More Than He Can Handle (17 page)

Lillian hung up the phone and turned to her friend. “You know he's going to be on his way over here,” she said as she ran her hand over her face. “I shouldn't have answered the phone.”

“What did he say?” Freddie asked, despite herself.

Lillian huffed and plopped down on the sofa. “All of this drama. I told you Cleveland Alexander was bad news, I just had no idea he was slimy like Marcus. Hell, he doesn't need money, he can borrow whatever he needs from Jill and Darren. I just can't . . .”

Freddie crossed over to Lillian and grabbed her shoulders. “Lil! What did he say?”

“Something about the door being open, worried about you, blah, blah,” she said. “If he was so worried, he wouldn't have been snooping about your dad behind your back.”

Freddie nodded. “I've got to leave, I don't want to see Cleveland.”

Lillian pushed her friend's hands away and shook her head. “You're not running out of here in the middle of the night to avoid this fool. He's the one who's wrong. Besides, you need to rest before you drive back to New Orleans and I don't want to read about you crashing your car on the highway because you fell asleep.” Folding her arms across her chest, Lillian continued. “Besides, I can handle Cleveland.”

Freddie shook her head. “This isn't something I need you to handle. If he shows up here, then I'll take care of him.”

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Don't get soft on me. Cleveland is going to come in here and try to sweet talk you back into his bed and his house so he can turn your father in. Remember what Marcus did, right?”

Nodding, Freddie didn't need to be reminded that she'd played the fool twice. “I can handle this, all right?”

“One day, you're going to meet the right man and you two are going to have a wonderful life,” Lillian said as she gave her friend a tight hug. “I'm going upstairs, but if you need it, I've got a bat in the closet.”

Freddie smiled weakly. “If I scream, bring the bat down.”

Plopping down on the sofa, she waited. Though she didn't want to admit it, she wanted Cleveland to come, to hear why he'd done what he'd done. Was he really in it for the money?

Pleasure trip,
she thought bitterly. Freddie felt as if her heart had been slammed against a brick wall and shattered like a glass vase. How could a man be so cold and fake the feelings that she thought were developing between them? Did he think she wouldn't know where the money came from? She was so close to believing that she had found Mr. Right, a man that loved her for the woman whom she was. A man who could grow with her and provide her with the safety and security that she never had growing up in New Orleans.

Freddie refused to cry. Her tears would be a reminder of how foolish she'd been. How could she have allowed him so deep in her heart when she'd barely known him? Cleveland, she surmised, was the worst kind of man. He not only said he was different but he had an act that fooled her jaded heart.

When the tears finally came, Freddie was helpless to fight them. Wiping her eyes with the back of hand, she made up the sofa so that she could bunker down and get a few hours of sleep before she headed to New Orleans. She laid down on the sofa and closed her eyes but before she drifted off to sleep, there was a loud knock at the door.

Freddie laid there for a moment; she knew who was on the other side of the door and didn't hurry to get there. Lillian appeared at the top of the stairs with the Louisville Slugger in her hands.

“Is that him?” she asked.

“Go back to bed,” Freddie said as she rose from the sofa. She took a deep breath as she walked to the door. Pulling the curtain back, she saw Cleveland standing there with a worried look on his face.

“What do you want?” Freddie said through the door.

“Is everything all right? I mean did something happen that spooked you tonight?” he asked, concern peppering his tone. “Will you let me in?”

“Hell no!” she spat. “I'm not letting you in and you can get off Lillian's doorstep.”

Cleveland furrowed his brows in confusion and placed his hand on the doorknob. “Freddie, open the door so we can talk.”

“Now you want to talk? I trusted you, Cleveland, and you're a snake.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Crime.com,” she hissed.

“Huh?” He pulled on the door. “Open the door, because I'm not going to stand out here screaming through this glass.”

“Then leave. There is nothing I have to say to you.”

“Freddie, tell me what you think I did.” Cleveland was nearly pleading with her, but she was unmoved.

“What I think you did? You think the sex is that good that I should turn a blind eye to what you were planning to do?” Her voice rose as her rage grew.

“Do you want me to break this window? Open the door, now!”

“You're in no position to make demands on me,” Freddie snapped, though she did open the door once she saw a few porch lights come on. Cleveland walked in, his face still a mask of confusion.

“Tell me what's going on,” he said.

Lillian bounded down the stairs. “Oh, you ain't slick, brother,” she said as she pointed the bat at him. “I can't believe you're such a sleazy, lying bastard.”

Cleveland grabbed the end of the bat and took it from Lillian's hands. “What in the hell is going on?” His voice boomed like thunder. Both Lillian and Freddie jumped a little. “Since I walked into my house, my mind was racing, I thought something bad had happened to you and now I come in here and I”—he said holding the bat above his head—“Lillian wants to play ‘Crazy Joe.' One or both of you is going to tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Put the bat down,” Freddie said, her voice forceful and angry. She was tempted to take it and hit him with it. “And get out.”

Cleveland dropped the bat, but he didn't make an effort to move. “If I did something wrong, at least tell me what it was,” he said. His eyes pleaded with her to talk to him. Freddie stared into those gray eyes and remembered how she thought those eyes held love and comfort in them. Now it just looked as if he were a liar, a liar with a silver tongue. Tears sprang into her eyes again, but she blinked rapidly to keep them from falling.

“How could you?” Lillian exclaimed.

“How could I what?” Cleveland said. “Freddie, talk to me.” He reached out to touch her but she recoiled at his touch.

“Don't touch me, don't ever touch me again.”

Cleveland threw his hands up in frustration and groaned loudly. “This is bullshit, if you don't tell me what's going on, how am I supposed to know what's wrong?”

“You want to talk bullshit,” Freddie said, stepping closer to him, her voice gruff and angry. “Bullshit is you pretending to care about me so much and then going behind my back to collect the reward.”

“Reward? What are you talking about?” he exclaimed as he tugged at his locs.

“Don't give me that,” she said, pushing him in his chest. “I saw the story you printed. How long have you known?”

“Known what?” he asked, confusion replacing the anger on his face.

“About her father, you jerk!” Lillian cried. Cleveland turned to her and frowned.

“Please tell me what this has to do with you?” he huffed. “This is between me and Freddie.”

Lillian placed her hands on her slender hips. “First of all this is my damn house and I told you not to mess with my friend. Freddie is . . .”

“Lillian,” Freddie said, “I told you that I can handle this. Give us a minute.”

She shot her friend a look that said, ‘Are you sure,' then snatched the bat from the floor. “Sixty seconds and I'm coming back with the bat.”

Cleveland shook his head and waited for Lillian to disappear upstairs before he said anything. “Tell me what this is all about,” he said, attempting to touch her shoulders, but she swatted his hands away.

“It's about you being a lying, conniving bastard,” she said. “How long have you known?”

“What am I supposed to know?” he said, growing tired of the back and forth with her.

“About my father and the million-dollar bounty that's on his head? You just couldn't wait to get me to Atlanta so that you could call the authorities and collect the money.”

Shaking his head, he said, “That's not what's going on. I had no idea that . . .”

“I saw the story. You went on the Internet and did a search on my history. What did you expect to find? The number for the FBI?”

“I looked up that information because I wanted to know more about you and what you didn't want to talk about. I wanted to know why it was so important for you to find your father and why you felt as if . . .”

“You could've asked me! Talked to me instead of going behind my back!” she exclaimed. “I don't believe a word you're saying anyway. You've never had a problem speaking your mind or asking me uncomfortable questions. What made this time so different?”

“Because I didn't want this trip to be about. . .”

“Save it, Cleveland. I'm not going down this road again.”

“Again? So, you're holding me up for what someone else did? I don't need the money from your father's bounty, and why would I do something to hurt you?”

She shrugged. “Why not? You'd gotten what you'd wanted. We had sex in every way you could imagine. What was left?”

“How about the way I feel for you? How about what's in my heart?”

She rolled her eyes, willing herself not to believe what he was saying. Marcus claimed to love her and had no qualms about turning her father in. What made her think that Cleveland was any different?

“Go to hell.”

“That's where I'll be if you walk out of here believing the worst about me.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Freddie glared at him. “You can stand there and say all of this crap, but the truth is, you lied to me.”

“I've never lied to you. I just needed some clarity and you didn't want to talk about it.”

“I don't want to hear that,” she said, pushing against his chest. “I was ready to give you everything. I wanted to love you and now I find out that you were nothing but a lying sack of shit.”

“I already love you,” Cleveland said, his voice low and deep. He took two steps toward her and pulled her into his arms. Freddie pounded her fists against his chest as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Don't say that. Don't say you love me when you and I both know that isn't true.”

Cleveland dropped his arms and shook his head. “What do you want me to say? Is now the time to lie to you? Do you want to be right and find out that I was trying to find out information about your father so I could break your heart? After all we've shared, do you really believe I'm a cold bastard who would do this to you?”

Though her heart screamed
No
, Freddie didn't say a word. Part of her knew that every word Cleveland said was true, but still the Internet story made it difficult to believe that he hadn't changed his mind after learning how much money he'd get from turning her father in.

“I'm going back to New Orleans in the morning and I never want to see your face again,” Freddie said. “Leave, now.”

“But, Freddie, I love . . .”

“Get out,” she screamed. “It's over, Cleveland. Don't make it harder.”

Backing away from her, he shook his head. “This isn't over. Not by a long shot, and if you think you're walking out of my life, you're wrong.” Cleveland opened the door and walked out. When he was gone, Freddie collapsed on the sofa and sobbed like a hungry newborn baby. As Lillian crept down the stairs, Freddie didn't hear her. She was torn in several different directions over Cleveland. Was he telling the truth? Did he really love her? Could she trust him?

“Freddie, are you all right?” Lillian asked in a quiet voice.

“Do I look all right?” Freddie replied through her tears. “How could he do this? How could he do this and then say that he loves me.”

“Pish, he would say whatever to get you to . . .” The front door opened and Louis walked in yawning. He looked down at the bat in the middle of the floor.

“What in the world is going on in here?” he asked as he took a sidelong look at Freddie and Lillian.

“Nothing,” Lillian said. “No, I take that back. Your no-good friend was here. Didn't I tell you he was no good? Look at her.”

Louis shrugged his shoulders. “Why is it our business? Freddie and Cleveland are adults, but every time I turn around, I'm getting cussed out because of something you said he did. Lillian, I'm tired of it and maybe you ought to start minding your own damned business.”

She shot a bone piercing look at her husband. “You're going to defend him?” Her voice rose with every word she spoke. “I guess it doesn't matter that he was trying to . . .”

“Lillian,” Freddie said. “Louis is right. This has nothing to do with either of you and I'm going to leave and stay at a hotel tonight. There's been enough drama here tonight.”

Louis shook his head. “Freddie, you're family, you don't have to go anywhere. I don't know what's going on with you and Cleveland, but he can't be as bad as you two think. Since the day he got back from New Orleans, all he's been talking about is you.”

Placing her hands to her ears, Freddie rocked back and forth on the sofa and Lillian rolled her eyes at her husband.

“I thought we were supposed to be minding our own business,” Lillian said sarcastically.