Six
Vivid Vixen didn’t need me for day to day operations. Even though I typically went in to the office every day, and made myself a part of pretty much everything, there was nothing exclusive to me that couldn’t wait.
And at this point… everything had to wait.
Because everything was fucked up.
My friends had been here. Chloe, Nubia, Blake, Kora, among others, had all taken their time out to offer company and comfort, but I wanted neither. In the last four days, I’d had maybe nine hours of sleep. Even my attempts at medically induced slumber had failed, and I had to believe it was a direct result of the series of bombs that had been dropped on my life.
The social media attack on my business.
The cyber-attack on my privacy.
Kellen’s attack on my spirit.
The attack against my security at home.
And the pièce de résistance – Kellen’s murder – which, taken with everything else, felt like an attack on my sanity. It was well-coordinated emotional warfare, the likes of which I’d never experienced, and wouldn’t wish on anybody. If this was a battle, I was losing.
Badly.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when the alarm on my phone went off, disturbing the quiet of my suite at Veil. As hotels went, Veil was best of the best – A Drake family property, unmatched in luxury, security, or what mattered most to me at the time: privacy.
Those damn photographers had been relentless.
I wasn’t a socialite, or some big star. As far as I was concerned, there was no reason for the paparazzi to care about me, and yet when I finally got to leave the police station, in two-day old clothes with uncombed hair, there they were.
“Monica did you kill your husband?!”
“Monica, is it true your company is going bankrupt?!”
“Monica, how do you feel about your dead husband’s baby with his mistress?!”
They didn’t care how it felt for me. Didn’t care that their questions stung, didn’t give a damn, in the slightest, that even though my last few years with Kellen hadn’t been something to be proud of, I was still a woman in mourning.
They just wanted their story.
And I certainly wasn’t going to help give them one.
It was too quiet here though.
I didn’t want the TV on, for fear I’d see my own face splashed across the screen, being dragged as a woman scorned and a murderer. Social media was a major no-no. Chloe didn’t even have to forbid me this time – I already knew I needed to stay away.
There were no distractions here – only the opportunity for me to get lost in my thoughts. The only problem was, my thoughts were as riddled with Kellen’s slit throat as my sleep was, so neither state held the promise of peace. Darkness seemed to be winning the battle for my state of mind, but while I had the energy, I forced happy thoughts to the forefront of my mind.
Like the first time Kellen and I met. He had a work-study job in the student post office, and I’d lost my mailbox key. He struck up a ridiculous conversation about responsibility, which I quickly learned was a rehearsed, required speaking prompt any time a student misplaced their key. I teased him about it, and he invited me to a party in his dorm, even though we were both freshmen, and freshmen didn’t have parties in the dorm.
But that freshman had a party in his dorm.
Somewhere, in the depths of an old photo storage account, there were pictures of that night. I grabbed my cell phone, but quickly remembered that it was a new one – I’d never set up anything on it. I went to the website using the mobile internet browser, and simply stared at the login page. I just couldn’t remember.
But I did have a locked note file with all those old passwords on my phone.
At Five Star Tech.
And just like that, my decision was made.
I was going to get my phone.
“Welcome to Five Star Tech! How can I help you?”
I managed to pull a smile to my face for the young woman who approached me as soon as I walked into the store. A brief glance downward at the pin on her shirt told me her name was Taylor.
“Um, yes,” I told her. “I had to drop off my phone and laptop a few days ago, but there’s a file I need to look at. Is Renata here? She’s the one I worked with before.”
Taylor gave me sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, she’s not. Baby appointment,” she explained. “But, I’m sure someone else in the workshop can help you. Come on, I’ll take you back.”
This time, when I walked past the classrooms that flanked the hall, both were empty. The store itself was less-populated than last time, something I attributed to the time of day, on a weekday. It was probably a normal thing for them, because when Taylor walked me back to the “workshop”, the only consultant on duty was the same guy who still hadn’t called to schedule that security cleanup.
But then again… Renata knew about the break-in, which was still under investigation, and it wasn’t as if I was going home anytime soon anyway.
So I guess it wasn’t that big of a deal.
“Chad, perfect! This customer worked with mom a few days ago, and she needs to get access to her phone. You think you could help her?”
Chad gave me the same disinterested look he’d given me a few days ago before he nodded, turning back to the woman he’d been speaking with before we walked in.
“He’s our best tech – and that’s saying a lot with the people who work here. He’ll get you taken care of,” Taylor told me, and then headed back to the front of the store, leaving me there to be… ignored, apparently.
Chad seemed in no hurry at all to get out of the face of the - admittedly gorgeous - young woman who had his attention. She was intensely focused on whatever he was saying to her, and I couldn’t blame her. Now that I was closer than I’d been last time, it was easy to see that Chad was a lot of man, tall and broad and seemingly made of pure milk chocolate. He leaned down, planting a kiss on her forehead that made her laugh and give him a playful shove before she walked away. As she passed, she gave me a look that if I didn’t know better, I would’ve read as… hostile.
But I didn’t know her, and she didn’t know me.
There was no reason for hostility.
“What can I do for you?” Chad asked, pulling my attention back to him. Even though something about his tone sent a strange feeling coursing through my chest, I shook it off, knowing he was the only one who could help me.
“I don’t know if you remember, but I was here a few days ago, dropping off a laptop and a phone?” When he just gave me a blank stare, I continued. “Well, um… I need something off of that phone. I don’t know if you guys have wiped it or anything yet, but I’m hoping you haven’t. And my name is Monica Stuart.”
Instead of moving to act on my request, he narrowed his eyes, giving me a look reminiscent of the one I’d gotten from his… girlfriend, I guess. His hard stare continued for a few seconds before he nodded.
“Follow me.”
So I did.
I was right behind him as he went to Renata’s office, using a key ring to get inside. He went to a row of lockers I didn’t even notice when I was there before, opening and closing them one by one before he found the one holding my laptop and cell phone.
He was acting so strange that I didn’t even bother to meet his eyes when he handed me the phone.
“Thank you,” I told him, my gaze remaining on his hands as I took it from him.
And then, I saw the scar.
A familiar, razor-thin line of raised skin, that went from his thumb joint to up past his wrist. I froze as my eyes traveled that line, just as I’d done dozens and dozens of times via webcam. Only this time, as my gaze moved up, there was no abrupt edge of the screen, ending my view.
I could finally see his face.
“I’m guessing Demetria didn’t tell you.”
Yes.
This was him.
There was no mistaking that voice, and now that I knew this was him, knew this was Wick, the man I’d considered a friend, the man who’d… been drawn into a murder case with me… I couldn’t understand how I hadn’t immediately known it was him.
Because it was definitely him.
“No,” I said, just above a whisper, as if that was the only appropriate way to speak at such a time. “She told me that they found the person on the other end of the username, but she… she said you wanted your privacy. But I didn’t… did you know it was me, when I came in here the other day? Did you get me here on purpose?”
“What?” he frowned. “Hell no. I told your ass a different place to go to, but you walked in here instead. No, I didn’t know it was you. Why would I do that, when anonymity was our thing?”
I shook my head. “No. No, you’re right. I know you’re right. Chloe sent me here, because I… I didn’t trust the address you gave me.”
“You should’ve.”
“You could’ve been leading me into a trap.”
He scoffed. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. I get arrested for murder fooling with you, but you could’ve been walking into a trap? Hilarious.”
“I never meant for that to happen. I had no idea any of this was going to happen. I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” he vented, in a harsh tone that made me take a step back. “Not only do you have me involved with some shit I do not need to be involved with, you fucking recorded us?”
“I can explain,” I insisted, fumbling over my words as I held up my hands to get him to wait. “It wasn’t… malicious, I just—”
“You know… I don’t really think I care about the excuse. I just want you to get your phone, and get the hell out of here, and don’t come back. Your being here just gives the police more shit to talk to me about, and I don’t fucking like police, Sandy.”
“Monica.”
“Whatever the fuck,” he shrugged. “I really don’t want to hear either one again, to be honest.”
I sucked in a breath. “But… I thought we were friends?” I asked, speaking my mind even though I hated how weak and desperate it sounded. “Wick, I am sorry that you got wrapped up in this, but you have to understand that this isn’t my fault. I didn’t kill him!”
“You probably should’ve,” he said, sounding so completely bored of me, of the whole conversation, that it made me physically hurt. “At least this would’ve all been for something.”
“Wick, I—”
“Listen—” he interrupted, shaking his head. “I left the drama behind me eleven years ago. I have no tolerance for it, not in my personal life. I wish you the best, but do me a favor – leave me alone.”
Those words hit me like a bag of bricks, but I squared my shoulders, held my head high anyway. I’d taken enough emotional beatings throughout the course of my life that I knew how to swallow it for now, instead of letting the feelings bubble over and embarrass me.
Because that’s where I was now. In front of the man I’d spilled my deepest heartaches with, willing myself not to cry tears that just a week ago, I would’ve poured openly.
I should’ve known better than to think he wouldn’t end up disappointing me.
“I didn’t come here for you anyway,” I told him, keeping as much emotion out of my voice as I could. “So it shouldn’t be a problem.”
He gave me a curt nod and then left me there with my cell in my hands, feeling like I’d taken a knife to the stomach. Instead of giving in to the weakness in my knees, I steeled myself and powered the phone on, copying down what I needed before I turned it off again, putting it back in the locker he’d taken it from.
I put on tunnel vision as I left Renata’s office, making sure to pull the door closed behind me. I didn’t even glance in his direction as I made my way out, kept my face expressionless until I made it to my car. And even then… I swallowed my emotions again.
All of them.
Everything.
I wasn’t even interested in the pictures anymore, at least not for nostalgia’s sake. For whatever reason, that little run-in with Wick had reminded me of what Kellen was. My relationship with Wick wouldn’t even exist, not in its current iteration, if I hadn’t fallen in love with, and married a snake.
This was his fault.
And now, despite the long list of ways my own needs were being neglected, I had to bury his trifling ass. Even in death, Kellen had found a way to taunt me.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen someone need a glass of wine as much as it looks like you do right now,” Nubia said, standing over me as I stared absently at the forms spread out over the table.
Who the hell knew death required so much paperwork?
I’d just finished another tense phone call with Kellen’s mother, discussing what she wanted for his funeral plans. Despite what her son had turned into, the woman had never been anything but good to me, so I wanted to give her the respect of burying her son with dignity.
I don’t think my arrest for his murder had her feeling very warm toward me though.
In any case, when I looked up to find Nubia holding out a big glass of wine, a smile spread across my face.
“Oh God, thank you,” I told her, accepting the glass as she laughed.
“You’re more than welcome, Mon. Talk to me. How are you feeling?” she asked, rubbing my back for a few seconds as she sat down beside me. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”
I took a large gulp of the wine, swallowing before I answered. “I feel… about like you’d expect. And I have about a billion things left to do before this funeral on Friday.”
“Okay, like what? Anything you can hand off to me, or someone else?”
“Unfortunately not,” I told her, then took another drink. “Thank you for offering, but I’ll be okay as long as I follow my to-do list. I’ve gotta get out of here in the next ten minutes to make my hair appointment though. Thank God that was already set before everything went wrong.”
I turned to look at her just in time to see the slight curl in her lip as she surveyed my head. “Yeah, thank God. Cause your weave is looking a little busted right now.”
“Oh kiss my ass,” I laughed, and she joined in. If nothing else, I knew I could count on Nubia to break up the darkness with light moments of humor.
Just then, a knock sounded at the hotel room door, and Nubia quickly motioned for me to keep my seat.
“It’s probably just Blake. I’ve gotta pick up Trey from the sitter, so she’s gonna drive you to that appointment.”
I rolled my eyes. “I can drive just fine, dammit.”
“Girl, don’t nobody care what you’re talking about. We’re your friends, and we’re gonna be there for you all the way through this, whether you like the shit or not. Don’t argue,” she called over her shoulder as she went to the door. And sure enough, a few seconds later, Blake was walking toward me, with her arms stretched out.
“How are you feeling today sweetie?” she asked, bending to pull me into a hug without me having to rise from my seat. “Wait, don’t answer that. I’m sure I already know.”
I nodded. “Yeah, probably.”
“Well,” Blake sighed. “How much you wanna bet that a good scalp massage and a fresh weave will make it all feel a little better.”
“That is a bet I will definitely take you up on,” I said, rising from my spot on the couch.
I’d managed to drag myself to the bathroom for my personal care that morning, so all I needed to do was grab my keys and purse to head out the door.
“Thank you for sitting with me this morning,” I told Nubia, hugging her as we headed out. “Next time you come by, bring the baby with you. I could use a Trey hug and a few of his little toddler kisses.”
“Consider it handled, love.”
She headed out, with me and Blake right behind her, going separate ways once we made it to the private parking garage. Instead of grilling me about everything that had been happening, or letting the car descend into silence, she treated me to a constant stream of conversation about everything else.
I was grateful for it.
Because, lately, when left to my quiet thoughts, things were getting darker and darker for me. The run-in with Wick two days ago certainly hadn’t helped things – now I felt even more lost. If that were even possible.
The trip to the salon felt shorter than usual, probably because of Blake’s chatter. I glanced around to make sure the parking lot and entrance were free of the journalistic vultures I’d been dealing with more and more since Kellen’s death before I opened my door and climbed out.
A day at the salon always felt like a treat to me. My stylist, Tika, always had good stories to tell, the salon supplied wine and champagne, and they’d been a huge supporter of Vivid Vixen cosmetics since early on – they had a whole polish display just for my brand. Walking through their door, into that warm, upscale salon energy always made me smile.
Only today… it was different.
A hush fell over the whole salon as soon as Blake and I walked in, and open conversation turned into whispers. Of course, this was something I should have expected after my face had been all over the news, my name dragged through the mud without any evidence. I wanted to leave, but the funeral was in a few days, and Nubia was right – I was looking busted. So instead of shrinking in response to the negative energy, I walked right to the reception desk to give my name.
“Monica Stuart. I have a one o’clock with Tika.”
The girl at the desk gave me a strange look, then turned her eyes to her screen, clicking around a little before she tentatively met my gaze.
“I-I’m sorry, Mrs. Stuart. I don’t have it on file. It must’ve been canceled.”
I frowned. “What? No, that has to be a mistake. I didn’t cancel my appointment.”
“It’s not a mistake.”
I turned toward the source of that statement to find Tika standing a little behind me, arms crossed as she scowled in my direction.
“Excuse me?” I asked, confused, and Tika took another step toward me.
“I said, it’s not a mistake. I canceled the appointment, because I didn’t think I could stand to look at you after what you did.”
My frown deepened. “Again – Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about, T?”
“Kellen. You took him from me!”
My head reared back. “Took him? From you?”
“Yes, you jealous bitch,” she spat, closing that last step between us. “He was going to leave you, and it was going to be me and him—”
“Are you telling me that you were fucking my husband, Tika? Are you kidding me?!”
Tika shook her head as a slick little smile curved the corners of her mouth. “No. I wasn’t fucking your “husband”. I was fucking my man, and your chubby ass just couldn’t help getting in the way. I hope they throw away the key when they lock your frigid ass up. Murderer.”
I didn’t see red.
I saw black.
And the very next second, one of my hands was tangled in Tika’s hair, holding with the tightest grip I could while the other hand curled into a fist to connect with her face.
I heard the screams from the patrons, heard Blake in my ear, begging me to let Tika go while she tried in vain to pull me off of her, but I just… I couldn’t.
I was so, so tired.
And I had so many questions.
How long had it been going on? How the hell had it started? Did he initiate it? Did she? But I didn’t care about any of the answers as much as I cared about shutting her up.
With my fist.
“Monica!”
I couldn’t say why, but that time, when Blake said my name, it got my attention. I was no longer holding Tika, but my fingers were still clenched tight around a handful of bleached blonde strands.
“Come on, before the police get here,” Blake hissed, carting me toward the door, and away from where Tika was surrounded by stylists trying to comfort her.
I shook her weave from my hand, intending to follow Blake’s instruction, but Mona, one of the older stylists, and owner of the salon stepped in front of us. Immediately, my fists clenched again, but Mona held up her hands.
“I was married thirty-two years,” she said in a deep, serious tone. “My husband couldn’t keep his dick in his pants either, so I know how it feels, honey. I’ve done just that,” – she pointed to where Tika was being helped to the back, “to more than one hoe myself. Don’t you worry about this, alright? We all saw her approach you, and rear her hand back to hit you. Didn’t we?” Mona asked, glancing at the stylists and clients within earshot. They all knew well enough to nod.
Honestly, I was still a little dazed, still reeling from what had just happened, so I couldn’t do much except mirror their nods. “Um… thank you,” I told her.
“Mmhmm. Now gone on. I can’t have this trouble in my shop.”
“Yes ma’am.”
I didn’t have to be told twice to leave a place, especially when I recognized I’d been done a favor. We climbed back in the car, and Blake drove in silence for several minutes before she spoke up.
“Aiight Holyfield – you wanna tell me what the fuck that was?”
I huffed. “I’m not really sure what you want me to say, Blake. I snapped.”
“Clearly. I didn’t know you had hands like that Mon,” she laughed. “You didn’t break a nail did you?”
“Of course not. They’re done with Vivid Vixen products. Still perfect.”
“Uh huh.” Blake nodded. “So what, that was that, a field test? Market research? Is your next slogan going to be, “Whoop that trick, and still have a perfect mani with Vivid Vixen?”
“Hell yes. Gotta hire Nubia for the visual. She could sell the hell out of that.”
Blake giggled. “I’m just glad it was me with you, and not Nubia. She would’ve let you kill that girl.”
“Because Nubia is a real friend.”
“Monica, bye,” Blake shrieked, then turned to me as we pulled to a stop light. “I don’t think an attempted murder, not even a week after you’re arrested for a different murder would be a good look for you. Just sayin’.”
I pushed out a sigh as the car started moving again. “No. Probably not.” The car was quiet again for several minutes while it all played in my head. I’d known for a long time that Kellen was a whore – he hadn’t exactly tried to hide it. I’d watched him flirt with everyone from waitresses to my employees, but I’d really thought that Crystal was it for him. She was the one he loved to rub in my face, the one he’d chosen to carry his child.
She probably thought she was as special as I’d assumed she was.
Turns out, she wasn’t.
“I guess he really was just fucking everybody,” I mused, shaking my head. “But my hair stylist, though? That’s just foul. That’s like fucking his barber.”
“Yeah,” Blake agreed. “It’s pretty messed up, Mon. I’m so sorry.”
I shrugged. “Nothing for you to be sorry about. I picked him.”
“Not like that makes it better. You don’t deserve this.”
I had no response for that. Because honestly… maybe I did. Maybe all of this was the harvest from the seeds I’d sown in my marriage. Not being as supportive as I could have after he lost his job, not caring if he felt emasculated or threatened about my drive and work ethic. The emotional affair with Wick.
I wasn’t innocent.
So as angry as I was about the whole thing, there was still an underlying sense of guilt.
A quiet feeling that… yes. This was exactly what I deserved. And if it wasn’t my own karma, maybe it was a curse. Maybe I was reaping what my own mother had planted, doomed to repeat her mistakes as my own.
That woman who’d been there at the tech store talking to Wick… that body language certainly didn’t say “customer”. And yet, before the last week or so, Wick and I had been much, much more than friendly with each other.
I was all pissed off at Crystal and Tika for enabling my husband’s infidelity, but really? I wasn’t much better. When I tallied up my own mistakes… I wasn’t sure I had room to judge.