Never Keeping Secrets (12 page)

When Danielle awakened early that next morning, Pleasure was gone. That was fine by her. They both got what they wanted last night.

She hopped from the bed, still naked, and pulled off all the covers, making a mental note to drop the duvet cover at the dry cleaner and to place her linens in the wash. Both had to be sweat soaked and stained with . . . fluids.

She laughed at that as she entered the bathroom. When she emerged twenty minutes later the steam of the shower escaped with her. She had a plush pink towel around her body and another around her freshly shampooed hair.

Danielle was looking forward to grabbing something to eat with Omari before she headed back into the city, but first she just wanted to decompress and enjoy being home for the first time in a long time.

“Welcome home,” she told herself as she stood at the entrance to the living room and enjoyed the sunlight beaming through the bay windows.

For one second she allowed herself to remember the fun times she had in her home once Latoya moved in with Tiffany and Keesha moved in with Kimani. But somehow the fun times turned into stressful times as she took over the mother role. That shit had become tiring and she felt more of herself disappear as their lives took precedence.

She grabbed her iPad from her tote on the couch and walked into the kitchen to put on a kettle of water to make tea. The only food in her fridge was eggs left over during her last weekend trip home. She worked on frying a couple of those. It would be enough to hold her until she made plans with Omari.

Once her food and drink was ready she sat at the counter and turned on her iPad. She read through all her favorite gossip blogs, swiped through a couple of the digital magazines to which she subscribed, and checked Twitter to see what was trending. Last, she checked her e-mails and then her text messages.

Her eyes skimmed the list for the sender and the subject line. She opened messages according to priority and business trumped everything else. Danielle paused. Her eyes shifted up the list and widened a little bit as she re-read, “I know your secrets, Danielle.”

Her heart pumped as she opened the text. “The hell?” she whispered, looking at the taunt, in caps, repeated more times than she cared to count.

Over and over and over again.

She sat back from the iPad as she frowned. Being in the public eye she knew she was open to all types of people of various levels of competency. And it was sent to the e-mail address on the network's website. But still . . .

She couldn't lie and say the shit didn't rattle her, especially since she had secrets she damn sure didn't want revealed.

“I
love you, Mama.”

Latoya made a sappy face as she looked at her daughter's face via Skype on her laptop. “I love you, too,” she said, wishing she could see more than just the blank wall behind her daughter's head. She did know they were at his house in Short Hills, New Jersey, and she didn't doubt that his mother, Janice, was on the premises helping him to take care of his little girl.

Tiffany was halfway through spending two weeks with her father, Lavitius Drooms, better known as the platinum-selling rap artist Bones. It had been a couple of years since his last big hit but his hefty child support check came monthly like a menstrual cycle and he was constantly on the road touring. She couldn't lie that he always made time for Tiffany even though he still hated every bit of her mother's guts.

Latoya couldn't blame the man. She did falsely accuse him of rape to prevent her parents from knowing she was having sex. That was just childish, weak, and completely reckless of her. A moment Latoya was not at all proud of.

“Grandma is making me pink pancakes for breakfast,” she said, all smiles and dimples and missing teeth.

“Ooh that sounds good,” Latoya told her, shifting on her seat on the side of the bed. “I sure wish I had me some pink pancakes.”

“I'll tell Grandma to send you some.”

Lord, don't.
If there was anyone who hated her worse than Bones it was his mother. Thank the Lord they all were able to hide their true feelings for each other and put Tiffany first.

Latoya heard Bones's deep and gravelly voice clearly even though he didn't step in front of the camera.

“Daddy said—”

“I hear him, baby. You have fun today and you make sure to be just as good a girl as you always are,” Latoya said. “Kisses.”

Tiffany leaned forward and pressed her lips to the computer.

“I felt that. That's a good one, baby,” she said before she leaned forward and did the same. “You get it?”

Tiffany nodded. “Got it.”

“Good.”

“Kiss my baby brother too,” Tiffany said, waving just before the connection ended.

She shook her head
. If Bones ever finds out the stunt I pulled to make sure I won our custody battle all those years ago . . .

Was there an emotion greater than hate?

“I did what I had to do,” she said, rising to move across the room to check her appearance in the mirror one last time.

She took some solace in the knowledge that the money she made selling false stories about him to the gossip mags was safely tucked in a trust account for their daughter. Latoya never touched one penny of it. In fact, she made sure that she banked whatever money was left over from the child support after purchasing things Tiffany needed.

Latoya smoothed her hand over the base of her pixie cut beneath the wide-brimmed hat she wore tilted to the side. She then made sure the skirt of her dark purple suit was not too high above her knee. She loved the cut of the suit and the way it framed a curvy shape she hardly got to show. Having Taquan Jr. and nearing thirty had added a fullness to Latoya's shape that she liked—and that her husband liked as well when he had time to remember that they both still liked sex.

The bedroom door opened.

Speak of the devil slayer.
She smiled as Taquan eyed her from her head to her feet in the four-inch neutral pumps she wore. She spun for him. “You like, Rev?” she asked, walking over to taste his lips.

He brought his hand up to rub the small of her back and then patted it like a father did to reassure a child. Latoya leaned back. “What?” she asked, instantly annoyed.

“Baby, I think it's beautiful. Matter of fact that suit makes me want to make another baby,” he began.

“But?” she added, stepping away from him.

Taquan moved past her to pick his watch up from the dresser. He focused on putting it on as he said, “I don't think the church board would approve—”

Latoya threw her hands up in the air. “Well God forbid the church board doesn't give my clothes a stamp of approval. A bunch of uptight fools with their old behinds looking like they worked the Underground dang-on Railroad.”

“Latoya.”

“Latoya, hell,” she said her voice filled with warning. “I'm not changing.”

He reached for her but she swiped his hands away. “I draw the line with
your
bosses telling me what to wear and to say and how high to jump. Enough is enough.”

“I never thought the devil would try to block my path to serve my God in the greatest capacity possible through my wife,” Taquan said, the lines in his handsome face showing his disapproval.

His words left her speechless. He just accused her of being a minion of the devil.

She started to argue her point but she pressed her lips closed instead, feeling her anger and hurt sharply. The feelings were so familiar to her these days. She turned from him, unable to lay eyes on him after such an accusation when he knew how much religion meant to her.

“I'll understand if you feel like you need to find a less judgmental church to worship at,” he said.

“Now perhaps the devil is using you to block my path to serve our God in the greatest capacity possible,” she gave his words back to him in a low voice.

Taquan snorted and tugged on his monogrammed sleeves with a jerking motion. “Your parents are ready to leave,” he said.

Latoya said nothing to him and he stood there in the doorway, just as silent, as if he was waiting on her to say something.
Well wait on . . .

A few moments more and he left the bedroom.

Latoya fought the urge to take another pill. She fought and won. For now. She was pretty sure the one she popped just an hour ago was completely responsible for the mini-tirade she just released on her husband.

Her parents and sisters were spending the weekend with them so that they could attend church together. As much as Latoya loved worshipping the Lord she had never been so happy to see a Sunday because they were leaving to head back to Newark right after Sunday dinner.

She looked in the mirror and made a face as she threw up a deuce sign, wishing she had the nerve to chuck it up in her parents' faces. She left her bedroom, still in her “devil in a purple suit” outfit. She was about to head down the stairs when she spotted her baby sister, Latrece, walking out of the bedroom she was sharing with their middle sister.

“All ready?” she asked, still amazed that the sixteen-year-old was now just as tall as she was.

“Ready to get away from them? Hell yes.”

That took Latoya aback. “I meant are you ready to leave for church but . . . uhm . . . okay . . .”

“I put Vaseline on my lips this morning and Mama made me take it off. Vaseline, Toy. Vas-E-Line,” she stressed. “I am so sick of them and they got Latasha just as whacked in the head as they are.”

And then Latoya saw it. Her baby sister had that same fire and defiance she had. It was the same rebelliousness that made her so determined not to follow their rules that she made some of the worst decisions of her life. She was one First Lady with a past that would have sent her straight to hell if she had not asked the Lord for forgiveness.

Abortions. False accusations of rape. Sleeping with a minister.

Latoya wanted none of that for her sisters. “Maybe—and let me think about it and talk to Taquan first—but maybe I'll ask Mama and Daddy if you can live with us?”

Latrece's eyes got big and she almost jumped up high enough to scale Latoya. “Please think about it. Pleeeease.”

“We'll see,” she said, grabbing her hand and leading her down the stairs where the rest of the family was already climbing into the vehicles.

Latoya continued her silence with Taquan during the short ride to the church. She was very deep into her emotions. She looked down at her diamond-studded wedding band and felt like some of the love and commitment it symbolized was beginning to fade. As soon as they pulled up to the church, she felt a pang of hurt over Taquan's words to her that morning.

Even as he unbuckled their squirming son, Taquan and Latoya said nothing to each other. They waited on her parents and sisters to walk the short distance from their parking spot and entered the church together.

Latoya smiled and warmly hugged the tall usher already positioned in the vestibule with programs in his gloved hands. “Hey, Brother Deel. You're back on the usher board. Haven't seen you in a while,” she said as everyone continued inside the church.

He smiled. “I'm back. My mother was sick and it was taking up a lot of my time the last few weeks but she feels much better,” he said.

“Good.”

“How you been?” he asked, reaching to squeeze her hand quickly but comfortingly.

Marion Deel was such a spiritual warrior. From the moment he joined their church Latoya had spotted a goodness about the man. He always had a positive way of looking at things and she couldn't remember him saying a negative word. She had been drawn to his light. Nothing sexual. Just as someone whose focus was doing good deeds in honor of the Lord and nothing else.

There were many Sundays after church while Taquan was in meetings or working in his office that Latoya actually sought out Marion for his advice. It just felt good to unburden herself to someone.

“I'm okay,” she said, giving him a smile and a quick squeeze of his hand before she continued into the nearly empty sanctuary and took her seat on the front pew where her family waited.

Latoya reached in her purse and opened her Altoids can. She quickly counted the pills inside. Less than a dozen. The last bottle she went through was from a year ago when Taquan had his tooth pulled and didn't even bother taking any of the pain pills prescribed.
That ain't gonna work,
she thought, pulling one out of the can with her index finger to slide into her mouth.
I need more
.

She snapped the can shut and literally chewed on the pill before she swallowed it to make it dissolve faster. She winced at the bitter taste that she was getting used to.

“What's that?” her father asked, sitting beside her with Tiffany standing up in front of him playing with his cuff-links.

“Peppermint,” she lied.

Tiffany's head came up. “I want one,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Yeah me too,” her father added.

Latoya felt alarmed. “That was the last one,” she said, focusing her eyes forward as Sister Nunzio took her spot behind the microphone at the front of the church to do the welcome and read any church announcements.

By the time they were done with morning devotional, Latoya felt like her head couldn't stay up straight and her mouth was dry. She gripped the armrest of the pew as her neck and cleavage dampened with sweat.

“You okay?” her father whispered in her ear.

Latoya nodded and licked her lips, squinting as the rear door of the pulpit opened and Taquan entered in his flowing white robe. His image blurred as he took his seat while the choir sang Mary Mary's version of “Wade in the Water.”

I'm tripping,
she thought, covering her mouth as a giggle bubbled up in her.

She stood up and walked up the aisle, trying to get to the ladies' bathroom in the vestibule. She stopped as her head spun and she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Are you okay, Sister Sanders?”

Latoya squinted and her vision cleared up just enough to see Marion coming down the aisle toward her. She licked her lips again and took one step forward just before her body went slack and she collapsed onto the carpet.

She felt the heat of bodies surrounding her. The feel of hands on her.

Even through her fuzzy state she knew she had to get up.
They can't know I'm high.

The church music stopped and the choir's voices faded to an end.

“She caught the Holy Ghost,” someone said clearly amongst the many voices surrounding her.

Latoya closed her eyes as she heard her parents' voices asking her if she was okay.
Do something! If I just get up now they will take me to the hospital. No, no, no!

She rolled over onto her back and began speaking in tongues, hoping she didn't sound too much like the “Mama-say mama-sah-ma-ma-coo-sah” chant from Michael Jackson's “Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'.”

Those surrounding her began to cry out and pray. In the distance someone else cried out as if they too had caught the Spirit.

The church broke into “The Presence of the Lord Is Here.”

Latoya knew she was dead wrong for the charade.
Forgive me, Lord.