When Damita got home from the funeral, she was surprised to find Carmella already there waiting for her.
“Carmella, what are you doing here?” Damita asked.
“You and I need to talk.”
“How on earth did you get here before me?”
“I was on a mission. My best friend needs me.”
“I’m okay. I’m fine.”
“Sure you are. I’ve got a story to tell you about something that happened to me a couple of days ago. You want to hear it?”
Damita did not respond.
“I have this detective friend. His name is Derrick. Derrick and I were coming back from having dinner and he started driving a little strange. He wasn’t taking the usual route back to my place, so I asked him what was going on and he told me that we were being followed. I assumed it had something to do with him and his work, but he assured me that it had nothing to do with him. So, I of course, told him there was no way it had anything to do with me. Well, Derrick was able to get the plate number of the person following us. He ran the plates. Damita, the car was registered to Neal.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. You don’t seem all that surprised. Did you even know Neal had a car? You never mentioned to me that he had one.”
“I knew he had a car, but he usually keeps it parked in a garage downtown. He doesn’t use it often.”
“Do you have any idea why Neal would be following Derrick and me?”
“I don’t know, Carmella. I didn’t know it when I married him, but Neal has a drug problem. He gets real paranoid at the drop of a hat. He’s also very insecure about my friends. That might have something to do with it.”
“How insecure?” Carmella asked.
“What?”
“How insecure is he? The day of your wedding, I watched Neal watching you all night. When he wasn’t watching you, he was watching Brandon. The look he had on his face was one of complete hatred. I couldn’t figure it out. I kept thinking he’s probably possessive and Brandon was such a cutie, and so charming. But, it was more than that. At one point Neal’s jaws were clenched so tight I thought his teeth might shatter.”
“Carmella, what’s the question?”
“Neal is your husband and you love him, but is there any chance at all that you might not know him as well as you think you do? Is there a chance he had anything to do with Brandon’s death? I’ve gone over it in my mind again and again and it doesn’t make any sense. At first I thought, hey, this is New York; crime happens every day. But, then after really thinking about it, I realized Brandon’s death was way too random.
“Of all the people running in Central Park, why would they choose him? If it were a robbery, do you really think they would have chosen Brandon over all the other choices available? The demographics don’t make sense. So, out of all those potentially wealthy white folks out there running, they decided to hit Brandon. Not only that, the police aren’t even sure it was a robbery. There didn’t appear to be anything missing. The three of us knew each other’s routine inside and out. Brandon never had that much cash on him, especially when he went running.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Come on, Damita. Do you think I’m stupid? I’ve known you since we were little bitty things, passing notes to the boys we liked in elementary school. In all the years I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear so much makeup. What did he do to you?”
Damita finally let go and broke down and cried.
“He’s abusive Carmella, physically and emotionally. In a short period of time, I’ve seen what he’s capable of. I know what I need to do. I am going to leave him, eventually. I need to figure out how much of what he has told me is him using fear to control me and how much of it is the absolute truth.”
“Damita, I don’t understand what difference it makes? Go to the police and report his ass. Get yourself an order of protection and get the fuck out of here. Part of it may be the drugs, but you and I both know most of it is who he is. I’ve dabbled in my fair share of substances, and they’ve never caused me to be violent. The things he’s doing are part of his character. The drugs only lower his inhibitions.”
“You’re the one who told me that you think Neal may have followed you and your date. If that’s true, don’t you think I need to tread very carefully?”
“I’m not afraid of Mr. Neal Westman. So, I hope you’re not worried about me. I’ll get some of my boys from the hood to tighten him up real quick.”
“Wow! You can take the girl out of the hood, but you can’t take the hood out of the girl. And yes, after what you told me, I’m worried about you. I wish I could say all of this is ludicrous and there is no possibility that it’s true, but I can’t and that’s what frightens me. If my husband is going around following the people in my life, he’s an even greater threat than your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, abusive husband.”
“So what’s the plan? You know I’m down.”
“The plan, Ms. Carmella, Super Sleuth, Ortiz, is for you to keep a low profile and let me handle this. For some reason, Missy, you have gotten under my husband’s skin big time. So, it’s best that you and I limit our interactions. Do you believe he actually accused you, me and Brandon of having a ménage a trois?”
“So I’m supposed to stay away because he’s a nut job?”
“I need to figure out what I need to do. Think about it, if he’s following you, is it such a reach to think that he may be keeping an eye on my mother as well?”
“Do you really think he would do anything to hurt your mother? You need to go to the police.”
“There are so many reasons that could be a problem, not the least of which is with no proof, I won’t even be able to get the police to listen to a word I’m saying.”
“Show them those bruises under all that makeup and they’ll listen to you.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you? How many stories have you heard of women with orders of protection that ended up six feet under?”
“I know one thing; it’s not going to be you.”
“I hope you’re right. Carmella, I never thought I’d be that girl that would end up with broken bones and bruises. I should have listened to you and my mother. I married Neal for all the wrong reasons and I got exactly what I wanted. I wanted a powerful man and I got that.”
“Don’t get it twisted, sweetie. That husband of yours ain’t powerful. He’s another scared little boy, inside the body of a man. If not, he wouldn’t be a coward that beats women. I noticed that you’re moving a little slow and you haven’t taken those gloves off. What bones are broken?”
Damita took off her gloves. “He broke two of my fingers and one of my ribs.”
“That bastard! Damita, say the word and I’ll have somebody break his fucking legs!”
“That won’t solve anything.”
“Yes, it will.”
“What will it solve?”
“It’ll make me feel better. Where is that asshole anyway?”
“He checked himself into rehab.”
“How noble of him. So, this is the part of the program where he’s remorseful and wants to save the marriage?”
“That’s exactly what he said. You know what’s even more fucked up than what he’s done? I actually still love him. Sure, the smart, logical part of me knows that I have to leave, but there’s another part of me that is hoping he can change.”
“Let me help clear your mind, sweetie. Men like that never truly change. He may even come back here after rehab looking like every bit the knight-in-shining-armor that you married. But, I can assure you, it’s all smoke and mirrors. A leopard doesn’t change its spots.”
“You’re right. I really do need to get it together, but I need some time for all of this to sink in.”
“Dee, you do know there is a bright side to all of this?”
“What on earth could that be?”
“Some women have to wait a lot longer than two weeks before a man shows his true colors.”
“Lucky me. I didn’t even have to wait a week. The first time he hit me was on our wedding night.”
“I’m so sorry, Damita. You don’t know how much I wish I was wrong about him.”
“I feel like I haven’t had a moment of happiness since I said I do. This is the first time I’ve felt like myself. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I don’t want him to ruin my night even when he’s not here. We should pig out, watch some television and guzzle whipped cream straight out the can.”
“Don’t forget the spirits.”
“I could definitely go for some spirits. I’ve got some Patrón. Is that to your liking, chica?”
“Hell yeah!”
• • •
Damita and Carmella behaved like teenagers all night. It was exactly what Damita needed. For a moment she forgot her troubles.
“You wanna spend the night?” Damita asked.
“Fine time to ask, after I’ve already had several shots.”
“You already knew your ass was staying after the third shot. You’ve never been able to hold your liquor.”
“Look who’s talking. Aren’t you the same girl who took off her shoes and threw up in them the night of our senior prom?”
“Yuck! Did you have to remind me of that? What an attractive memory that is.”
“I can’t believe you actually remember it. We were all so drunk that night.”
“Speaking of drunk, I’m going to bed. I don’t think Patrón mixes well with pain-killers,” Damita said.
“Me too. Between the funeral and the Patrón I’m whipped.”
“Don’t remind me. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that Brandon is gone. I keep waiting for him to walk in the room and put us both in a yoke like he always did. I’m gonna miss him so damn much.”
Before Damita and Carmella went to sleep, they spent at least an hour reminiscing about Brandon and all the good times they had through the years.