Hittin' It Out the Park Read online

“I hope you didn’t call me so I could listen to you breathe over the phone,” Sexy complained.

  “What’s with you, Amanda? Why’re you being so ornery? I called to find out what’s a good day for the two of us to go shopping for new school clothes,” Clarissa said in a chipper tone. “Daddy said the sky is the limit. He wants his little girl to get a brand-new wardrobe for her new start in London.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. I’m not going to school in London or anywhere else.”

  “Be reasonable, Mandy,” her mother cajoled. “You have one more year of high school and if you live up to your academic potential while attending the prep school in Europe, Daddy can pull some strings and get you in the University of Pennsylvania or possibly Princeton. He has clout with numerous Ivy League schools across the country.”

  “I’m not going back to school.”

  Now Clarissa’s voice turned to steel. “We had an agreement, Amanda, and I will not have a daughter of mine wandering this earth without a decent education.”

  Sexy laughed without mirth. In fact, the sound of her laughter held a ring of malice. “You’re right. No daughter of yours will ever walk the earth, period. Wanna know why? Because you don’t have a daughter!”

  Clarissa gasped. “Why would you say something so cruel?”

  “Get real, Mom. The charade is over. I’m adopted and you know it. The thing that puzzles me is why in the world you and Daddy tried to keep it a secret?”

  “Oh, my God.” Clarissa began to sob. “I wanted to tell you, but your father thought it best that you didn’t know the truth. He didn’t want you to grow up feeling inferior.”

  “Well, the plan didn’t work.”

  “Oh, Mandy. I’m so sorry. How’d you find out, sweetheart? We tried to be so careful.”

  “I overheard you two discussing my aberrant traits. You said my propensity for stealing had to be a genetic trait—something I must have inherited from my biological parents.”

  “Amanda, listen to me, sweetheart. Daddy and I both love you. We chose you—”

  “Cut the crap. That’s the spiel you give to a four-year-old. What century are you living in? People don’t hide the fact that a kid has been adopted. Why couldn’t you have been honest with me?”

  Clarissa sighed. “We were wrong to withhold that information. Can you forgive us, dear?”

  “I don’t know. You allowed me to live a lie, telling me I was half Pakistani and half African American. How could you and Daddy live with yourselves after feeding an innocent child so many lies? What am I mixed with, Mom? I mean . . . who exactly am I?”

  “You’re Amanda Nehru . . . our daughter.”

  “Can you at least give me my birth parents’ names?”

  “I’m sorry, dear. I truly don’t have that information.”

  “Whatever.”

  “We made a big mistake, Mandy, but we had your best interest at heart. You’ve got to forgive us. We love you with all our hearts.”

  “Maybe I could forgive you if you’d give me a little information.”

  “What else do you want to know?” Clarissa asked, sounding somewhat panicked.

  “I’ve been contacting adoption agencies since I was fourteen years old—”

  “You have?”

  “Yes, but I constantly hit brick walls. I deserve to know the names of my birth parents—if only to get info about my family medical history.”

  Clarissa sobbed as she spoke. “I wish I could give you that information. All I know is that your mother, uh, died in childbirth, and I have no idea who your biological father is. So, please, darling, let it go.”

  “I can’t let it go, so please don’t ask me to pretend that I’m your daughter any longer when clearly I’m not. Not with all my personality defects and character flaws that I’ve heard you and Daddy quietly complaining about numerous times.”

  “Oh, my God. We never actually complained. It’s only . . . well, you had certain behaviors that were so foreign to us. The constant stealing and lying. We didn’t understand it and we were afraid for your future.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine how much it sucked not knowing what to expect out of the stranger you were raising as your own. I bet it sucked about as much it sucks not knowing whose blood is flowing through my veins. Not knowing your true identity is a bitch,” she said callously.

  “But we can start all over. We can have more open dialogue—as a family.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Sexy said wearily. “Back off, Mom; stop interfering with my life. I’m doing quite well on my own, so consider me emancipated.”

  “You’re barely seventeen; how can you possibly take care of yourself?”

  “Easily. I use my looks and my feminine wiles—like you! Isn’t that how you snagged Daddy? I learned a lot about duping men into taking care of me by watching you, Mommy,” Sexy said callously, and then hung up on her mother.

  Having the upper hand over her pretentious mother felt good. And her wimp of a father, who wasn’t man enough to control his cheating wife, yet constantly complained that Sexy was genetically flawed, could kiss her flawed ass. Sexy walked over to the window and looked out. She didn’t feel bad about hurting her mother’s feelings; as far as she was concerned, the bitch deserved it. Still, she knew the only reason she lashed out the way she did at that moment was because she was so pissed at Cheryl. The bitch was fucking up all her plans. At least she thought she was. But there was no way Sexy was going to lose this fight.

  Cheryl

  She didn’t want to be ungrateful, but she needed Randy to get the hell out of the house. It was sweet of him to stay with her at the hospital for those two nights, but now that she was out, she had some serious business to take care of that he couldn’t be privy to.

  “Oh, snap, I’ve had this for a minute. I can’t believe I forgot to give it to you,” a grinning Randy said, coming into the living room with a gift-wrapped package. He placed it on the table next to the couch where Cheryl was lying.

  Cheryl gave him a withering look, and then picked up a magazine that was also on the table, and started flipping through it.

  “Um, aren’t you going to open it?”

  Instead of answering, Cheryl took a sip of her Ethiopian Fancy coffee, turned another page, and made believe she was suddenly engrossed by an article on Kendall Jenner. She had been super nice to Randy since coming to at the hospital, not wanting to push him back into the arms of Miss Skank, but now she had to try a different tactic. She simply had to get him out of the apartment.

  “Cheryl, is there something wrong?”

  Cheryl rolled her eyes and continued to ignore him.

  “Babe?”

  Cheryl finally put the magazine down and stared at Randy. “We really haven’t talked about what happened—”

  “Babe, I apologized.” Randy lowered his eyes, and started wringing his hands together. “I felt sorry for her. She had nowhere to go after Yusef put her out, and it was really my fault that they fought in the first place.”

  “Why? You didn’t rape her. She lay down like a woman, and you took it like a man.” Cheryl put down the magazine and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yusef threw her out because of what she did, not what you did. I’m the one who was hurt over what you did.”

  “I know, Cheryl,” Randy said, in a voice barely above whisper.

  “And I can’t believe you actually got Brent and Mila to lie for you.” Cheryl shook her head. “Do you know how embarrassing all of this is for me?” She sighed and turned her head. “Thank God, Stephen somehow managed to keep all of this from the media. Bet you won’t ask what good is he anymore.”

  Randy nodded dismally. “I’m sorry I hurt you, and I know I’ve said it before, but it’s never going to happen again.”

  “Yes, you have said it before. And I believed you.” Cheryl let out a big sigh. “And you actually have the nerve to expect me to believe, again, you’re never going to see Sexy, huh? How big an idiot do you expect me to be?”

&
nbsp; “I don’t think you’re an idiot at all, Cheryl. I think you’re a woman who loves me, and knows, deep down, that while I messed up big time, I really love you, too.”

  “And I guess you love Sexy, too, huh?” Cheryl said sadly.

  “Naw, babe.” Randy shook his head. “I admit I had it bad for her, but I don’t love her.”

  “Then how could you have done this to me?” Cheryl demanded.

  “I don’t know, I really don’t know. I tried not to do it.” Randy’s shoulders slumped. “She, I don’t know, she—”

  “She what? She sucked your dick so good you had to go back for more?” Cheryl’s voice turned shrill. “The pussy was so good you had to go back and hit it again?”

  “Cheryl, no!”

  “Then what was it?” Cheryl said, jumping up from the couch.

  “I don’t know,” Randy said, tears in his voice. “She was sweet. Very sweet.”

  “Sexy? Sweet? You’ve got to be kidding.” Cheryl started laughing. “Boy, she’s got you fooled.”

  “And, she kinda, well, she kinda reminds me of you,” Randy continued, as if he hadn’t heard Cheryl’s sarcastic remarks.

  Reminds him of me? Cheryl gasped. Once again she was face-to-face with the fact that her rival was her daughter. Covering her face with her hands, she sank back down on the couch and started crying.

  “Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. I’m only saying that the close resemblance might have been part of the attraction, that’s all,” Randy said, trying unsuccessfully to pull her into his arms.

  Instead of comforting her, the words made her cry even harder. He was going to leave her for her daughter; she absolutely knew it. Of course, she could prevent it by simply telling him the whole truth. Tell him that Sexy was only seventeen. Tell him that Sexy was her child. That’s it!

  “Randy, I’m so miserable,” she said, falling into his arms.

  “I know, babe, I know,” he said, rubbing her back.

  “No, you don’t know.” Cheryl sat up, then wiped her eyes. “Randy, there’s something that I should have told you, but . . . but, I couldn’t bring myself to.”

  “What, babe?”

  No. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth. She couldn’t take the chance that he might leave her. “Well, you know how we’ve been trying to have a baby?”

  Randy gasped. “Cheryl, you’re pregnant? Oh, honey!”

  Cheryl shook her head frantically. “No, you don’t understand.” She took a deep breath before continuing her lie. “I thought I was. My period was three days late, and I was so thrilled. But then—” She started crying again. “But then it came down suddenly. The same night I was waiting for you to come home. I was so depressed I thought I would die. I needed you to comfort me, Randy, and I waited all night for you to come home. But instead I got that mean phone call from . . . from, you know who.”

  “Oh, Cheryl.” Randy’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Cheryl, I’m so sorry.”

  Cheryl sobbed. “I think that’s why I went so crazy that night, not only because of you cheating on me, but because I was so depressed about not being pregnant with your child. There’s nothing more that I want than to have your baby; you know that. And the two things simply pushed me over the edge.”

  “Oh, my God, oh my God.” Randy grabbed her in his arms and started rocking back and forth. “Cheryl, can you ever forgive me?”

  The only thing breaking the silence in the room for the next few minutes was the sound of sobs—genuine weeping from Randy, well-rehearsed crying from Cheryl.

  “Wait a minute,” Randy said, gently unfolding his arms from around Cheryl and reaching for his phone. He quickly scrolled through his contacts, tapped the send button, and then tapped another button to set the phone on speaker.

  “Hey, Randy!” Sexy’s voice came through loud and clear. “I’ve been texting, calling and leaving voice messages for you for the last two days. What’s going on?”

  “Sexy,” Randy said in a solemn voice. “I’m calling you to tell you that I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to see you again.”

  “What?” Sexy shouted. “What the hell are you talking about? You—” Her voice suddenly lowered. “Wait a minute. Is Cheryl there? Are you saying all of this for her benefit? Don’t worry. Go right on talking, and then when you get by yourself, call me back and tell me what’s going on.”

  Randy let out a deep breath. “It’s not like that, Sexy. Cheryl is here, but I’m not calling for her benefit; it was my idea to give you a call.”

  Cheryl grinned happily.

  “Randy, is Cheryl listening? Is she coaching you on what to say?”

  “I’m not going to lie; she is listening, but she’s not coaching me,” Randy said impatiently. “I was wrong to get involved with you, and it’s not going to happen again. I love my wife, and I’m going to devote my time to her and the family we’re starting. I think it’s best you go on back home to Philadelphia and get on with your own life, because we’re getting on with ours. You take care of yourself, and I wish you the best.”

  And with that, he hung up. “I love you, babe, and I’m never going to hurt you again,” he said, kissing Cheryl.

  “What say we get busy trying to get that family started again?” Cheryl said in a husky voice.

  * * *

  It was three o’clock before Randy had rested up from an hour of passionate lovemaking and headed to Madison Avenue to meet with his agent and executives from Coca-Cola. Against both Cheryl’s and his agent’s urging for him to take the Pepsi deal, Randy had remained true to his principles and had accepted the lesser sum of money offered by Coca-Cola—the beverage he actually preferred to drink.

  “Stephen,” she said as soon as she got her friend on the phone. “I’m back. What’s been going on?”

  “Girl, if you weren’t my best friend, I’d hang up on you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I love you, too,” Cheryl said with a little chuckle. “I want to thank you for everything. I’m fine, now. And I’m sorry, etcetera, etcetera. Now, can we simply move on?”

  Stephen sucked his teeth. “No, we can’t. Do you know how much trouble I had covering all that shit up? Not to mention how much of the Yankees money I had to spread around to make sure nobody saw or heard what they actually saw and heard.”

  “Um, hundreds?” Cheryl couldn’t suppress a giggle.

  “Hmph! Try thousands.”

  “Oh, damn!”

  “Oh, yeah. And the boys in the big offices sure don’t find it as amusing as you seem to,” Stephen said with a huff. “You’d better be glad that young country boy is such a hot commodity. He sure as hell better not go into a batting slump this season.”

  “Stephen, I’m sorry.” The contriteness in Cheryl’s voice was genuine. “I guess I was trying to pretend it was all funny because I’m so embarrassed. But you know all the shit I was going through.”

  “Well, no, I don’t,” Stephen snipped. “I know that somehow you found out that Randy and Sexy were together, but the Cheryl I know wouldn’t have suffered a nervous breakdown over that. Care to expound?”

  With a sigh, Cheryl told all. Well, not all. She omitted that she was responsible for Jocko being murdered. She left out that Sexy was her daughter. But she did tell him about the telephone call she’d received from the girl.

  “She actually said that,” Stephen said with a gasp. “She actually said, ‘Yeah, I fucked your husband to sleep; do you wanna hear my man snore,’?”

  “That’s an exact quote,” Cheryl said bitterly. It hurt recounting the episode, but she at least owed Stephen that. “See why I went the fuck off?”

  “Oh, hell yeah,” Stephen all but yelled. “I probably would have gone off worse if some bitch called and told me that about my man.” He paused a moment, then added in a concerned tone: “Are you really okay now, honey? I wanted to visit you in the nut house—”

  “It wasn’t the nut house,” Cheryl snapped. “It was New York-Presbyterian, the most prestigious hospital
in the city.”

  “Uh huh, and how was the food in the nut ward?”

  “Fuck you, Stephen,” Cheryl said, laughing. “It was only two days, and I did need a break. So, anyway,” she said, now serious. “What did I miss? What’s been going on?”

  “Nothing. Same as usual. Yankees on top, Mets at the bottom. All is right with the world,” Stephen said in a bored voice.

  “Well,” Cheryl said slowly, “anything new on the Jocko front?”

  “No, he’s still dead.”

  “Very funny. Have they found out who did it?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t been following the papers.”

  Cheryl grimaced. She had actually gone through the two days’ worth of newspapers piled in front of their apartment door when she and Randy had returned home, but there was no mention of anything. But the fact was that the apprehension of a hit-and-run driver of a non-descript Black man in Washington Heights might not make the paper, unless it was a slow news day. “But, you being a PR guy and having all kinds of sources in the media, you haven’t been able to find out anything?”

  “Can’t say that I’ve tried. Why are you so interested, anyway?”

  “I’m not really. Simply wondering, that’s all.” Now what do I do? “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll give you a call later.”

  Normally, Cheryl was a bubble-bath person, but she was too worried to even think about relaxing. All she could think about as the water from the shower cascaded over her body was whether Dwayne Ligon had been caught, and whether she was going to be arrested. She badly wanted to call him, but the many episodes of Law & Order she’d watched over the years cautioned her that to do so might give her away. They always found out who hired the contract killer by pulling his phone logs to find out what calls he received before and after the murder, and then traced the number.

  The best thing to do, she decided as she dressed in a stylish blue pants suit, was to call him from a pay phone. And not one in her neighborhood. And to use gloves so that they couldn’t pull fingerprints from the telephone or the coins.

  Cheryl was heading out the door when she spied the gift-wrapped present that Randy had placed on the coffee table earlier; she’d forgotten all about it. Now her curiosity got the best of her. Besides, she could use a little pick-me-up. She sat down, placing her shoulder bag on the couch next to her, and eagerly tore open the wrapping.