"Johnson, you've got a visitor,"
Myles glanced up from his smuggled copy of Jet Magazine, surprised to see the guard fishing a set of heavy keys from his pocket. No one had visited him since he'd called Jermaine hoping to make bail. Most of his street associates were unaware he'd been in prison for the past month and a half and his mother had grown tired of trying to get him on the straight and narrow after the past two offenses.
"I think you got the wrong Johnson," He retorted, folding his arm behind his head before flipping the page to an article on Diana Ross.
The guard laughed stiffly.
"We never get inmate numbers incorrect. Don't be ungrateful, you got a visitor,"
Myles had to admit, something was exciting about having someone visit him after spending so long isolated from society. Skeptical, he hopped down from his bunk, not flinching when the handcuffs snapped around his wrist. As a sophomore prisoner, he knew to keep his gaze straight ahead, ignoring the jeers from fellow inmates during the long walk to the visitor booths.
A spiral of cigarette smoke trailed from the plexiglass's other side and nothing was more shocking to Myles than seeing her face.
"Whit? What the hell are you doin' here?" He asked, pressing the phone to his ear while the guard locked his free hand to the arm of the chair.
Whitney took a long drag of her cigarette, tilting the dark shades down the bridge of her nose. The curly auburn wig she wore looked ridiculous and did little to conceal her identity.
"Don't say my name," She hissed.
It has been nearly two weeks since Whitney escaped Encino. She never planned on returning. The women's shelter she'd taken residence at in Burbank until she could find a steady job was safe but it did nothing to ease the anxiety that kept her awake at night.
Whitney had dreams and nightmares of him finding her and crushing her esophagus for good. Doing all the awful things he'd fantasized about doing to Althea and had probably done to other women before her.
She'd rather face him one last time on her terms than have him catch her with her guard down.
Myles chuckled.
"Don't nobody here know you, girl. So, why did you come to see me?"
Whitney rolled her eyes, ignoring his flirtatious smirk.
"I need a favor,"
He leaned back in the chair, annoyed yet intrigued.
"Shiiit, I need one a' those too thanks to that bitch ass boyfriend of yours. In case you haven't noticed my hands are tied. I can't do much. Why don't you ask Jermaine? Scary niggas with too much money always know somebody,"
The mention of Jermaine made Whitney's blood run cold and she took a long drag of her cigarette, her eyes scanning the room.
"I don't want him to do anything else for me," she spat. "I don't want anything to do with him. I want him out of the picture. Permanently. Dig?"
Through all her erratic planning, it was the first time Whitney had admitted it out loud.
"Oh, I Dig," Myles's lips curved into an evil, knowing smirk. "You finally tired of him?"
"He's batshit crazy. I keep getting the feeling he could take me out so I need to take him out first. You got your ear to the street. Who do you know?"
For once, Myles felt relieved to be organizing crime rather than participating. Still, he had to be careful, he was facing too many years of imprisonment for his liking.
"I always liked you so I'll do you a solid. I know this dude up in Skid Row named Shank. He'll do it but if you're short on cash, you'll have to pay him another way. You know what I mean,"
Whitney's pretty face screwed up into a perplexed expression.
"Skid Row? Hell no," She scoffed. "I'll be better off doin' the job myself,"
On the other side of the glass, he shrugged.
"You had a problem. I gave you a solution. Besides, you and I both know you a down-home girl,"
She snuffed out her cigarette with a roll of her eyes before pushing herself up from the booth.
"Wait, " Myles called. "I did you a favor. Do me one,"
Whitney narrowed her eyes, beyond irritated.
"Whaat?" She seethed.
A sheepish expression settled on his face as he leaned into the receiver.
"Put some money on my commissary? Pleease?"
She scoffed, chuckling softly and she slammed down the phone.
"Nigga, please,"
The wasted time she'd spent on Myles did not deter Whitney from her plan. Jermaine was a danger and she knew he must be eliminated. The idea that he would finally get to her was haunting but her mind often went to Althea. Whitney knew how obsessed Jermaine was with her. Sure, she'd had her lustful infatuation with Althea but she'd never had any malicious intent.
The way Jermaine spoke of his sister-in-law was dark and dangerous. He hated Althea just as much as he lusted for her. If anything were to ever happen to her, Whitney would never be able to forgive herself.
She'd have to strategize a plan.
With a sign Whitney settled into the driver's seat in the old AMC Pacer she'd brought for cash after dumping the Town Car Jermaine had gifted her. She reached into the glove compartment for another pack of cigarettes to soothe her nerves. She noticed the shiny, silver pistol stuffed among empty cigarette cartons, a pack of spearmint gum, and a compact powder and suddenly got a sinister idea.
Maybe, if she chalked up the courage, she could get it over with now.
The first and last time Whitney had been to Hayvenhurst had ended with her getting into a catfight with Hazel and Michael succumbing to the roofie she'd intended for Althea. It all made sense at the time. There was some seductive adrenaline about being the pretty young mistress existing to spite the tired, old wife that had clouded her judgment.
Knowing what a monster Jermaine was, she couldn't have been more foolish.
The beautiful Tudor architecture of Hayvenhurst greeted Whitney behind the iron bars of the gate as she approached the estate. Her heart sank when she realized she'd have to pass security before getting in. Joseph had them installed many years ago when music hopefuls got the bold idea to show up unannounced, begging for a record contract.
"Damn it," She swore, pulling to the curb.
Whitney knew she couldn't simply pass through the gate, gun him down, and leave without being tracked. She'd have to think this through more carefully.
She reached for another cigarette to soothe her jilted nerves, her linsome hands shaking as she sparked the lighter. In the corner of her eye, Whitney spotted a familiar Rolls Royce pass by. Her heart raced with panic at the sight of Jermaine perched behind the wheel, Stacy bouncing happily in the passenger seat with a chocolate ice cream cone.
Suddenly, the impulse didn't seem worth acting on. Not yet at least.
"Did you have fun today, baby girl?" Jermaine asked as he parked the car in front of the mansion.
His daughter took a hearty lick of ice cream, nodding happily as she wiggled out of her seatbelt.
"I had so much fun, daddy!" She happily exclaimed. "I don't want to go to playgroup anymore. I want to do this with you every day!"
He chuckled as he grabbed the sicky toddler from the seat, slamming the door behind him.
"I can't take you to the movies every day, Stacy. Daddy has to work," He replied, settling her on his hip.
Stacy's chocolate-covered mouth settled into a frown.
"But you haven't gone to work for a loooong time. Mommy said so,"
The mention of Hazel emasculating him in front of their daughter angered him. As much as he despised her, even Jermaine tried his hardest never to say a negative word about his wife in front of Stacy.
"Well, Daddy's going back to work next week. Shows how much she knows,"
Jermaine had been counting the days until his leave ended and they were finally here. Come Monday he'd be back in the office and back in control. Nobody would dare have anything to say to him when he was calling the shots again.
He sat Stacy down with a huff as he opened the mahogany doors. He and Hazel had a violent argument that morning and it was bound to get worse after what Stacy had just revealed.
"Hazel, get down here. I wanna have a word with you!" He boomed.
Jermaine's voice ricocheted through the mansion and Petra came into view, stepping away from the marble foyer sculpture she was dusting.
"Nobody home, Herr," She spoke in her broken English.
Jermaine's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He knew Kathrine and T.J. had plans to stop at Michael and Althea's around noon but the time had long passed. All Hazel did these days was nap a drink. She had nowhere to be.
"Nobody? Where did everyone go?" He questioned.
"Hospital, Herr. Fru Hazel take too many pills and ambulance came and took her away,"
The mention of Hazel's suicide attempt gave Jermaine great pleasure. If she didn't make it, he'd be completely free of her and could avoid the divorce proceedings and custody hearings that would come with their divorce. He could finally live the life of a bachelor again. It was much easier this way.
He fought hard not to give into the smirk that threatened to pull at his lips.
"Pills? How did she look?"
Petra went back to dusting the sculpture.
"Bad. Very bad. Herr Joe say give you this,"
The maid reached into her apron pocket, retrieving a note. Joseph had written the address at the hospital in his messy script. Jermaine held it like a winning lottery ticket.
"Watch Stacy," He spoke, pushing the small girl to her. "I'll be be back later. Maybe,"
"Daddy, what happened to Mommy?" Stacy questioned as he turned on his heel.
He didn't bother turning to look at her, far too excited about what awaited him at the hospital.
"Petra will explain, sweetie," He called back to her.
Jermaine raced out the door, chuckling as he jumped into his Rolls. This was the best news he'd gotten in the past two weeks.
He smirked devilishly as he adjusted his rear-view mirror, the engine sparking alive.
"Things are finally looking up,"
***
T.J. had been staring into the glass of the maternity room, hopelessly for what felt like an eternity now. It had been well over an hour since Hazel went in for her emergency C-section. Nurses had been bringing babies in and out but none of them looked like they belonged to him or Hazel and he was beginning to worry.
He'd been a nervous wreck since he first saw Hazel on the stretcher at Hayvenhurst and he couldn't get the image out of his mind.
T.J. didn't understand why she'd been so careless during the pregnancy. Sure, Hazel wasn't happy about the pregnancy, but she'd never expressed the desire to get rid of the baby. He'd wanted to be there to support her during the pregnancy but she'd shut him out and ended their affair. It only seemed natural to gravitate to Vanessa. Maybe all this was payback for rushing into a relationship with another girl so soon after.
T.J. wasn't at all prepared for the situation they'd gotten themselves in and had only complicated things by blurting his paternity to Kathrine and Joseph. The biggest problem he hadn't thought about yet was how Jermaine would react once he found out that T.J. had been the mystery man bedding his wife all along.
A pretty, honey-blonde nurse with Farrah Fawcette-styled hair came strolling down the hall with a tray of ham sandwiches on brioche buns when T.J. tore his gaze away from the healthy babies to block her path.
"Excuse me," He spoke frazzled as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "My uh, girlfriend, she uh had an emergency c-section a while ago but I don't see my baby in the ward. Nobody's told me anything,"
The nurse smiled empathetically while rolling the cart to a stop.
"I'm sorry about that. Sometimes we get so full it takes a while to place mom and baby in a room. I'm sure another nurse will get with you," she replied with a soft voice
She moved to push the cart with her petite frame, a polite way of asking him to move, but T.J. wouldn't budge.
"Please," he begged. "Something is wrong and I'm really worried. Please,"
The nurse looked at T.J.'s stressed demeanor and her heartstrings were plucked. He looked like a kid and was likely becoming a father for the first time. As a nurse, she could never be too busy for compassion.
"I tell you what, I'll check with Dr. Morgan," she reached into the pocket of her freshly starched white dress for a notebook. "What's your girlfriend's name?"
"Hazel. Hazel Jackson,"
The nurse flashed a smile worthy of an Ultra Brite commercial.
"Alright. I'll get right with him and have him give you an update. I gotta get the sandwiches to the mothers. I hope everything's alright with your girlfriend and baby,"
The teenager sighed heavily.
"Thank you...?"
"Kelly," she smiled. "Nurse Kelly,"
A subtle grin tugged at T.J.'s lips.
"Thank you, Nurse Kelly,"
Kelly smiled a final smile before rolling the cart down to labor and delivery. Dr. Morgan was nowhere to be found in the delivery rooms but when she checked his office she found him slumped over his desk, furiously scribbling notes.
"Knock, knock, doctor," She purred.
The handsome doctor looked up from his desk and smiled tiredly at the pretty nurse.
"Kelly, I thought you'd be on the supper run,"
Kelly smiled.
"I am but I got an inquiry from a patient. He wants to know the status of Hazel Jackson,"
The doctor raised a busy eyebrow.
"Hazel Jackson," he sighed. "That's the O.D case. Lady tried to kill herself with a bunch of sleeping pills. Is he family?"
The nurse nodded.
"He says she's his girlfriend,"
Dr. Morgan flipped through a Rolodex of folders until he reached the file he was looking for.
"It's a boy. The baby's got a bad case of FASD and is quite premature. If he wants a chance of living he'll have to stay in the NICU for a while,"
He handed the folder to Kelly who opened it, her blue eyes scanning the file. As depressing as the news was, she couldn't help but zero in on Hazel's date of birth.
"Somehow I thought she'd be much younger, " she furrowed her arched brows. "The father looked so young. He's gotta be under eighteen,"
The doctor grabbed the file out of Kelly's manicured hands for confirmation.
"She's thirty-two," he observed while stroking his mustache.
The nurse wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"That's strange. Somehow I think this might not be the love story we think this is,"
Mr. Morgan closed the file, a stoic expression setting on his face.
"I'm afraid we'll have to report this. I hate to do it after all Mrs. Jackson has gone through,"
Kelly sighed.
"Yeah, me too,"
A few floors down in the cafeteria, Kathrine and Joseph were still coming to grips with the bombshell their grandson had dropped on them.
The matriarch picked at her cold sandwich with a shaky sigh.
"Where did we go wrong, Joe?" She asked while swallowing the lump in her throat. "How did this family end up in such a mess?"
Joseph sat down his coffee with a sigh.
"We raised them the best way we could, Katie. Gave 'em all the luxuries and opportunities we never had. I guess you can lead a horse to the water but you can't make them drink. That generation's so damn ungrateful,"
His wife reached in her leather, crocodile purse for her handkerchief and dotted the cloth along her eyes.
"Tito turned out alright, I suppose. And Michael was nearly perfect before that Thomas girl came along," she started.
"It's always been Jermaine we've had to watch out for," Joseph started. "Maybe T.J.'s right. Maybe if he... wasn't the way he is, she wouldn't have gone to T.J for comfort,"
Kathrine didn't like admitting it. As obedient as he could be, Jermaine had always been the child that caused more trouble. He'd made up for it by marrying well and precisely running Jacksounds. It had been better to forget about his seedy past altogether.
"This afternoon at Michael and Althea's place, Irma was there,"
Joseph's eyebrows furrowed with worry and he got a sick feeling in his stomach. He never thought he'd hear that name again.
"What was she doing there?" He asked, lowly.
His wife wiped away the tears that trickled down her cheeks.
"She was paying her respects to Opal. You know they were good friends before the accident," Kathrine sniffed. "She yelled at me in front of all their guest. She told everyone our secret. Why did he do it, Joe? "
He pushed his cup of coffee away, suddenly feeling disturbed. There could be dire consequences if Irma went around town spreading the word that Jermaine had killed her daughter. At the very least, Jacksounds could lose sponsorships and clients. At the very worst, Jermaine could spend the rest of his life in jail.
"We gotta be careful, Katie," he spoke roughly before pushing himself away from the sticky cafeteria table. "I've gotta get on the phone with my lawyer right away. If we send her a cease and desist now, it could save us a lot of trouble,"
Kathrine shook her head. She got tired of her husband only thinking of his business when she needed his emotional support.
"I just wanna go home, Joe," the matriarch sobbed. "Can't it wait?"
Joseph was already a few steps ahead, his Italian leather loafers en route to the payphones.
"Have T.J. take you home,"
She sighed heavily before she snatched up her purse and left her sandwich untouched on the table. She limped to the elevator, still wiping away her tears. It was moments like this when she envied Althea.
At least her husband listened to her.
When she arrived on the maternity floor, her eyes scanned the floor for T.J. but she couldn't find her grandson anywhere. When she and Joseph had gone down to the cafeteria, he'd practically been glued to the glass of the ward.
"Excuse me, have you seen my grandson?" She asked the nurse at the desk. Black boy, curly hair, caramel-colored?"
The dark-haired nurse looked up from her book.
"I saw him leave a while ago. Dr. Morgan would like to have a word with a parent or guardian of his if you have the time," She replied.
Kathrine's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. They'd come to the hospital for Hazel, not T.J.
She opened her mouth to speak but was cut short by her son's voice.
"Mother," Jermaine called as he approached the desk. "I'm so glad I caught you. I went to almost every floor,"
Her stomach churned with uncertainty at the sight of Jermaine. Kathrine had spent so much time in shock over T.J. and Hazel's affair, she'd never thought about how he would react.
This could very well be the thing that made Jermaine snap and spiral into another murderous rage.
"Are you the father of the young man?" the nurse turned to him.
"Who, T.J.? I'm his uncle. Hazel Jackson is my wife,"
The young woman's dark eyes widened and she bit her lip.
"Well, you better listen in on this too,"
She excused herself from the station and Kathrine said a silent prayer in preparation for what might come.
"Petra told me about Hazel," Jermaine spoke, feigning concern. "How could she be so careless with the baby like that?!"
He shook his head and Kathrine squeezed the handkerchief still in her hand.
"Jermaine, sweetheart," she startled softly, touching his arm. "Whatever they tell us, you've got to forgive them- T.J and Hazel,"
"Whether or not I forgive Hazel doesn't matter. It's up to God to forgive her for what she's done,"
Suddenly, Dr. Morgan appeared with a police officer in tow. Kathrine's heart raced and she feared the worst. Despite her drinking habit, she still thought of Hazel as a daughter.
"Mrs. Jackson, Mr. Jackson," Dr. Morgan greeted. "Come with me to my office, you'll want to sit down for what I'm about to tell you,"
Tears began to well in the matriarch's eyes and she gripped onto her son's arm as they walked the corridor to the doctor's office.
"Oh Jermaine, this can't be good," she sniffed.
Jermaine was confused by his mother's teary demeanor. He was incapable of showing emotion. He'd only cried over one woman in his life and when she gasped her last breath, he had no tears left to cry.
They took their seats in front of the doctor's desk while the officer chose to stand. Kathrine took in a shaky breath.
"Is Hazel dead?" Jermaine blurted before Dr Morgan could settle at his desk.
The doctor pulled at his tie with a sigh.
"She's fine. She's stabilized but comatose. We suspect she'll wake up within the next couple of days,"
Jermaine sighed, disappointed but trying hard to mask it.
"What about the baby?" Kathrine asked softly.
"He's severely premature and has been born with FASD," Dr. Morgan replied pointedly. "Mrs. Jackson was drinking heavily during her pregnancy and I'm afraid it's affected his cognitive development. We'll have to keep him in the NICU for a few months to make sure he gets the proper care needed to thrive,"
The baby was a boy. Joseph had wanted another grandson, someone who could carry on the legacy of the business. By the diagnosis, T.J. and Hazel's son would not be an ideal candidate.
"How sad," the matriarch sniffed.
"That's not the main thing I wanted to discuss with you today, however," he continued. "I want to know the nature of your grandson's relationship with Mrs. Jackson,"
Jermaine had managed to zone out of the conversation once his dreams of Hazel having an untimely death had been shattered but now he was interested again.
"Well, she's his aunt," Katherine stammered.
Dr. Morgan reached for a pen on his desk.
"Did your grandson or Mrs. Jackson ever allude to having a sexual relationship?"
Jermaine shifted in his seat, his eyebrows furrowing with incredulity.
"T.J. and Hazel?" He chuckled. "Nah, he's not man enough,"
His mother sighed deeply. The tears returned to her eyes.
"Only today did he say he was the baby's father. I never knew. I swear, I didn't, "
Suddenly, the conversation wasn't funny anymore. Jermaine never knew his mother to joke around. She had to be telling the truth.
Hazel had bragged many times during the pregnancy that the baby wasn't his but she was never bold enough to reveal who the father could be. He didn't care enough to track her moves to find out what other man she'd been seeing but never once did he suspect the culprit had been under his roof.
T.J. was young, handsome, and had a reputation among his peers as a casanova. The idea that he could bed an older woman wasn't far-fetched. Jermaine had fooled around with older, married women himself in his youth.
Some men considered it a rite of passage.
"You gotta be kidding, doctor" he spoke, growing angry. "You mean to tell me my wife's been fucking my brother's kid?"
The doctor nodded, unmoved by his crass language.
"It appears that way," he sighed. "Your wife is thirty-two and from what we can gather, your nephew is under the age of eighteen. The age of consent in California is 18. That means during the two's relationship and conception of the child, he was a minor and not old enough to consent to a sexual relationship,"
As angry as it felt to be cuckolded by his own nephew, Jermaine had managed to find a silver lining in this all. If Hazel wasn't dead, she'd be going to jail. It was even better. That way he'd be able to taunt her about it for the rest of her life.
"Well, what does that mean?" Kathrine asked, confused.
The officer stepped from his corner in the room.
"Sexual relations with a minor is illegal ma'am," he replied. "Per the penal code, it's defined as statutory rape which is punishable for up to four years in prison,"
Kathrine gasped while Jermaine smirked.
"Four years in the slammer," he grinned. "It's what she deserves. Lock her up and throw away the key. Lock them both up,"
"Your nephew is classified as a minor Mr. Jackson. The party old enough to consent receives the penalty,"
Kathrine could hardly believe what she was hearing. It was already bad enough that T.J. had fathered Hazel's baby but it was an offense that could cleverly be hidden. But if Hazel went to jail there would definitely be public record and media coverage.
Irma was the least of their worries right now.
"But, T.J. will be eighteen at the end of this month," she protested, squeezing the handle of her purse. "Can't you make an exception?"
"If they were closer in age, the penalty could be lessened but that's not the case here ma'am. As a doctor, Dr. Morgan is required to report cases of abuse against minors,"
The officer adjusted his halter as Jermaine leaned back in his chair, trying to remain collected in the presence of law enforcement.
"But it wasn't abuse! He's a teenage boy. How can you expect him to resist a proposition from an attractive, older woman? People loved it when Dustin Hoffman did it in The Graduate,"
Her son rolled his eyes. He couldn't figure out why Kathrine was fighting so hard to defend Hazel, especially after the way she'd betrayed him.
"Relax, Mother. You're innocent little grandson's not going to prison, my wife is," he turned back to the doctor. "What happens next?"
Doctor Morgan folded his hand on the desk.
"Charges will be filed. Typically, when a patient commits a crime before admittance, they go straight to prison after discharge. But, in the case of Hazel, I think she should receive some sort of therapy before she leaves. We will have to collect a DNA sample from both you and the teen to confirm the paternity of the child,"
It was all Jermaine needed to hear.
"File the charges. I'll deal with T.J on my own time,"
His words made Kathrine's heart drop to her feet as he pushed himself up from the chair.
She knew very well what Jermaine was capable of doing.
She could only hope and pray he did nothing else to further tear the family apart.
***
"Aww, you sunk me again. That was my last ship, Mike,"
Althea pouted before closing the blue board. Across the table, her husband chuckled.
"Did I ever tell you how incredibly sexy you are when you pout?"
Michael flashed his heart-winning grin, causing his wife to bite her lip as she reached for a chunk of brie off the charcuterie board.
"No," she smirked. "You rarely give me anything to pout about,"
Althea pushed herself away from the table and padded off to the cupboard.
"Wanna go again?" He smiled before folding his arms behind his head.
"Let's give it a rest, honey. How much longer until The Love Boat?"
Michael glanced at his wife's shapely figure as she stretched on her toes to retrieve a bottle of Zinfandel and two glasses.
Outside the kitchen window, the sun was beginning to set and he glanced at his watch.
"At least another hour and a half,"
Althea sighed and poured the maroon liquid into the glasses. The day had been far too long and she was looking forward to starting it over again tomorrow.
The calamity that ensued that morning had been draining and Michael and Althea decided to put it all behind them for the remainder of the day. They got their mind off things by taking a long drive into L. A and indulging in an expensive shopping spree but when they returned the pile of dishes Florence had left was a nagging reminder of Opal's repass gone wrong.
Althea knew the impact of the sins of her husband's family would not leave him with one talk but for one night, she wanted to pretend the Jacksons didn't exist.
She sauntered over before handing him a glass, a seductive gleam in her eye.
"It's a bit chilly," she purred. "Turn on the fireplace and let's get cozy,"
Michael grinned, knowing the look in his wife's eyes all too well. He didn't waste a moment slinking into the living room, switching on the electric fireplace and a smooth jazz record on the stereo.
Althea dimmed the lights, giggling as her husband plopped on the sofa and eagerly patted the spot next to him.
"Cheers," She spoke, raising her glass as she tucked her feet under her.
"To what?"
Althea inched closer, Michael's arm snaking around her shoulders.
"To us, and new beginnings at Capitol Records,"
Their glasses clinked together soundly and they shared a sweet kiss before sipping the wine.
"I almost forgot it's my last day Monday," He hummed.
"Isn't it a little sad?" his wife spoke while staring into her glass. "Leaving the company after so long?"
Michael had been mentally detached from Jacksounds long before he turned in his resignation. There was never truly any place for him there. Ever since he was a teenager, Joseph had been making it very clear that Jermaine's talents and ideas were the company's only priority.
No amount of nostalgia could ever make him miss being mistreated.
"No baby," he stroked her shoulder. "I've got nothin' to miss. The best thing Jacksounds ever did for me was lead me to you. Besides, I wouldn't even show up Monday if Pamela weren't throwing me a party,"
Althea grinned and nuzzled deeper into her husband.
"That's sweet," she pecked his lip before leaning to place her glass on the coffee table.
"I wanna talk to you about something,"
Michael's brows rose.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
Althea stared deep into his eyes before starting.
"I think I want to go back to work, Michael,"
The idea had been looming in her head since Michael announced his resignation. Althea had long since found boredom in being a housewife but it was Opal's death that had shaken her to the core. Despite the lavish lifestyle, she'd felt like she'd lost a bit of herself in all the glamor of Encino.
She needed to find a purpose outside of being a wife.
A quiet moment like this was the perfect time to pitch her proposal.
"We'll, what'dya wanna do, baby?" He asked, sipping his wine.
"Nothing serious, just a little part-time job for some of my own spending money," she replied. "I'll adjust my hours so I still have time to come home and make dinner and I won't work weekends. I figured I'd go back to Della's,"
After funding had been cut for her program, Althea took up a part-time job at a boutique to make ends meet for her tuition and apartment. She'd work there until a month before their wedding.
A subtle grin pulled at Michael's lips as he swished his glass of wine. He admired his wife's work ethic but didn't see the necessity of going back to the same boutique just for pocket money.
On the other hand, it was the perfect thing to ease his nerves. Michael couldn't predict what his new schedule would look like and he didn't want Althea at home bored out of her mind or vulnerable to any of Jermaine's schemes.
"Well if Della's will have you back, I don't mind,"
Althea's pretty face lit up, glowing with adoration.
"Oh, thank you, Mike! You're the best husband a girl could ask for,"
She threw her arms around his neck, kissing his face over and over. Her husband giggled before pulling down on the sectional for a deep, sensual kiss.
Their kisses grew richer and deeper, the fireplace unable to compete with the sweltering heat between them.
Suddenly the doorbell rang.
"It's well after six," Michael groaned, still straddling her. "Who the hell is it?"
Althea sighed, agitated that another one of their intimate moments was being interrupted.
"I'll get it," she spoke, catching her breath.
He tore away from her, reluctantly rising from the sectional.
"I'll get it, baby. Maybe I can make them go away,"
Sitting up on her elbows, she watched as her husband strolled to the door, not bothering to look through the peephole.
When Michael swung it open, he did not expect to see his nephew's tired, tear-stained face on the other side of the door.
"T.J.?" He questioned. "What's wrong, man? You look upset,"
T.J. stared at the ground, completely unsure of how to put his situation into words. Dr. Morgan had taken way too long to get back to him on the status of Hazel and the baby. His anxiety had gotten the best of him and he feared the worst.
Something was terribly wrong. Either Hazel had died or the baby had or maybe both. He couldn't bear to stay there and hear the devastating news so T.J. took the car and cruised somewhere to clear his mind.
The teenager had realized that sitting with his inner thoughts was torture. He needed someone older and wiser to talk to.
"Please let me in, Uncle Michael," He pleaded. "I need to talk to you,"
Michael's brain raced with all the possible causes of T.J.'s dejected demeanor. He'd never seen his nephew this way. T.J. had always been a cocky, relaxed boy for as long as he'd known him.
"Come in,"
Althea squinted in the dim room, surprised to see T.J. step over the threshold. T.J. instantly noticed his beautiful aunt splayed across the sectional, her bust sitting at an attractive angle in the cashmere sweater she wore. The dim lighting and wine glasses were another clue that he'd come at a bad time.
"What a surprise, T.J.," she said, adjusting her hair as she sat up. "Would you like some coffee or some cake?"
Michael shut off the fireplace and brightened the lights and she couldn't help but feel disappointed that the mood they'd created was ruined.
Their nephew positioned himself on the other side of the sofa with a heavy sigh.
"No thanks, Aunt Althea, " he replied while rubbing his clammy hands on his jeans.
"What do you wanna talk about T.J.? Having girl trouble with Vanessa?" Michael asked, settling next to his wife.
The teenager stared at his hands, watching as they trembled.
"It's not Vanessa. It's Hazel,"
His uncle's brows furrowed in confusion. Michael couldn't understand why T.J. would be this upset over Hazel. He was so caught up in his self-absorbed teenage world that he hardly paid attention to the adults in the family.
"What about Hazel?"
A beat of silence passed between the three of them and Althea started confused. She didn't know if she should sit in on this conversation or see her way out and let the men have their moment.
"She- she took a bunch of pills," T.J. stuttered. "She wanted to kill herself and kill the baby. It's all my fault,"
He clasped his hands together, almost as if in prayer, and pressed them to his forehead as tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Hazel's always had problems, T.J." Althea spoke up. "You have nothing to do with that. You know,"
Althea had developed a soft spot for T.J. since she'd first started investigating Dee-Dee's death. She knew what it was like to grow up with a mother, and how much it complicated one's life. But having a mother who volunteered to bow out of your life was much different than having one taken away.
"But it is, Aunt Althea. I should have been there for her and the baby. I should have never gotten with Vanessa. I should have asked her to work it out with me,"
Michael's heart pounded with anxious adrenaline as he began to put the pieces together. It sounded completely insane but lately, nothing about his family could shock him.
"T.J., you got something going on with Hazel?" He asked, slowly.
His nephew's failure to look him in the eye was all the confirmation he needed.
"It's my baby, Uncle Mike," he whispered.
The sentence hung in the air like a lingering, foul odor and neither Michael nor Althea could think of something to say.
Michael always feared that T.J. would land himself in some trouble with a young girl that would lead to him being a father long before he was ready but he never imagined it would be with his aunt.
She crossed her legs, feeling sick to her stomach and her husband rubbed his temples in distress.
"T.J.," Michael started. "How the hell did this happen?"
"It just did. I got home early from school one day and Hazel had just found out that Uncle Jermaine cheated on her again. She needed comfort and I was there. One thing lead to another..."
His uncle sighed.
"But it wasn't just one time, was it T.J.? Jermaine's gonna flip, don't you know?! He's a maniac! This is really stupid of you,"
Althea rested a hand on her husband's thigh hoping to calm him down.
"Michael, please. Don't be so harsh,"
She was sure T.J. felt awful enough about his situation. She didn't think it was fair to rub salt in his wounds.
"Thea, no!" Michael snapped, standing to his feet. "That's exactly why this family's the mess that it is now. Mother always making excuses for Jermaine, you making excuses for T.J and everybody throwing shit into my lap expecting me to fix it,"
Althea knew by his agitated tone that it wasn't the time to try and debate her husband.
The events of the morning had been sad but this bombshell was completely pathetic. Michael refused to keep getting involved with his family's drama.
"Just tell me what to do Uncle Mike," T.J. pleaded. "You always know what to do,"
Michael shook his head.
"Not this time,"