Unmasking Charlotte (a Taboo Love series) (13 page)

Calvin still…

I saunter through Nick’s office door still chuckling at my exchange with Delilah. I love her newfound self-confidence. I falter for a moment when I realize it could be some other dude giving it to her.

Nick is sitting behind his desk, staring at a thick file in front of him. He decided to practice criminal law the same semester I decided to drop out. In fact, it was the same exact case we were studying that sent us in two opposite directions. He still felt as though he could change the legal system that I ultimately gave up on. All of these years later, Nick Santino is considered to be the top criminal attorney in New York, and is ranked in the Who’s Who throughout the country. Pretty impressive, right?

“Nick,” I greet him with nod.

He looks up at me from his file. “Shit. What’s wrong?” he asks knowing that I am not myself.

That’s the good and the bad about having a friend that can read you so well. There is no getting anything past him. I lower myself into the chair in front of his desk, facing him.

“Why do you assume something is wrong?” I ask a bit defiantly.

Nick leans forward in his chair and steeples his hands, leaning them on the desk in front of him.

“First of all, you are sitting in my office in the middle of the day, when I know for a fact that you need to be at work.”

“Whatever, I have been to your office plenty of times before.”

“Be that as it may, add in the fact that you called me Nick – not Nico, my man, or bro – and I know that something is up with you. So I will ask one more time, what’s wrong?”

“My man, I don’t know how to even have this conversation with you.” I say dejectedly, unable to look him in the eyes.

“Dude, you are freaking me the fuck out. Just say it, and look at me, will ya?”

“You want me to just fucking lay it out there?”

“Hell yeah! Rip the mother fucking band-aid already!”

“Okay, dude, but don’t shoot the fucking messenger.” I rub my hand up and down my face, trying to relieve some stress. I love Delilah like a sister, but my loyalty ultimately lies with Nick. This is going to devastate him.

“Fucking say it, Cal!” he is completely exasperated with me and I really don’t blame him.

Shit! I can’t put it off any longer. I turn to look at Delilah and she is doing work on her com
puter, not paying us any mind. The guilt settles in my stomach and I feel the bile rise in my throat.

“She can’t hear us
, right?” I ask quietly, jerking my thumb over my shoulder at her through the glass.

“No. Is this about
her
? Just fucking spit it out.”

I let it out quickly, being the band-aid ripper he asked for. For a split second, I regret my decision to tell him, but I know that I would never forgive him if he kept this kind of information from me. As I allow the words to roll off my tongue, it leaves a sour taste in my mouth, my stomach roiling from the anxiety of telling my best friend his girl hasn’t been faithful.

I take a deep breath, not knowing how this is going to go. “Delilah is cheating on you.”

Nick leans back in his chair, puts his hands behind his head, and swings his legs up onto his desk in a completely relaxed position.

“Nope, not my LaLa.”

“What? Nico, dude, come on.”

“Nope, not possible,” he denies it again.

I shake my head. Saying it once was bad enough, I am not saying it again.

“You know how much I love her. Why would I make something like this up?”

“I didn’t say that I think you are making anything up. I just think you are mistaken.”

I know the best way to get through to him is to speak his language, take all emotion out of the equation. He needs facts.

“I have a witness,” I add resigned.

He swings his legs off his desk, and sits forward again. “You have a witness? Now you have my attention.”

“I do. Monica.”

“Your front door girl?”

“One in the same.”
I nod.

“And she personally witnessed Delilah screwing another man?”

“No, I never said that.”

“Kissing, then?”

“Hmmm, she didn’t say that either.”

“
So, what did Monica – your star witness - say that leads you to believe that my perfect fiancée is cheating on me?” he asks while looking at her lovingly.

“She told me that she saw Delilah and Charlotte at a speed dating bar while we were playing poker,” I tell him and hope it doesn’t hit him and
then flip out on me.

“So Monica saw Delilah and Charlie kissing?” That I would like to see. Once. Because I don’t share – with a man or woman.

I rub my face in aggravation again. What the hell? Does he think this all a joke? I hear him snickering so I look back up at him through my hands.

“What the fuck, man?”

“Sorry, Cal. I can’t see you suffering anymore. I knew all about this. She texted me from the bar that night to make sure I was okay with all of it going on.”

I stare at him in disbelief. I don’t know if I am more surprised that he let her pretend to speed date these guys, or the fact that Charlotte was with her.

“Fuck, man. You don’t know how hard it was for me to come to you and tell you all of this. You know how I feel about my Little Bit.”

“I’m sorry, C-dog.” He chuckles. “For what it’s worth, I appreciate you having my back. I mean, I always knew
that you would, but it’s good to know that when your loyalty is tested, I can always trust that yours lies with me. Just so you know, I would have done the same for you….”

“Thanks, man,” I interrupt, but that doesn’t derail him.

He must be feeling like an emotional pussy after what we just shared, because he continues his train of thought, getting in that final jab.

“…If you ever get a woman,” he quips.

“Ha fucking ha ass wipe.”

I lean back in my chair and stretch out my legs. I extend my neck, cracking first to the left then the right, needing to release all of the tension I have been holding onto. Now that I have his situation under control, and my stomach no longer feels like it is in my throat, I change the focus to my pathetic personal life that Nick so graciously pointed out, and my irrational fascination with one, Charlotte Fisher.

“Tell me… what’s the story with Charlotte?” I ask, trying to feel out if Nick knows anything that I should know.

“What do you mean?”

“What’s her deal?”

“With regards to what?” the evasive fucker asks.

“I flirt with her, show interest, attempt to ask her out, but she completely shuts me down. Then she does this whole speed dating bullshit. Is she racist or something? Does she hate black people? I just don’t get it.” I raise my hands, palm to the sky in question.

“What are you talking about?”

“Charlotte. Is she a racist?”

“Why would you even ask that?”

I take a shaky breath and start. I can’t believe I am telling him this shit.

“
A few reasons. First, I am always flirting with her, and she seems responsive. But at your engagement party, I asked her to dance and she completely froze up on me; wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. Then she gave me the ultimate blow off by telling me that she is dating Parker. And I know for a fact she is not dating Parker because I asked him directly.” I pause for a minute to compose my thoughts. I am completely rambling.

I feel like such a pussy. We haven’t spoken about “feelings” since last year when he told me he was in love with Delilah that day on the basketball courts. Actually, come to think of it, I don’t think I have ever shared my feelings about a woman with Nick, or anyone outside of my parents and sister. I must really like her. Crap.

Nick doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “I know she is attracted to me, because we… well, let me just leave it at that. I know she is attracted to me…” I trail off, not wanting to tell him that we kissed or that I had the opportunity, albeit brief, to have my hands on her beautiful breasts. Not yet at least. Interestingly, if this were any other woman, I probably would have. But with Charlotte, it just feels different. Special maybe.

I take another breath and look back at Nick. He is listening attentively.

“I still don’t understand why that makes you think she is racist. Maybe she just doesn’t want to date you. Attracted to you or not,” he throws out there.

The rational part of my brain agrees with him. Not that I am anything near being rational at this point. I need a tangible reason for why she won’t go out with me and then lie about dating another man. Between the kiss
ing, and the way her body reacted to mine, I can clearly tell that she wanted me. That she wants me. So what’s the freaking problem?

“Okay. So what about this? At the poker game… those god damned assholes?”

“What about them?”

“Oh, come on, Nick. She fucked the white guy but rejected the black one?”

Nick “hmms” and I think I got him on that one, but he still disagrees with me.

“I see your point, and how that could look bad. Sorry, but Charlie is not racist, my man.” He shrugs and shakes his head.

“How do you know, bro? It’s my turn to need evidence. Something concrete.”

“Why is this so important to you? If you think she is racist, then move the fuck onto the next woman. You can have the pick of the litter. Every woman you encounter wants you.”

I groan and swipe my hands up and down my face in frustration. “I can’t explain it. I want her. I want Charlotte. And not for just one night.”

“Then go for her, man. She is not a racist.”

I stand up from the chair and start pacing. I feel like we are talking in circles. “But how can you be so sure?” I ask over enunciating each word.

“Her father is black,” he says as a matter of fact.

I spin around on my heels and look him dead in the eyes. I didn’t even notice he had stood up as well.

“What? Her father is…” I don’t even finish my thought before Nick chimes in.

“…Black.”

“What do you mean her father is ‘black’?”

“He’s black. B-L-A-C-K. Black.”

“Black?” I ask again, shaking my head, unable to process the information properly. I drop back into the seat I was in previously. I am so confused. That was the last thing that I ever expected to hear.

“Yes, Calvin. Black. African American. Ya know, the opposite of white. Definitely not Caucasian. Her father is black, Cal.”

I let the information sink in, my brain flooded with more questions. I am struck silent for a minute or so before it dawns on me. My eyes bug open and I look back to Nick who is still quietly laughing at me.

“Charlotte’s father is black,” I state, no longer questioning him.

“Mmm hmm. Yup,” is all he mutters, his eyes amused at my befuddled state.

“So, that means Charlotte is… biracial?”

Nick barks out a laugh. So loudly that I can see Delilah look at us through the glass wall, her eyebrow quirked in question.

“Sorry, dude. No, she is not biracial. Her dad adopted her when he married her mother. Her biological father was killed in the line of duty.”

I start to ask more questions but he raised his hand at me in a “stop” motion.

“That’s all I know. And I only found that out because I walked in on the tail end of a conversation between her and Delilah. Charlie is very private when it comes to her past. Delilah told me to leave it and not ask, so I respected that. The rest you are going to have to find out on your own.”

This conversation ha
s been very serious so I decide to lighten it up a bit. Bring back laid-back, easy-going, Calvin.

“So she has no black in her?” I ask, setting Nick up.

“Nope, she has no black in her,” Nick answers, totally off his game. It’s not like him to not pick up what I am putting down.

“Guess I am going to have to solve that problem!”

I let out the punch line with a “bada bing” and Nick almost falls out of his chair laughing so hard. I can’t help myself and I just laugh along with him. It feels good. I have been so stressed, confused, and worried, that it feels freeing - cathartic even.

We are laughing so hard that I don’t hear the door open until Delilah speaks up. “What are you two bitches cackling about?”

Nick and I look at each other and he nods, knowing what’s coming next.

“Hey, Little B
it…”

She doesn’t even let me finish before interrupting.
Typical woman!

“I don’t even want to know what you two perverts are about to ask me. Nick, you have a client on hold. Social time is over,” she says with a big smile.

“I’m out,” I announce. That was enough emotional vulnerability shit to last me a lifetime. I fist bump with Nick and say a quiet “thanks.” He nods in acknowledgement, knowing how difficult it was for me to spill my guts. I head to Delilah and give her a kiss on the cheek before I head out the door and back to work.