Bad Blood (11 page)

Chapter 20

Seth

H
AD
I
CAUGHT THE BASTARD WHO KEYED MY CAR,
I
WOULD HAVE
beaten the dog shit out of him. Whoever he was, he really took his time and did as much damage as he could. And for what? What kind of satisfaction did people get out of doing something as asinine as keying a car? I tortured my brain, trying to recall if I had cut some dude off in traffic. If so, maybe he had seen me enter the parking garage and had decided to follow me. Back in the day when I was a mischievous kid, my crew and I had keyed a lot of cars. Each time it had been for a reason. Once I'd done it because some old white bitch had rear-ended me and had not even bothered to stop. I'd followed her to a mall. As soon as she had parked in front of Macy's and piled out of her shiny new Cadillac, I'd snuck over and done my business. And I hadn't used just the keys to my old Mustang. I'd done some damage with the blade of the pocketknife I used to carry.

I was no longer that boy who committed petty crimes on a regular basis. I was a respected businessman with a fine reputation in my community. I was determined to find out who had vandalized my car and to hold him responsible. Unfortunately, it didn't look like that was going to happen. I found out that the security cameras in the garage had been out of order and no one had witnessed the crime.

“You were lucky. You got off real easy, my man. One of the lawyers on the second floor had a window in his Porsche broken. The thief, or thieves—these creeps usually work in pairs—stole his CD player and a couple of loose hundred-dollar bills the dude was stupid enough to leave in his glove compartment,” the parking attendant told me. “We have a lot of break-ins in this area. I guess the criminals figured out it would be more profitable for them to target the upscale areas than the projects and other low-income neighborhoods.” He sounded so indifferent, I wondered if he had been in on the vandalism and other crimes.

It was an inconvenience and a costly setback for me to get my car repaired, but I got over it within a few days. I had too many things to be thankful for.

I was feeling on top of the world, even more so now. Getting rid of Rachel had given me a whole new outlook on life. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Everything was now going just the way I wanted it. Well, almost everything. My son's obnoxious mother, Caroline, called me up from L.A. at least once every two weeks to complain about how expensive everything was these days. Caroline had caused me a lot of grief over the years, but it had had little impact on the way I felt—and I felt better and better with each new day. With all the positive things in my life now, I didn't even let a major thorn in my side like Caroline bother me too much. My ad agency was doing better than ever, and a potential new client had invited me to have drinks with him this week. And as long as I had a good, supportive woman like Darla, I was certain that I could continue to move forward.

However, other people had begun to say things that got on my nerves. My brother Josh, who had always had my back, was one. I met up with him at a bar downtown after work one day a week after that asshole keyed my car. As usual, he was decked out in an Armani suit. Every strand of his close-cropped black hair was in place. For him to be one of the scariest pit-bull prosecutors in town, he had a very friendly-looking face. With his big brown eyes and warm smile, he looked more like a banker. I had decided not to mention the keying incident to Josh. After a few comments about work, politics, the economy, and what our family members were up to, all I could talk about was Darla. One reason was that the more I focused on her, the easier it was to keep Rachel off my mind.

“You keep going on and on about what a good woman Darla is,” Josh pointed out. He shifted on his bar stool and swirled the cognac around in his shot glass. Then he cleared his throat and gave me a sheepish look. “You used to say the same things about Rachel.”

“Rachel was a good woman! But like I keep telling you, she was not the woman I thought she was.”

“Nor was her family. . . .”

“That's right. I was not going to burden myself with that woman and her crazy family.” It was one thing when I referred to Rachel as “that woman” when Darla and I talked about her. But when I referred to her that way in front of Josh, knowing how much he liked her, a sharp pain shot through my chest.

“Crazy family? Isn't that a bit extreme? Rachel doesn't have any mental problems, and from what you've told me, neither does her mother or most of her other relatives.”

“Man, let me remind you, the woman has only two siblings, and both of them are nutcases! And there are even more in her extended family! That means the tainted blood in that family is pretty potent. I never got the whole story as to just how many nuts that family has, but even one more is one too many! Now, would you want to marry a woman with that many nutcases in her background? Would you want to raise mentally challenged children?”

“To be honest with you, now that I've given your situation more thought, I don't know if I would or not. I love my wife, and we were lucky enough to have a healthy child. But had Chrissie been born with a problem, either physical or mental, I wouldn't love her any less. And the same goes for any future children Faith and I might have.” I didn't like the way my brother was looking at me. There was a puzzled expression on his face. His next question caught me completely off guard. “Does Rachel know you decided not to marry her because of her family?”

“Uh, I didn't tell her that. It probably would have caused her a lot of pain,” I said, with my chest tightening.

“Little brother, I can assure you that the breakup alone caused her a lot of pain. Look at the facts. Rachel devoted several years of her life to you. Now you have left her and have already met and married another woman—one you didn't know half as long as you knew Rachel before you decided you wanted to marry her. How do you think that's going to make Rachel feel when she finds that out
and
the real reason you broke up with her?”

“I don't see her or talk to her, so I'll probably never know,” I said with confidence.

“I sure hope you don't.”

Josh's last comment remained on my mind until I got home. “You look beat. Let me fix you a drink,” Darla said when I entered the front door of our sprawling Spanish-style house at the end of a tree-lined cul-de-sac. Our neighbors included doctors, businessmen, and a few retirees. Even though I had a long way to go to reach the lifestyle I wanted, I still felt blessed.

I plopped down onto the plush blue velvet couch with a groan and watched Darla fix my drink at the bar facing me. I enjoyed looking at my wife. However, I had noticed that shortly after we got married, she stopped devoting a lot of attention to her appearance. I blinked at her as she waltzed across the floor toward me. Her hair was askew, her make-up was smeared, and the jeans she wore were the same ones she'd worn the past couple of days. But there were much more important things for me to be concerned about than my wife's sloppy appearance. As long as she looked nice and smelled good when we went out or when my parents came to visit, that was all that really mattered to me.

“Thank you, sweetie,” I said when she handed me the drink. I immediately took a sip and then set the glass on the coffee table. “Sit down and let me talk to you.” I patted the spot next to me on the couch.

“What do you want to talk about?” Darla sat down, but not as close to me as I expected.

“I just want you to know how much I love you. I've never known a woman as sweet and fine as you, and I promise I will be a good husband.”

Darla scooted a few inches away from me. “What's going on, Seth?”

“I had a conversation with Josh today. He brought up Rachel's name, and it disturbed me a little.”

Darla frowned. “Her again? Well, what did Josh say about that heifer that was so disturbing?”

“Oh, the fact that she had so many problems. I don't want to go into a lot of detail, but he's glad I'm with you and not her. I'm done with Rachel McNeal forever.”

Darla's face froze. She let out a yelp and leaped up like a jackrabbit. “Rachel
McNeal?
Is that the last name of the woman you've been telling me about?”

“Yes. Why?”

“She's of medium height and build, bronze-colored complexion? Wears a ratty hair weave that looks like it was attached to her head with a staple gun?”

“That's a fairly decent description of Rachel, except she doesn't wear a hair weave.”

Darla's eyes got big, her lips began to tremble, and then she began to shift her weight from one foot to the other. She couldn't take her eyes off my face. “Oh, my God! It's—it's
her!
I know that woman!”

There was a lot of pressure on my chest, as if somebody had squeezed the air out of me. I felt like a deflated balloon. “You what? When . . . Where did you meet her?”

“At the gym I used to go to! She and I chatted a few times, and she told me she was engaged. The last day I saw her at the gym, which was a few days after we got married, she told me her fiancé had suddenly dumped her. I tried to get her to come with me that day so she could have a drink with us! I even told her I'd get you to introduce her to some of your single friends! All that time . . . all that time I was talking to the same lunatic who had made your life so miserable!”

“Oh, my God!”

“Do you have a picture of her?”

“Not anymore. What makes you so sure we're talking about the same woman?”

“What's the matter with you, Seth? I'm sure it's her. What are the odds of us both knowing a Rachel McNeal in Berkeley and it being two different people?”

Darla sat down hard on the couch arm. By now most of her body was trembling, and sweat had formed in the armpits of her blouse. “When I showed her a picture of you, she got this strange look on her face. Now I know why. Seth, that wild woman could have stalked and killed me. Why haven't you told me everything about her?”

“I told you everything you needed to know. If she knows who you are, and she has not followed you home or stalked you or done anything stupid to you by now, I wouldn't worry about her if I were you. I'm sure she's over me by now.”

“Well, I am worried about her. What if she backslides and decides she wants to get back into your life?”

“Sweetheart, please calm down. You don't have to worry about Rachel. I don't. I can assure you that if I run into her, or if she calls me for whatever reason, I will have nothing to do with her.”

“It's a good thing I started going to a gym closer to home. There is just no telling what that maniac might have eventually done to me now that she knows I'm the woman you married.”

“You dodged a bullet, baby.”

“A cannonball would be more like it.” Darla let out a sharp laugh, and I was glad to know she found the situation amusing. To me, it meant that she was no more concerned about Rachel than I was. “I don't think you need to waste any time worrying about that woman. I'm sure she's forgotten about you by now.”

Darla was right, and I was not really worried about that woman. Despite Rachel's bloodline, I had no reason to believe that she'd do something “crazy” to me or Darla. Rachel was a level-headed woman with a lot going for her. If she tried to get back at me in some way for breaking up with her, I would not hesitate to take whatever action was necessary to ensure my peace of mind and safety. Even if it meant having her arrested. Worst-case scenario was me having to kick her ass. Hopefully, it would not come to that, because I didn't believe in hitting women or children. With my two brothers being high-powered attorneys, I knew it would be easy for one of them to help me build a strong case against Rachel if she did retaliate. Such a scandal could cost her her job, as well as her freedom. And from what I knew about Rachel, she was not
that
crazy.

“How you managed to stay in a relationship with that woman for as long as you did is a mystery to me. Well, you can forget about her. She's part of your past,” Darla assured me.

Yes, Rachel was part of my past. I had a wonderful future ahead of me.

Chapter 21

Rachel

 

I
WOKE UP AROUND
8:00
A.M. THAT
S
UNDAY MORNING IN LATE AUGUST
with one of the worst hangovers I'd ever had in my life. My head was throbbing, my stomach was doing flip-flops, and there were no words to describe what the inside of my mouth tasted like.

I sat up, opened my eyes, and looked around my bedroom. I was glad to see that the man who had kept me up for hours the night before had put his clothes back on and had left.

If I had stayed in bed on this day, things would have turned out a lot differently for me and everyone else involved. I was not even that eager to crawl out of bed and go church—or anyplace else—to meet Seth Garrett, a potential new boyfriend. But I had agreed to do so. I had no idea that it would be one of the biggest mistakes I had ever made in my life.... I sucked in some air and almost puked.

 

Lucy answered her telephone on the second ring. “My time is your time,” she chirped.

“It's me,” I said. “You don't have to pick me up for church this morning. I'll catch a ride with Uncle Albert. He's at the nail salon around the corner, getting a manicure. I just got off the phone with him.”

“No, I'll pick you up! The last time you told me you had a ride, you didn't show up, and I didn't see or hear from you for two days. Today is too important, so I can't take a chance on that happening again.”

I laughed. “I told you I'd be there. I just don't think it makes any sense for you to drive across town, out of your way, to pick me up when my uncle is so close by.”

A heavy sigh was Lucy's response before she replied, “Look, I went out of my way to get you and Seth Garrett in the same place at the same time. I want to make up for that disaster you went through with Paulette's brother.”

Paulette Ramsey was a mutual friend of ours. She was in her late twenties and was married to a chef who looked as good as he cooked. They had eight-year-old twin sons. Paulette had a younger brother named Walter, but everybody called him Skirt. What Lucy and Paulette hadn't told me when they threw a party last December to celebrate Skirt's twenty-sixth birthday and lured me to it so Skirt could meet “a decent woman” was why people called the brother Skirt. It hadn't taken long for me to find out. The man chased skirts the way dogs chased cats. Skirt was addicted to women and women were addicted to him and it was no wonder. He had the looks and the body of a male model, and he used both to his advantage. He worked as a valet at a hotel parking lot that his grandfather managed. He worked only a few days a month because he had to devote so much time to his love life and other shady activities.

If all that was not enough for me to end my relationship with him when I found it out, which was only a couple of weeks after our first date, what I learned subsequently was more than enough: he had a police record that included carjackings, armed robbery, assaults, breaking and entering, and other crimes. I had endured a somewhat rigid upbringing and had been strongly advised by the old folks to stay away from men who didn't walk the straight and narrow. Since I had more than a few faults of my own, a wild streak in a man intrigued me. But I drew the line when it came to a man with a serious criminal history.

Lucy had apologized to me profusely for setting me up with a straight-up thug. “I am so sorry I didn't tell you about Skirt before. He's always been a bad boy, but I thought he had turned his life around. The next time I hook you up with somebody, I'll make sure he's got a cleaner record.”

Well, here she was, playing matchmaker again.

What neither Lucy nor anybody else knew was that Skirt and I were still “friends,” or whatever people called ex-lovers who still snuck around and slept together. He was fun to be with, and I had always enjoyed his company, especially in bed. When he'd called me up one night a few weeks after our breakup, I'd reluctantly let him come over. One thing had led to another, and we'd ended up in bed. No matter how hard he'd tried to get me to “resume” our relationship so we could go out in public again, I'd resisted.

“We can still get together behind closed doors now and then, but that's all. That private school I work for did a thorough background check on me before they hired me. I'd probably lose my job if they found out I was affiliated with a criminal,” I'd told Skirt the first night I allowed him back into my bed.

“Aw, baby, you know me. I don't want to socialize with none of them folks you work with, nohow, but I respect where you coming from. See, I ain't got no problem being a backstreet lover, so if you want to see me only on the down low, that's cool with me.” He'd grinned, blinking his big, brown, almond-shaped eyes at me. From that night on, he'd visited me two or three times a month.

Lucy was the only one of my friends whom I told everything. Well, almost everything. After the big fuss I'd made about her hooking me up with Skirt, I hadn't had the nerve to tell her that I was still fooling around with him. I'd decided to keep my renewed interest in him a dirty little secret.

Lucy's voice jolted me back to the present moment.

“I think it's time for you to meet a real man, and if you don't grab Seth now, some other girl will,” Lucy said. “Now, are you going to show up at church this morning or not?”

“I told you I'd be there. The way you've been bragging about this Seth brother, I'm just as anxious as you are for me to meet him. Now, like I said, Uncle Albert will give me a ride.”

“And like I said, I'm going to pick you up! I'll be there at ten thirty, so be ready.” Lucy hung up before I could say another word.