Donna Hill - Saving All My Lovin'

“Is that what you’re really worried about?” Barbara asked and handed her the cup of coffee.

Ann Marie took the cup in two hands and sipped the steaming black brew. “Always cut to the chase with you,” she murmured.

“Everyone deserves to know them pops. True. But me t’ink once him back in Raquel’s life, him be back in mine.”

“What did this man do to you?” Elizabeth asked. She knew what it felt like to have a philandering husband. She’d just gotten rid of one herself. But this definitely sounded more serious that than. “Did he beat you?” she eeked out, shuddering at the thought.

She looked from one face to another. “He sexed me up so good that I haven’t been right for another man since.”

“Ooooh,” they sang.

“We should all be so lucky,” Stephanie said drolly.

“You don’t know what it’s like to have someone have that much control over you,” Ann Marie said. “To need and want someone so badly you put up with every retched t’ing they do to keep ‘em.”

“Maybe he’s old, bald and fat now,” Stephanie offered.

“Even old, bald and fat Terrance Bishop would be more than the average woman could handle.”

“Damn,” they sang in harmony.

“What you need is a unified front,” Barbara said and stood. She began to pace. “Once he sees that you have support, he won’t try anything. You don’t be alone with him. No late night dinners, no private lunches.” She turned to Ann Marie and wagged a finger at her. “And don’t let him in the front door. If he wants to see Raquel let them make arrangements to meet. You stay out of it. Put your foot down girl. You did it once, you can do it again.”

“And get a lawyer,” Stephanie said.

“For what?” Elizabeth asked.

“They’re still married,” Stephanie said.

Terrance walked into police headquarters, dressed as usual in his tailor-made suit, shoes gleaming and his salt-and-pepper hair brushed to a soft shine, the gentle natural waves capping his perfectly shaped head. A smooth nut-brown complexion served as the canvas for jet-black almond-shaped eyes, soft curling lashes, lush lips and an alluring cleft in his solid chin.

At fifty-six he could easily pass for a man half his age. He made a point of swimming every day and would rather walk than use his many cars. The sandy beaches of Jamaica were his gym. He ran along the shore every morning for at least an hour before taking his swim in the clear blue ocean.

Now as commissioner of the police force it was more important than ever to maintain his look. It had been a long time coming. For years he’d danced in his father’s shadow. But with Cyril Bishop’s passing the prior year, Terrance had been appointed in his place without protest. And with position came power. With the force at his disposal and a commanding title to back him up, he’d been able to use the resources available to him to locate his wife and daughter.

His next step up the ladder was to run for office. The campaign was slated to begin in three months. His reunion with his wife and daughter would surely guarantee him the spot he coveted. A loving family always warmed a voter’s heart. He intended to have his wife and daughter at his side.

“Good morning Commissioner,” Stacy his latest conquest and administrative assistant greeted.

He flashed her a smile that reawakened the fire between them from the previous night. He’d have to find a way to be rid of her soon. But in the meantime she was a pleasant diversion.

“Good morning,” he said in his slightly British accent, acquired from his years of education at Oxford in England.

“I left your messages on your desk.”

He nodded and headed down the corridor to his office, the heavy wooden door embossed in gold letters with his name. Absently he ran his hand across the raised letters before opening the door and stepping inside.

He went to his desk and picked up the handful of messages, tossing each one aside as he reviewed them. One caught his attention.

It was from Raquel.

He came around the desk and sat down. Call me. We need to talk.

He licked his lips then picked up the phone, dialing the international operator. Moments later he heard the phone ringing on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Raquel. It’s your dad. I just received your message.”

“I wanted you to know that I’ve moved out of Mom’s house. I’m staying in a hotel.”

Terrance frowned. “Why are you in a hotel?”

“I couldn’t stay there any longer.”

“Did something happen? Was it because of me?”

“She lied to me all these years. She never told me about you. She never told me you were still married.”

Terrance sat back in his high-backed leather chair and swiveled it to face the window.

“You shouldn’t be upset with your mother.” He pursed his lips, ran a finger along the thin line of his mustache.

“Why not?”

“Maybe she had her reasons.” He gazed out toward the ocean, almost able to see the young Ann Marie running across the beach, her skirts held high around her thighs.

Raquel sighed into the phone. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done. I just wanted to leave you a number where you could reach me.”

He shook the past away then took the number down.

“So, you’ll stay in touch won’t you?”

“Of course,” he said. “Do you need money? Is there anything that I can do?”

“No. Thanks. I’m fine. You’re still coming to New York aren’t you?” she asked sounding like a young girl instead of a grown woman.

Terrance smiled. “Yes, darling. I’m still coming.”

“Good. I’m really looking forward to meeting—seeing you.”

“So am I. I’m sure you are more beautiful than I could ever imagine.”

She laughed. “Mom says I look like you.”

Maybe that’s why it was so hard for her to love you, he thought, a constant reminder. “Well, we hope that you got the good genes.” He chuckled. A knock on his door drew his attention. “I must go.”

“Okay. Well, you have my number.”

“Yes, and I’ll be sure to call.”

“Bye.”

“Goodbye.” He hung up the phone.

“Yes, come in.”

Stacy opened the door and stepped inside. A slow smile moved across her thin mouth. She closed the door behind her and walked up to his desk. “I wanted to tell you what a nice time I had last night,” she said in husky voice.

The right corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“How nice?”

She came around to his side of the desk and sat on his lap. “Why don’t I show you?”

Sterling Chambers walked out of the court room. It had been a tough case, one that he wasn’t sure he would win, but he did.

His specialty was criminal defense cases al though he’d made his mark as a prosecutor. But years of putting people whom he knew to be innocent behind bars had finally taken its toll and so he’d jumped sides and opened his own practice.

It hadn’t been easy, those first few years, but he’d slowly built his business and considered himself moderately successful.

He jogged down the steps of the Supreme Court building in Manhattan and decided to take a stroll to release some of the adrenaline running through his veins. He passed by City Hall and caught a glimpse of the mayor getting into a black limo. If only he had his billions, he thought absently. The first thing he would do is revamp the school system in the inner cities. Sure it was great to have money and the power of political office, but you were always shackled by bureaucracy. And the best intentions often fell by the wayside of the political machine.

He walked along Chambers Street, sidestepping the rushing lunch-goers who were darting in and out of coffee shops and fast-food joints. He rolled his shoulders. A good massage would do wonders, he thought.