Читать книгу Single Mama's Got More Drama - Kayla Perrin, Kayla Perrin - Страница 13

I called Cynthia Martin no less than five times the next day when I was at work, and was completely dismayed when I got her voice mail each time. How was it that the woman had called with news, but now wouldn’t get back to me?

Every time my phone rang, I hoped it was her calling. All but one time I answered it, it was someone calling regarding my work. The one non-work-related call had come from Lewis, who’d let me know that he’d put in a call to both the lawyers he’d mentioned the previous night and was waiting to hear back from them.

I glanced at my wall clock. It was ten minutes to five. Disappointed that the whole day had passed without a word from Cynthia, I frowned.

And then my phone rang. I snatched up the receiver before it could ring a second time. “Vanessa Cain.”

“Hey, Vanessa. It’s Cynthia Martin.”

“Cynthia,” I said, my heart filling with hope when I heard the reporter’s voice.

“I’ve got news for you,” she practically sang.

“You do?”

“Yes. And you’re going to like it.”

I pumped my fist in the air and mouthed the word yes!

“Can we meet this evening?” she asked.

“Name the time and place.”

“How about the Barnes and Noble on Kendall Drive? We can meet in the Starbucks café.”

“Sounds good.”

“I can be there around five-fifteen.”

My office wasn’t too far from that bookstore. And if I met Cynthia now, I wouldn’t have to go home, only to head back into downtown Miami later. “I’ll be there.”

“See you then.”

As soon as I replaced the receiver, I quickly finished with the file that was on my computer and logged off. I slipped into my slingbacks, which were beneath my desk, and collected my purse. Then I hurried out of my office, saying a quick goodbye to the co-workers I ran in to, before heading to the bank of elevators.

Hardly able to contain my excitement, I all but danced around in the elevator, ready to spring through the doors the moment they opened on the ground floor. I watched each floor light up during the descent, and inwardly groaned every time the elevator stopped on a floor other than the first.

About three minutes later, I was the first to get off the elevator when it landed on the lobby level. I caught Edgar’s eye immediately. The building’s long-time security guard raised his hand in greeting and offered me a meek smile.

I’m not sure what kind of look I leveled on him, but I know it wasn’t pleasant.

“Come on,” Edgar said as I neared the security desk. “Are you going to be mad at me forever?”

In reply, I scowled at him.

“Vanessa…”

Edgar and I weren’t close friends or anything, but I hadn’t expected him to betray me the way he had. Edgar was a friend of Rayna’s father, Byron, and had told him about my involvement with Chaz Anderson. Because of that, Byron had shown up at the restaurant where I’d been having lunch with Chaz, confronted me about not wanting to “lose” his daughter—thereby exposing my lie about Rayna’s father being dead—and that had been the end for me and Chaz.

“Come over here and talk to me,” Edgar urged, motioning for me to go to him.

I paused, debating what to do. But after a moment, I sauntered toward him. Reaching the security desk, I blew out a heavy breath and stared down at Edgar.

“Yes, I’m going to be mad at you forever,” I said. “Edgar, how could you have told Byron about me and Chaz?”

“I already told you. Byron said he’d changed—given up the gambling, you know? I know that was a big problem for you guys, and I figured, he seemed like he was telling the truth. And doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?”

Byron was a compulsive gambler. It was one of the reasons that our relationship was doomed to fail. I didn’t know about his habit until we’d already been involved about a year, and when I found out he was in debt to bookies for thousands, he always had what seemed like a reasonable explanation for how the situation had gotten out of control.

Every time I asked him how the “situation” was going, he told me he was working off his debt. I believed him. And then I noticed that some of my jewelry was gone. Like a diamond-and-emerald necklace my father had given to my mother that I’d received after her passing. At first, Byron swore that he hadn’t taken it. Then, he claimed he “borrowed” it.

I never saw it again, or any of the other jewelry he’d taken. I still remember thinking that the reason he was so upset that I was pregnant was because of the money it would cost to raise a child—money he was happier spending on placing bets.

“It was up to me to decide whether or not he deserved a second chance,” I said to Edgar.

“I know. But he kept telling me how he’d changed, and was talking about how much he wanted a relationship with his daughter, that he was ready,” Edgar went on. “But that you wouldn’t give him the time of day. Then there was that article in the paper about you and Chaz, speculating that you’d get married.” Edgar shrugged. “I felt I had to say something.”

Edgar had explained himself already, but no matter how many times he told me the story, I would never understand. He had jumped the gun by talking to Byron about my relationship with Chaz, though he’d rightly assumed that it was serious. I guess it boiled down to the fact that Edgar and Byron had been friends from the time Byron had also worked security at the building, and despite Byron’s short-comings, Edgar must have felt some sort of obligation to tell him about me and Chaz.

What Edgar didn’t understand was that Byron talked a good game. He said the right things about getting over the gambling and wanting to be a decent father to those who would listen, but in reality, he didn’t try. He knew that if he admitted the truth—that he’d simply abandoned his daughter—his friends and family would see him as a schmuck.

“Well, you ruined everything,” I said.

“I was only trying to help. Trying to be a good friend.”

“You want to know something? Something that will show you Byron’s true character?” I paused, made sure I had Edgar’s full attention. “I haven’t heard from Byron since that day he showed up at the restaurant. So. There you go.”

“I’m sorry,” Edgar said. “I really am.”

“Yeah,” I said softly. I still liked Edgar, even if I felt I had to keep up the pissed-off act with him a while longer. It was probably best I didn’t get too chummy with him again, because I didn’t want him running back to Byron with any more stories about my love life.

That was one of the reasons I made sure not to wear the ring Lewis had given me to work. And of course, I hadn’t wanted any questions from anyone in the office. Only Carla and Alaina knew about my engagement. I hadn’t even told Debbie.

“You have a good evening,” I said to Edgar. I knew it wasn’t his fault that Chaz had dumped me, but if only he hadn’t told Byron. If I’d been able to broach the subject of Rayna’s father actually being alive in some other way than the dramatic fashion with which it played out, Chaz might still be in my life.

“Yeah, you have a good night, too,” Edgar said, but his voice sounded off, and he was looking beyond my shoulder, not at me. The wary expression on his face had me alarmed.

“What?” I asked, and quickly followed his gaze over my shoulder.

As I did, I gasped, feeling as though I’d been scalded by fire. Byron. Then I spun back around and glared at Edgar. “Did you set me up again?”

“No!” he protested. “He just showed up, I swear!”

I didn’t know what to believe. All I knew was that my heart was suddenly pounding furiously. There was a chance that he wasn’t here to see me, but rather Edgar. That’s what I hoped as I secured my purse strap over my shoulder and started briskly away from the desk.

Byron promptly blocked my path.

I didn’t say anything to him, just moved to the right to try to step past him. He matched my movement, which made it very clear that he was here to see me.

“Get out of my way,” I said. I didn’t care why he was in the lobby of my office building. I had nothing to say to him.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” I was already frustrated and spoke louder than I’d intended. I glanced around surreptitiously to see if any people were staring. No one seemed to care about me and Byron as they headed toward the exit.

For now. If our “conversation” continued, I didn’t doubt we’d end up with an audience. The last thing I wanted was an ugly conflict with a dozen witnesses. So I made a quick step to the left and moved around him, then hustled to the front door.

Byron was on my tail. I could feel him. But I didn’t turn. I breezed through the door behind someone else who was exiting and hurried onto the street.

I took about ten steps before I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder. Even though I knew it was Byron behind me, I flinched nonetheless.

“Damn it, Vanessa. You will talk to me.”

“What?” I demanded as I whirled around. My chest was heaving, my breathing labored.

“I want to see my daughter.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, I heard you. But considering you’ve been a deadbeat dad since before Rayna was born, what you’re saying may as well be in Chinese, since it makes no sense to me.”

“I want to see Rayna. Let’s set up a time and meet somewhere you feel comfortable.”

“Like in your bookie’s office, perhaps?” I asked.

“I’m done with the gambling. I already told you.”

“And I’m just supposed to take the word of a liar?” Byron had been around intermittently when I’d been pregnant. One of those times had been when my friends had thrown me a baby shower. He’d gathered the presents and driven me home from my sister’s place—only he hadn’t given me all the gifts I’d received for Rayna. Some ended up missing and—you guessed it—were never seen again.

“A guy can change, Vanessa. I’m ready to be a dad.”

“Not gonna happen,” I said.

“She’s my daughter.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Maybe biologically, but not in all the ways that matter. And that was your choice, Byron. Not mine.”

“Don’t be a bitch,” Byron snapped. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

I laughed sardonically. “Better a bitch than a deadbeat. This conversation is over.”

Turning away from Byron, I started to jog now. I pressed on even as my feet hurt in my shoes. When I was half a block away—and certain that my heels were destroyed—I finally looked over my shoulder.

Byron was nowhere to be seen.

Only then did I stop jogging. Stopped and gulped in air. Not just because I was winded, but because I was panicked. Panicked at the thought that Byron wanted to be part of Rayna’s life.

I leaned my back against the exterior of a building, my stomach suddenly nauseous.

This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. I repeated that line in my mind over and over, as though just by thinking it, I could make what had happened a bad dream rather than an ugly reality.

People gave me odd looks as they passed me, and I finally eased myself up off the wall. My heart was still pounding, and I felt sort of numb.

I made my way to the parking lot where my car was, and as I got behind the wheel, I noticed my hands were shaking.

Was Byron truly feeling paternal? Or was it once again a passing phase? I hadn’t heard from him after that day at the restaurant. Not one peep. Not an apology. Not a request to see Rayna. I guess there were times when the reality that he’d fathered a child hit him in the head like a giant conch shell, and he probably felt a bit of guilt over not being in her life.

But the guilt would pass. It always did.

When I realized I’d been sitting behind the wheel of my car for nearly ten minutes, I started the engine and drove out of the parking lot. I was going to be late for my meeting with Cynthia.

I resolved not to let Byron get to me. It wasn’t the first time in the past two-and-a-half years that he’d had an attack of conscience and had reached out to Rayna by sending a gift. Then months would pass without a word from him or even an e-mail.

I had a far more pressing matter to deal with. Getting to Cynthia Martin and hearing what she’d learned about Tassie Johnson.