man's voice was deep and gravelly. “I have a certified package for Sasha Diamond.”

“I'm Sasha Diamond Johnson.” Opening the door completely, she signed the register with one hand and took the manila envelope in the other. Smiling at him as he tipped his hat, she closed the door and walked back into the living room.

Curiously tearing open the package, she emptied the contents onto the table that still had the champagne glasses she and Sexton had drunk from the previous night.

Several pictures and a white envelope fell out and she reached for one of the pictures first. Sasha stared at the picture for five whole minutes before she slumped in an unconscious heap. Her head barely missed full contact with the glass table.

* * *

Sasha's eyes fluttered open. She didn't know how long she had been unconscious; she lay on the floor, unable to will her body to move. She only knew that she felt tightness in her chest and that she was having difficulty breathing. Gingerly, she sat up and moved her limbs, hoping she hadn't bruised or even broken something in her fall. Trying to gather her wits and to fully comprehend the picture she'd seen before she fainted, she shook her head from side to side in disbelief.

They lay on the floor like dead leaves from a tree struck by lightening. Not trusting herself to stand, she sucked in her breath and reached for the pictures. One by one she stared at them, transfixed.

One was of Sexton flat on his back, butt naked in bed in his apartment. Sasha knew this was his usual posture after a heated session of lovemaking. Another had him lying on his back; facing him was Tiara, who was also naked. She was wearing the blonde bob wig Sasha had found in Sexton's bed. Tiara's expression looked sly and triumphant at the same time. The third picture had Sexton sitting in a chair, naked, with his thighs sprawled open. His back was to the camera so she couldn't see his face, and Tiara was on her knees in front of him with her head bent, wearing the blonde wig and obviously performing fellatio on him.

Still not wanting to believe what she saw, she rubbed the pictures, hoping the ink would wipe off and show her that they were not real, but a cruel joke by someone who hated her. The pictures remained intact. She reached for the envelope. Tearing it open, she recognized Tiara's childlike cursive. “I've done everything possible other than hitting you over the head with a sledge hammer to clue you in as to what kind of man Sexton really is. When Calvin told me that Sexton was going to propose to you in Las Vegas, I thought that you should know the real deal on your boyfriend before you made the same mistake I did. I'm ashamed to admit that I've been sleeping with him, but I felt that I owed him because he gave me money.”

Sasha then looked at a copy of Sexton's canceled check made out to Tiara for thirty thousand dollars.

“Sexton made me wear the wig when I went to his apartment in order to keep people from recognizing me. He made me promise not to tell you, but I can't keep quiet anymore. Please forgive me, Sasha. I'm telling you this because I love you. Your friend to the end, Tiara.”

Zombie-like, Sasha stood and walked to the closet that held her clothes. She began haphazardly throwing them into her suitcases before grabbing a pair of jeans, a tee shirt, and sneakers and pulling them on.

Less than twenty minutes later, she looked around the suite and found a tablet inside the dresser drawer. Dry-eyed, she scratched out the words, “I don't ever want to see you again, Sexton.” Tugging off her engagement and wedding rings, she placed them on the table next to the note. Next, even more enraged, she slammed down the cancelled check. Without looking, she shoved the photographs into one of the pockets of her suitcase. “I'll keep them to remind me in the future of how stupid I am about people,” she muttered to herself as she walked out to the door to catch a plane and put as much distance as she could between herself and the man who had truly broken her heart.

* * *

Sexton entered the empty honeymoon suite and surveyed the room, shocked by the disarray. The drapes across the sliding glass doors were completely open the way the maid usually left them, yet the bed was still unmade and the dining area was a disaster. “Sasha?” he called out before crossing over to the bathroom.

Sexton knocked on the door and when he received no response, opened it. Quickly opening the vanity doors, he saw the ones that had held Sasha's toiletries were now empty. His brow furrowed with confusion, he crossed over to the closet and flung open the doors to find it now held only his clothes. He spied a tablet on the bedside table with writing on it. He lifted it, and read the note several times before seeing a copy of the cancelled check he had given Tiara on the table.

A closed expression settled on Sexton's face and light faded from his eyes. With his jaw clenched, he walked over to the other side of the room to the gas fireplace and hit the switch. Once the flames flared, he threw Sasha's note on them and watched it burn. Next, he picked up Sasha's rings, pulled off his wedding band, and threw them in the fireplace to watch them become enveloped in flames.