Dirty Little Secrets (19 page)

“No doubt; it’s ten fifteen.”

“I’ma stop at the hotel, pick up my bag, and then come get you. Can you be ready by two?”

“Definitely. Give me a kiss good-bye.”

“I’ll see you in a few.” Ian threw on his clothes and headed out the door. Today was starting off to be a good day. Having
Ian back once again made me feel complete. On my way to the kitchen I noticed my phone was still off the hook. No sooner had
I put it back on the receiver than it started ringing from a private caller.

“Hello.”

“You turned off your cell and had your phone off the hook all night. Are you avoiding me?”

“That’s a stupid question, especially since you know the answer to it.”

“I understand that you’re angry with me, but don’t go back to Ian. Take some time for yourself and figure things out.”

“It’s too late. Ian and I are back together, and I would appreciate it if you stay out of our relationship.”

“When did you have time to reconcile with Ian?”

“He flew in from Detroit and came over last night. We talked about everything except you. Which is exactly how I want to keep
it. I’m going back to Detroit with him today, and I don’t want to speak to you anymore, T-Roc.”

“You think you can erase me from your life that easily? Tyler, I control your mind more than you know. You’re making a mistake
going back to Ian, but like you said, it’s your mistake to make. When you need someone to help you pick up the pieces, call
me.”

There was silence on the phone, and I realized T-Roc had hung up. What did he want from me? I knew he wasn’t in love with
me, but he was determined to own my mind. Whatever it was, I prayed that he would let it go so Ian and I could be happy together.

“Baby, I should call my doctor and have him stop by. You’ve been sick for a week straight.”

“I’ll be fine. I think I have a virus. It’s no big deal.”

“Tyler, if you’re not better in a couple of days, my doctor is coming to see you. I’m serious.”

“Ian, your concern is so cute. If I’m not better in a couple of days, we’ll call your doctor.”

“I’m heading out to get something to eat with TJ; you want me to bring you something back?”

“No, I’m good,” I replied. Ian kissed me on the forehead and walked out of the bedroom. I pulled the covers over my face,
racking my brain trying to figure out how I was going to get myself out of this mess. I’d been in Detroit for two and a half
weeks, sick. First, I assumed it was because my period was about to start. But then I backtracked and realized I was three
weeks late. I began rationalizing out loud. “There is no doubt in my mind that I’m pregnant, but I have no idea who the father
is. I didn’t use protection with T-Roc or Ian. If Ian discovers I’m pregnant, he will assume it’s his baby and want me to
have it, unaware that it might be his cousin’s. I have no choice but to terminate this pregnancy immediately. But before I
drive myself crazy, I need to be sure.”

I dreaded getting out of the bed, but I had to go buy a home pregnancy test before Ian came back. As I drove to the store,
a cloud of depression fell over me. When I was pregnant with Patrick’s baby, I knew I didn’t want his child. But the circumstances
were different this time. If part of Ian was growing inside of me, then I would want to hold on to that. But there was no
way I could take the chance that this baby was T-Roc’s. Not only would it destroy Ian, but T-Roc would probably end up destroying
me. I ran into the store, purchased a pregnancy test, and sped home. When I pulled up, I was relieved not to see Ian’s car,
but when I took out my keys to open the front door, to my dismay there he stood.

“Oh, my goodness, you scared me. What are you doing here? I didn’t see your car out front.” My voice was shaky, and I hoped
Ian didn’t sense my nervousness.

“TJ is running an errand for me, and I let him hold my car. Where are you coming from and what’s in the bag?” Ian asked as
he reached for it. Before I could yank it away from him, he was already opening it up.

“You think you’re pregnant?” Ian asked, his voice mixed with shock and excitement.

“I’m not sure.”

“But you must think there’s a chance. Maybe that’s why you’ve been so sick. Tyler, this would be incredible.”

“Baby, don’t get keyed up yet, because it could very well be a false alarm.”

“Well, damn, no sense standing down here discussing it; let’s go see.”

Walking up the stairs to the bathroom seemed to be the longest walk of my life. I took each step like it was my last. By the
time I reached the bedroom, Ian had the box open and the test out. At first I considered dipping the stick in some water so
the test would come back negative, but Ian messed that up because he wanted to see the process from start to finish. He actually
held the cup when I urinated. He kept saying, “I know you’re carrying my son; I know that’s my son in there.”

It was too much to stomach. Ian set his stopwatch, and when the buzzer went off, with a gleeful smile he said, “It’s time.”
When he came out of the bathroom, lifted me up, and wrapped his whole mouth around me to the point I thought I was going to
choke, I knew the test was positive.

“Tyler, you’ve made me the happiest man on earth. I have everything now: a beautiful woman and a beautiful child growing
inside you. We have to get married. Baby, I’m serious. Let’s go pick out the biggest rock ever.”

“Ian, calm down. You’re moving way too fast.”

“Are you kidding me? I have to call my moms and pops and let them know they’re going to be grandparents, and they’re getting
a new daughter. Tyler, I love you so much; I can’t explain how happy you’ve made me.” Ian gave me one last kiss before he
picked up his cordless and made calls to share the news with his family and friends. I wanted to pull the emergency brake,
but this car was on cruise control and driving itself.

I would have given anything for a doll, but I was carrying a baby inside of me, one that it seemed I would be having. I opted
for a glass of juice. I was walking toward the stairs and could hear Ian yelling but couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Then I heard a loud crash. As I ran closer to the top of the stairs, Ian was running up them, all the color drained from his
face. Sweat was trickling down, and his body was trembling.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

Ian moved up the stairs closer to me, and his eyes were stinging. “I just got off the phone with T-Roc. You were fucking my
cousin? Tyler, tell me that bastard is lying! Tell me, damnit!”

“Wait, baby, wait, wait… please wait.” I was breathing so hard, I couldn’t hear anything.

“He said that baby growing inside you could be his.Tyler, please tell me there is no chance that our baby could be T-Roc’s…
Tyler, why aren’t you saying what I need to hear?” Ian and I were now face-to-face, and I could clearly see the tear coming
from his eye.

“Ian, I can explain.” But there would be no explaining. In what seemed like a split second I was free-falling down the stairs.
In one quick shot Ian lifted his right arm and gave a blow that knocked me unconscious as I hit the floor.

My love life was in shambles, and between Ian and T-Roc I believed I was walking around with a scarlet letter emblazoned across
my chest. I convinced myself that I wasn’t worthy of love and would never truly experience it. But then again, being the optimistic
person I am, I told myself that when one door closes in love, another is sure to open.

“Tyler, it’s so good to see you out and about again. I was beginning to worry that you would never come out of your apartment,”
Chrissie said.

“Yeah, well there was nothing out here I wanted to see. My life is basically empty. Ian hates me and I hate myself.” It had
been over six months since I’d come out of the house looking halfway decent. After my tragic encounter with Ian, I went into
mourning, and I always left the house looking like shit. It was
now the year 2000, and half of the new year already seemed to have passed me by.

“How can you care what Ian thinks? He pushed you down the stairs and caused you to lose your baby. You should’ve brought him
up on criminal charges.”

“Chrissie, what do you expect? His own cousin told him the baby could be his. Talk about being devastated; I’m surprised he
didn’t kill me.”

“Hello? That was his intention. You just so happened to live. Or maybe he wanted to guarantee that your baby never saw the
light of day because he couldn’t handle it if it turned out to be T-Roc’s. Whatever the reason, he is fucking crazy, and you
should be grateful he is out of your life.”

“Maybe, but I don’t feel that way. I’m lost and I don’t know what to do to find my way.”

As Chrissie lectured me about getting over Ian while we ate lunch at Da Silvano, an unassuming gentleman walked passed me,
made eye contact, and turned his head to smile. Here was another creep undoubtedly trying to get in my pants. I didn’t take
it seriously. After all, it was New York City, and seeing men flirt with just about everything that had a pulse was the norm.
Not thinking too much of the crafty glance, I continued chatting with Chrissie and drinking my Kir Royale.

About ten minutes later the waiter sat the flirtatious guy and his friends right behind me. The one sitting closest to me
sparked up some half-assed conversation.

“Hi, sexy. Would you and your girlfriend like a drink?”

“You mean besides the one that is already in my mouth?”

“Excuse me, miss, I was just offering you and your girlfriend a drink.”

“No, thank you, we’re fine.”

“Yeah, you definitely that, so can I buy you a drink or what?” After responding sarcastically to his question, I recognized
that he was some up-and-coming would-be rapper. At this point anybody remotely in the music industry was a major turnoff.
I was hoping the would-be rapper picked up on my cynicism.

A few minutes later he got up, and I heard someone else say, “That’s an interesting tattoo; what does it mean?” I was wearing
low-rider jeans, so the Japanese symbol on my lower back was impossible to miss. I turned around and studied the man who made
the comment; it was the unassuming gentleman. His eyes were enthralling, and he somehow maneuvered a seat at the table with
Chrissie and me.

“So what does the tattoo mean?” the boyishly handsome gentleman asked.

“Freedom.”

“Freedom… that’s interesting. Who are you trying to be free from?”

“Who said I was trying to be free from somebody?”

“Just a thought. So… what’s your name?”

“Tyler, and this is Chrissie.” Chrissie gave a slight wave to show she was annoyed this man was interrupting our lunch. Normally
I would be giving the wave too, but something about his subtle cool demeanor was engrossing.

“I’m Brian. I would love to call you, Tyler.”

“I’d like that too,” I responded. Chrissie was burning a hole through my sweater with her intense glare. I wrote my number
on a napkin and handed it to Brian.

I was sitting on my red canvas couch engrossed in a juicy Jackie Collins book when the phone rang.

“Hi, it’s Brian. I don’t know if you remember, but I met you yesterday at Da Silvano.”

“I remember you, silly.”

“Oh, I was just checking. I don’t know how many guys you know with the name Brian,” he laughed. I thought it was cute.

We ended up having a meeting of the minds for hours. He seemed to be everything that I needed in order to put my guard down
with a man. Nothing about him was threatening, and that was refreshing. His spirit was unlike that of any other man I had
ever met.

The next day Brian and I found ourselves absorbed in another two hours of nonstop chatting. With the conversation never seeming
to end, we decided on no more phone talk. We needed up-close-and-personal talk. As I was waiting in front of my apartment
building, I kept trying to remember what he looked like because he had on a hat when we first met. I was pleasantly surprised
when I opened the car door and saw the cinnamon-complexioned guy with the smooth bald head. He greeted me with a megawatt
smile with a dimple on his right cheek. His body frame was small but with strong muscle definition.

Mary J. Blige was playing on the radio, and I was humming along as he drove down Broadway. “Are you a singer?” Brian asked.

“No, why?”

“I’m always looking for talent; I’m a music producer.” As the walls seemed to be closing in on me, I realized that throughout
the hours of conversation not once did we discuss his profession. I didn’t ask and he didn’t volunteer the information. The
last person I wanted to get involved with was another industry cat. It seemed that when you dated one guy in the music industry,
there
was a domino effect. Maybe he was new to the industry and wasn’t turned out yet. His ride was fly, but niggas can buy that
after they sell their first track, which most do.

“So you’re a music producer? Who have you worked with?”

“Jay-Z, Jennifer Lopez, Mary J. Blige, Nas,” and the list went on and on. He definitely wasn’t new to this. There was only
one music producer named Brian that I’d heard of, and I was hoping he wasn’t him. But I had to ask.

“Are you Brian McCall?”

“Yep, you’ve heard of me?” he said with a big smile.

“Who hasn’t heard of you? You’re one of the biggest hip-hop producers in the business. Your beats are classics.”

“I’m flattered. Are you in the music business?”

“Hell, no!”

“Why you say it like that?” Brian asked with a frown.

“Actually if I knew you were in the music industry, I would’ve run in the opposite direction. But then again I should’ve known.
This is New York, you’re driving a hundred-thousand-dollar car, and you’re young and black. I haven’t seen you on the big
screen or in any sneaker ads, so you’re not an actor or an athlete. What else can you do but be in the music business? You
don’t really strike me as a pharmaceutical dealer.”

“That’s a little cynical, wouldn’t you say?”

“Call it what you like,” I said, fidgeting.

“Does that mean you won’t go inside with me for a minute?” I glanced out the window. We were on West Fifty-fourth Street parked
in front of the Hit Factory.