Until the End of Time (37 page)

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Authors: Melanie Schuster

BOOK: Until the End of Time
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One thing was clear, though. He had broken his word to Renee and she was going to have a raving, screaming fit when she found out. Regardless of her anger, though, he knew he had done the right thing. It had to be done; someone had to derail the Donovan Bailey express. It was a moot point now; it was all over but the shouting and when Renee calmed down, she would be able to see it that way. At least he prayed that she would. Glancing at the bedside clock, Andrew groaned and threw his long legs out of the bed. He had to shower and get to the hospital. With a truly contrite heart, he drank the tomato juice laced with lemon and Worcestershire sauce. He shuddered and gasped, but by the time he got out of the hot shower, he really did feel better. If Renee could cure his hangover she could do anything, including forgive him.
God, I hope so
***
It was the kind of day Renee loved at the salon; the customers never stopped coming and the sound of Christmas music added an air of festivity and warmth to the atmosphere. Renee was running her legs off as she always did during these harried days. She was assisting everyone wherever she could; roller-setting patrons, combing out others, shampooing when a stylist was getting backed up and even helping out the nail technicians. Renee’s skills were never rusty, thank goodness, as this was the time of year when everybody just had to have sparkling nails in red and gold and platinum. Naturally, a few wanted some cute holiday design airbrushed on a nail or two.
She made sure there was a catered lunch every day during the busy season since it would have been next to impossible to leave for a lunch with so many customers in the house. She was getting ready to leave the salon to make a run to the bakery for more of the tiny holiday cookies to which her patrons were addicted. She took off the smart smock that protected her clothes and was giving Maurice, the evening manager, a few last minute instructions before she scooted out the back door.
“
Mrs. Henley should be dry in about 5 minutes. Sabrina is running late, her baby is sick and she has a color and a relaxer coming in. Someone can section them off...”
She stopped speaking when Maurice took her by the arm and guided her to the door. Maurice was somewhat of a rarity in the business--big, muscular, arrow-straight and a genius when it came to hair. “Renee, we can handle it. Just get those cookies and get back here before these women take a bite out of me. You’ve got them so spoiled that they think everything in here is edible,” he said cheerfully.
Renee was still laughing when she reached her Mercedes, but the laughter died when she was grabbed from behind.
“
You dumb black bitch,” a familiar voice hissed. “You stupid, ignorant black bitch! I warned you to keep your mouth shut, but you couldn’t, could you? You had to shoot off your damned mouth, didn’t you?” Donovan Bailey had a grip on Renee’s throat that cut off her breath. Her Fendi bag fell to the ground as she clawed frantically at his hands to no avail--the leather gloves she was wearing protected him from her fingernails.
“
I told you to keep your mouth shut and everything would be fine, but you had to shoot your mouth off, didn’t ya, bitch?”
Renee couldn’t get a sound from her constricted throat and was beginning to slip into unconsciousness when she heard a loud grunt from somewhere and miraculously, she was free. The sudden loosening of his hands made her lose her balance and she would have fallen, but a strong pair of arms caught her. It was Maurice, who’d been wondering why her car hadn’t left the lot.
“
Maurice,” she gasped, “thank God you came. Oh God, he could have killed me!” she whispered in horror.
Maurice continued to hold her as she tried to control her breathing. “I’m not the one you should be thanking, Renee. If he hadn’t come up when he did, it might have been too late.”
Renee turned puzzled eyes to the stranger who was standing over Donovan Bailey’s unconscious body. He was tall, about 6’4”, with oddly exotic features. He had short coarse dark blonde hair and olive skin that was taut across his high cheekbones. His eyes were an eerie dark gray-blue. His features seemed distinctly Caucasian, but when he spoke, his ethnicity became a bigger puzzle, due to the deep richness of his voice. He might not look like a brother, but he sure sounded like one. In answer to her unasked question, he told her his name was Titus Argonne.
“
I’m here to keep an eye on you, ma’am. I think you need to go inside and get warm. I’ll take care of this,” he said with a nod to another man who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Renee had no choice but to re-enter the salon, especially after Titus said he had contacted the proper authorities. Maurice’s large body shielded her from the view of any patrons or employees. In minutes she was shivering uncontrollably in her private office while Maurice made her a cup of Earl Gray tea.
Maurice was raging about carjackers and muggers and fuming about how they might need a security guard after all, despite the relative safety of the neighborhood, but his words were falling on deaf ears.
The authorities. Good God, does that mean police?
Renee had her hand on the phone to call Andrew when she was distracted by the television. It was tuned to E, the entertainment channel, and there was some late breaking story that was of earth-shattering importance to judge by the look on the animated Barbie doll delivering the news.
“
A ripple that could be measured on the Richter scale went through the annals of the cable industry today when word got out that the new cable news network forming it Atlanta has fired its newest executive,” the chirpy newsbunny trilled. “For months now the buzz has been that Cochran Communications, based in Detroit, and The Deveraux Group headquartered in Atlanta, are forming a partnership to produce an African-American cable news network. With Donovan Bailey as the executive vice-president, there was no way it could fail, given the expertise of the principals. Now we have received word that they plan to go ahead with the network, but without Mr. Bailey. This is a move that can only mean that the entire enterprise is on shaky ground,” she purred. “Neither Cochran Communications or The Deveraux Group would offer any comment.”
Renee was sickened to her heart. Not only by the obvious thrill that the little skank was getting from spooning out such delicious gossip, but also by the sure knowledge of how it had come about. Andrew told. He had told them everything. The thin china cup dropped from her hands and crashed to the desk, spilling its contents. Renee never heard a thing.
***
When Andrew arrived at Renee's house, he found her sitting quietly in the living room. The little dogs were asleep on the throw pillow next to her, and she was as motionless as a statue. Having gotten a phone call from Martin, he knew that the jig was well and truly up; there would be no sidestepping of the issue. In fairness, he didn’t know that Martin had hired the private investigator to keep an eye on Renee while he dug up dirt on Bailey, but he was profoundly glad he had when Martin informed him that there had been an incident. The words that Martin had spoken to him were still echoing in his head.
"Look, Andrew. Titus Argonne just called me. He's a private detective that I hired to protect Renee as well as dig into Bailey's background. And it's a damned good thing I did. The bastard waylaid her in the parking lot of her salon today."
Andrew almost dropped the telephone but instead he cursed a blue streak. Martin could sympathize completely. "Titus and I go back a ways. He's the best there is and he and his men will make sure nothing happens to her. But it's obvious that this isn't over. I have a feeling that Bailey has leaked something to the press, so you'd better be prepared when you see Renee. We all know you did the right thing, but I doubt that she’s going to see it like that." The two men talked a few more minutes, then Andrew checked in with Donnie before heading over to Renee's. He stood in the doorway to the living room, watching her for a moment before making his presence known. It seemed as though he could feel her pain from across the room. He entered the room slowly and went to stand in front of the fireplace.
"Renee, I doubt that it will do any good for me to say that I'm sorry, but I am. I just didn't see any way out of this except to let Donnie and Clay know what he had done. I don't suppose you will be able to forgive me, but I was trying to protect you," he said quietly.
In an equally quiet voice, Renee responded, "So now you're thinking for me, too? I don't even have to open my mouth and you know what I'm going to say? That's some medical degree you've got there Andrew."
The sarcasm and anger were evident in her tone of voice. And so there would be no mistake about what she meant, she stood and crossed the room to stand in front of him. "How dare you come in here looking like a whipped dog and tell me how sorry you are? There was one thing I asked you not to do and it appears to be the first thing you did. I don’t really care at this juncture what your motivation was; the fact remains that you betrayed my confidence. You told them my personal, private business! You knew how much it meant to me and you just waded in there with both feet, didn't you?" Renee's voice was shaky with rage and she was tensed all over.
"Renee, listen to me, it wasn't like I was just blapping my mouth off for no good reason. Donnie and Clay wouldn’t have gone into business with that rat bastard if they knew what kind of slime he is. They were on the verge of signing a contract with him! How would it have made them feel if they had been legally tied to the bastard?" he reasoned. His conciliatory tone did nothing to assuage her anger; in fact, it seemed to stoke her fire. She tightened the belt on her ivory robe and lit into him once again.
"It might interest you to know, Andrew, that I had come to that very same conclusion before you opened your mouth. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night since you came in here like a backslider from AA that the reason I went to Cleveland was to talk to my mother and let her know what was going on. I came back here yesterday intending to tell you that you were right and it was time to get rid of Donovan Bailey once and for all," she stormed.
Andrew's mouth dropped open and before he could speak she flung up a hand to stop him. "But no, you had to take over. And with disastrous results, I might add. If you hadn't taken matters into your own hands, this might not have happened," she threw at him as she opened the neck of the robe to expose the dark bruises surrounding her neck.
Despite her fury, Andrew grasped her arms and pulled her into the light. "That rotten, miserable son-of-a bitch, I'll kill him! Oh my God, baby, I'm so sorry,” he breathed as he anxiously stroked her neck. It had been so long since she and Andrew had shared an intimate moment that Renee could not help the sensations that overtook her. For a moment, all she wanted to do was let him hold her and draw strength from the warmth of his body, and for a moment she did. He held her like he would never let her go, stroking her hair and murmuring words of endearment. She was about to succumb to his touch when she remembered how angry she was and pulled away from him.
"No, you don't, Andrew Cochran. Oh no, you don't. This isn’t something that you can kiss and make better! You betrayed me and I’m not about to forget that! How can you act like nothing has happened?" she accused, her eyes dark and flinty.
Exasperated, Andrew ran his hand over his hair and stared at her. "Renee, I’m not trying to make it seem like nothing happened. I acknowledge the fact that I jumped the gun and shot off my mouth. But what the hell was I supposed to do? You're my woman and it's my job to protect you. Did you think I was going to sit around until doomsday and wait for it to all blow over? Hell no," he said angrily, answering his own rhetorical question. "It was past time for talking, Renee. Somebody needed to take some action and I did. So I was wrong, so sue me! I was trying to take care of you, that's all."
Their angry voices awakened Chaka and Patti who were more than willing to add their voices to the melee. Ignoring the excited yips of the terriers, Renee planted her hands on her hips. "I'm your '
woman
'? You have to ‘protect’ me? First of all, I am nobody's property. And if this is any indication of your brand of protection," she spat, pointing at her neck, "it's a damned good thing I'm not. Because it seems to me that all your big talk just got me in deeper, it didn't solve a damned thing," she said with disdain.
Andrew's face paled, indicating his fury and hurt. "Well excuse me, Miss Thing, I just can't seem to do a damned thing to please your highness," he said nastily.
"Well, you've finally gotten something right tonight. Perhaps you
can
be taught," she said with narrowed eyes. Andrew was stunned into silence. Further conversation, if that's what this shouting match could be called, was fruitless. He stared at Renee for a long moment before abruptly leaving the room. Before Renee could say another word, she heard the back door open and close. It was worse, in a way, than if he had slammed it shut. Still standing in the middle of the room, she covered her mouth with her shaking hand and felt the hot tears spill over onto it. Unknown to her, Titus Argonne and one of his men were drinking coffee in a midnight colored van parked across the street from her house. If she had been aware of their presence, she wouldn't have felt so all alone. As it was, the very walls seemed to be crushing her with their collective weight.
How could I have said all those horrible
things?

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