What She Deserves Read online

  “Everything is fine. I’ll deal with that when I get back.” He dropped the envelope on the table and took two steps away. Then he circled back and picked up the package, tucking it under his arm as he went into the kitchen.

  Dumbfounded, Layla stared after him. Rashad was clearly lying to her, but why?

  The halls outside the campus auditorium buzzed with people who’d arrived for the ceremony. According to the program, the event should last about two hours and included a distribution of awards to instructors in five departments.

  Layla happened to see Omar almost as soon as they arrived, which wasn’t hard, considering his height and size. She waved to get his attention and rushed over.

  “Hey, how’re you doing?” She gave him a quick hug and an air kiss.

  “Nervous, as if I’m the one getting the award,” he replied with a hearty, deep-throated laugh.

  “This should be nothing for you,” she teased, alluding to his former career.

  A former linebacker for the Atlanta Falcons, he had the meaty body to prove it. Since his days of playing professional football had been over for a while, he wasn’t as big but maintained a similar physique and looked like he was about to pop out of the jacket that he wore over a white T-shirt.

  “I’m nervous for Dana. She kept complaining that she hated having to wear heels and hoped she didn’t trip when she walked across the stage.”

  “That’s because you’re looking out for our girl. You brought her here, right?”

  “Yeah, and you know how she is. She hates the attention, but I told her she wasn’t allowed to skip tonight.”

  “Good for you. Tamika and I told her the same thing. By the way, this is Rashad. I’m his better half.”

  “Damn,” Rashad said, as Omar laughed.

  Layla smiled sweetly and hugged Rashad’s arm. “Rashad, this is Omar, a good friend of Dana’s.”

  “I know who you are,” Rashad said. “You used to play for the Falcons.”

  “Sure did. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

  “But it hasn’t been that long. Nice to meet you, man.”

  “Good to meet you too.”

  They shook hands.

  “I played football in high school. Running back,” Rashad said, surprising Layla.

  He’d never mentioned that before, and she tucked away that information about him. Rashad struck a pose, as if he had a football tucked under his arm. The three of them laughed.

  Rashad appeared fine now, but on the ride over, the way he had released and gripped the steering wheel in quick succession revealed his tension.

  “You ever go to the games here?” Omar asked.

  “When I can.”

  “You gotta let me hook you up. Box seats.”

  “Oh damn, you’re speaking my love language. I can’t turn that down. I’m definitely interested,” Rashad said.

  “Cool.” Omar turned to Layla. “Where’s the little one?” he asked, referring to Tamika.

  “I’m sure she’ll be here soon. Oh, speak of the devil.”

  Tamika came sashaying toward them with her fiancé, Anton, beside her.

  “Hey!” she said, with her usual bubbly personality, giving Omar a hug.

  Tamika and Rashad greeted each other, and Anton and Rashad were introduce.

  “Now that we’re all here, and everyone knows everyone now, let’s get inside before the ceremony starts,” Layla said.

  “After you,” Omar said, extending a hand.

  Tamika and Layla led the way into the auditorium, half filled with family, friends, and faculty and staff from the college. They found seats in the same aisle, and within a few minutes, the lights were turned down and the emcee approached the mic.

  She greeted everyone with a welcoming smile and explained the purpose of the night was to honor the instructors from each department for their outstanding work and dedication. The president of the college came up and said a few words, and then the awards distribution commenced.

  Before each teacher received their award, the emcee spoke briefly about their accomplishments and discussed how many years they had been working in their field. When it was Dana’s turn, they talked about her work in the community, as well as the high praise she received from students and her fellow faculty members. The fact that she was one of the younger winners made her award that much sweeter. When they announced her name, Layla and the other four jumped to their feet, hollering and clapping.

  “We’re so proud of you!” Tamika yelled above the noise.

  Omar put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. With her dreadlocks piled on her head, Dana remained calm, a serene smile on her face. She glanced in their direction and acknowledged them with a wider grin, before going back to her seat.

  Right before the end of the ceremony, a special leadership award was announced. The winner of that award was unknown, and the president of the college returned to the stage to present it.

  “The Michael Boldt Leadership Award goes to the faculty member who has most demonstrated exemplary leadership ability. This person is a great communicator and dependable collaborator among his or her peers. The award includes a $10,000 cash prize, additional teaching and research resources, as well as reimbursement for attending conferences and seminars for professional development. It’s with great pleasure that I announce to you that tonight’s winner of the Michael Boldt Leadership Award goes to English Instructor Dana Lindstrom.”

  Layla and Tamika gasped and jumped to their feet, clapping loudly for their friend. A shell-shocked Dana slowly returned to the stage as the president read a list of all the accomplishments that factored into her winning the award.

  Layla didn’t hear a word he said, too busy hugging Tamika and then clapping along with the rest of the audience. The night had turned out better than expected, and she was glad to be in attendance to support her friend.

  After the ceremony, the crew of five surrounded Dana, giving her hugs and kisses and congratulations.

  Omar lifted her from the ground in a bear hug and gave her a big smack on the cheek. “Proud of you, babe,” he said in his deep voice.

  “Thank you.”

  Amazingly, Dana blushed. She never blushed. Tamika and Layla glanced at each other, silently communicating that they’d tease her about her behavior later.

  “I’m ready to get my drink on. Where are we going to celebrate?” Omar asked, rubbing his hands together.

  “What’s everybody in the mood for?” Anton asked. He stood behind Tamika with an arm looped around her neck, and she leaned back into him.

  “I want a Long Island iced tea and some good music, that’s it,” Dana said, hugging her awards to her chest. The first was a framed certificate, and the leadership award was made of glass and shaped like a diamond, with her name etched in a gold plaque on the wooden base.

  “How about Avery’s Juke Joint?” Tamika suggested.

  “I haven’t been there in a long time. Is it still jumping?” Omar asked.

  “Always. We might have to call ahead to get a table because it stays packed,” Dana said.

  “Let me handle that part.” Omar pulled out his phone and walked away.

  “It’s nice to have a celebrity in our midst,” Tamika said.

  Rashad cleared his throat. “I hate to be a killjoy, but I’m not going to be able to join you at Avery’s.”

  Layla stared at him. “Why not?”

  Rashad’s eyes shifted around the room before landing on Dana. “I have a lot of work to do at the office still. I wish I could hang.”

  “Oh no, that’s too bad,” Dana said.

  “Yeah, I’m really sorry about this.”

  He sounded sincere, but Layla couldn’t help but wonder what work he’d left unfinished at the office that required him to bail on the evening he’d assured her he had time for.

  “Nice to meet you,” Anton said, and they gave each other some dap.

  “Likewise.”

  “Thanks for coming tonight. I really appreciat
e it,” Dana said.

  “I wanted to be supportive. Congratulations again. I’ll see you later.” He kissed Layla’s temple.

  She swallowed her disappointment, wanting to pull him aside and question him but thought better of it. Faking happiness, she overlaid her concerned, frowning face with a happy one and said, “See you later.”

  Rashad’s troubled gaze met hers for a moment, and he seemed about to say something, but then he grinned, giving her one of his typical Rashad expressions. The outgoing, devil-may-care look where he flashed his pearly whites, as brilliant as the diamonds that sparkled in his ears. Then he was gone, winding his way out of the auditorium between the disappearing crowd.

  Her girlfriends came to stand on either side of her.

  “Is everything okay?” Dana asked quietly.

  “I hope so,” Layla replied.

  19

  Rashad knocked twice and then barged into Alex’s office without waiting for an answer. His friend looked up from the computer with a surprised expression.

  “You have a minute?” Rashad asked.

  “Sure.”

  Rashad shut the door. “He’s started again.” He tossed the opened envelope on the desk.

  Alex read the front and then leaned back in his chair. “He used your old name.”

  “Yeah. Asshole.”

  “What does he want?”

  “To make my life hell, what else? I should have never reached out to him.” He rubbed the back of his neck, aching from the amount of tension he’d been carrying with no relief since last night.

  After Heather’s death, he reached out to his father at the George Beto Unit, a men’s maximum-security prison in Texas. At first he thought his father might have changed, but within months he freed Rashad of the notion that he had been rehabilitated. Rashad cut off all contact, and the envelope yesterday was the first time he’d heard from him since then.

  “He’s your father. It’s not surprising that at some point you would reach out to him. Why did he contact you again?”

  “He sent me what I asked for. Pictures of my mother. Pictures of me from when I was a kid. Remember how he refused to give them to me? I started to doubt he even had them, but he had them all along, son of a bitch.” Bitter anger consumed him and spilled over into his voice. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time and hated that the old feelings had re-emerged.

  Alex opened the envelope and removed some of the photos and flipped through them. As Rashad watched, his stomach tightened with tension and nausea roiled in his stomach. He wished he didn’t have any connection to Chester Reddick.

  Last night when he left Layla and her friends, he’d gone back to the condo, opened the package and flipped through the photos. All sorts of emotions—anger, nostalgia, sadness—overwhelmed him, and more than anything he’d wanted to spill his guts to Layla. How many times had he told himself that he wouldn't, couldn't allow himself to need anyone? Not even Layla. He’d needed her last night—needed to tell her how much he was hurting and tell her the truth about his father so she could help him carry this burden he didn’t want to bear, but he couldn’t—because he’d lied to her. He had told her his parents were dead, but they weren’t.

  When she came home, he’d pretended to be asleep, and this morning he left early before she woke up.

  “In the letter he said I didn’t deserve them since I was the reason he was in prison in the first place, but he sent them anyway to prove that he wasn’t the bad person I thought he was. A good will gesture. Then he asked for money again.”

  “Dios, I’m sorry, Rashad.” Alex’s hazel eyes filled with sympathy. He knew all about Chester Reddick and the pain he’d caused not only to Rashad, but to a large number of women.

  “At least I have the pictures I wanted.” That was the silver lining.

  Thirteen-year-old Rashad had been the one to find the bloodied clothes tucked away in the garage, as well as a pair of earrings that matched the description of a woman he’d seen missing on the news. He’d already suspected that his father was up to no good on the nights he left him home alone, and seeing those items convinced him to call the police.

  When his father had been arrested, Rashad had been removed from the home, and the entire house was off limits because it was considered a crime scene. Years later, Rashad realized he had no photos of himself as a kid, and that need to connect to the past niggled at the back of his mind for a long time. When he contacted his father in prison, he’d asked about any photos he still had, and he’d tagged on a request about his mother—Ernestine Reddick.

  “Layla saw the package and asked me about the name on the envelope. I think I put her off, but I’m not sure.” Rashad paced the floor, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, annoyed by the constant tension there.

  “Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

  “The truth? That my father was a serial rapist who killed his last victim, and the only reason I’m here is because he raped my mother? That the name Rashad Greene is one I cobbled together after I turned eighteen so I wouldn’t have any connection to a monster? I’m sure she would have taken that very well.”

  Alex sighed and stuffed the pictures back in the envelope. “You told me you’re in love with her, and she’s practically living at your condo these days. Don’t you think it’s time you tell her everything?”

  Rashad rested his butt against the credenza and laughed. “Yeah, that’s so easy to do.”

  Alex stood. “Aren’t you the one who told me I should tell Sherry the truth about me and Heather? Now is the time to take your own advice.”

  “Your situation was different, Alex. Sherry had to get used to the idea of you and Heather, but there’s no way Layla is going to be okay with this. I told her my parents were dead, meanwhile my mother is alive and well in Huntsville, Alabama and probably doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, and my father is in a maximum-security prison for brutalizing more than twenty women over the span of a decade. How do you think she’s going to look at me, when she comes from a pristine family of lawyers and politicians? You think she’ll jump at the chance to be with a man whose background is so dirty? She won’t want the stink on her.” His jaw and throat tightened at the thought of Layla’s scorn. There were so many other men out there without his baggage that he couldn’t fathom her wanting to remain in his life and plan a future with him when she learned the truth.

  “You know her better than I do, but I’ve never seen you behave this way about anyone else. You used to laugh at the idea of The One, and I think Layla is your One. You need to secure this relationship before she finds out you lied and everything blows up in your face.”

  “I need more time.”

  “For what? To come up with more lies? Whether you tell her now or tell her later, the result will be the same. You’re putting off the inevitable.”

  “Then so be it, but I don’t think I can manage anything else right now.” Rashad pushed away from the credenza and picked up the envelope.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I don’t, but I can’t risk losing her again.” Losing Layla would be a nightmare come true.

  Rashad exited the office.

  “Layla!”

  Hearing her name yelled, Layla almost jumped out of the seat in front of Ethan’s desk. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  She didn’t have much of an attention span and unfortunately had been drifting off during their conversation. A huge no-no for someone like Ethan, who paid a premium for her time and attention.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is there something else you’d rather be doing?” he asked.

  “No, I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind.” Of course, that was no excuse.

  “Do you think you could set it aside for the next few minutes while we’re talking? After we’re done, you’re welcome to go back to whatever daydreams you’re having.”

  The biting comment made heat rise in her cheeks.

  “No problem,�
� Layla muttered. She couldn’t even be mad at him because she was screwing up. She straightened in the chair and poised her stylus pen above the blank page on her iPad.

  Ethan continued. “I need you to travel to Miami with me this weekend. You’ll only have to stay Saturday night. Can you make it?”

  “Yes, that’s no problem.”

  “Good. Coordinate transportation and flights with Daria,” he said.

  “Okay. No problem.” She wrote herself a note.

  Ethan studied her for a beat. “What’s going on with you?”

  Layla pasted a bright smile on her face. “Nothing. Everything is fine.”

  “Everything is not fine, but I certainly hope it will be. I need you at 100 percent, Layla. Whatever you’re going through, please fix it before you come to Miami. You know how much I depend on you.”

  “I do. Not to worry.”

  “Good. That’s all I have. You can leave. I have a dinner meeting, so I’ll leave now too.” He glanced at his watch and stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow on the plane.”

  He grabbed his briefcase and exited the office, but Layla remained seated. She had to get her act together. She didn’t think Ethan would fire her, but he had a low tolerance for incompetence. It’s just that she couldn’t think right now. All her brain cells were preoccupied with thoughts of Rashad and that package she picked up yesterday. Then of course, there was his unexpected departure from Dana’s award ceremony and his early morning departure—before she even woke up. He must have left at the crack of dawn.

  Something was wrong, and in usual Rashad fashion, he wouldn’t share that with her. Well, if he was going to keep information from her, as well as obviously lie, she had no choice but to do her own investigation. She’d put that off so far because a sixth sense warned if she went poking around in his affairs, she would find something she didn’t want to find. She had no choice, however, because curiosity gnawed at her constantly, and Rashad was not forthcoming with information.

  To begin her search, she typed “Deshawn Reddick” into the search field on the Internet. The name was unusual enough that only a single page of results popped up. She scanned the images and halted when she came to one of a dark-skinned young man wearing a football uniform in an old photo.