Chapter 49
Brynne
“Oh, look,” I whisper to Colin. We’re the only two in the office breakroom, and while I wait for the coffee to brew, I shove my personal iPad in his face. “Sexy.” I show him three different lingerie sets I'm considering. "Sweet,” I say of another two. These two are white, and while sexy, they’re more tame. “And these are my favorite. They’re giving me nasty ass ho energy.” I show him a lacy thong teddy in black and another one in red.”
“What kinds of things does the nasty ass ho do?” I know the look he’s giving me. If we weren’t in this kitchen, his hand would already be down my pants.
“You’ll have to wait until we’re on vacation to find out.”
I show him more things on my iPad; mostly the clothes I have in the cart from one of my favorite stores. He looks at everything as if what I’m showing him is the most important thing on earth, but then again, he acts that way about everything I have to say or do.
“What the hell?” I hear Heath say as he stomps inside. “Did you guys not see the note?” He points at a sheet of paper that says, ‘ Get Heath if you want coffee .’ “This is my machine.”
I want to roll my eyes, but I manage to stay stoic.
“This machine is for the office,” Colin says.
“I’ll make you whatever you want.” He gives me the side eye. “You too, Brynne.”
That takes me by surprise. We’ve stopped sniping at each other, but we’re not friendly, and I’m fine with that.
“Really?” I ask. I’ve never admitted it to anyone, but the drinks he makes for everyone except me and Ernestine look good.
“You can’t be that bad if my uncle likes you.” He grabs the coffee pot we brewed and pours it down the drain, then gives us his back and grabs his French press.
“You have a meeting,” Colin says. He takes my iPad from me and says, “I’ll bring your coffee and iPad to your office. Go.” He looks around and gives me a kiss. His mouth lingers on mine, and I run my tongue across his bottom lip. “Go. Now.”
Over the past two weeks, I’ve signed on as the head architect for three new projects. It’s not lost on me that that can derail my plans for leaving this position in a year, but I was sought out, and these residential projects are where I excel.
As I’m looking at a sketch on the table in my office, my door opens, and it’s Colin.
“You want to go to lunch?” he asks. He's already taken my coat off the hook, but my cell phone rings. I recognize the number. It’s from the main office in my condo building.
I hold a finger up and answer. “Hi. This is Brynneka,” I say.
“Ms. Barber, this is Chad from your building. There’s been an incident. Someone broke into your unit. Your neighbor from across the hall let us know.” I stand abruptly while the words sink in.
“What happened?” I ask.
That alerts Colin, who rushes to my side.
“Your door was jacked open, and there’s some damage done inside. We’ve called the police, and they’re on their way.”
After telling Colin about my apartment, I don’t think we speak again. It takes twenty minutes for him to drive me to my building. He parks illegally outside, and I hop out of his car. He’s beside me in seconds. When I get to my floor, there are two cops and the security guard looking around my living room.
“Oh my God,” slips out of my mouth. The sofa is slashed, and my lamps are shattered.
My plants are destroyed. My curtains are pulled down and my blinds torn, but none of that bothers me as much as what I see on the floor.
I put my hands to my mouth and feel my body shake. “No, no, no!” Tears stream down my face. Colin puts his hand on the base of my neck.
“We can replace everything.” He rubs my neck.
“Not this.” I burst into tears and wail. “My mom’s ashes. Please don’t step on that!” I warn the cops and security guard. “How the hell did this happen? There’s security downstairs. That’s why I chose this building. Now you allow someone in here, and they destroyed my mother’s ashes.”
Colin pulls me into his arms. I bury my face in his chest and weep. The urn that my stepfather and I picked out is shattered into a million pieces, and the ashes aren’t contained in one area. They’re scattered over the living room floor. It’s as if someone did this on purpose.
“Ma’am, your bedroom is destroyed too.” I don’t care about any of that. The only thing I care about is my mother’s ashes.
“I’m going in the kitchen to get a vase or a bowl, and then I’m going to pick up the ashes. We can replace everything else.” Colin puts his hands on my cheeks. “Look at me.” When I do he says, “You’re not alone. You have me.”
The rest of the time is a blur. I speak with the cops and tell them I have no idea who could have done this. When they ask if I have any enemies, the only person that comes to mind is Oliver. As soon as I utter his name, a chill runs through me, and my hands turn ice cold.
Colin maneuvers his way around the ashes with a vase and two envelopes.
“If that bastard has anything to do with this, he’s going to regret the day he was born,” he says.
The security guard says that the other guards are looking at the security tapes in the office. He assures me that there are cameras throughout the building, and when I ask how he could have gotten in, they say it’s possible he slipped in after someone.
After giving a detailed report to the police, they leave, and I spend the next few minutes on my knees helping Colin scoop the ashes and put them in a vase. Once the ashes are recovered, I take pictures of the rest of the damage.
“Let’s pack a bag, and you can stay with me indefinitely,” Colin says. “If you still want to sell this place, you can just live with me.” He says it as if we’re discussing plans for the weekend and not making profound changes to our lives.
I don’t answer, but I’m more convinced than ever to sell this place now. I wonder if the other house will be any safer from Oliver. If anything, it might be less safe. There will be cameras, but there won’t be twenty-four-hour security guards. Not that security worked when I needed it the most.
Eager to leave, I pack as much as possible in a big suitcase. I follow that up by taking all my beauty products.
When someone knocks on the door, Colin answers and calls my name. There are now two security guards in my living room. One holds an iPad.
“We want to see if you know this person.” He hands me the iPad, and Colin stands behind me. I press play, and there’s a clear picture of a man in a long, puffy coat. He has the hood over his head, and I can’t see his face, but I know that walk. I also remember that pathetic coat from when he came to the office.
“That’s Oliver Stanfield,” I say. “He’s my former stepbrother.” The camera catches him in the elevator. He gets off my floor and walks down the hall to my unit, where he pulls a tool out of his coat and jimmies the door open. His hood falls off while he does this, and I get a view of his profile for a brief second. “Yes, that’s him.”
I’d cry, but crying doesn’t fix anything. Crying didn’t bring my mother back, and it didn’t cure my stepfather’s cancer. Crying didn’t make Oliver do the right thing and give me back the house. It didn’t even make him offer me a room in a half-finished basement.
The only thing that will fix this is justice, and if I can’t get any through the law, I will take things into my own hands. I guarantee Oliver won’t like that.
Colin takes me to his place, and I call the police and give them Oliver’s name. The detective assigned to the case tells me the condo has already sent them the video, and I provide them with his mother’s address, but it’s unlikely he will be there.
I spend the next few hours dealing with my homeowner’s insurance. By the time I’m done with that, it’s dark outside, and I’m drained emotionally and physically. All I want to do is sit on Colin’s couch, but someone knocks on his door.
“Can you get that, Honeybee?” he asks from the kitchen. “I got my hands full.”
I peek through the peephole and scream with joy. Amira and Raven practically pounce on me.
“I drove by his mother’s house,” Raven says. “No cars were in the driveway, and the lights were off.” She lets me go, and Amira hugs me.
“We brought wine.” She holds two bottles of white and waves them in the air. “Your man called and invited us for dinner.”
While they pour the wine and set the table, I excuse myself and change into blue jeans and a long sweater. When I return to the kitchen, Ernestine is there too.
“The boss called.” She opens her arms, and I go in. “You know I know people,” she whispers in my ear. “Just say the word, and someone will fuck that motherfucker up.”
I hug her tight, and the five of us sit down at Colin’s kitchen table and share a meal. We don’t talk about anything serious.
“Oh, I have a story,” Amira says. She’s had two glasses of wine, and I look at Raven. Amira’s not one to tell stories to strangers. Not unless she has a little liquid courage. She’s reserved until she feels comfortable and has never been comfortable around men. “Rob—that’s my sister, Ashley’s husband,” she says to Colin and Ernestine, “—he’s kicked her out of their house. Only, it’s not their house. It’s his mother’s house, and she put all of Ashley’s clothes and things in trash bags and dumped them on my mother’s porch. Now, the thing is, Ashley had no idea the house wasn’t Rob’s. She thought she could force him to sell it and give her half in the divorce, but she got played.”
I make a face and stare at Raven.
“At least your day hasn’t been that bad,” Raven says.
“All her clothes are ruined. She soaked them in bleach. Rob has officially filed for divorce and is suing for sole physical custody.”
“Does he have a chance?” I ask, surprised that he would go that far. Ashley is not pleasant to be around, but I don’t know if she’s a danger to her son.
“I don’t know, but that’s all they talk about. Ashley lives with Mom now, and my dad is helping her find a good family attorney. It’s a mess.”
“Have they been married long?” Ernestine asks.
“Only three years, but it’s been a shit show from day one. I’m so glad I have my own place.”
I hold up my wine glass and say, “Hear, hear.”
“Honeybee, tell everyone about your new projects,” Colin says like the proud partner he is.