Текст книги "S.O.B. "
Автор книги: J. C. Valentine
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
28
It’s Groundhog’s Day. This is the classic example of life imitating art. I get up, shower, eat, and fend off cameras and questions on my way to work and back, and then barricade myself inside my apartment. Rinse and repeat.
This isn’t a life. Every day it becomes clearer that I can’t raise a child like this. It’s been over a month and there’s no sign of the paparazzi backing off or losing interest. In fact, the more Levi stays away, the more they seem to latch on.
There are all kinds of stories floating around. My personal favorite is that I’m some gold digger that saw a golden opportunity and used Levi to try and jumpstart a career in show business.
As if.
To make matters worse, now that they’re running out of real stories to spin, they’re rehashing old headlines. Just the other day I caught a TMZ clip speculating on whether or not Levi was secretly dating an ex-girlfriend slash model because they were spotted in the same city on the same weekend.
I know for a fact that Levi was there for a radio interview, because I stayed up late to listen to it, but that doesn’t keep the doubt from setting in. Is he still mine?
He calls me every night before bed. Sometimes even in the morning just to say hi. But I’m still upset with him for leaving. It’s not that I don’t understand why he did it. I just don’t think it was necessary. A part of me even feels as if he’s given me the shaft and left me to deal with all the hard parts while he’s off gallivanting around a new city every week. Who knows what he could be up to, who he might be spending his time with.
Do I still have a hold on him? Or am I just kidding myself? Maybe he’s just keeping contact because he feels he has to for the baby.
To say that the distance and the way we parted ways is messing with my head would be an understatement.
At least I have my mom and work to help keep me grounded. Speaking to her a couple times a week, I think, has helped to keep us both sane.
“How are you today?” Mom asks her usual question, making me smile.
Since it’s the weekend, my only plan is to stay in bed all day unless it’s to use the bathroom or get food. I’m not about to tell her that, though. It will just make her worry more than she already does. “I’m good. You?”
“Doing all right. Court was yesterday. David is pushing for a dismissal, but my lawyer is confident that he’s not going to get it. Once the evidence is turned over that he’s been unfaithful throughout our marriage and violated the prenup, the judge will rule in our favor.”
I like how she continues to include me in her fight, as if I have a personal stake in the outcome other than seeing her happy.
“I don’t imagine David will be too thrilled about that.”
Chuckling, Mom says, “No, I don’t suppose he will. Guess he should have thought about that before he married me.”
I laugh because my mom comes off as the mousy type, easily molded. She even had me fooled for a while there, but she is stronger than any of us gave her credit for. Smarter too. I never would have imagined that while she was sun bathing and seemingly turning a blind eye to David’s infidelity, that she was actually formulating a plan to take him down.
“But enough about me,” Mom says, throwing off her worries with nothing more than a shrug of her shoulders. “How are you and Levi doing?”
Immediately, my mood takes a dive. “Well, he’s still running around the country, if that says anything.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I know how much you want him there with you. Is he still keeping in contact?”
“Every day.”
“That’s something. Listen, I know you worry, and you have a right to. This media frenzy can’t be helping any. I see the articles and news reports, too, but I don’t want you putting any stock into them. They live to destroy things, and if you let them, they’ll steal any happiness you two could have had. I don’t want that for you. For either of you.”
“I know.” I sigh. I’ve heard these words before. As much as I want to believe them, it’s a case of easier said than done.
“That boy loves you, Vista,” Mom says softly. “He really does. Most men wouldn’t go through what he is to be with someone unless they were really invested. Just don’t give up on him yet.”
I don’t know how she does it, but it’s almost as if she knows my thoughts. Between the way he left and his refusal to come back, I feel more like an afterthought than a priority, but my mom hasn’t given up hope for us. Every time we speak, she makes sure to renew my hope, too.
I just pray that she’s right. “Yeah,” is the only response I have to give her.
“Well, sweetie, I need to go. I have an appointment for a mani/pedi in an hour. Are you going to be okay?”
“Mom, I’m fine. Go have fun and pamper yourself. You deserve it.”
“So do you. I wish you were here so we could go together.”
“Me, too.” But she’s stuck in Chicago until the divorce is final, and I’m stuck here because…well, everything.
After we hang up, I lay back in bed and stare out the window. It’s a sunny day. I know if I go outside, it will be cool, maybe a little breezy. But I won’t. It’s not worth the cost. So I spend the rest of the day in bed, catching up on shows that I’ve missed throughout the week.
By the late afternoon, I get up to fix some dinner. Since there’s no one to impress with my mad cooking skills, I tear open a packet of Ramen and smash the dried noodles into a bowl, then I fill it with tap water and pop it in the microwave to cook.
Before I have a chance to sit down to eat, the phone rings. I answer it with no small amount of hesitation, never sure who I’ll find on the other end.
“Miss Marquis?”
“Yes?”
“This is Manny from the front desk. There’s a gentleman here to see you by the name of Charles Tanner. Would you like me to send him up?”
I wrack my brain for anyone by that name, but come up with nothing. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“No, ma’am.”
I frown, biting my lip as I struggle to make a decision. I know I shouldn’t entertain a stranger, but having Manny there to supervise makes it safe enough that I don’t need to worry. Decision made, I reply, “Tell him I’ll meet him down there in a few minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Quickly, I get dressed and pull my hair back in a sloppy bun and slip into a pair of flip flips as I head for the door. I’m missing dinner for this, so this guy had better not be with any kind of press, or I might just throw in the towel and move to Tahiti.
When I walk off the elevator, I make eye contact with Manny and he tips his dark head to the side, indicating where I need to go.
Turning left, I amble toward the double glass doors leading out to the street with caution. Through the tinted glass, I can see a small group of people lingering around. They have cameras around their necks in plain sight. My head shakes in irritated disbelief.
Aren’t they bored yet?
Catching movement to my right, I turn to see an older man standing among the quaint seating area staring up at a Jackson Pollock print that’s an incredible mass of colors swirled around and through one another. I’m sure to anyone with an eye for art, they’d say it meant something profound, like the chaos of modern life or something, but to me, it looks more like a mass of tangled yarn.
“Charles?”
At the sound of my voice, the man turns on his heel to face me. He’s older, pushing fifties from the looks of the fine wrinkles in his skin, and he’s dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans and black suit jacket over a plain white cotton shirt.
He’s probably trying to come off benevolent, but I’m already on my guard. There’s just no telling with these people. Once, a woman not unlike this Charles character made it all the way into the elevator with me before she busted out her camera and started throwing questions at me.
Hence the reason for Manny.
I don’t live in a fancy apartment, so security isn’t a staple. But Levi is very protective of what’s his and as soon as he caught wind of what was going on, he hired the best security his money could buy. Now, I don’t have to worry so much once I cross the threshold. My home is my sanctuary from the world. Even if it is less than six-hundred square feet.
Charles’ soft brown eyes meet mine and crinkle at the corners as he steps forward and extends his hand. “Miss Marquis. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
Finally? “Um…I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
Chuckling to himself, Charles spans his arm out, indicating that I take one of the plush club chairs. I do and wait for him to seat himself opposite me.
Propping his elbows on the arms of the chair, Charles folds his hands together and crosses his ankles in front of him. He’s the epitome of calm and comfortable, all of which I am not.
“You are correct. We haven’t met, and you’re probably thinking I’m some crazy person right now, but I assure you I’m not.” He smiles dolefully. “I caught mention of you in the Sunday paper, in the sports section.”
Popping to my feet, I glare down at him. “Will you people never leave us alone? You’re reprehensible!”
Confusion colors Charles’ expression before realization takes over. Before I can storm away, he jumps up and touches my arm. I jerk it away, even more upset that this piece of slime would deign to touch me.
“I’m not a reporter,” he insists. “I swear. I came here because after I recognized your name in the paper and saw the success you’ve had with the business, I just had to come out and see it for myself. I knew I was going to be in town, so I looked you up. I just wanted to tell you congratulations.”
Believing this to be another ploy to get me to stick around long enough for him to dig his claws in, I cluck my tongue and turn to leave. Once again, he pulls me to a stop.
“It’s not every day that such a young woman, especially one in the position you are in, makes it in the business world,” he rushes to add. “And as you’re one of my first clients, I’m doubly thrilled. Please, Miss Marquis, I really am just here to extend my support and maybe, if you’ll let me, share my enthusiasm.”
“Who the hell are you? Really?”
“I’m Charles Tanner?” He forms it like a question, as if that should explain everything.
“And that should mean something to me?”
The corners of his mouth turn up. “Well, probably not. Yet.” Standing taller, he says, “I’m the private investor.”
Oh shit. What the hell is he doing here? Is this even normal? My spine stiffens in warning. “If you’re here to ask for your money back, I don’t have it.” Plus, we have an agreement, in writing. Any money paid out to him has to be done over time, not on a whim.
“No, no. Like I told you, I just wanted to stop in and see for myself how the investment was coming along. And, of course, I had to meet the infamous Vista Marquis. You’re a real sensation you know.”
“Yeah, right.” Feeling the start of a headache coming on, I close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose, and inhale deeply. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Tanner, but this is really weird for me. Even though I appreciate you helping me get my start, I never expected to meet you.”
“I get it. That makes total sense, and I will get out of your hair. I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity since I was in town.”
I smile faintly and shake his hand once again. He seems like a nice enough man, but I’m eager for him to leave. This is just too strange for words. I’d ask how he knew where I lived, but I’m sure that’s public knowledge by now.
“I know some people who would benefit from your services,” Charles informs. “I’ll make sure to send them your way.”
“Thanks, that’s really nice of you.”
“Hey, we’re business partners. Whatever helps you, helps me.” He grins and bends to pick up a brown leather carry case—a murse, as I’ve taken to calling them—and slings it over his shoulder. “Good luck with business, and please, tell Mr. Black if there’s anything more I can do for him to feel free to contact me anytime. It’s been a real pleasure.”
Stunned silent by his words, I stare after him as he leaves. What the hell does Levi have to do with anything?
I stew over Charles’ parting words as I make my way back up to my apartment. After making a fresh bowl of noodles, I sit down on the couch and stare at the clock. In an hour, Levi will call…but I can’t wait an hour.
Picking up the phone, I dial out. My heart hammers in my chest for unknown reasons. I’m anxious, although I really have no reason to be.
“Hey, princess. What a nice turn of events, you calling me.” Levi’s smooth, sexy baritone filters through the line and my thoughts momentarily freeze. All my doubts about us come rushing back at once: does he really want me? Does he love me? Is he seeing that model behind my back? How is he connected to Charles?
The last question reminds me why I called him in the first place.
“What’s going on, Vista? Is something wrong? Are you and the baby okay?”
I hear Levi speaking and realize I must have tuned out. He’s worked up now, worried over my prolonged silence.
Drawing in a steeling breath, I force myself to speak. “How do you know Charles Tanner?”
29
Levi’s hesitation is worrisome. “Listen, Vista, don’t freak out.”
“Why the fuck would I freak out, Levi,” I snap, annoyance and fear edging my voice. “Just you saying that makes me freak out.”
“Well, don’t. It’s not that big a deal.”
“If it’s not a big deal, then tell me what the hell Charles Tanner has to do with you and why he asked me to tell you that he’d be more than willing to do business with you again anytime? And while you’re at it, I’d like you to explain how this relates to my company, because he certainly made it sound like there was a connection.”
Levi sighs down the line, the sound heavy and ominous. Now I really am nervous, and the more nervous I get, the angrier I feel. He’s hiding something from me, and I want to know what it is. Now.
“It’s a long story. Can you wait until I come by so I can sit down and explain it in person?”
I huff. “Seeing as how you haven’t come by in over a month and there’s no telling when the next time will be, no. No, it can’t wait.”
“Jesus, Vista. You’re a real ballbuster,” Levi complains.
“I have to be, dealing with you.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Now Levi is pissed off, and even though a part of me cringes to know we’re fighting, thus further rocking the unsteady base we’re standing on, I also can’t bring myself to care enough to back down. I’m never going to be that girl, the quiet, passive woman who lets her boyfriend run all over her.
“You’re a smart, college educated man. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“Goddammit, would you stop being a bitch for one fucking minute!” I sit silently, stewing in my rage, while Levi formulates whatever he needs to formulate. “Fine,” he finally huffs. “You want to know the story, then I’ll give you the trimmed down version of it.”
Crossing my legs Indian style, my grip on the phone tightens in preparation of his explanation.
“You wouldn’t take money from David. When you did that, he made no bones about it. He knew you would fail and he couldn’t wait to see it happen. He laughed about it over dinner one night and I was so fucking sick of his pompous, self-righteous arrogance that I snapped. I did some digging and found someone who was willing to invest in your company and the rest, as they say, is history.”
I suck in an audible breath. I know I should be flattered and grateful for what he did, but at the same time I’m hurt. “So my success is because of you.” I don’t mean for it to sound like an accusation, but it kind of is. I feel betrayed. Sullied. I wanted so much to do this on my own. I thought I had broken away from David Black and his extensive influence and forged my own path. I thought I had done it all on my own, only to find out now that my success is not my own. I’m still indebted, and it’s to another Black.
“No, princess. Your success is yours. It belongs to you one hundred percent. I have nothing to do with that. It’s all you, baby,” Levi soothes.
“Did it ever occur to you that I wanted to do this on my own? That I returned David’s money because I didn’t want it?”
“I was just trying to help.”
“If I wanted your help, I would have asked for it! I didn’t want to build my name from yours. This was the one thing I had that was completely mine. The one thing I could be proud of because I did it on my own,” I cry. And maybe I’m being a whiny bitch, but I feel as if everything I knew was a lie. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz when she finds out that the wizard is just a man pulling strings behind a curtain.
“I can’t believe you’re making such a big deal out of this!” Levi shouts back. “I did it for you. Everything I’ve done has been for you!”
“Oh yeah? And what have you done exactly, Levi? Except run across the country, leaving me here to deal with a bunch of bullshit. You have people that shelter you from everything, but what do I have? Every day I sit here, gestating, unable to leave the house for fear of being mauled or verbally attacked or criticized for everything I do or say or how I look. You said that we would do this together. You said that we could get through it if we were together, but newsflash! You have to actually be here for that to work.”
I sense his frustration, hear it in his labored breaths. When Levi speaks, his voice is tight. “I’m trying. What more do you want from me?”
My eyes widen. Is he fucking kidding me? “I want you here! Is that so hard to comprehend?”
“Well, I can’t be there right now, all right? I’m trying, dammit, but this shit takes time.”
Furious, I glare out the single window across from me as if he’s standing on the other side. “Well, time is running out.”
“What are you saying, Vista? Are you breaking up with me?”
My heart stutters at the mere mention of it. It’s not something I want, but I know it’s a possibility, and the more time he spends away, the more I’m beginning to think it might be inevitable.
“I’m saying…I’m saying that this baby isn’t going to wait, and…and I’m not sure I’m willing to either.”
The line grows deathly quiet and I know that this is it. This is the deciding factor. I’ve placed the ball firmly in Levi’s court. What he does with it now is entirely up to him.
“You need to figure out what your priorities are,” I tell him softly, not even trying to hide the thick sadness filling every cell in my body until it bleeds over, filling every word.
He still hasn’t responded, but I know he hasn’t hung up. I imagine him sitting there, just as I am, too stunned for words. If it was just me, I might reconsider my approach, but my priorities have shifted and it’s about time that Levi’s did, too. The sooner, the better.
***
Levi isn’t speaking to me. All calls have stopped. He no longer checks in at night or in the morning. I miss it. I miss him. I didn’t think I could get any lonelier when he left me that day in my apartment, but now I know that couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth is, it’s so much worse than I imagined.
All the books mention post-partum depression. What about during-pregnancy depression? Why doesn’t anyone ever mention that?
Other than the hours I force myself to go to work or make a doctor’s appointment, I stay locked inside my apartment. On the weekends, I don’t even bother getting out of bed. Everyone at work is looking at me like I might break any second. I don’t have the energy to tell them I won’t.
My doctor is worried about me. Apparently, I’m losing weight instead of gaining it, but I lie and tell her it’s because I’ve been eating healthier and exercising. I’m not sure she buys it.
My mom is growing suspicious, too. She won’t text me anymore, choosing to call my landline instead of the cell phone, and I answer every time. She says it’s a red flag. I’m not getting out of the house enough. My lackluster responses aren’t helping either. So, she’s planning a trip to town to see for herself that I’m doing okay.
Normally, I’d be thrilled to have her, but I’m not really looking forward to the company this time. The outside world could burn to the ground and it wouldn’t bother me a bit. I like my bed, I like my space, and I like the quiet. I just want to be left alone.
Today is one of those rare days that I have to venture out. I’m not exactly happy about it, because I know what to expect.
I sit on the paper-covered table, trying not to move around too much so it won’t crinkle. The doctor sits in front of me on her rolling stool, studying my chart with a critical eye.
“You’ve lost a few more pounds,” she says with a crease in her tawny brow. “Vista, is there anything going on that you’d like to talk to me about? Perhaps something to do with why you’ve come alone the last few visits?”
Of course, she would notice Levi’s absence. Maintaining my focus, I tell her with a falsely chipper voice, “Nope, everything is going really well. Like I told you before, I’m eating a lot of fruits and vegetables now, and I’m trying to stay away from carbs and sweets.”
“That might have explained it the last two visits, but it should have evened out by now,” she scolds. “You should be gaining weight, not losing it. How much are you exercising?”
“Not a lot. Just a little here and there. Nothing strenuous.”
Her worried expression deepens and she sets her clipboard down on the counter and rolls closer with a concerned look in her eyes. “Vista, I’m not good with beating around the bush, so I’m going to be very blunt with you and I want you to answer me honestly. Can you do that?”
“Um…sure. Okay.”
Her intense golden brown eyes hold mine. “Do you have an eating disorder?”
My eyes shoot open wide, shocked that she would think that of me. “What? No! I would never starve my baby.”
She doesn’t look convinced. Sitting up straight, she retreats a foot, giving me the space I desperately need and saving herself from a foot in the face. How dare she?
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you are. Many women struggle with it during pregnancy. It’s difficult to see your body changing, and often, women can feel as if they don’t know their body anymore, like they are losing control.”
“I don’t feel that way. I don’t have an eating disorder,” I insist, now worried what she might do if she really thinks this to be true. Would she hospitalize me? “Look.” I lick my lips, knowing I have to level with her before this goes any further. “I…Levi and I aren’t together right now and I guess…I guess I’ve just been feeling a little out of sorts.”
“So you’re depressed.”
“Yeah, maybe. I guess so.” I know so, but for some reason, I feel this deep sense of shame in admitting it. Like I’m defective or grossly abnormal. I worry that she might think I’m a bad mother because I’m not taking care of myself the way I know I should be.
“That’s a perfectly normal response to what you’re going through,” she assures me, her expression softening in a way that reminds me of my mother. “I can arrange for you to talk to someone if you’d like.”
“No.” I shake my head adamantly. “That’s not something I want or need to get into.”
I can tell that she doesn’t approve, but she presses on. “Well, there aren’t many medications I can give you, so here’s my advice. Talk to someone, regularly, and make sure you get out of the house often. Go to the park, take walks, and enjoy the scenery. You’d be surprised what a healthy dose of nature can do for the mood. And, for the sake of that little one, you need to start eating more, even if you don’t feel like it. I can’t stress that enough.”
She’s right. I know she is. I take the doctor’s advice and schedule my follow-up appointment, telling myself that I have to do better. I can’t allow my emotions to rule me. It’s as I’m walking through the waiting room on my way out that I catch the images on the wall mounted television.
The sound has been muted, but I don’t need it. There, on the screen, is a video clip of Levi leaving a night club with his model ex-girlfriend the media attempted to tie to him only weeks ago. A wave of nausea rolls through me and I glance around at the few women in the room. They’re busy reading magazines or fiddling with their cell phones.
Thank God. No one knows the heartache I’m feeling right now. Ducking my head, I rush out of there, desperate to go home and lock myself away.
