The first place Gregor headed after the official end of minicamp was Zahra’s place. Not only because she’d prepared him a celebration dinner, but because he’d missed her like crazy the past three days. While the thought of climbing into his bed and sleeping for the next three weeks was alluring, the idea of falling asleep with his fiancée in his arms was far more appealing.
His fiancée. He had a fiancée. He was getting married. To the woman of his dreams. She was perfect. In every sense of the word. And he couldn’t wait to make her his wife.
Arriving at her place, he lifted the single red rose he’d plucked from the bucket at the gas station, climbed out and made his way to her front porch. She’d been so fascinated with the keyless entry at his place, he’d had a similar device installed on her door. Before he could rest his thumb against the reader, the door swung open.
The smell of good cooking hit him instantly. Man, he couldn’t wait to feast on a home-cooked meal. And Zahra. One look into Zahra’s red eyes told him that something was up. When she turned and moved away, he followed, discarding the rose on the counter as he passed.
“Zahra, what’s wrong?” His first thought was Selene. Word from Abrim was that she’d been livid over their engagement.
Several uncomfortable seconds passed before she faced him. Despite desperately trying not to get alarmed, the uncertainty and waiting for her to speak took a toll. “Zahra.” When she flinched, he regretted the amount of forcefulness he’d placed in his tone. Resting his hands on her waist, he said, “Baby, you’re making me really nervous,” in a much softer tone.
“We...” Her eyes rose to him but fell again. “We need to talk. I need to tell you something.”
A feeling of despair settled in his stomach, tying it into a thousand tiny knots. “What is it?” he asked, bracing for impact. Whatever it was wouldn’t be good.
Unfortunately, his cell phone chimed, forcing him to wait seconds more to find out what was going on. “Shit.” He fiddled, trying to get the phone out of his pocket. By the time he pulled the device out, it was a symphony of chimes, dings and swooshes. His eyes rose to Zahra’s and hers slid away. When she blinked, a tear rolled down her cheek. The phone vibrated in his hand with Thad’s name flashing across the screen.
Sending the call to voice mail, he stashed the phone back inside his pocket and steadied his gaze on a now trembling Zahra. “Tell me,” he said.
“There’s a—” Her voice hitched.
“A what, Zahra?”
“A—” She stopped abruptly. “Oh, God, I’m going to be sick.”
When she took off toward the bathroom, Gregor started after her until his cell phone vibrated again. This time he answered, but in an impatient tone. “Hello.”
“Now is probably not the best time to say I told you so, but I told you so. No statements from either you or Zahra. Let me handle this,” Thad said.
He forced his brows together. “No statements? About what?” Obviously, everyone but him knew what was going on.
“The video,” Thad said.
The video? “What video?” he asked.
Thad spent the next couple of minutes telling Gregor about the tape Zahra’s ex had sold to one of the tabloids. A sex tape. Gregor dropped onto the sofa and stared at the bathroom door. “How—how recent is the tape?” The implication of his inquiry caused his temple to throb.
Thad sighed. “I don’t know. The claim is that it’s recent, but I don’t know.”
The bathroom door creaked. A second later, Zahra emerged. “I’ll hit you back, Thad.”
“If you love her, G, don’t watch the video. There’s no need.”
“Yeah.” Gregor ended the call, rested his elbows on his thighs and passed the phone back and forth between his hands.
Zahra’s voice was scratchy when she spoke. “I’m guessing you know.”
He nodded. In a controlled tone, he said, “You were sleeping with the both of us?”
Zahra hurried across the room. “What? No. No. That video is almost three years old. A bad decision I made after too many drinks. I was mortified when I learned Braswell had recorded us. I demanded he destroy it. I thought he had.”
Obviously, she did have a few skeletons in her closet. Gregor stared at her for a long, hard moment.
“You don’t believe me,” she said, a calmness to her voice.
He didn’t respond because he wasn’t sure what to believe. His heart and head were in a fierce battle. One was anchored in the present, reminding him how much he loved this woman and urging him to trust her. The other ushered him to the past, reminding him of the deception that lived there.
The dual arguments, myriad of emotions raging inside him and his throbbing head made it all too overwhelming. This was a conversation he couldn’t have. Not now. Not when he could hardly breathe. Not when his thoughts crippled his brain. Not when he could barely focus.
He stood abruptly. “I’m gonna go. I need... I need to catch my breath.”
“Gregor—”
“I’ll call you later.” He made haste to the door, flung it open and damn near ran to his vehicle. Sliding behind the seat, he gripped the steering wheel. A second later, he pounded it until his palm hurt. Tossing a glance toward the house, he saw that Zahra stood on the porch, her arms hugging her body. Go to her, a tiny voice said. He ignored it.
An hour later, he sat in front of his computer watching the video of Zahra and her ex, wishing he’d taken Thad’s advice.
Unable to focus on the happy couple smiling in the images on her computer screen, Zahra pushed away from her desk. With a heavy sigh, she reclined in her chair and pinched her lids shut. God, she was exhausted. Because of that video, Gregor’s reaction, her overactive brain, she hadn’t gotten much sleep over the past several days.
If Braswell’s goal for releasing the tape had been to turn her life upside down, he’d succeeded. Clients were canceling appointments left and right. The media wouldn’t stop hounding her for interviews. She was humiliated beyond belief. Her parents and Ava stood by her, but she knew they’d been unsettled by the scandal. On top of all of this, she didn’t have Gregor to comfort her.
Surprisingly, she hadn’t heard from him since he’d left her place four days ago. Four days, she said to herself. Her eyes popped open and she eyed the ceiling, a tear rolling from the corner of her eye. Yes, she understood and respected his need to deal with this in his own way, but shutting her out of his life?
A tap sounded at her office door, drawing her away from the morbid thoughts. Ava pushed through a moment later. Her smile lit the room.
“Hey, sis. I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop by to see if you wanted to do lunch. My treat.”
As much as Ava had been “in the neighborhood” lately, Zahra would have thought the woman was a stalker had she not known better, or the real reason for Ava’s frequent visits. Zahra loved her sister for the support. While Zahra really hadn’t had much of an appetite the past several days, she figured a little fresh air would be good for her.
Half an hour later, they sat on the patio of one of the pizza joints not far from the studio. Zahra pushed around the contents of her Greek salad with a fork. Typically, she’d have devoured the fresh lettuce mix by now.
“Not hungry?” Ava asked.
Zahra pushed the plate away. “No. I’m sorry.”
“You have no reason to apologize. You want to talk about it?”
“No.” Zahra rolled her eyes heavenward. “Yes. It’s like he doesn’t even care that he’s hurting me. The man who asked me to spend my life with him.” Her eyes lowered to the engagement ring she still wore. “He said he loved me, Ava. Yet, I call him, and he won’t even answer the phone. If this is his way of ending things, why can’t he just be a man about it and end them properly? Face-to-face.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay him a visit? I’ll flood his condo, bleach his clothes and graffiti his walls,” Ava said.
For the first time in days, Zahra actually laughed. “No.”
Ava shrugged. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Okay.”
Ava shared how Dr. Slime-ball wouldn’t stop calling her even after telling him she knew about him dating Selene, to which he’d replied they weren’t serious. Zahra pretended to listen, but truthfully couldn’t care less about anything dealing with Selene. For all she knew, she and Braswell had teamed up.
Too occupied with her own thoughts, Zahra’s attention left Ava and settled on the engagement ring again. She twirled it around her finger. The night Gregor had slid it on her finger, she’d been so happy.
“He lied to me, Ava,” Zahra said. Her eyes rose. “He said he loved me. But he lied. Daddy always said if you’ll lie, you’ll steal. He was right. Gregor stole my heart, then lied about always protecting it. He’s a liar and a thief.” And she deserved better.
Music boomed inside Eternity 704, but it did little to drown out Gregor’s thoughts as he’d hoped. Relaxing on the sofa, he scanned the room. While he wasn’t in the mood for the club scene, he’d needed to get out of the house. Every inch of the place reminded him of Zahra. Every picture that now hung on his walls. Every framed image she’d placed throughout the condo. She’d given him roots. They’d made memories. Memories he just couldn’t handle right now. Hadn’t been able to handle for the past several days.
He missed her. God knows he missed her. He’d wanted to call her a thousand times over the past week—the length of time he’d run from this situation. Each time he’d picked up the phone, he’d slammed it right back down.
Damn, why had he watched that video? Images of Zahra on the screen still haunted him. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force them away.
His jaw clenched when he thought about Zahra’s slimy ex. What kind of bastard took advantage of his own woman like that? His fist clenched so tight he felt his knuckles crack.
“You cool, man?”
Abrim’s voice drew him from a volatile place. Gregor nodded, but it was a lie. He was far from all right.
“Number four? What up? What up? What up?”
Gregor glanced over his shoulder to see Rico, his usual harem of women and entourage in tow. Whenever Rico was this boisterous, he’d been drinking, which always led to complications.
“What’s up, Rico?” Gregor and Abrim said in unison.
Gregor and Rico gave each other the Thoroughbred wrist bump.
“Glad to have you back on the scene,” Rico said. He glanced in the direction he’d sent his woman. “I got you covered if you want to blow off some steam.” He winked.
“I’m good,” Gregor said.
“Yo. I watched the tape.” Rico barked a laugh. “Old girl’s got some skills.”
Rico’s words sparked a flame inside Gregor, but he kept his cool.
“Rico, chill, man,” Abrim said.
Rico flashed his palms. “My bad.” He smirked. “Is she really that flexible?”
Gregor was off the sofa before he even realized he was moving. Abrim grabbed him before he could get to Rico. The man’s muscle, along with club security, converged on the VIP area.
“Calm down, man. You don’t need the attention,” Abrim whispered to him, still holding him back. “Pull it together, QB.”
After several seconds, Gregor said, “I’m good. I’m good,” he repeated, pushing Abrim away.
“Yo, what the hell is wrong with you, G?” Rico said. “I was just joking with you. That’s what we do.”
“You took it too far,” Abrim said.
Gregor stuck out his hand. “My bad. I apologize,” he said.
Rico seemed hesitant for a moment, but finally took the steps forward and grabbed Gregor’s hand, pulling him into a manly hug. “We’re brothers.”
“You’re right,” Gregor said, clapping Rico on the back.
“I was out of line. I apologize, too,” Rico said. “We good?”
“Yeah, we’re good,” Gregor said.
“All right, then,” Rico said. “Sit down and let me buy you another drink.”
Gregor checked his watch for effect. “Nah. I’m gonna head out.”
“You sure?” Rico said. “The night is still young.”
“Yeah. I’ll check y’all later,” he said, giving several wrist bumps before leaving the building.
Inside his vehicle, he tapped in a number. When a groggy greeting came from the opposite end, he said, “I need to see you.”
An hour later, he arrived at Old School’s place, a mammoth-sized, two-story white stone home located in the historic Myers Park neighborhood. Dr. Reed directed him to a room that reminded Gregor of Montgomery Hart’s study. Wood furnishings, bookcases swelled with books and plenty of space. The only thing missing was a bar.
Gregor took a seat on the leather sofa, rested his elbows on his knees and interlocked his fingers. For several minutes, he said nothing at all and Dr. Reed didn’t urge him. After a long while, he opened up. “You’re a therapist. Tell me what’s wrong with me. Tell me why I’m like this,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.
“Like what?” Dr. Reed said in the same calm tone he always used.
Gregor darted to his feet. “Screwed up! Why am I so damn screwed up? Help me,” he said. “Please.”