A Date With Fate (45 page)

Reluctantly, I sat back down and lifted my chin. “Hurry up, then.”

Mike didn’t visibly react to my impatience. His voice was calm. “I have a lawyer friend that works for the D.A.’s office back in Atlanta where I have been living for the past five years. She called me a month ago, and in the course of our conversation was telling me about a recent rape case she was prosecuting. What made it unique; she was prosecuting a woman accused by the man of raping him. Apparently, with the rise of easily obtained date rape drugs, this is not unheard of.” He nervously got up and leaned back against the closed door, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his jacket. I’m such a terrible hostess; he still had his coat on. “The more details of the case she divulged, the more interested I became.” He met my eyes with a direct look, and I realized with wariness his were burning with some emotion other than nervousness, and that I really hadn’t been listening much to his actual words. “I’ve always been stymied at what possessed me to cheat on you with Candy MacKenzie. I didn’t like her, and I seriously did not harbor some secret, sexual desire for her. Point of fact, it was the direct opposite.”

Mike moved from the door and came over to stand by my chair. Gazing down at me, there was a sincere expression written all over his smoothly-shaven, handsome face. My snarkiness disappeared. It was replaced by a roaring in my head. Now that I was really paying attention, it was clear this story could only be heading in one direction.

He shrugged with one shoulder and faintly smiled. “I was in love with you. I’ve lived with the knowledge that I cheated on you, someone I loved and admired and hoped to marry. Hell, even at twenty I pictured a future together. You were going to own this store and I was going to be the next Alan Dershowitz.” His voice went quieter. “You were going to have my babies and teach them to read inappropriate novels by age three, and I’d teach them how to skateboard and ride bikes because you’d kill yourself, and them, doing that. We’d both teach our kids how to cheat at cards, but only so they’d recognize cheaters.” He paused, and I had to look down. I stared at my clenched hands as he continued, “I’ve beat myself up for years for destroying our life in a moment of weakness I don’t even recall. That night was a blurry nightmare. I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol since that weekend. How could I? What if I did it again, and had sex with a stranger or attacked some woman unknowingly?”

Mike sat on the edge of my desk, facing me. His long legs were next to my forearm resting along my thigh. Honesty radiated from his voice and filled the air around me. “Anabel, all these years it’s never made sense. I thought it had to be because I was black-out drunk, even though I could have sworn I didn’t have more than three or four beers. Why else would I have done such a ridiculously stupid thing? I am now convinced, without a doubt; Candy drugged my beer. I think I have proof.”

Mike once again stopped talking. This time it was because I stood up and did something in one fluid motion that flabbergasted us both.

I kissed him.

I didn’t need proof. Instinctually, I knew with a conviction born of certainty everything he had said was the absolute truth. It all clicked into place, and it was that simple. After ten years of my world being sideways and wrong, it was suddenly righted.

All during that day from hell, and the weeks and months that followed, my heart and my gut screamed at me it couldn’t be true. I wanted desperately to be justified in my belief of Mike’s honorable character, but how can you doubt the evidence of your own sister’s eye witness account from two feet away? Instead, I had to deal with the repercussions that someone I chose to love proved how mistaken I was to trust in my own instincts. I had felt worthless and degraded. I could only now imagine what Mike had gone through back then.

Like Mike, there wasn’t a shred of doubt in my mind Candy had drugged him a decade ago on that fateful weekend. She’d viciously instigated the joined path of our young, happy lives to go careening off course in separate, miserable directions.

It was the smallest of innocent kisses, no more than a soft, tender lingering of my lips against his. There was no carnal intent. The impulsive kiss was a healing balm meant to sooth our shared years of sadness, and to demonstrate a connection that I, too, felt an anguish our life together he’d lovingly described had been so maliciously destroyed.

It was a kiss of forgiveness for us both.

Somewhat numb, I sat abruptly back on my chair.

Mike stayed still as a statue. He leaned on the desk next to me while his warm, caramel brown eyes searched mine in growing wonder.

He started smiling, and it kept spreading until it took over his whole face. His voice was rough with emotion when he stated, “You believe me.”

“I do believe you.”

He jumped up and threw his fist, punching the air. “My God, that’s fantastic! I can’t believe it was that easy.” He paced the small room. “I was prepared to present my whole case with every shred of proof, and I thought you’d still end up doubting me.” He frowned anxiously. “You’re not pretending so that I’ll leave faster, right?”

I pointedly looked at the clock. “You have two minutes left.”

Arms outspread; Mike threw back his head and started laughing ebulliently. He came over and reached for my hands, pulling me out of the chair.

Whirling me about, he was beaming. “I love it! You’re still a smart-ass!”

I smiled at his joyful demeanor at my faith in his words. It was incredibly strange to be facing Mike without thinking he was The Betrayer. The twists and turns life can throw your way are astounding. One minute, Mike McClain is a distant memory of a cheating asswipe I was stupid enough to believe in. The next minute, he is standing before me a grown man. He’s not only redeemed, but was a victim of a personal betrayal at a level worse than mine. The unexpectedness of it all had me spinning in my head, as well as around the office with Mike.

Suddenly, he stopped. He gripped my elbows to steady me when I stumbled against him. He didn’t let go, but pulled me in closer.

“Before you decide not to hate me any longer, I’ll tell you what action I am seriously contemplating as my next step. I’ve decided after seeing you again, it’s important to me that you agree I’m doing the right thing.”

Uncomfortable with being so close, I stood back a step out of his embrace and crossed my arms over my chest. I met his eyes. “What action?”

Mike’s face hardened. “I’ve been advised to bring a civil suit against Candy. I’m planning on suing her for rape.”

It was my turn to laugh with ebullience. I twirled him around the room.

Chapter XXI

“We Are Family” by Sister Sledge

Sunday, 11/18/12

4:00 PM

The dining room table I’d reluctantly inherited from NanaBel when I bought the apartment is monolithic. Without leaves, it seats fourteen. When fully extended, it opens to seat twenty four comfortably. I cannot carry the heavy leaves on my own. I’d have to hack the brute to pieces with an axe to get it out of the apartment.

I don’t do anything formal for my Sunday night dinners. It was all about coming together for comfort food and relaxing. Tonight, the long sideboard in the dining room was set up as a self-serve buffet with wineglasses, plates, bowls, cutlery and napkins.

My only rule at these Sunday dinner parties was no fighting. I laughed to myself as I loaded a few dirty dishes into the dishwasher. I had a feeling I’d be breaking my own rule tonight.

I turned back to the crowd sitting on stools around the granite island in my kitchen. They were keeping me company while I finished preparing our dinner. They were munching on chips and salsa from a CoOp in Apple Valley. Crookie had brought it, swearing they made the best salsa in town. Reggie and Jazy, mouths stuffed full, were in fervent agreement.

Crookie’s arrival had ended my time alone with Mike McClain. I avoided them meeting today since Crooks called from the back lot when he parked. Mike and I had agreed to get together on Tuesday after the store closed at eight to talk more details, and to catch up on our lives. After giving me a long, tight hug, he’d left out the front door.

I was grateful Crookie showed up because as happy as I am Mike’s exonerated from being an evil dickhead; it’s a lot to take in. With everything else going on, I needed time to process. My mind can only handle so much mayhem and I needed to prioritize. My current top priority was slowly savoring the thought of my cousin Candy being sued publically for rape. I was hugging this thought close to my heart like a girl with a secret love letter.

‘Wait, I had one of those, too!’

Thinking of the envelope now stashed in my dresser drawer, I came to the conclusion maybe this weekend didn’t completely blow after all.

I had gotten Crookie and his gear squared away in the guest bedroom, and was listening with half an ear to him and Reggie getting reacquainted. He seemed to be in good spirits.

Crookie, being a logical guy, wanted to wait until everyone arrived to tell us all at once what his cop friend discovered about Cheryl’s murder. The details didn’t need to stay secret, but he and I agreed we wouldn’t say it was a cop friend who had told him. It was easy to ramp down my curiosity for now. I was still pretty freaked at the thought of Jack with Cheryl, and was almost afraid to hear anything more pointing to Jack as a suspect. I wasn’t sure how Chief Jack was going to take Crookie discussing details of an open murder case, but last I checked it was still a free country.

Tre J, Jaz, and James Byrd were talking on my right. They were getting to know Stella’s friend, but not yet a boyfriend, Eric George Jasnik. He was younger, only about twenty, but laughed in all the right places and carried himself with an easy, friendly maturity and confidence.

Stella was sitting closely at his side, eyes sparkling. When not batting her eyelashes in his direction, she was shooting me little questioning looks. This included tilted head nods and flaring eyes towards him. I may have mentioned subtleness is not her strongest suit. I had all I could do not spitting my wine out in laughter watching her facial movements become more grossly exaggerated the more I pretended confusion as to her meaning.

Eventually, I had enough of my own private fun and relented, signaling he was a real cutie. Finally satisfied, she smiled back up at him. The look of shining adoration passed between them made me hope I did need glasses. I didn’t want Stella to find the man of her dreams at eighteen. Thirty eight was a nice round number. I thought it’d be very educational if she spent her J terms going to school in Europe being chased by frisky Italian and French men—maybe even a swaggering Spaniard or two. It’s the epitome of my Bel Curve Mind, Body, and Soul concept in action.

James Byrd made me uncomfortable with his speculative gaze following me around. It felt like I was providing the night’s secret entertainment for him. This guy could say more with his silences than most men talking nonstop, but I shrugged it off and kept busy. I don’t know why my sister brought him to dinner, but Jazy never kept a man around for long--not even one as hot as this dude. Chances are I’d never be graced with his presence again after tonight. I’d give him this; the man did have great hair--if you happen to like long hair on a man the color of midnight with the texture and shine of the most luxurious satin.

I poured myself another Riesling and relaxed.

Amidst the conversation flowing around us, James leaned towards me and said quietly, “Jasmyn told me about the man attacking you again this morning. You seem to be coping fine, but I hope you know in here,” James put his hand to his chest, “a man like that deserves death. He seeks death. He was driven to end his own existence. I’m only sorry it was you, and your brother, that drew that unpleasant task to perform today.”

I took a sip of wine while thinking over his odd words. Skeptically, I wondered if he was some sort of Indian Shaman wannabe. Killing someone rated stronger words than ‘unpleasant task’. For me, an unpleasant task is taking out the garbage. Shooting Gustav and being physically smashed under him, and his stinking body fluids, will wake me up gasping in terror for years to come.

James was right, though, in some respects. It
had
felt like Hammerschmidt kept coming after me against everything logical. I’d probably never know the why of it, nor did I care. I only knew the load off my mind that he was no longer a threat to me, or anyone else, was immense. I felt like I had carried the weighty menace of him around my neck for twenty four years, and not just the twenty four hours since I glimpsed him in my parking lot yesterday.

I smiled politely at James over my wineglass. “Thank you for your sympathy. Maybe you can tell me how I can get out of ever drawing
that
short stick of a task again?” I shuddered.

His eyelids lowered seductively. “Maybe I can be persuaded.”

My eyelids blinked from the effort of not rolling them into the back of my head. Just when I thought maybe Mr. Gorgeous wasn’t a total douche bag.

When Reg buzzed Mac and Diego up a moment later, I ran to the top of the stairs. I wanted to get the first battle of the night over with immediately. I saw them round the staircase landing. Diego was carrying a bulging bag and I caught a glimpse of several bottles. What I didn’t catch a glimpse of was my cousin Candy’s bulging eyes.

Seeing my face, Mac spoke first. She sounded irritated. “I know what you’re thinking, but she wasn’t at home when we swung by. Aunt Carol and Uncle Trevor are out of town, so nobody was home. I just now got a text answer to my ‘Where the hell are you?’ with an ‘Oh yeah. Something came up’. So, sorry kiddo, she’s not coming.” She reached me and gave me a quick hug. “On top of all her other wonderful qualities, she’s got the manners of an inbred.”

Talking of manners, I waited until Mac and Diego had left the foyer to go get a beer before I let loose with a “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!”