The perfect date, p.13
The Perfect Date, page 13
“This must be yours. It was on the floor in the kitchen when I got home this morning.”
Oh, Gabriela. I am a terrible friend. She lifted it from his palm, blushing. “Thank you,” she said awkwardly. “Are you Duke’s father?”
“Yes. I am Willis Lewis.” He moved behind the island and started making coffee.
“I’m Angel. I was at your march for education equality last year. I think it’s great what you’re doing for the community.”
“If only my son felt the same way.” He fiddled with the stove.
“So, I take it he’s not here?”
Willis took his time before answering. “No. I have no idea where he is.”
Well, this is fun. She was about to say thank you to his back and leave, when she noticed a stack of letters on the table next to her. What caught her attention was the looping signature. Regina. The letter was handwritten—flowery cursive punctuated by a lot of heavy underlining.
Angel guiltily moved away. Why did Willis have letters from Regina? Or maybe they belonged to Duke? Wasn’t his ex out of the picture? What was going on? Do I really want to know?
Willis came around the island, putting himself between her and the table, folding his arms across his chest, scowling at her. “I wanted Duke to help organize a luncheon for the aldermen today. As usual, he is not willing to take care of anyone but himself.” He narrowed his eyes. “Though he can’t even do that right. Believe me, little lady, you’re barking up the wrong tree. Duke needs to concentrate and get back in the game. You’re going want to find yourself another man to hang on.”
Angel took a step back, dismayed. “Que?”
“‘Que? Que?’” the older man mocked. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Mr. Lewis, believe me, I’m not trying to get anything out of Duke.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and strode to the kitchen door. “I do think your son could use a real friend. Some support. He’s struggling.” Marches for fair treatment, huh?
He followed. “He has plenty of friends. He doesn’t need another woman looking for a meal ticket.” With that, the old man opened the door and waved her out.
“You’re a real peach, you know that?” she said to him, but he’d already shut the door behind her. She considered pounding on it, making him open up so she could have the last word, but she was too tired. She could see why Duke was glad his father wasn’t home the night before.
A car turned into the driveway, startling her.
It was a Bentley, and Kinley was driving.
The reality TV star was as surprised to see Angel as Angel was surprised to see her. But the petite woman quickly got out of the car and approached Angel before she could run away.
Oh God, is she going to take a swing at me?
“Angel, wait. Don’t go!” Kinley pleaded. She’d been crying. But, of course, puffiness looked good on her. “I need you to tell me what happened last night.”
Angel rounded on her. “You treated me like trash. That’s what happened.”
“Angel, did you sleep with Roland? Just tell me.”
“You can go fuck yourself, Kinley. I’ve had it with you people!”
“Please, I have to know!”
“For God’s sakes, it was Regina.”
“I knew it!” The woman wailed, not caring that she was in public, on the street. “I didn’t want to believe it.”
“She and Roland seem like the perfect couple.” Angel instantly regretted her words, as Kinley’s forehead tightened and spasmed in pain. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I know we were horrible to you last night.” When Angel didn’t respond, Kinley continued, “I mean it. I feel terrible. I just didn’t know what to do. My head wasn’t right.” She swiped at her eye. “I should never have allowed her to do that to a guest in my home.”
Angel had no idea what to say. “That’s true.”
“I’d like to make it up to you. What can I do? Can I take you shopping?”
Angel drew in a sharp breath. “I know you’re trying to be nice, but can you hear how condescending that is?”
“No! That’s not how I mean it!”
“It’s fine. By the way, I left your dress and shoes here. I’m not sure where Duke put them. He’s not here.” Angel started walking down the sidewalk. “I have to get to the clinic. Thanks for loaning the poor girl an outfit.”
Kinley called out from behind her, “At least let me give you a ride. I can get the dress later.”
Angel thought about it. She could be stubborn and prideful, or she could let this woman appease her guilt while saving herself a bus ride. She nodded and followed Kinley back to the car.
“The clinic, then? Where’s that at?”
“A couple of blocks from the Peacock, in Mount Eden. I can take the bus, really.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do. Duke texted this morning to tell me the dress and shoes were here, so I thought I might as well come get them, give myself a job, do something other than cry.”
“I am sorry—”
“Eh.” Kinley waved a hand over the steering wheel. “It’s not like this is the first time. Roland likes my money so much, you’d think he’d be better at hiding his hookups. But no. Anyway, let’s talk about you … So. The dress was here this morning, huh?”
Angel buffed her fingernails. She wasn’t going to trust Kinley with details.
“Alright. You’re not going to talk. Fine. But I want you to know, Duke is a good guy. He might drink too much, or get moody, but in his heart he is truly a good person. If you end up dating, he’d treat you right, if you gave him a chance.”
“I’m not sure we’re going to be seeing each other again. Things are too complicated.”
“Because of last night? I’d assumed he’d made it up to you, if you spent the night…”
Angel cut her eyes at the woman. “Haven’t you seen the news?”
“You mean today? No. Why?”
She sighed deeply and said through gritted teeth, “A sex tape of Regina and Duke went viral. Duke claims it was from last year.”
“You are kidding me!” Kinley’s mouth was open. “That bitch. Regina totally leaked it. She has some crazy in her, that one. Listen, I’m sure it really is from last year. I don’t think Duke has had anything to do with her since she left him.”
“Maybe, maybe not. He’s got a stack of letters on his kitchen table right now, from her. His personal life is too messy. I gotta focus on my career right now. I have to. I have to think about my son first.”
“I forgot you have a child.” Kinley didn’t look away from the road, but her mouth puckered.
“Yes,” Angel said with an edge. I will not justify myself—not to her, not to anyone else.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” Kinley’s face deepened in concern. “I guess this does make a difference when it comes to dating.”
Now I’m not good enough for Duke?
“Stop with the angsty face, Angel. I’m saying you might be right; Duke may be too messed up for a single mom.” Kinsley honked her horn at a car stopped at a green light. “He is a sweetheart, but he’s got issues. And I say that with love.” She leaned on the horn again. “Come on! Learn to drive! Anyway, are you sure Regina has been writing to him?” She shrugged her slim shoulders. “That’s just weird. She tells me she hates him.”
Angel leaned her head against the seat rest and closed her eyes. “I saw the letters, signed by her, when I was talking to Duke’s father.” She opened her eyes again and frowned at Kinley. “Who, by the way, was not very nice.”
“Willis? Tell me about it. When Mark was killed last year, it wasn’t just Regina who left Duke. Willis treated his son like the shooting was his fault.” The beautiful TV star sighed heavily and shook her head. “Duke’s had a hard time coming back from not only an injury and loss but the rejection of his friends and family. Roland hasn’t been much help, either, that selfish idiot.”
They didn’t talk much for the remaining few blocks. A heavy gloom sat between them. Kinley handed her a business card as Angel was getting out of the car, apologized again, and told her to call if she ever wanted to talk.
Angel thanked the woman and said good-bye, but by then her mind was a million miles away. Well, really, a hundred feet away, in the office of Dr. Collins. She grimaced, facing the clinic.
* * *
Dr. Collins sat down with Angel in his office. His gelled hair was now a startling shade of black. With the black turtleneck sweater, white overcoat, and sallow skin, he resembled a mortician from a B movie.
“We need to reschedule your exit conference. I’m sorry I put it off.” He flipped open a desk calendar. “Wouldn’t want you to fail the practicum, would we?”
“No, that’s true. I’m free today. Right now.” It was Wednesday. She only had a few more days to turn in her practicum paperwork to her program director at the school.
“Hmm. Well. You’re not really free, are you?”
Angel had no idea what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”
“Darlin’. No need to play it off. Not with me, remember? I was there when you agreed to fake date the Duke.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.” She shifted in her chair. “But you don’t need to worry about me. I’m not trapped into anything.”
“I’m not worried. You’re a big girl. A smart girl.” He rubbed at a smudge on his desk. “I’d recommend staying away from that ballplayer, though. He’s not very trustworthy, is he?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. He has an outstanding bill at the clinic. And he didn’t mind taking advantage of you in front of the press, did he, darlin’? Then there’s the tape with the model, which must be pretty embarrassing for you, since the press thinks you’re his girlfriend.”
“I should probably get back to work…” Angel wanted desperately to get away from the doctor and the way he drew out every syllable in every word—and the way he inserted himself into her business.
“You know, I’ve had a number of reporters ask to speak with you. They want to know how you feel about Regina. Should I give them your number?”
“No, I—”
“That’s what I thought. A couple have been very persistent, though, wanting information about your personal life. Asking how long you’ve been dating, where you live, if you have family.” The doctor reclined, put his feet up on the desk. “I mean, it would be simply awful if they found out about sweet little Jose. They’d be following him to school, asking him about the Duke. They’d probably ask the child if he knows about the sex tapes … They have no shame.”
“You haven’t said anything, have you?”
“Of course not.” He tented his fingers under his chin. “Not yet.”
Angel went cold. “What do you mean, ‘not yet’?”
He sighed. “This must be trying for you. I can see how revealing Jose’s existence, or even the truth about your relationship, would cause a lot of problems for Jose, you, and, yes, obviously the Duke. However, I can be persuaded to stay quiet.”
She squinted her eyes at him. Common decency won’t keep you quiet? “Uh-huh. Keep talking.”
He stood up, slowly, and moved around his desk.
He didn’t stop until he was behind Angel. “I like you, Angel. I’d like to get to know you better.” He was too close, his breath warm on top of her head. He ran his fingertips up her neck, over her bare skin.
Stiffening, she said, “I’m not comfortable with this, Dr. Collins.”
His hands dropped to her shoulders and squeezed. “You just need to relax, darlin’. A massage would be good for you.”
She tried to stand up. He pressed down, stopping her. “Think about it, Angel. You could really use a friend right now. I could be that friend.”
“What are you—”
“I think you know.” He swayed back and forth behind her, letting the fly of his pants brush across her back.
It took her half a second to realize exactly what had happened. She leapt up, breaking free from her frozen state of disbelief. “Dr. Collins, please! I’m not interested.”
“Ah, I see.” He shuffled to the side of his desk. “I want you to know, I’m here for you. And you can rely on my discretion. If you’re here for me.” He adjusted his bulging pants. “No need to tell the Duke about this. He’s got his own problems.”
She swallowed, sour spit filling her throat. “So, to be clear, I either have sex with you or—”
He startled, surprised by her candor. “My dear, no! I would never force you into something you didn’t want. The choice is yours. But maybe we should reschedule your exit exam for Friday morning? We both need some time to think about what we’re going to say.”
With that, he left the room.
* * *
Duke stood, his hat twisted in his hands, his head bent in penitence. “Skip, I’m sorry.”
The manager sat behind a large black-glass desk, glaring at his pitcher. “Enough with the sorries. I’ve had it with the sorries. I didn’t fly back to New York so I could listen to you whine and simper like a mewling calf. Son, we have asked and asked for you to get it together. I felt bad for you when Mark passed last year, I did … But how long do you expect me to put aside good business sense for your fragile ego?”
“I—”
“Shut your fucking mouth, Duke. Unless you’re gonna tell me the porno that my kid was watching at the breakfast table was some crazy dream I had, I don’t want to hear a goddamn word come out of your mouth.”
Duke stayed silent. He felt like crying.
“What can I do? You don’t listen to me. You’ve got an excuse for everything. We’re supposed to be a family operation, but our star player is involved in a gang shooting, parties like a goddamn rock star, and, now, is famous for boinking a girl and putting the video on something called YouTube for the children of America to see. The Christian moms are blowing up my email, demanding you be put in jail. And you know what, Duke?” He cocked his head, a fat angry bird. “Despite the hoo-ha and bullshit you’ve stirred up, I’d find a way to make this work. By God, you’ve got an arm. How can we afford to lose you?”
Duke heard the “but” coming. Behind the manager, there was a glass wall overlooking Bronx Bolt Stadium. He was afraid this might be the last time he was here as a player.
“But I think you’re lying about your injury,” Skip said. “That’s a deal breaker for me. Are you healed or not?”
“I was at that clinic to see Angel, the nurse…”
“You did not answer my question.”
“Listen, Skip, I can prove I’m fine.”
“That’s right, you will. I’ll have the team doctor and a hitter here the day after tomorrow, and you’re going to pitch for me.” The manager stood up. “This is a team. If you can’t be one hundred fucking percent, for your team, then you gotta step aside. Alright. Get out.”
Duke’s hand on the doorknob, the manager stopped him, saying, “If the newspapers or TV or any goddamn media so much as whispers your name for any reason, don’t bother showing up on Friday.”
* * *
“Mama?”
“Hmm?”
“Mama, will you read to me?”
“Hmm?”
“Mama! You said—”
“Baby! Please! Can you just go to bed?”
Jose’s bottom lip quivered as he stomped past her to his room. He slammed his door.
Angel shoved a pencil into her hair and sighed. Mom of the year, right here.
There was a knock on the front door. She almost screamed in frustration.
On the other side of the peephole was Aaron. Duke’s agent. Seriously, are you kidding me right now?
“What do you want?” she yelled, without opening the door.
“You’re not going to open up? Classy, Angel.” His voice was muffled.
She ripped open the door. “Oh, I’m the one who needs to worry about being classy? Give me a break. Bribing a doctor—”
“Shh! Jesus!” Aaron stepped closer to her.
She held her ground. “Nah, you’re not coming in. What do you want?”
“Willis said you left this behind.” He reached into the pocket of his hipster jeans and then dangled a gold bracelet from his squat fingers. Gabriela’s bracelet. Angel must have left it on Duke’s kitchen table, a second time. Her friend’s family heirloom.
“Thanks.”
“So. What else did you leave there?” Aaron checked his cuff links. “You got something else you think you need to go get?”
“Huh?” Her confusion was over in a flash. “You think I planted that bracelet?”
“Oh. No. Not you. You not lookin’ for a sugar daddy, right, Angel?”
Angel forced a laugh. “I mean … Wow. What, you afraid I might steal your sugar?” Before he could answer, she continued, “Dude, I am not interested in your man. We’ve parted ways.”
“Wait.” The agent furrowed his brow. “He’s not here?”
Chapter Eighteen
Angel dreamed of falling. She’d been on the edge of a roof—the clinic’s roof, but in the dream it commanded a view of her college campus. Dr. Collins stood to one side of her, Duke on the other. They were shouting at each other, so she’d jumped. She fell, and fell, and fell. The fall was infinite. She had no control and no idea of how or when it was going to end. Afraid and frustrated, she screamed.
She woke, the scream pressing against her closed lips—a long, muffled moan in real life. She kicked the blankets off and the air cooled her sweaty skin. She cringed away from the bright red lights on the alarm clock. Angel squeezed her eyes shut again, but it was no better, her mind free-falling back into a dream state, the same dream on reset.
Groggy, she forced herself from the bed. It was an hour before her alarm was set to go off. Just one more thing the idiot men in her life had stolen from her. Dignity, peace, and now sleep.
The steam tendrils from her cup of coffee caressed her face. She contemplated the small apartment around her. Jose and I are fine here, as we are. I mean, sure, less mold would be nice, but we don’t need riches and a crazy lifestyle. We do, however, need a roof over our heads. Angel’s stomach squeezed at the decision before her. She needed to pass her exams so she could get a permanent nursing job, but Dr. Collins … She shuddered. The thought of his fingers touching her, groping her. Bile rose in her throat. She couldn’t do it. She was going to lose a career before she really got started.
