Betrayal (10 page)

For the first time since the harrowing night of Fiona's arrest, Tamia returned to her childhood home in the Third Ward.

Her footsteps were heavy as she climbed up the porch and approached the small house with the peeling white paint. She took a deep breath, turned the key in the lock, and stepped inside.

Closing the front door behind her, she glanced around the empty living room. She'd moved out last month, taking all of the furniture with her to punish Fiona for her unspeakable betrayal. Fiona hadn't bothered to refurnish the place, as if she'd known that her days of freedom were numbered.

Tamia frowned at the thought.

As she wandered slowly through the old shotgun house, the bare walls echoed with voices . . . ghosts from the past.

Tamia swallowed tightly, shaking her head at the haunting memories.

These walls had borne witness to so much pain, suffering, and misery. But there'd also been rare moments of laughter and joy.

She remembered racing through the front door with Fiona, squealing excitedly because the ice cream truck was coming down the street. She remembered them giggling hysterically as their mother boogied around the living room after receiving a bonus at work. She remembered curling up on the sofa with Mama Esther every summer afternoon to watch
All My Children, One Life to Live,
and
General Hospital
followed by
Oprah
, because after watching soaps all day, Mama Esther had deemed it important for them to fill their minds with substance.

Reaching Fiona's bedroom, Tamia stood in the doorway and looked around. It was smaller than the room she'd occupied when she'd lived there. The space was dominated by a king-size bed and a matching dresser. On the floor was the suitcase Fiona had packed on the night of her arrest. She'd planned to skip town to avoid going back to prison, but her father had stopped her.

Tamia hesitated, then slowly entered the silent room.

Even as a child, Fiona had been compulsively neat, always putting away her toys and making her bed. For years, she'd believed that if she kept her room clean, ate her vegetables, and did her homework every night, her father would never leave her.

But Sonny did leave . . . and he never came back.

Until that fateful night.

Crossing to the dresser, Tamia picked up a framed five-by-five photograph of her and Fiona with their mother. She and Fiona were little girls. Their hair had been freshly pressed and braided, and they wore matching pink dresses with shiny black Mary Janes. Fiona sat on their mother's lap while Tamia stood close beside them, her small hand resting on Lorraine's shoulder. All three of them wore big smiles as they beamed into the camera.

Look at Lorraine and her pretty girls
, the neighbors used to whisper and point from their porches.
Damn shame she can't keep their daddies around.

Tamia stared at the photo, gently tracing her fingertips over her mother's face. She'd been a beautiful woman whose weakness for good-looking scoundrels had been her ultimate downfall.

Tamia wondered what Lorraine would think if she could see her daughters now—one pining over a man who'd never loved her enough to make her his wife, while the other had gotten herself knocked up by a man who wanted nothing to do with her.

A wave of anger and shame washed over Tamia, bringing hot tears to her eyes.

“I'm breaking the cycle, Ma,” she whispered determinedly. “I'm done waiting for a man to love and accept me for who I am. From now on, I'm living for me and me only.”

She stared down at the photo another moment, then carefully tucked it inside her handbag and strode from the room.

With Fiona behind bars—perhaps for the rest of her life—Tamia needed to decide what to do about their childhood home. Since she had no intention of ever living there again, the only other option was for her to put the house up for sale. Now that the neighborhood had been designated a historic landmark and would be undergoing gentrification, Tamia felt optimistic that she could find a buyer.

Making a mental note to ask her best friend, Shanell, for the name of her Realtor, Tamia started across the living room, suddenly eager to escape the oppressive silence of the house.

She opened the front door—and let out a startled shriek.

There was a man standing on the doorstep.

A man with short black hair, dark sunglasses, and a tattooed serpent crawling up the side of his neck.

Tamia stared in shock. “
Lou?
”

“Hey, Tamia.” He slowly removed the sunglasses, his piercing hazel eyes settling on her face.

Tamia expelled a relieved breath. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.”

She shook her head at him. “I didn't even recognize you. You cut off your hair.”

“I did.” Lou smiled. “What do you think?”

Tamia reached up to touch the soft, thick hair that skimmed the collar of his shirt. “I like it. But it makes you look different.”

Lou's smile deepened. “That was the point. I'm in a new line of work now, dealing with elite clientele. I figured it was time to retire the ponytail.”

Tamia nodded distractedly. “How did you know I'd be here?”

“I was on my way to your apartment when I saw your car. I followed you and waited in the truck.” He gestured to the white Escalade parked at the curb. “I thought you were just picking up something you'd forgotten to take when you moved out. But after a while, I decided to see if you were okay.” His eyes searched her face. “Are you?”

“I'm fine.” Tamia mustered a wan smile. “I'm just feeling nostalgic. I have to sell the house now that it's . . . empty.”

Lou's expression softened. “I heard about what happened when I got back from Puerto Rico. I'm sorry,
mamacita
. I know how much your grandmother meant to you. To find out that . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I'm sorry.”

Tamia swallowed tightly, raking trembling fingers through her hair.

Lou shifted from one booted foot to the other. For the first time since Tamia had known him, he seemed nervous. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure.” Tamia pulled the door closed behind her and followed Lou to the porch swing. After he brushed dirt from the bench, they sat down, making the rickety wood creak beneath their weight.

“I owe you an apology for the way I acted that night at your apartment,” Lou began.

“It's okay—”

“No, it's not. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that. I should have realized you weren't ready to hear how I feel about you.” Lou paused, staring down at his hands on his lap. “I'm in love with you, Tamia. I have been for years.”

Tamia shook her head slowly. “I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn't,” Lou said ruefully. “I never told you because I knew you didn't feel the same.”

Guilt swept over Tamia. “Lou—”

“From the moment we met,
mamacita
, I knew you were different. You were nothing like the other starry-eyed wannabes who came to audition for me, looking for instant fame or a sugar daddy. Even though you were only nineteen, you knew exactly what you wanted out of life—and that didn't include getting involved with a porn director.”

Tamia didn't bother to deny it. “You know I've always thought the world of you,
papi
,” she said softly.

“I know.” He held her gaze, his eyes full of regret. “I just wish you could see me as more than just a friend.”

“Friends are wonderful,” Tamia said, reaching over and gently taking his hand. “I need as many as I can get.”

Lou sighed, lacing his fingers through hers as he set the swing in motion. “You know I'm not going anywhere,
mamacita
.”

“As if I'd ever let you.” Tamia smiled at him. “So how was your Thanksgiving? I bet it felt good to be back home.”

“It did. There's no place like home.”

Tamia sighed. “Especially when home is as beautiful as Puerto Rico.”

“True.” Lou smiled. “You should visit sometime.”

“I'd love to. But first I need to get my business up and running.”

“What business?”

Tamia smiled. “I'm starting my own ad agency.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Hey, that's great, Tamia,” Lou enthused. “I know how much you loved working in advertising.”

“I did, so this is the perfect opportunity for me.” Since she knew how Lou felt about Dominic, Tamia saw no reason to mention that Dominic had given her the startup capital. It would only piss Lou off.

He smiled warmly at her. “Looks like things are working out well for
both
of us,
mamacita
.”

“Looks that way,” Tamia agreed, trying not to think about last night's painful encounter with Brandon. How could better days be ahead when she couldn't spend them with the love of her life?

Observing her troubled expression, Lou gently squeezed her hand. When she met his gaze, he smiled reassuringly. “Whatever it is, you're gonna be okay.”

Tamia smiled wanly. “How do you know?”

“Because you're a survivor. Remember?”

Tamia silently mulled over his words as she surveyed the familiar street lined with old shotgun houses and shabby lawns.

Lou was right about her. She'd survived an impoverished childhood, the deaths of her mother and grandmother, her sister's devastating betrayal, and serving time in prison.

If she could survive all those things, she could survive a broken heart.

 

That evening, Tamia met her best friend, Shanell, for drinks at their favorite downtown bar.

Shanell and her husband, Mark, had just returned from a ten-day Caribbean cruise. Shanell's hair was beautifully cornrowed, and her skin was toasted a deeper shade of brown from romping in the sun.

Tamia smiled at her. “You're glowing.”

Shanell glanced up from her margarita. “What? My face is shiny?”

Tamia laughed. “You know what I mean. You look totally happy and relaxed.”

Shanell smiled. “I
am
happy and relaxed. Mark and I had a wonderful time on the cruise.”

“I know. I can tell from these gorgeous pictures.” Tamia scrolled through the remaining images, then sighed enviously and handed the smartphone back to Shanell. “You two did some amazing things on your shore excursions.”

“We sure did.” Shanell's cognac-colored eyes glinted wickedly. “But not half as amazing as what we did all over that boat. And I
do
mean all over.”

Tamia shrieked with laughter. “
TMI!
”

Shanell grinned, sipping her margarita. “I brought you back a souvenir. It's in the car, so remind me to give it to you when we leave.”

“Okay,” Tamia said, smiling. “But you didn't have to get me anything.”

“Are you kidding?” Shanell exclaimed. “After you brought me those badass shoes from Italy?”

At the reminder of Tamia and Brandon's romantic trip, the mood at the table abruptly changed, becoming tense and heavy.

Tamia lowered her gaze to her appletini but didn't take a sip. Her throat was so tight she was afraid she might choke.

Shanell eyed her with gentle concern. “How are you doing?”

Tamia exhaled a deep, shaky breath. “I've been better.”

Shanell nodded slowly. “I've been afraid to ask. . . . Did he go through with marrying Cynthia at the JP?”

Tamia shook her head.

Shanell's eyes widened. “
What?
He didn't marry her?”

“No.”

“Oh my God! Why didn't you tell me? Before I left for the cruise, I specifically told you to text me if Brandon changed his mind about marrying Cynthia. When I didn't hear from you, I just assumed he went through with it. What happened?”

Tamia sighed heavily. “They're still engaged.”

The excitement in Shanell's eyes dimmed. “What do you mean? You just said—”

“He didn't go through with it
that
day. But he still intends to marry her.” Tamia downed the rest of her martini and plunked the empty glass on the table.

Shanell shook her head slowly. “I don't understand.”

“What don't you understand?” Tamia retorted bitterly. “He got cold feet on Friday, but not cold enough to make him call off the engagement. He wants to marry Cynthia and be a father to his child because, you know, it's the right thing to do, the honorable thing, and God forbid Brandon Chambers should ever do something that's not
right
or
honorable
.”

Shanell regarded her sympathetically. “I'm sorry, Tamia. I really am.”

Tamia swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as tears stung her eyes.

“Let me buy you another drink.” Shanell signaled for the waiter, who bustled right over and scooped up Tamia's empty glass.