chapter 15 #2
Despite the evidence presented to her of Darrell’s indiscretions, her only concern was the scandal surrounding it, the gossip among her friends.
After all, her daughter was divorcing the son of a United States senator.
It didn’t matter that the senator himself—along with the rest of Darrell’s immediate family—had given me the blessing to leave.
As long as I agreed to keep the sordid details quiet.
They’d even offered to pay for the court proceedings and give me a monthly stipend, which I declined.
I shifted in my seat. “That’s never going to happen.”
“You’re not even worth the time I spent to get you into shape,” she spat.
“Are you just going to let her talk to your daughter like this?” Moses growled.
When I turned to my brother, his eyes were trained on my father. Oh Lord. “Mo, please don’t—”
“Like my wife said, this has nothing to do with you, son,” my father said.
Gregory Keyes was a successful musician who’d seemingly read the tea leaves and left his popular boy band in the late ’80s and became an award-winning music producer.
Then, a successful businessman in the tech space.
To this day, he was still sought after by industry legends and up-and-coming artists looking to sample one of his iconic tracks.
Despite his accolades, though, he sucked at fatherhood.
My father only stood up for me one time, and it didn’t go well.
After that, he’d closed himself off to me.
Most of my childhood memories of him consisted of cheap gifts on Christmas and a little cash stuffed inside impersonal cards.
We didn’t have heartfelt father-daughter conversations.
We never went fishing together. He’d failed to teach me how to perform routine maintenance on my car, how to shoot a gun, or even how to land a punch.
He didn’t show up for birthdays, and he missed my high school graduation.
My life wasn’t his concern. At least until I met Darrell. Then, he just pretended to care.
“This is some bullshit,” my brother grumbled. “I swear. You always sit back and let her talk shit about us, treat us like shit, act like a shitty person.”
“Shut up,” Allison hissed.
“No, you shut up,” Moses interrupted.
“Don’t talk to your mother like that,” Dad said.
“She’s not my mother,” Moses reiterated. “She never was a mother to me or Albany. Shit, you weren’t a father either.”
Allison scowled. “You always have something to say, Moses. You were the problem. In trouble all the time. Talking back. Disrespecting me and our house.” She glared at me. “And you? I—”
“Allison, watch your words. You got one more time to disrespect my sister.”
“Or you’ll what?” she taunted.
Moses chuckled. “You better get her, Dad,” he warned. “Somehow, I don’t think you want her to find out your secrets.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Don’t test me.”
My father sat up straight. “Allison, let it go.”
A hint of fear flashed in Allison’s eyes. “What is he talking about, Greg?”
I wanted to know the answer to that question as well, but I was content to let this play out.
My dad shifted uncomfortably. “It’s nothing. This is not the time or place to entertain him.”
Moses pressed his palm against the table. “That’s what I thought.”
My father let out a heavy sigh. “Albany, your mother’s right. You can’t just walk away from your marriage without trying to fix it.”
“So I can end up like her?” I pointed at Allison. “Bitter?”
“How dare—”
“Allison, stop,” I said. “You know what, I’m done. I don’t need this. And I don’t need you.” I glanced at my father. “Or you. I’ve been living my life without you practically my entire life and I—” My phone buzzed. I glanced at my screen.
Ms. Tea posted again. I quickly scanned the post and my blood ran cold.
She’d posted three pictures of Wes—and an unfamiliar woman.
They were smiling at each other. His hand was draped over the back of her chair.
They were at a restaurant because food and drinks were on the table. The caption was simple.
Busted? #HarpoWhoDisWoman
#BatchelorShenanigans
I hated it. Worst of all, I hated the way I felt in that moment. Jealous.
“You alright?” Moses asked.
Counting to ten, I blew out a calming breath. “I’m fine.” I turned my attention back to my parents. “My life is none of your business. I don’t have to explain my actions to you. I don’t care what you think anymore.” I stood, dropped my napkin on the table. “Let’s go.”
Grandma approached us, eyeing us hesitantly. “What’s going on?”
“Mo is going to take me home.” I gave her a hug. “Love you.” My gaze drifted over to Granny Joyce, who was tapping furiously at her phone screen. I tilted my head and studied her movements. She was so engrossed in her phone that she didn’t seem to realize Grandma had come over here.
“Pooh?” Grandma called. “Are you okay?”
Forcing my attention away from Granny Joyce, I glanced back at my parents again, before addressing Grandma’s question. In the past, I would’ve made up a nice excuse to leave, but I didn’t have it in me to lie. “No,” I admitted. “Your son sucks. And so does his wife.”
“Olivia, you can’t believe everything she says,” Allison said. “Darrell told us she left for no reason.”
Grandma waved her off. “Oh, shut the hell up. She shouldn’t have married that man anyway, just like Gregory should’ve left your stuck-up ass in that strip club.
I remember when my son married you. You strolled into my house wearing a fake Coach purse, too-tight clothing, and a nasty attitude.
The only thing that’s changed is your bag is genuine leather, not pleather.
Now, you walk around here like you’re so holier-than-thou when you’re living off the money I gave my son.
Because it certainly wasn’t his dead father who supported his dreams.”
“What about the estate?” my father asked. “I’m entitled to a portion of—”
“Nothing.” Grandma took a sip of water. “Your father was as broke as you are.”
“I don’t understand,” he responded. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not for you to understand. The only thing you need to know is I’m not going to take kindly to you letting your wife talk to my baby like she’s crazy.”
“Albany is my daughter, Mother.”
Grandma placed a hand on her hip. “I can’t tell.” My grandmother had been my biggest defender growing up, which was why she brought me to live with her in the first place. “I told you a long time ago that your wife can try to be the evil stepmother, but this girl is not Cinderella.”
“So, I’m going to leave.” I kissed Grandma’s cheek. “Will you text me when you get home?”
“I will, Pooh.”
I glanced back at Granny, who was still on her phone. “Give Granny Joyce a hug for me.”
Turning on my heels, I walked out of the restaurant without giving my parents a backward glance.
“What happened with your marriage?”
I watched the scenery as Moses coasted down I-94 toward Downtown Detroit. The drive had been quiet for the first ten minutes, as I went back and forth on whether I wanted to break the silence.
“Albany”—he gripped the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead—“tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know.”
“He sucks.”
“What did he do?” he pressed.
The details were painful and had been relayed several times. I didn’t want to travel down that road again. Not today. “I don’t want to talk about it, Mo. It’s over.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I’ll ask him.”
I rested my head on the seat. “Please, don’t.”
“What the hell did you see in him? Because I never understood.”
Glancing at him, I said, “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“I’m sayin’ … What was it?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “He was charming. Smart. Rich. Definitely perfect on paper.”
“Except you’ve never been into appearances, and you’ve never cared what people think.”
“I cared what some people thought,” I mumbled. “For the first time in my life, I wanted their approval. I wanted Allison to be proud of me. I wanted Dad to love me.”
“So you married him because they chose him?”
“No. I chose him. Now, I’m paying for it.”
Silence stretched as we neared the city. Finally, he asked, “You know what I think?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me no matter what I say.”
“You jumped into that relationship, with that dude, because he wasn’t Wes.”
My body stiffened as his words replayed in my mind. Darrell was nothing like Wes. His demeanor, his work ethic … the way he talked, the way he processed things. Of course, he had good qualities, but they were surface qualities.
“I’ve never seen you the way you were when Wes left,” he continued. “We all were worried about you. Then, you went to college, met Darrell, and finally opened up again. I didn’t like his ass, but I couldn’t be mad at someone who was going to help you heal.”
“Is that why you never said much?”
He hunched a shoulder. “You only asked for my opinion once.”
On the wedding day, before I walked down the aisle, I pulled Mo aside and asked him if he thought I was doing the right thing. True to form, he’d tossed the question back to me. I couldn’t answer it then. So he told me not to marry him. I did anyway.
I blew out a heavy sigh. “I should’ve listened to you.”
“We all make choices. Darrell made a choice, too. Since he didn’t follow through with his vows, since he didn’t prove us wrong, fuck him.”
I cracked up. “I love you, Mo.”
“I love you, too.”
More silence.
“Have you talked to Wes?” he asked.
“Are we really going to talk about this? ’Cause I could ask you some questions, too.”
“About what?”
“You know what.” My brother and Kay had an ongoing flirtation. I couldn’t be sure, but I always thought it was more than that. “She called the wedding off.”
“I know.”
Shifting to face him, I asked, “You talked to her?”
“Every day.”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, li’l sis.” Moses veered off the exit. “You hungry?”
My stomach growled. “Yes.”
“Let’s eat.”
“Oh”—I grinned—“what’s up with the no greasy foods?”
He barked out a laugh. “Shit, I was just saying that because I didn’t want to eat with them.”
“Thanks for coming, Mo.”
“You texted. I came.”
“That was weeks ago. I didn’t even know if you got my message.”
“I figured when you said we needed to talk, it was about Granddad, so I just made plans to come home.”
I didn’t even want to ask how he found out. Mo was so much like Grandma. He moved in silence, and didn’t show up unless he had to. “Wait until I tell you the story about Grandma. She never got a divorce.”
“Yeah, I figured something was going on. You’ll have to fill me in.”
“It’s crazy. But, next time, can you at least respond to my text?”
“I got you.”
While he sped toward my place, I unlocked my phone and checked social media.
The comment section under the latest Ms. Tea post was busy as people chimed in on Wes and the mystery woman.
I took a screenshot of her face. I tried to tell myself that it was for investigative purposes, but I knew it was more than that.
My initial thought hadn’t changed. I hated it.
That simple fact was the reason I’d left his house frazzled.
We’d crossed a line, and now it was too late to course correct.
At this point, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to.
Mo pulled in front of Batch Place. “Order in?”
“I don’t know. I guess we could …” I followed his line of sight and spotted Wes, Erica, and that woman as they walked into the building. Narrowing my eyes, I murmured, “Yes. Let’s order in.”