I Can Love You Page 12

  Chapter 10

  By Tuesday, Tara had spent a couple of evenings with Aaron and his father, and she was now looking forward to the small tenth birthday party Marcus was having the coming weekend.

  Marcus had already warned her not to go overboard with the gift giving. Still, she found it hard to comply. As a compromise, Tara purchased a few items for him at a boutique store to balance the toys she intended to buy. Aided by a personal shopper provided by the store, she browsed the racks of the latest clothes in the boys’ section. After the store employee asked a question she couldn’t answer, she called Marcus on her cell.

  “Marcus Grant speaking,” he said, sounding a bit winded.

  “Hey, Marc, it’s Tara. Did I, uh, catch you at a bad time?”

  “Not at all. I was rushing back into my office to grab the phone before it went to voicemail.”

  “What size does Aaron wear?”

  “Um . . . he’s a twelve, but you better get a fourteen at the rate he’s growing.” He then added, “Tara, I hope you aren’t overdoing it with the shopping, are you?”

  Winking at her helper, she laughed and said, “That all depends on how you define ‘overdoing it.’”

  “Tara, about tonight . . . um, um, I’m gonna have to cancel because I have a meeting tonight that I can’t get out of.”

  Tara’s shoulders sagged, and her good spirits of just moments ago vanished. Fighting both the assistant hearing the sadness she forced herself to keep at bay and from Marcus hearing her release it, Tara swallowed before speaking. “But I thought we would tell him tonight,” she said softly.

  “Maybe we should wait a few more days,” he said hesitantly. “There’s a minor crisis at work, and I have to go out of town to deal with it.”

  Tara excused herself from the personal shopper and stepped into an empty dressing room, pressing her shaken body against the wall. Trying to decipher the implied meaning of what Marcus was telling her, she began shooting a barrage of questions at him, “What problems are more important than your son? When were you going to tell me? What about Aaron? When can I see him again?”

  Her trembling voice beginning to crack, she closed the door and slid down the wall to the floor. Almost whispering, she pleaded, “I’m just starting to know him, Marcus. Can’t you reschedule your trip? I have to leave early on Sunday, and I won’t be back on the East Coast for several days.”

  Marcus pounced fearlessly at her words. “Once again, it’s all about you, Tara. So let me get this straight. You want me to put my life on hold again, and for what, Tara? Oh, let me guess your career.”

  She pulled away from the phone when she heard him laughing bitterly. “You’re not being fair.” Tara declared defensively. She didn’t care who listened to her conversation as she continued pleading her case. “Marc, I’m being honored at an awards ceremony, and I have to be present to accept that award. The label, network, and fans are counting on me being there. They scheduled this months ago. I also want to make a positive appearance to reassure my fans after what happened with the shooting incident. If it weren’t important, I would have shrugged it off.”

  “You’re being honored? For what? It surely can’t be for—” he yelled back, stopping himself mid tirade. He calmed his voice and added, “I want to be in town when we tell him because I know Aaron will need me. There is also his birthday party to consider. This kind of information would overshadow his day, and I don’t want that. We do not know how he will react to the news.”

  Finally conceding to his wishes, Tara asked, “So then, Marc, when do you suggest telling him? We need to tell him as soon as I get back from Vegas because I can’t take lying to him like this. It’s hurting me.” She said and disconnected the call.

  When Tara opened the door to the dressing room, a few people were scurrying around, trying their best to pretend they hadn’t been listening to her conversation. She rubbed her forehead, smiled faintly, and put on her dark glasses. She signaled to her helper that she was ready to pay for the items previously selected.

  After signing the credit card receipt, she tipped the shopper and asked her to deliver the packages to her hotel suite. Tara hurried out of the store. She retrieved her car from the parking valet and was on her way in minutes.

  On the drive to her hotel, Tara longed to call Quinton but thought better of it. She was reluctant to burden him with yet another of her problems. Also, she figured Quiana was probably still at the house nursing her brother. Tara’s voice was the last thing his twin would want to hear. Yet, she missed him. Especially now.

  * * *

  In the entertainment room in the basement of Marcus’s house, Tara was cutting the cake and placing the slices on plates; Hillary was adding the ice cream and passing the plates to Aaron’s friends.

  “You seem to have this birthday thing down. Sure you don’t have kids?” Hillary asked.

  Tara nearly dropped the knife she was holding but recovered when Hillary laughed.

  “It took a while for me to get used to the parenting thing with Brittany. But you, you seem to have this amazing patience and control. I guess it comes from being in show business and having to manage all that chaos and attend all those big events.”

  Just then, Brittany ran by holding a balloon filled with helium. “Mommy! Mommy! Look at what Dr. Sullivan taught me.”

  Caught by surprise, Tara and Hillary just stared in shock at the little girl as she inhaled the helium, or at least tried to.

  “No, no, no,” Marcus’s best friend Steve cried, rushing into the room. “Brit, it goes like this.” The child watched as the pediatrician inhaled helium from his balloon and in a high-pitched voice, said, “Hi, Brittany. My name is Donald Duck.”

  Delighted, Brittany giggled. But her unamused mother scolded Steve. “Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor? And isn’t inhaling helium unhealthy and dangerous for young children?”

  Steve shrugged and tried to tickle Hillary to calm her down. “Ahh, lighten up, honey. How is it that Brit gets to have all the fun and you’re choosing not to?”

  Steve kissed Hillary tenderly, and Brittany laughed. “Yuck!”

  Tara cleared her throat, gestured with her finger away from where they stood, and said, “I think I better go check on the birthday boy.” Tara winked at Steve as she took Brittany with her, nearly colliding with Marcus as they rounded a corner coming upstairs. He looked distressed.

  “Marc? What’s going on?”

  “Just a big mess,” he replied, guiding her into his office once they were upstairs and closing the door. “My sitter just canceled on me, and Hillary is dealing with closing her restaurant, so I hate to ask her to keep Aaron while I handle that problem I told you about earlier this week. It looks like I must cancel this trip. And I was so close to getting the project.” Marcus tried not to appear disappointed, but Tara was unconvinced.

  “Anyway, I brought you in here to say thank you for your help with all this. Aaron seems to enjoy his party,” he said. “So now that I’m canceling, we can tell him as soon as you are ready.”

  She hesitated a moment before she asked, “Marc, do you trust me?”

  “Why do you ask?” he asked skeptically.

  “Why don’t you go on your trip as planned and let me keep Aaron?”

  Taken aback, Marcus asked, “What about your big award ceremony or whatever it is you have to go do?”

  “I’m getting the Entertainer of the Decade award,” she explained. Hearing the online buzz about the award explicitly created to acknowledge her time in music and her father’s final act of influence as an industry heavyweight to secure her appearance at the event, Tara was tired of explaining the award she had yet to receive. “Marc, why don’t you let Aaron come out to the West Coast with me? I would love for him to be a part of such a special night.”

  “We barely know you.” She frowned at him, and he rephrased his words. “I haven’t spent enough time with you to trust the idea of my son going away. You’re practically a stranger.”
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br />   “One of the most recognized faces in the world. I can’t run if I wanted to.”

  “Money can buy miracles.”

  “Marcus. He’s my son. Please, just trust me. I’ll abide by whatever rules you set.”

  “And what about school? We are talking about a week’s worth of classes and assignments. He can’t miss that much time.”

  “From what you tell me, and I have seen it for myself, Aaron is a very bright kid. A few days away from school won’t hurt him,” Tara countered. “This might help him understand things more when we tell him the truth. If you don’t trust me, tell me; you know I won’t do anything irresponsible,” she added, now earnestly pleading.

  Marcus asked her, “Are you sure it won’t be any trouble if Aaron travels with you?”

  “None at all,” she replied, barely able to contain her excitement. “He’ll love it, and I can show him all the fun places around Los Angeles while we’re there.”

  “He’s never been before, and I’m sure he’d enjoy the experience. When are you leaving?”

  “I scheduled the plane to depart around nine in the morning, but I can make it later if there’s a problem. I just need to be in L.A. no later than one their time.”

  “I’ll call Stephanie. She’s the principal at his school, and I’m sure she can get me his assignments in advance. He’ll be ready for you in the morning,” he said. “I just ask that you respect my rules while Aaron is in your care.” After she said she would, Marcus gave her precise instructions for the care of his son, including how to treat his asthma, as a precaution. For a moment, Tara almost forgot she was the mother, feeling more like a teenager babysitting for the first time.

  * * *

  Later that evening, Tara was in the suite’s oversized bathtub luxuriating in her favorite milk bath and fresh rose petals when a call came in on the wall phone. The voice on the other end instantly eased what tension may have lingered from earlier that day.

  “Hi, Quin. What’s new with you?”

  “I just called to ask about the party. I’m sure Aaron was happy you were there.”

  “Oh, yeah, he was ecstatic. His father, on the other hand, well, that’s another story.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Quinton listened as Tara described the events of the day and related how Marcus had agreed to let her take Aaron to the awards show. “Quin, if you could have seen Aaron’s face when I told him I was picking him up in the morning. Like that old commercial says, ‘The moment was priceless.’ I wish I could tell him the truth so we can enjoy the time the way it’s meant to be, but Marcus has his style and his rules. You should see the list of them he wants me to follow as if he doesn’t trust me with my own son.”

  “Ah, Blue, don’t let Marcus get to you. He doesn’t know what to think right now.”

  “Neither do I, but that still doesn’t give him the right to disregard my feelings. I know Aaron is our primary concern, but he has to stop punishing me for the past.”

  Tara and Quinton spent the next hour exchanging industry gossip, working out concepts for new material, and discussing Spin’s idea to run with one of Tara’s songs. Quinton told her he had learned from a label exec that radio had been giving “How Much,” one of the songs on Tara’s last album, more airplay after the studio shooting. The song was in such demand that the label considered going after the single legitimately. “Quin, what do you think? I know the fans felt that song at the shows, and they write about it all the time on social media,” Tara said. Her bathwater had become tepid, signaling her it was time to get out.

  “It’s not my call. I guess it won’t hurt to let the fans have what they want, but if you’re up to it and can hold off on retirement, surprise everyone with a video . . . I’m sure you won’t have to pull Spin’s leg too much for money to shoot it, seeing that you’re well into the black on this album. Those extra streams won’t hurt you either,” he speculated.

  Sitting on the edge of the tub, Tara toweled off and smoothed one of her favorite bath oils onto her legs. “What do you mean by if? I wasn’t serious about retiring. Not yet.”

  “I know you weren’t, but your son’s father might have another idea. He’s already made it clear that he has a problem with your career.”

  “Quinton, stop playing devil’s advocate and come straight out with it. Whatever I do from here out will be what’s best for my child and me. My career no longer needs to factor into the either-or anymore,” Tara declared. “How’s Quiana feeling? I still can’t believe you agreed to let her stay and take care of you. I bet she has you on lockdown.” She giggled.

  “Do you honestly believe I could have talked her out of it?” he asked, laughing. “Thanks for asking. She’s doing well, and she flew back yesterday, which means I finally get to rest. I’m so thankful she was here to help me, but she spent more time fussing over the smallest things. You should see her spar with the physical therapist. I will need a vacation after all this. I should go somewhere nobody expects me to go and just lie low for a while. Maybe I can get a break when I go to Japan. Sony will let me out of a producing obligation I have here to work with one of their international artists in Japan, and you know I can’t give up a project like that. I have to tell them something soon; if I don’t, they want to find another producer.”

  “Hey, you need to take it easy and concentrate on getting better. You’re one of the best producers in the game, so there will always be other opportunities. Don’t rush anything.”

  “You know me, Tara. I can’t just sit around doing nothing with myself. I need to be in the lab creating.”

  “I know you do, honey. I wish you were going to Vegas with me. It will feel strange not having you there with me as my date,” she joked. “After I return from L.A., maybe I’ll come up and hang out with you for a few days.”

  “I would love that.”

  “Quinton, I miss you,” she said with feeling.

  “I miss you, too, Blue,” he replied. “Call me when you land.”

  * * *

  Quinton thought he heard the phone ring in his sleep but soon realized the call was quite real. After spending the better part of the night tossing and turning and punching pillows, he had just fallen asleep. Quinton couldn’t take the lies anymore. He recognized that he was not only dishonest with Tara by letting her think he didn’t feel more for her, but he was also untrue to himself by trying to stay out of her life. Sighing, Quinton switched on the nightstand lamp and answered the ringing phone.

  “Calling to ask what I’m wearing?” he teased.

  Tara’s voice was soft and low. “I’m sorry. I know it’s late, but I just had the worst dream and I . . . I know this must sound silly, but . . . Quinton.”

  “Yeah, baby?” he prompted her, hearing the need in her voice, and all humor in his gone.

  “I’m sorry, but I just keep having these nightmares about that night at the studio, and I just wanted to hear your voice to make sure you’re okay.”

  Cradling the phone, Quinton lay back on the bed. “I’m all right. You?”

  “Quinton, one inch could have made a big difference in your life and mine. We nearly lost everything, and I can’t imagine living without knowing my son. Do you ever think about the things you could have lost that night? We were fortunate to live through that. I’m sure Logan and Jamal didn’t wake up knowing that would be their last day on earth.” As she rambled on, Quinton heard the pain in her voice. He knew she couldn’t be at peace until they caught the murderer, although the police had a strong lead. It also appeared that the gunman had one target in mind. Jamal. He didn’t want to accept their presented theory until he had hard facts.

  For the moment, she was safer in Philadelphia, but the authorities were pulling their men as soon as her flight became airborne.

  Unbeknownst to her, Quinton convinced his brother-in-law to have four armed members of Grim’s security team trail the star, rotating in pairs around the clock, but Quinton was no longer comfortable with even their ser
vices. He had tried unsuccessfully to restore Grim to his original position, but things had gotten so crazy that he didn’t trust even him with his heart.

  In a sleep-heavy voice, he gave her half an answer. “I think about it all the time. I also thank God you didn’t get hurt badly. I couldn’t live with that if you were.”

  “Rumor has it you took a bullet for me. I heard you threw me to the ground just before they . . . Quinton, is that true? Please tell me you didn’t take those shots for me.”

  Quinton knew the answer. He had heard the rumors, too, although Pamela had done a great job of keeping the news buried in the press. The stories probably originated with their small circle of friends relaying what had happened to other friends, eventually becoming an unrecognizable story. “Now, as you know, it all happened too fast for any of us to remember. I was just trying to get us on the ground,” he said in a rush.

  Quinton remembered hearing the warning yell, to which he had reacted by protecting Tara. After he pushed her to the sidewalk, he felt something strike his chest and then a burning sensation as two bullets pierced his flesh.

  Trying to get off this painful subject, Quinton asked, “Are you all packed for your trip home?”

  “I guess so. I can’t believe I’m supposed to pick Aaron up in four hours.”

  “What time are you set to leave?”

  “Nine, but I want to allow for traffic, so I need to get out early.”

  “Uh, I think they’ll wait for you.” Quinton laughed. “It is your plane.”

  “I hope he has a good time. I’m so excited, but also a little anxious.”

  “It sounds like he loves you, and I’m sure everything will be just fine.”

  Chapter 11

  An SUV almost identical to the one carrying Tara, Aaron, and Sydney was there when they arrived at the airport where her plane was waiting. Sydney spotted an SUV parked parallel to theirs and alerted Tara, who had dozed off during the short trip to the airport. They were almost hesitant to leave the safety of their vehicle. And then they saw the familiar figure of the man emerging from the rear.