Addicted

Addicted Page 34

Marcella smiled at me. It was a weak, forced smile, but welcome just the same. She dropped her voice to almost a whisper. “Sounds like a good plan to me, Zoe. But listen—” She reached in the elevator and rubbed me on the shoulder. “If you ever want to talk again, I’ll be right here. You can call me anytime, day or night. I can’t make you continue therapy with me. I just want you to know I’m always willing. Always!”

“Thanks!” The smile I returned was genuine.

The elevator doors were halfway closed when she stuck her foot in. “Zoe, we never got a chance to discuss your third affair. You sure you don’t want to stay for another hour so we can continue the conversation?”

I smirked, wondering how sick she would think I was if I told her the truth. Just threw the entire load of shit on her like I was tossing a penny in a wishing well. “Trust me, Doc. That’s the last thing I need to talk about right now. In fact, that’s probably something better off left alone, period.”

She removed her foot. The last thing I saw as the elevator doors slammed was the perplexed expression on her face.

chaptertwenty-one

It was drizzling when I arrived at Brina’s building. I didn’t go in for a few minutes. I was still shook up over the unexpected altercation with Marcella. The last thing I was prepared for was her admitting she didn’t have a clue what the fuck she was doing. She could’ve told me that from jump street.

I should’ve told Brina all of the drama from the get-go and saved all the dead presidents I was going to have to kick out on therapy. Not to mention the aggravation and humiliation I endured by telling a complete stranger all of my business. Still, I liked Marcella. I sensed something real about her. I only wished she could have helped.

I decided the heart-to-heart between Brina and I was long overdo. So what if she always viewed me as perfect? She understood the Zoe-Jason soap opera better than anyone. After all, she had a front-row seat to the whole thing. Gurlfriend was just going to have to get over the fact that her idol wasn’t a lady, but a tramp. Brina and Iwent way back, and out of everyone, she wouldn’t judge me. That much I knew for sure.

After making a mad dash to get in the carpeted hallway of her building, I folded the newspaper I had over my head to protect my hairdo and jiggled the dampness off my coat. I knocked on her door and didn’t get an answer. Her car was parked out front, so I was surprised when she didn’t come to the door. After all, she was the one who went on and on about how she just went to work and came straight home every day. I couldn’t imagine her hanging out, and since it was raining, I knew she wasn’t out walking anywhere.

I heard some music playing loudly and realized it was coming from her place. I figured she was probably in the shower or something and didn’t hear the door. I contemplated waiting out in the hall for a few minutes and knocking again. I was used to just barging in with the hidden key but for some strange reason, I felt it would be obtrusive that day.

I decided to wait a few moments. I had no desire to go home and face Jason right then and running to one of my other lovers was out of the damn question. Besides, I wanted to check on Brina’s bruises and see if she planned to take me up on my job offer. Most of all, I needed to confide in her in the worst way. Enough of the lies!

I swung around when I heard the door across the hall open abruptly. There was an old white woman standing there in a housecoat. She had a baseball bat in one hand and a demonic expression on her pale face. I immediately jumped back against the wall. An eighty-year-old white woman holding a bat and glaring didn’t sit well with me.

She looked me up and down and lowered the bat, deciding I didn’t look like a criminal.

“Something bad happened in there last night.” She whispered the words, like she was afraid of being overheard even though I was the only person in the hallway.

I pointed at Brina’s door, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. “In here? This apartment?”

She nodded her head. “Somethingrealbad!”

With that, she slammed the door in my face. I stood there, paralyzed with fear. What the hell did she mean by that? I started banging on the old woman’s door, but she didn’t answer. “What do you mean, something bad? Ma’am? What are you talking about?”

My first instinct was to call Jason. I rummaged through my purse for my cell phone. After dialing the first five digits of our home number, I started laughing and turned the power off. This was ridiculous! That old woman was probably senile. For all I knew, she was making the whole thing up. Brina was just fine. She had to be. I’d just seen her ass the other day, after

all.

I retrieved the extra key and stormed inside her apartment. Her living room was dark, but everything seemed intact. There was a light emitting from the cracked door of her bedroom. The music was coming from in there also. I’ll never forget the song that was playing. It was Billie Holiday’s version of “God Bless the Child.”

I went into Brina’s bedroom. I couldn’t breathe. At first, my eyes refused to register what they were seeing. Ten seconds later, my screams began.

To this day, I’m still confused about the chain of events that happened next. It didn’t really matter who ran in there, who called the police, who picked me up off the floor, who called Jason to tell him to come and get me, who did this and who did that. We were all too late. Brina was gone, and my life would never be the same.

I remember Jason rushing into the super’s apartment, drenched with rain. At some point, the drizzling had turned into a full-fledged thunderstorm. The homicide detectives set up the super’s place as their base of operations so the coroner’s office and forensics team could do whatever it is they do when someone is brutally murdered in Brina’s apartment without other people traipsing in and out. Jason joined me on the couch and almost had to slap me silly to get a response. I could only manage to wail, sink into his warm, muscular arms and pray for the whole nightmare to go away.

But it didn’t go away. It seemed like we were there for hours while I answered all fifty million of their questions. Some of them I knew the answers to, and some I didn’t. I told them they needed to go talk to that old heifer down the hall who didn’t bother to call the police the night before when she heard something bad going on.

I described to them how I walked in the apartment and found Brina laid out in a funereal position on her bed, with her hands draped limply across her chest. All the bedding had been stripped away except the floral-patterned fitted sheet and mattress cover. I cringed at the thought of all the blood. There was blood everywhere. On the bed, on the carpet, even on the walls.

A forensics technician barged into the room to inform the detectives he’d counted eighty-seven stab wounds, as if he was proud to be able to count so high. Jason spoke the words I was thinking: “Why does Zoe have to hear this? Don’t you guys have any compassion?”

One of the detectives obviously agreed. He took the insensitive bastard out in the hallway so he could finish relating his findings. I resumed giving my statement, what there was of it, telling them everything I knew—what Dempsey looked like, where Brina had met him, what Iknew about the beatings, how I’d pulled my switchblade on him once to make him leave, and how I’d taken Brina to the hospital a few days before her death to get medical treatment.

After they were reasonably sure they’d gotten everything useful out of me, they told Jason he could take me home and assured me they would track that rabid dog down at all costs.

My mother was there with the kids when we got home. They were already snug in their beds. Thank goodness it was one of the regular nights she kept them. Jason was able to come to my rescue right away, and I was grateful for that. If I had to face all of that alone while he waited for someone to come over to baby-sit, I would’ve really been a basket case. Having my husband by my side during the ordeal was the only thing that kept me from slipping over the edge. Jason is my love, my life, my everything.

The next few days were pure hell. My mother practically moved in so she could treat me like a baby, bringing me mugs of warm milk, running my bathwater, and combing my hair like I was a complete invalid. Jason was a sweetheart. He took some time off from the office and handled Brina’s funeral arrangements. Brina’s mother was just as devastated as I was. She even sobered up for a few days to wallow in her grief. She couldn’t deal with picking out caskets and a dress any more than I could. My baby did it all. He even arranged to pay for everything, since Brina had no insurance and her mother was barely making ends meet.The weather was beautiful the day of the funeral. I was very thankful. Brina had very few friends and neverstayed at a job long enough to make lifelong attachments with coworkers. For that reason, Jason arranged to have the funeral graveside. He’d selected a beautiful white coffin and a huge bed of pink roses to be laid over it. He held my hand and comforted me throughout the entire ordeal.

That’s when I knew it was over. That’s when I knew I could beat my sexual addiction. Jason was all I ever needed. If I had to live the rest of my life curbing my sexual desires in order to be with him, then so be it. That was one sacrifice I was more than willing to make.