Betrayed (13 page)

“John, I appreciate you coming with me. I needed your morale support after talking with Afrika. It may make matters worse if you talk to Victor, especially if my theory is right.”

“So…you don't want me to…just say hello for old time's sake?”

“John, you're a jewel. I don't want to make any waves for Afrika.”

“I thought this was the reason I was accompanying you?”

“Let it go, John. I wasn't thinking straight.” Mimi balled her hands into little fists and released them. “I got caught up in…”

“You couldn't resist my charm?” John said, and then chuckled.

“John, you're making this harder than it's supposed to be.”

“I got you, Mimi. Handle your business. I'll be around.”

“Okay,” Mimi said, and took off in the direction of the business office.

John stood at attention with his arms folded and watched as Mimi strolled toward the brick building. Mimi turned around slowly and saw John staring and quickly turned back around and walked as fast as she could. John smiled, unfolded his arms, contemplated something, and began to move forward.

Before John could talk himself out of it, he found himself in the lobby of the Admissions Office. There was very little traffic, and he approached the receptionist with his best smile. The receptionist smiled back.

“Good afternoon,” John said, giving the pretty young lady with the bleached blonde hair a quick once over. Her oval face was a smooth caramel with deep, brown eyes that smiled back at John, and her medium-thick lips were inviting. She was very attractive, but getting past her and into Victor Christianson's office was his priority.

“Hello…ahh, ahh,” John said as he looked for a nameplate.

“It's Ms. Simpson,” the pretty lady said, now showing her pearly whites.

“Ms. Simpson, my name is John Carroll, and I'm an old friend of Mr. Victor Christianson. I was in the neighborhood, and I was hoping to say hello. All I need is a few minutes.”

“Let me check with his secretary.” Ms. Simpson dialed a number, allowing her roving eyes to keep John in her sight…keeping him
under tight scrutiny. “Sheila,” she whispered, looking up at John who backed away, “there's a fine brother out front wanting to see your boss. He says he's a friend of Mr. Christianson. Girl, he's so damn good looking, I just want to throw myself at him, and explain later.”

“Phyllis, you are so crazy. I'm sure he's not as fine as Victor.”

“I don't know what you see in him. Everybody has had him.”

“Why don't you let me worry about that? Anyway, he's a last fling before I tie the knot. I'm going to milk Victor for all I can get. I am, however, getting a little sick and tired of his daughter showing up whenever she gets good and ready, demanding his attention. But none of that will matter soon.”

“Well, Ms. Sheila, if that's what you want, but you know you're not being fair to the man you claim you're going to spend the rest of your life with. Look, my fine brother seems a little agitated, so would you let me know if the great Mr. Victor Christianson will see him?”

“What's his name?”

“Girl, I forgot that fast. Hold on; let me ask.” Phyllis placed one hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “Sir, may I have your name again, please?”

“John Carroll.” He smiled.

“It's John Carroll,” Phyllis said to Sheila. “Okay.” Phyllis hung up the phone. “Mr. Carroll, Mr. Christianson's secretary will call me in a minute to see if…”

“Saved by the phone,” John said, anxious to have his time with Victor.

“Okay, I'll let him know,” Phyllis said, hanging up the phone. “Mr. Christianson will see you, Mr. Carroll. He only has a few minutes.”

“That will be fine. Point the way.”

John followed Phyllis' instructions and found himself in front
of Sheila's desk. Before he was able to introduce himself, the door opened and a smiling Victor came out.

“I'll be damned. What brings you to my neck of the woods after all this time?” Victor asked John, giving him the fist bump. “Come on in.”

Sheila recoiled after Victor slammed the door. She picked up the phone and dialed Phyllis. “Girl, I think you're right about this one. I won't be mad if you snatch him for yourself. I'll see if I can get the four-one-one on him.”

“Thanks for looking out.”

“Gotcha, Phyllis. Will talk with you later.”

J
OHN FOLLOWED
V
ICTOR INTO HIS OFFICE AND SAT IN THE WING
-back chair in front of Victor's desk.

“When was the last time we spoke…four, five…six, seven years ago?” Victor asked, as he crossed his legs, leaning back in his chair almost as far as it would go without tipping over.

“It probably has been longer than that. I can't remember.”

“So, John, what brings you by? We weren't running partners nor fraternity brothers in college, so I'm rather surprised by your sudden appearance.”

“I've been keeping up with you, Victor. You've made a name for yourself here at Central—one of its graduates holding a top spot at their alma mater.”

“Well, I'd like to think of it as having reaped the fruits of my very good education. So what have you been up to?”

“I'm doing well. I work in the Research Triangle Park for a drug company. Not much else going on. Now that all prelims are aside, I did come here today to talk with you about something that is weighing heavily on my mind.”

Surprise registered on Victor's face. Like a large object in a giant
sling, he snapped back into an upright position, waiting to hear what John had to say. He picked up a pencil and began to drum lightly on his desk.

“We have a mutual friend that has some concerns about the treatment of her daughter on this campus,” John began.

Victor searched John's face, waiting for the obvious—the name of the student in question.

“Our friend feels that her daughter may be the target of someone's malicious attempt to interrupt her education,” John continued. “I hope you can assist me in finding out who the perpetrator might be and put a stop to the madness.” John paused a moment to let the information sink in.

“I'm listening,” Victor said, the unwelcome sign now posted on his face.

“This student has been harassed in a number of ways, and I come to you as a friend in high places that can move through the system faster than through the regular hierarchy.”

Victor looked at John thoughtfully. “Why come to me? The student has a recourse; one being the Counseling Center. Secondly, we are bound by FERPA, which means I'm unable to disclose any information about a student that is enrolled here without that student's permission. The student will have to request intervention. Even the parents must get a release from the student before we can provide them with information.”

John licked his lips. “I'm trying to be tactful as I know how.”

Victor's stare penetrated John's soul. “Tell me, John, what's this all about? Who is the student in question? Who is this mutual friend we have in common that is concerned about their loved one's well-being? Let them come to me and inquire. So if there's nothing else, I'm afraid this meeting is over.” Victor looked at his watch. “I've got another meeting in a few minutes.”

“I'm not ready to leave yet.”

“This meeting is over.” Victor stood up and showed John the door.

“I'm here to serve you notice, Victor. If you as so much go near or call Mimi again, you're going to have to answer to me.
Comprende
?”

“So, you've still got a love jones for an old flame?” Victor snickered. “Look, John, I don't know what Mimi has told you, but it's not true. I haven't seen or heard from Mimi in nineteen years. You should know better than anyone about how she vanished into thin air. Females.”

“You can say what you want, Victor, but I've got my eyes on you. Touch Mimi again, and you'll realize that I wasn't spewing out an idol threat.” John looked at his watch. “I'm leaving. I've wasted enough of my precious time already.”

John walked out of the office without Victor having the opportunity to utter another word. John passed Sheila's desk and gave her wink. Even though she had a phone to her ear, Sheila's smile went from one end of her face to the other.

Inside his office, Victor was fuming. Someone was going to pay.

V
ictor slammed his fist on the desk and flopped down into his chair. Mimi had pushed the envelope. She had been warned, and now she had the audacity to involve someone else in their affairs. What did John know? Had Mimi confided in John that he had fathered Afrika?

Victor picked up the telephone and dialed Mimi's number. It rang without an answer. He slammed the receiver down, pushed back in his chair, got up and exited the office, stopping at Sheila's desk.

“Sheila, I've got to make a quick run off campus. I'm not sure how long I'll be. Clear my schedule for the rest of the afternoon. If anyone should ask, tell them I had a personal matter I had to take care of.”

“Will do, Victor.”

“Don't ever call me by my first name in public,” Victor hissed. “Crazy broad,” he said as he walked away.

“Uhm,” Sheila retorted under her breath. “We'll see who's crazy.”

T
HE WIND BEGAN TO WHIP, OFFERING A NICE BREEZE
. F
ALLEN LEAVES
rattled along the sidewalk along with other debris that wasn't nailed down. Victor brushed back his hair with his hand and moved swiftly toward the parking lot. He stopped abruptly as he
caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of his eye. Right in front of him in the parking lot were Mimi and John in an animated conversation.

In an effort not to be seen, Victor moved out of sight, sure that the conversation was about him. Then joining them was Afrika. Mimi seemed to be introducing her to John by the way she was moving her hands. Victor turned and went back to his office; this wasn't the time to confront Mimi, but he would. There was urgency in what he needed to do. His sins of the past were threatening to be exposed, but if he could help it, and he would, this was one secret he was going to keep from Brenda and the rest of the world. Mimi be damned.

A surprised look registered on Sheila's face at Victor's abrupt return. He dismissed her and went into his office, slamming the door behind him. Sheila looked at the closed door with puzzlement in her eyes. She puckered her lips and then picked up the telephone.

“Phyllis,” Sheila whispered into the phone.

“Hey, girl, what's up? And why are you whispering?”

“My boss is up to something. He's been acting strange ever since that visitor came in here this afternoon.”

“You mean that fine, bald-headed hunk?”

“Yeah, yeah, him. Anyway, Victor has been banging doors and everything else since that guy left. But not only that, he left work to take care of some personal business. It's like he's being secretive about it. In fact, five minutes ago, he said he was going out and to clear his calendar. Then he shows back up two minutes after he left and slams the door.”

“Like you don't have secrets. You don't think he's cheating on you, do you?” Phyllis laughed.

“This is not funny, Phyllis. I tell you, something strange is
going on with that man. Anyway, how can he cheat on me with his wife?” Sheila and Phyllis laughed. “You know Victor isn't the only one sharing my bed.”

“That's what I mean by secrets. When are you going to tell him you're getting married to what's his name?” Phyllis snapped her fingers, trying to remember.

“Jamal Billops.”

“And how are you going to manage that? You better hope Mr. Christianson never finds out that someone else has been sleeping in the condo he put the down payment on, and you might as well say he's paying for.”

“Who's going to tell him? I don't plan on telling him anything… at least not right away. Not until after Jamal and I are married. We're thinking about getting married soon…like next weekend.”

“Shut up, girl. Go on now—you and Jamal. I don't know why you're attracted to that old-ass wannabe player Christianson. Yeah, he still looks good and all, but he's played out, Sheila, and you know he's sticking it to more than you.”

“Shut up, Phyllis. I'm using him like he's using me. I like being kept. No strings.”

“Uhm hmm. I'm telling you, Sheila, he's still a snake in the grass and you better watch your back. But back to the subject, what makes you suspect he's up to something?”

“I just know Victor is up to something. Call it intuition. It's the way…”

“Sheila, come into my office,” Victor said as he stood over Sheila with the phone in her ear.

“May I get your number, please?” Sheila asked into the phone, scribbling down some imaginary numbers.

“Busted, huh?” Phyllis shot back.

“Yes, thank you.” Sheila hung up the phone.

Sheila drew in her breath and let out a deep sigh. She followed Victor into his office and stood a few feet from his desk.

“Close the door,” Victor said, his face void of expression. “Have a seat.”

Sheila sat down in the chair in front of Victor's desk. Nerves replaced her usual confident self, and she laced her fingers and looked down into her hand. Her head bobbed up at the sound of Victor's voice.

“So…you think something is going on with me.”

“What are you talking about, Mr. Christianson?” Sheila said, worry lines now drawn across her face.

“You know damn well what I'm talking about. Who were you talking to and why were you sharing contrived information about me? Keeping tabs on one's boss could be dangerous.”

Her veneer changed…the fear gone. Sheila looked directly into Victor's eyes without batting an eyelash. “I'm not the one keeping secrets. It's very apparent that you're distracted and something has your mind on lock down. Yesterday, I wore a sculptured short dress that grabbed my hips and breasts the way you like it, but you failed to notice.”