Do Not Disturb 2 (7 page)

Keisha pushed toward the produce, shaking her head with quiet disgust. She could still see her mother strewn out on the couch, beer cans littering the floor. Apparently their heart to heart was thanks to Budweiser. She was in no shape for a new start. No shape for her grandson to see her in.

A string of gurgles from Caleb intermixing with a voice talking about the day’s sales shook Keisha from her anger and she forced her attention to the list in front of her. It would just be she and Caleb, so she just wanted to hit the mainstays-veggies, chicken, denali moose tracks.

She inspected a bag of romaine lettuce and after being satisfied, stuffed it into her canvas shopping bag. When she pushed past a display of cheese and wine, heat flamed at her cheeks.

Before Jake headed back to DC, they'd tried a romantic dinner with all the fixings--wine, steak, potatoes. But all the stress of the move and Conrad's ballsy hard balling on national television had dominated the evening's events and led to an argument. That had in turn led to some particularly steamy angry sex. The things they'd done on the bed, the dining room table, the floor...just the memory was enough to make her mouth water.

She took a bundle of tomatoes and lowered them onto a scale. As amazing as their hookup had been, when her heart stopped pounding and she was lying in his arms, surrounded by cardboard boxes, living the life she'd always wanted to with her baby and the man she loved, reality crept back in. Until Jake figured out how to undo the damage his father had done, they had to keep their love under wraps. No housewarming parties. No walking together to the park a few blocks down. No family shopping trips.

She swiped the tomatoes, giving a genial looking older man a smile as he saddled up beside her, holding a bag of produce. He kind of hesitated, so she gave him a small nod. “How are you?”

Keisha let out a snort. She had no doubt. Warm sun, warm beach, pina coladas with bright umbrellas. "Maybe so, but I sure can't afford it."

The man reached in his jacket, pulling out an envelope. He handed it to her. When she gave him a weird look, he responded with an oversized, uncomfortable grin.

Keisha rolled her eyes subconsciously. He was probably some religious nut job or door to door marketer. She wasn’t in the mood to hear about how Jesus could save her soul from eternal damnation or listening to some scam to get her money or information.

“Yes I know that, but-” Her voice caught in her throat. How the hell did he know her name? And why was he giving her a check? Her mouth fell open. The number couldn't be right. It had to be a scam, because it was a check for one million dollars.

She held it up, her voice hoarse. "What the hell is this?"

"A check."

"I know that," Keisha said unevenly. "How do you know my name? Why are you giving me a check for a million dollars?"

He folded his arms. "You seem like a nice young lady, with a good head on your shoulders." He gestured at Caleb. "And a son. This money will make sure he has a good life. Good schools. Good neighborhoods-"

Keisha held up a hand, cutting him off. "Why are you giving me a check? You don't know me. I don't know you."

The kind spark in the man's gray eyes hardened. His tone went from friendly to cold as ice. "You're gonna turn down a check? A no strings attached check?"

She squared her jaw. He must be joking. Nothing in this life came with no strings. She gripped Caleb's stroller tight and started to maneuver around the man. He didn't take the hint, only stepping to the left and blocking her path.

Keisha shot a glance around her. The produce area was scantily populated. There were two elderly women huddled around the herbs, and a stock girl setting up an apple display. She gave the man a thorough glance. While she didn't think he'd try anything too crazy, there was something about him that made her uneasy. But if growing up in The Heights had taught her anything, she knew better than to show an ounce of fear. Even though her heart thundered in her chest, her words were a throaty growl. "Get the hell out of my way."

"Don't be stupid," the man hissed. "Think about your kid."

Keisha's eyes went wide and the fear transformed to fury. Was he threatening her? Was he trying to threaten her baby? "Don't you DARE talk about my son!"

She spied the older women suddenly turning to where they stood. Even then teen bopped her pink highlighted head in their direction.

The man didn't flinch, but he lowered his voice. "I don't mean any offense, lady. But when Conrad Cunningham wants someone to go away and is throwing a check their way to bat, you'd be a fool not to accept.”

Keisha gasped, clutching the bars of the stroller for strength. The gall...first the interview, now this? Was she that toxic, that abominable, that he was willing to do anything to get rid of her?

When Caleb let out a gurgle, for a moment, she tried to imagine taking the money. He was right--it could buy a good house and ensure money would be no obstacle as far as his education was concerned, but at what cost? Was she willing to say goodbye to the man she loved? Was she ready to go to bed alone, imagining Jake's father's smug expression as he told his son that he was right? That Keisha was only in this for the money?

She slowly raised a hand from the handlebar, her fingers shaking as she reached out, accepting the check.

The man gave her a sickening smile. "Good girl." He pressed the check into her open palm. "And just like that, you're a millionaire."

She steeled her gaze as the man wavered, visibly confused. "I wouldn't expect someone like you, who does a man like Conrad Cunningham's dirty work, stalking women and making veiled threats, to understand." She folded the check in half then ripped it, tossing the scraps at the flabbergasted man. Conrad's bribe rained down all around him. "You can tell him that Keisha Wallace said he can go to hell."

She took his gaping surprise as an out and wheeled around him, continuing down the aisle. She kept it calm, cool, and collected until she turned the corner, then booked it toward the back hall where the bathrooms were. She ignored the bystander’s weird looks, only turning into the bathroom before she let herself relax. Caleb was squealing, on cloud nine from their high speed route, unaware of how heavy what had gone down really was.

She pushed back the visor and kissed the crown of his head, breathing his scent in deep before she pulled out her cell, punching Jake's number. When it went to voicemail, she dialed Raven.

She held the phone to her ear as Raven's mousy voice flowed from the earpiece. "No, Raven. Everything is not okay. I need to talk to Jake. NOW."

Chapter Ten

Jake

Jake gave Marta Quixley, a spunky lobbyist for a national LGBT rights group, his full attention.

Her fluorescent baby blue eyes flashed as she pulled out a manila folder. "Have you heard about Jeremiah Banks' hate group? The SOB has started harassing co-eds, Jake. Kids that are already struggling with their identity and finding their place in the world. Something has to be done!"

Jake massaged the bridge of nose. As much as Jake wanted to push for legislation that would bar Jeremiah’s group from spreading their message of hate, their group had recently made waves by crying foul all the way to the Supreme Court. The court had ruled in their favor. The group was emboldened by the verdict and turned their disgusting campaign up fifty notches, now protesting and spreading vitriol on and offline.

“Marcy,” Jake said with a sigh. “You know I want to help in any way I can-”

“I don’t mean to be blunt, Senator, but I do want to remind you that you ran on an equality for all platform.” Marcy barely stood at 5’5, but her voice was authoritative and commanding. She was someone that fought tooth and nail and didn’t take anything lying down.

Normally, Jake would fire back something witty. That’s how their relationship went—they busted each other’s balls, each keeping the other on their A game. But Jake’s mind was a million miles away. His mind was on Saturday, and the opportunity to see Keisha and talk about his father’s latest stunt, face to face.

It had taken everything in Jake, every ounce of self-control to not fly off the rail and march down to his father’s property and beat the shit out of him. He’d tried to pay her off? He didn’t know if he was more offended that he thought Keisha was the kind of woman that could be bought off or that he thought their love was so meaningless that she’d accept.

Keisha had calmed him, telling him that they were gonna figure it all out and approach it with cool heads, as adults. That something had to be done, but it couldn’t involve violence. She didn’t seem to understand that as far as his father was concerned, violence was the only language he was fluent in.

He still bore the scars of a childhood lived in fear, he and his mother both tiptoeing around him, afraid the smallest action would awaken his fury. The few times he got her to actually talk about his childhood and his father’s heavy hand, Barbara would shrug it off as discipline. ‘He only raised his hand to keep you in line’, she’d insist before steering the conversation to more pleasant territory.

Conrad was someone that ruled with fear and intimidation. It’s how he built his financial empire and how he kept Jake and his mother submissive and docile. Hell, his strong arming was why Jake studied politics instead of any other subject.

But the one area that he could not, would not allow his father to dominate was his love life. He refused to let him bully Keisha or destroy what they were desperately trying to build against all odds. Jake would-

“Jake?” Jake blinked rapidly through the red, refocusing. Marcy was staring at him gingerly, her hawkish features softening. “Are you alright?”

“Well of course I do,” she quipped. “Marches to plan, bras to burn, other reps to bug, hate mongers to topple.” She slid to the edge of her seat. “But you’ve kinda grown on me.” She chuckled. “Like a fungus.”

Jake felt his mouth twitch. He had to agree. She was definitely his favorite lobbyist, the one he looked forward to when it was jotted on his calendar. They confided in one another. “I’m just having issues with my father.”

She let out a sigh. “Don’t we all.” She scratched her chin. “Is this about his impromptu, ‘My son is not having sexual relations with that woman’ on network news a couple of weeks ago?”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Jake said, shaking his head. “Apparently he’s gone past the denial stage in the grieving process straight to bribery.”

Marcy shook her head. “You know I’ve been working on the Hill too long when I’m not even surprised. Rich folks behaving badly is kind of business as usual.” She scanned his face. “So what now? He’s pulling out all the stops to put an end to you and…”

“Keisha,” Jake answered. He ran a hand through his wavy hair. “She wants to have them over for dinner this weekend and lay it all out. We’re together, accept it, or get the hell out of the way.”

“And I’m guessing you’re having French onion with a side of-”

“Arsenic?”

Marcy laughed. “I was gonna say Dexalax. I mean, a night spent up close and personal with the porcelain throne is enough to give the mightiest man a whole new perspective on life.”

As tempting as spiking his father’s food was, at the end of the day, it failed to address the root of the problem. His father obviously didn’t take them very seriously, and Jake wondered if dinner would even dent anything.

"So it's pretty serious between the two of you, eh?" Marcy asked with a grin.

Pretty serious didn't even begin to brush the surface. It was hard to believe there had ever been anyone before her, any feeling before this.

His day to day life was filled with agendas and meetings where he talked about making choices for everyday Americans, looking out for the average family. Even with Trixie, and all the love he'd held for her son, a part of him always had pause about the life they would lead. And even before that, he'd been a playboy, never letting anyone get close enough to hurt him when things inevitably ended.

But with Keisha, everything seemed to click. Colors seemed brighter. Food tasted better. Moments were so much sweeter, especially since they only had so little time together. He saw Caleb's face in the kids he held for photo opportunities. Home, happiness, love--words he'd always thought were beyond him. Things he'd thought he'd have to settle for, marrying a pre-approved Stepford wife like his father. But with Keisha, everything was possible.

Marcy nodded slightly. "I think you just answered my question." She sighed, closing her eyes. "Oh to be young and in love." One of her eyes popped open. "And to have that love held at the same esteem as countless heterosexual couples."

Had to love her persistence. "I will bring up the issue at our media and ethics committee meeting next week."

Marcy went back to business as usual, pulling out a small binder of information and plopping it on his desk. "You'll find several petitions our group has gathered, urging Facebook and others to take more decisive action against abuse of their technologies." She gathered her things and slid from her chair. "I know you’ve got a busy day, so I’ll be on my way. Good luck with dinner, Senator."