Single Mama's Got More Drama

“Sure. Go on.”

I left Carla’s and headed upstairs to my place. In my bedroom, I stripped out of my suit.

That’s when I noticed the red message light flashing on my phone.

I went around to the side of my bed where my phone was and punched in the code to check my voice mail.

“Vanessa, this is Cynthia Martin. I tried you at work, but you’d already gone. Call me back. It’s important.”

Cynthia then rattled off her number, but it wasn’t necessary. I’d committed it to memory. I called her back immediately.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Cynthia. I’m glad I—”

“This is Cynthia Martin. I’m unable to take your call right now, but leave me a message, and I’ll be sure to get back to you.”

I frowned, but left a message letting Cynthia know that I was home now, and that she could call me anytime.

Then I went to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

As I climbed into the tub, I was both excited and scared. Excited at the prospect that Cynthia might have gotten the dirt I needed, but scared that she hadn’t.

I wished she’d said either way what she had learned. The suspense was killing me.

I showered quickly, hoping she returned my call soon. She had to have good news for me.

I wouldn’t allow myself to think anything else.

7

I called Cynthia Martin no less than five times the next day when I was at work, and was completely dismayed when I got her voice mail each time. How was it that the woman had called with news, but now wouldn’t get back to me?

Every time my phone rang, I hoped it was her calling. All but one time I answered it, it was someone calling regarding my work. The one non-work-related call had come from Lewis, who’d let me know that he’d put in a call to both the lawyers he’d mentioned the previous night and was waiting to hear back from them.

I glanced at my wall clock. It was ten minutes to five. Disappointed that the whole day had passed without a word from Cynthia, I frowned.

And then my phone rang. I snatched up the receiver before it could ring a second time. “Vanessa Cain.”

“Hey, Vanessa. It’s Cynthia Martin.”

“Cynthia,” I said, my heart filling with hope when I heard the reporter’s voice.

“I’ve got news for you,” she practically sang.

“You do?”

“Yes. And you’re going to like it.”

I pumped my fist in the air and mouthed the word yes!

“Can we meet this evening?” she asked.

“Name the time and place.”

“How about the Barnes and Noble on Kendall Drive? We can meet in the Starbucks café.”

“Sounds good.”

“I can be there around five-fifteen.”

My office wasn’t too far from that bookstore. And if I met Cynthia now, I wouldn’t have to go home, only to head back into downtown Miami later. “I’ll be there.”

“See you then.”

As soon as I replaced the receiver, I quickly finished with the file that was on my computer and logged off. I slipped into my slingbacks, which were beneath my desk, and collected my purse. Then I hurried out of my office, saying a quick goodbye to the co-workers I ran in to, before heading to the bank of elevators.

Hardly able to contain my excitement, I all but danced around in the elevator, ready to spring through the doors the moment they opened on the ground floor. I watched each floor light up during the descent, and inwardly groaned every time the elevator stopped on a floor other than the first.

About three minutes later, I was the first to get off the elevator when it landed on the lobby level. I caught Edgar’s eye immediately. The building’s long-time security guard raised his hand in greeting and offered me a meek smile.

I’m not sure what kind of look I leveled on him, but I know it wasn’t pleasant.

“Come on,” Edgar said as I neared the security desk. “Are you going to be mad at me forever?”

In reply, I scowled at him.

“Vanessa…”

Edgar and I weren’t close friends or anything, but I hadn’t expected him to betray me the way he had. Edgar was a friend of Rayna’s father, Byron, and had told him about my involvement with Chaz Anderson. Because of that, Byron had shown up at the restaurant where I’d been having lunch with Chaz, confronted me about not wanting to “lose” his daughter—thereby exposing my lie about Rayna’s father being dead—and that had been the end for me and Chaz.

“Come over here and talk to me,” Edgar urged, motioning for me to go to him.

I paused, debating what to do. But after a moment, I sauntered toward him. Reaching the security desk, I blew out a heavy breath and stared down at Edgar.

“Yes, I’m going to be mad at you forever,” I said. “Edgar, how could you have told Byron about me and Chaz?”

“I already told you. Byron said he’d changed—given up the gambling, you know? I know that was a big problem for you guys, and I figured, he seemed like he was telling the truth. And doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?”

Byron was a compulsive gambler. It was one of the reasons that our relationship was doomed to fail. I didn’t know about his habit until we’d already been involved about a year, and when I found out he was in debt to bookies for thousands, he always had what seemed like a reasonable explanation for how the situation had gotten out of control.

Every time I asked him how the “situation” was going, he told me he was working off his debt. I believed him. And then I noticed that some of my jewelry was gone. Like a diamond-and-emerald necklace my father had given to my mother that I’d received after her passing. At first, Byron swore that he hadn’t taken it. Then, he claimed he “borrowed” it.

I never saw it again, or any of the other jewelry he’d taken. I still remember thinking that the reason he was so upset that I was pregnant was because of the money it would cost to raise a child—money he was happier spending on placing bets.

“It was up to me to decide whether or not he deserved a second chance,” I said to Edgar.

“I know. But he kept telling me how he’d changed, and was talking about how much he wanted a relationship with his daughter, that he was ready,” Edgar went on. “But that you wouldn’t give him the time of day. Then there was that article in the paper about you and Chaz, speculating that you’d get married.” Edgar shrugged. “I felt I had to say something.”