Too Little, Too Late (24 page)

T
HE VOICE-MAIL MESSAGE CAME ON
again. “This is Alexis, you know what to do.” Then the beep. Brian hung up. He’d already left a year’s worth of messages in seven days.

He stood, slid open the balcony, and stepped outside into the cool of the August night. He took in his $129-a-night, third-floor view of the parking lot filled with Ford Escorts and Chevy Impalas. This was not the kind of place he was used to, but when he’d left their apartment a week ago, he’d had no thoughts on where to go. He’d driven for hours until he circled back to Los Angeles, exhausted and willing to stay in the first place he saw—this motel. The plan had been to be here one night, because surely, after twenty-four hours he’d be home, working through this with Alexis. But this was the seventh day. And without speaking once to Alexis, he had no idea if this exile was ever going to end.

With a sigh, he stepped back inside and tried to keep his mood from matching the gloom of the room. He settled onto the overly firm mattress, closed his eyes, trying to stop the images. But the movie in his mind played, then rewound and played again. The memory of seven days before…

When he had walked into that hotel, it had been hard to keep his emotions inside. He’d greeted Jasmine and Hosea and then stared at the little girl. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t take his eyes away from this child who looked more like him than his sons did. And without hesitation, without explanation, his heart had instantly filled with love. How was he supposed to turn away from this child, his seed forever?

But then he thought of Alexis. His wife and daughter could never coexist. But he’d hardly had time to ponder a solution before Alexis had barged in. A split second later, Jacqueline was gone.

The rest was a daytime nightmare that he wanted to forget. But he remembered it all—how Alexis had sped from the hotel. How he’d followed her, tossing aside his thoughts about giving her space.

He’d rushed home and breathed with relief when he saw her car parked in front of their condo. But when he stepped into their penthouse, rage met him right at the door. All he could do was stand at the edge of the living room and watch Alexis storm through, throwing items into her suitcase.

“Alexis, sweetheart,” he finally whispered. “Please, let’s talk.”

She marched right by him.

“I want to explain. Jasmine was part of the disease.”

She wouldn’t even look at him.

“Baby, please. I love you.”

She’d paused, for just a moment. Then, without looking, without speaking, she snapped one suitcase shut before she tossed more clothes into another.

Then, a thought came to him—if he left, at least he’d know where she was.

“Alexis, I don’t want you to leave. I’ll go, if that’s what you want.”

She stopped. Looked at him for the first time. “You’ll leave?”

He nodded.

“That’ll be the first decent thing you’ve done in our marriage.” She grabbed her purse. “I’ll give you one hour. When I come back, if you’re not gone, I will be.”

The pictures on the living room wall shook with her anger when she slammed the door.

As he packed, he’d wondered if this was the end, but then decided right there that this was not.

But now, seven days had passed, and she wouldn’t take a single call. He didn’t want to take this drama to her job. They were both too private—and bougie—for that. And he couldn’t confront her at church.

He’d find a way, he was sure. Because giving up was just not in his nature.

S
EVEN DAYS OF HEARTACHE
.

That’s how Hosea would describe the last week. Ever since he’d come face to face with Brian.

He’d done his best to hide his emotions at work and especially at home. He made a point to get home as early as he could. Shared as many dinners with Jasmine and Jacqueline as time allowed. Continued to walk and talk as if life was all normal.

But his misery was apparent, especially when he lay with Jasmine at night.

Of course he knew that Jasmine had been with other men before him, just as he hadn’t been a virgin when they met. But it was the deceit behind her relationship with Brian that gripped Hosea’s heart even after two years.

All he could think about was that she’d been with Brian while they’d been dating. She’d lain in Brian’s arms while he had been falling in love with her. She had sex with Brian while he had been trying to honor her with the purest gift he could give—a celibate courtship.

She had poisoned all of that by cheating on him—with Brian.

Now, his head spun with doubts that he hated. Doubts that he tried with all his might to push away. But like a recurring cancer, his fears kept returning. He wondered, had Jasmine and Brian ever stopped? Were they sleeping together even now?

He shook his head. There was no way. She wouldn’t lie to him. She wouldn’t cheat on him. Not again. Never again.

The knock on the door rescued him and made him come back to now. But he kept quiet, hoping silence would deter the intruder.

Still, the door opened, and Natasia peeked in. “You busy?”

“No. What’s going down?”

“Thought you might be hungry.” She held up a picnic basket just like the one Jasmine had brought him last week.

His eyes widened with surprise.

“So, are you hungry?”

Her smile brought him a bit of cheer. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good.” She stepped inside the office and locked the door. “Let’s have some peace—at least for a little while.”

He watched as she flung the tablecloth in the air, then spread it on the floor. “You didn’t get to have your picnic the other day and it was my fault. So I want to make it up to you.”

She spread the fried chicken, potato salad, and biscuits across the cloth. “I brought all your favorites, including this.” She held up a carrot cake. “Food cures all wounds.”

“I gave up that addiction long ago.” He rose from his desk and joined her.

“I know, but this is still comfort food.” She added softly, “And I think you need a little comfort.”

She filled their plates before Hosea said grace. Then she leaned back against the wall, her stretched-out legs exposed by her rising skirt.

Hosea kept his eyes on his plate. Ate silently.

But after a while, Natasia asked, “What’s going on with you?”

The doubts, the fears, the worries filled his mind. “Nothing.”

“I know that’s not true. Why don’t you talk to me?”

He paused. “Let’s talk about you for a moment.”

“I’d rather talk about us.” Then she added quickly, “You’ll never guess who called me the other day…Chuckie.”

Hosea laughed. He hadn’t thought about their first landlord in years. “What’s he up to?”

“The same. Still buying all those buildings in Chicago. He’s gotta be a millionaire by now. You know what he asked me?” Natasia laughed. “How many kids we had.”

Hosea stabbed a piece of chicken. Natasia thought that was funny, but he didn’t. For days, he’d been wondering what life would have been like if he hadn’t listened to God and hadn’t left Natasia. What would his world look like without all this drama?

She said, “Chuckie was surprised to find out that we weren’t married.”

Hosea chewed.

“Everyone says that. Whenever I see people from the old neighborhood, they’re shocked to know that we didn’t make it.”

All he did was nod.

The laughter had gone. Now, solemnly, she said, “We had some good times. Some wonderful times.”

Hosea put his plate down. Turned to her. “Yes, we did.”

“We were pretty happy, right?”

“We were.” His tone matched hers.

She dropped her plate onto the cloth. “Hosea…you know I care about you.” When he began to shake his head, she added, “I’m not going there. I told you from now on, it’s all about our friendship. So, I’m talking as a friend. And as a friend, I’m concerned.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve heard rumors.” She paused. “About Jasmine.”

He stared at Natasia, his jaw tight. In the past, he would have shut her down right there. Never allowed her—or anyone else—to talk about his wife.

But that was before Brian. That was before his doubts.

His hands squeezed into fists. He asked, “What kind of rumors?” then braced himself for hearing that his wife
was
cheating on him.

“Well, they’re not about Jasmine. Not exactly.”

His frown deepened.

“They’re about your little girl.
Her
little girl.” She paused for a moment, lowered her eyes and voice as if she cared. “That baby is not yours, is she?”

Where had she heard that?
He spoke softly, “You know what? I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Hosea.”

He pushed himself from the floor. “You need to leave, Natasia.”

“Hosea, I was just asking—”

“And I’m asking you to leave,” he snapped.

Her head jerked back at his tone. “Okay.” Still sitting, she raised her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She paused and spoke the next words deliberately, “And I want you to know that I’m always here for you. I’m your friend.”

“You need to leave,” he said, letting her know those words, right now, meant nothing.

She reached to pack up the food, but he said, “Leave that, I’ll take care of it.”

He stood behind his desk, not looking up, until he heard the door close. His sigh was one of exhaustion when he slumped into his chair. He was tired…and pissed. Not that Natasia had done anything so wrong. She was just the messenger delivering the news that people were talking.

He didn’t know why this bothered him. It wasn’t like this was a huge secret. When he’d left Jasmine after he found out about Jacqueline, the few in his tight circle of family and friends were aware of Jacqueline’s paternity. And he’d asked no one to be silent. Especially since as soon as it was time, he planned on telling Jacqueline the truth himself.

But that didn’t stop the facts from hurting.

He needed to talk. Talk to someone who could understand all that he was going through. But no one knew his pain.

No one, but Alexis.

He grabbed his cell phone and made the first call.

I
T HAD TAKEN ALMOST TWO
years, but now Jasmine felt just like a wife.

A suspecting wife. Of a cheating husband.

Not that Hosea had done anything to make her believe he’d been unfaithful. But the symptoms were there—the distance that was wedged between them. The way he talked without looking at her, the way she caught him gazing at the walls, staring at nothing, like someone else was on his mind. The way he rolled away from her in bed, at times hanging so close to his edge, she just knew that in the middle of the night she’d hear him fall to the floor.

Still, she was sure he hadn’t cheated.

Not yet.

The moment Hosea closed the bathroom door, Jasmine sat up. Leaning against the leather headboard, she waited until she heard the spray of the shower against the porcelain, then she jetted to the closet in search of any signs of Natasia.

After three days, she had this down. First, she scanned the collar of the shirt he’d worn yesterday—no lipstick. She breathed in the scent; only a trace of his cologne was still in the cotton—no perfume. She exhaled.

She searched through his jacket pockets—nothing. Next were his pants. Quickly, she shuffled through the three loose business cards she found. More nothing. She stuffed the cards back into place. And exhaled again.

With a smile, she turned back to the bed. Then stopped. In the last days, she hadn’t checked his phone. She paused, made sure that the shower was still running, then grabbed his PDA. Not too many calls, one to her, one to his father. Even the call to 411 didn’t make her curiosity rise. It was the number that came after. A 310 area code. And it had been called twice.

She frowned. Surely, this didn’t have anything to do with Natasia—unless the call was made to a hotel. Jasmine knew that Natasia was staying in some hotel in the Valley, but maybe she had moved. Maybe she’d found a place in the city where she and Hosea could meet far away from work and Hosea’s family.

That is ridiculous,
Jasmine told herself. Still, she jotted down the number, then stuffed the paper inside her nightstand drawer just as the shower stopped. Seconds after she slid back between the sheets, Hosea strolled from the bathroom wrapped in just a towel tucked at his waist.

Just looking at his still-damp chest made her forget Natasia. All she wanted to do was rip away the terrycloth and love him until all that was on his mind was her.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Babe,” she began softly in that voice that told him what she wanted.

But he shook his head. “I have an early meeting.” Then he ducked into their walk-in closet.

She slid lower in the bed. There was a time when all she had to do was be awake and he wanted her. But now, she couldn’t remember the last time they’d shared their bed that way.

She waited until he came out of the closet, dressed, before she asked, “Will you be home for dinner? I was hoping…”

He looked at her. “I’m sorry, Jasmine,” he said, with sorrow in his voice. “I’m not sure, but I may have a meeting. A dinner meeting.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll call and let you know.”

Thoughts raced through her mind like a runaway train. The number. Was probably to a hotel. Natasia’s hotel. They hadn’t yet made their plans for tonight.

“Got anything planned for today?” he asked.

Just following you.
“Nope. I’m going to take Jacquie to the park and then I’m going to check in with Malik. See how things are going at the club.”

“Good.” He grabbed his cell phone, kissed her forehead. “See you tonight,” and then he left their room.

After she heard the door to the suite close, she waited a minute before she grabbed the phone and dialed the number. She was going to get the name of the hotel, find out Natasia’s room, and then bust them both when they arrived tonight.

Three rings and then a voice-mail recording, “You’ve reached Ward and Associates. No one is available—”

She didn’t need to hear anymore.

Jasmine’s heart was pushing through her chest when she hung up. Ward and Associates. That was the name of Alexis’s company.

Hosea had been calling Alexis.

This had nothing to do with Natasia.

Shaking, she laid back on the bed. She and Alexis had hated each other for a long time. And the way Alexis had looked at her when they were in the bathroom, Jasmine knew that loathing had deepened.

Was this payback? Was Alexis secretly meeting Hosea? Was that the meeting he had tonight?

Jasmine stood, paced the bedroom. She’d first found Brian so attractive because he was Alexis’s husband. And now, Hosea was just as attractive to Alexis because he was married to her.

She snatched her cell, scrolled through the numbers, then dialed. Another voice-mail recording, but this time, she left a message. “Brian,” she spoke through clenched teeth, “this is Jasmine. I need to see you this morning no matter what. If you want to stay married to your precious wife, you’d better call me!”

She slammed the phone down. She needed to get dressed, get Jacqueline ready, see if Mae Frances could watch her while she took care of this business.

But the pounding in her head and in her chest made Jasmine lie back down. She just needed a moment to recover from the drama. She closed her eyes and tried to push away the stirring inside that told her that this drama was just getting started.