Snapped (38 page)

Finally, she wandered into the bathroom down the hall and found Shane crouched into a ball in the bathtub. He was crying, and her heart seized in her chest.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” she asked, pulling him close to her. “You’re not happy to see Mommy?”

Shane pushed her away. “No!”

Misa’s eyes watered, and her mother’s words echoed in her ears. “
You better get back to parenting your son before he forgets that you’re his mother
.”

“Shane, stop it,” she said, as he pushed her harder. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to come back and get you. But Santa brought you so much stuff. Come home with me so you can see what he got for you.” Misa stood up and held her hand out for him. He didn’t reach back.

Shane’s arms were still folded tightly across his chest, and Misa had never seen him look so sad and angry at the same time. She heard Steven’s voice behind her and jumped, startled.

“Shane, go with your mommy. She missed you.”

To Misa’s surprise, her son peeked up and looked sheepishly at Steven. Steven nodded slightly and, just like that, Shane stepped out of the tub and reluctantly took his mother’s hand. Steven seemed to have Shane in check, and Misa felt like she had lost control of her own child.

She turned to Steven, angered by the fact that it took his encouragement to get her son to listen to her. But she checked herself. After all, it wasn’t his fault that Shane wasn’t thrilled by her return. Misa’s guilt brought tears to her eyes as she looked at Steven. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate you looking out for him while I was gone.”

Steven nodded. “My pleasure.”

Misa led Shane upstairs to get his belongings, feeling slighted but hoping that his mood would change once she got him home again. She tried to make idle conversation with him, asking if he missed her and inquiring about the things he did with his aunt while she was away. Shane gave her the silent treatment no matter how hard she tried to coax him to talk to her.

Misa was crushed. But she stopped pressing Shane, and gave him time to come around. They gathered his things in silence and left Camille’s house with Steven standing in the doorway to see them off. He patted Shane on the head softly.

“See you soon, little homie.”

Shane ran quickly to the car, happy to be going home at last.

Hours later, Misa sat on the couch watching a ridiculous VH1 reality show. She couldn’t recall a worse Christmas than this one. Shane was still mad at her, and he was holed up in his room playing with the toys he had unwrapped only hours earlier. She had decided to leave him alone, hoping that with time he’d come around and be his old self again. Her cell phone rang, and she happily answered it upon seeing Celia’s cell phone number flash across the screen.

“Hey, Miss Celia,” she said. “How is he?”

“He’s sleeping now,” Celia answered. “His friend Angelle came by to visit him and she’s going to stay here for a while. I’m about to step out and grab some dinner, so Angelle is going to sit with Baron while I’m gone. I’ve decided to spend the night here, so there’s no need for you to come back tonight if you don’t want to. We’ve got him covered. Enjoy your Christmas with your son,” she said.

Misa frowned. She knew all about Angelle. Baron had
interrupted their time together on a number of occasions in order to talk to that bitch about business. But she could tell by the way he had spoken to her that there was more to their relationship than just business. She didn’t like the thought of her being there unsupervised with Baron. And she also didn’t like the idea that the bitch might come back again the next day or the day after that. Misa was more determined than ever to solidify her position as Baron’s wifey. Angelle was not part of that plan. The only problem was that Camille was too busy running around trying to save her marriage, which meant that Misa had to take full responsibility for Shane, and he was too young to be allowed in Baron’s hospital room. She thought long and hard to come up with a solution.

The last thing Misa wanted was to wind up like her sister. Camille’s marriage had self-destructed, and Misa felt sorry for her. She pondered how the tables had been turned not so long ago, when Camille had been saying that she felt sorry for her sister instead of the other way around. No one would have guessed that Camille’s picture-perfect marriage to Frankie would have dissolved so horribly and that Misa would be the one to find a chance at true happiness with Baron. She thought about Shane then, and how blessed she was to have him. Camille’s own hope for a child had been dashed, and Misa realized that she had taken motherhood for granted. Shane’s behavior today had shown her how much she was neglecting him. She decided to go talk to her son.

Walking into Shane’s room, she saw him sitting on the floor surrounded by his toy cars. Misa smiled.

“Hey, papa.”

Shane ignored her and continued pushing his favorite car across the carpeted floor.

“I came to play with you, Shane.”

Silence still.

Misa was getting annoyed. “Shane, I’m talking to you.”

He kept playing. “No talk to me,” he said softly.

Misa was trying to remain patient with the three-year-old. “Why not, papa? I thought you would be happy to see me.”

He shook his head.

Misa sat on the edge of his bed. “You’re not happy to see me?”

“No.” Shane pushed the cars around on the floor.

“You want to go back to Aunt Camille’s house?”

He stopped playing and stared at the floor.

Misa took that as a yes. “Fine,” she said, assuming that her son had gotten accustomed to the posh surroundings of his aunt’s house. She guessed that her modest home wasn’t good enough for him anymore after spending so much time at Camille’s bigger, more opulent abode. “You can go back there tomorrow since you like it so much. Uncle Steven can watch you while I go out.”

Suddenly, Shane stood up and tossed the car he was holding at Misa’s head. He started crying and yelled at the top of his lungs, “
I hate you!
”

Misa stood dumbfounded, her mouth agape in pure shock.

“No! I wanna go with my
daddy
!”

Misa was furious. The toy car had missed her by mere inches, and, once the shock wore off, she was enraged. Shane was longing for the father who had abandoned them without a second thought. Before she knew it, she was on her feet charging at her son. To her dismay, he threw himself on the floor and curled himself into a ball, hiding his face with his hands. Misa stopped in her tracks and took a deep
breath. The last thing she wanted was for her son to be afraid of her.

“You know what?” she said. “I’m gonna call your father and tell him to come and get you. That’s what you want, right?”

Her heart broke a little when he nodded, his face still covered with his hands. “I want Daddy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Misa stormed off angrily and dialed her ex-husband’s number. With every punch of the keypad, she felt more and more betrayed. When Louis answered the phone, she wasted no time getting to the point. “Your son is crying for you, Louis. Come and get him tonight or stay out of his life for good. This is ridiculous!”

“Hello to you, too, Misa,” Louis said.

“Are you coming or not?”

Louis had been thinking about Shane more than ever lately. It had been weeks since he’d last seen his son. And even though his girlfriend, Nahla, wasn’t a big fan of children, he was eager to reestablish a relationship with his only child before it was too late. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be there in about an hour.”

Misa hung up the phone and went to pour herself a drink. She was hurt that her son was being mean to her, but relieved that Louis was willing to finally spend time with Shane. They could rebuild their father/son relationship, and she could work on establishing a permanent spot in Baron’s life. As she downed the coconut rum she’d had in her cabinet for months, she told herself that things couldn’t have worked out better.

January 4, 2008

“Oh God, Frankie!” Gillian purred. She dug her nails into his back and clung to him tightly. He was fucking her better than she’d ever imagined possible. Her thick brown legs were twisted around him like a pretzel as she tried to draw him in even deeper.

He wrapped her hair around his hand and gently pulled her head back, licking her neck, kissing it, sucking on it. Gillian could no longer hold back. She erupted in orgasmic spasms, and Frankie felt every pulsing motion. It didn’t take long before he was gushing, too.

They lay sweaty together afterward, and Gillian reached over and flicked on the lamp on the night table. She looked at the beautiful man lying beside her. He stroked her thigh softly and she smiled. She loved the tender way he treated her. Frankie made her feel so good. And he was feeling things for her that he had never expected to feel. She was a beautiful girl with eyes that danced and lips that seemed to invite him
to kiss them. He was so in love with her that nothing else mattered.

In the days
since Frankie had left her, Camille had been coming apart at the seams. She couldn’t understand how he could end their marriage so easily. Since she no longer had to look after Shane while Misa was up at the hospital playing Florence Nightingale to Baron, Camille had more time on her hands than ever. She felt frustrated and helpless, and so she did the unthinkable.

Camille had started following Frankie. She had followed them after they left the funeral repast and watched them go up to their room at the Plaza Hotel. She had watched the next morning as they checked out of the hotel and went back to Gillian’s place. She had watched the day after that as the pizza deliveryman climbed the steps of the Upper East Side town house and brought the couple a large pie; watched as Frankie came to the door shirtless and smiling. Camille had followed them days later when they walked hand in hand to the Italian restaurant two blocks away. She was watching the house now, wondering why she hadn’t stopped crying since Frankie walked away from her; wondering why she was letting this happen instead of doing something about it. She had a bombshell to drop on her husband and his mistress. And there was no time like the present.

She got out of her car, headed toward the ritzy town house, and climbed the stairs. When she reached the door, she took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. It was showtime.

Toya came home
from the mall exhausted. She noticed that her screen door was unlocked and cursed herself for being careless and not locking it when she left for work that morning. When she realized that her front door was also unlocked, she knew immediately that something was wrong. She pulled her gun out of her purse and slowly opened the door, stepping quietly into her house.

She looked around for her dog. Ginger usually met her at the door, eager for a walk after being locked up all day. But Ginger was nowhere to be found. She noticed the kitchen light on, and knew that someone was in there. She slowly inched toward the kitchen, ready to fire at the slightest movement. Entering the room, she cocked her gun and stood stunned by what she saw.

Her father, Nate, stood against the kitchen counter holding her dog in his arms. He had picked her locks and waited for her to get home. Toya would have shot him on sight, but he had the upper hand. Ginger was her weakness, and there was no way she would ever put her in danger. Nate knew this, and he used it to his advantage.

“I just want to talk to you, Latoya. Now, I’ve tried to call you, tried to come by here, and you keep refusing. I didn’t want to go this route, but you forced me.”

She wanted to spit in his face. “Talk, bitch! And it better be good, or I swear ’fo God, I’ll kill your ass tonight.”

Dominique didn’t get
home until close to eight o’clock in the evening. Since her father’s death, she and Octavia were on their
own on late nights such as this. She hated worrying about what Octavia would eat for dinner each time she had to work late. But so far it had gone well. Dominique would pick up food from one of the restaurants near her office, and she and Octavia would sit and eat together and catch up on each other’s days. Tonight, it was Italian food, and she couldn’t wait to see her daughter’s face when she found out that she had gotten her favorite pasta dish.

The apartment was quieter than usual. Dominique set the food down on the counter and began sifting through the mail. She called her daughter’s name as she strolled down the hallway toward her bedroom, but got no answer. She knocked on Octavia’s bedroom door and still got no response. Pushing the door open, she was mortified to find that Octavia wasn’t in there.

Dominique began to panic. Where the hell could her daughter be at such a late hour? She went into her own bedroom to get the house phone and noticed that the answering machine light was blinking. Pressing the playback button, she listened, hopeful that the message was from her daughter.

“Miss Storms, this is Vickie Murphy from the Bardwell Dance School. I’m calling again about Octavia’s attendance. It’s been more than four weeks since we have seen her in class. I’ve left a number of messages for you, but we haven’t heard back. Her tuition is all paid up, and she is a pleasure to teach. We really miss her in class, so if you could give me a call just to confirm that she’s okay, I’d appreciate it. We hope to see her return to class on Monday. Have a great weekend.”