Turning the key into the apartment brought immediate peace of mind. I walked in and took in the welcoming energy and admired the prestige of the place. It was a spacious 3,000 square-footer with four bedrooms, five and a half bathrooms, twelve-foot ceilings, a library, formal dining room, and a private terrace. This was more than enough room for me, but I bought it from a friend of mine who was divorced two years ago and bought this place in haste before the ink was dried on the divorce decree. He called this his bachelor pad. He remarried about eighteen months later and moved his new found family to Africa where he’d be working on a movie for nearly a year. I knew how those Hollywood marriages worked. I was so desperate to escape my everyday hum-drum that I would’ve bought a dog house to move into if it brought half of what this place did to me.
I powered off my cells, showered and jumped in the bed. When I had awakened the clock read six p.m. I couldn’t believe I’d slept so hard for so long. It must be this place; it’s so peaceful. I rubbed my eyes and reached for the cells to power them back on and listen to my messages trying to remember the last time I’d turned off all phones. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever turned off all phones.
The first phone I checked was my Blackberry, which was the business line. There were thirteen messages, most of which were reminder calls about tonight’s feature at my latest club, Cobalt, in Hollywood. We rented it out to some minor dance league. It was a little risqué in my opinion but my manager was eager to book the group. I had to see it for myself to be sure it wasn’t something that went against the image that I envisioned for the place. I try at all cost to avoid micromanaging in hopes for success in earning the trust of my employees. I’d hoped this didn’t prove otherwise.
Next, I checked my iPhone where I take my personal calls. Just as I imagined there were several calls from Tara. She managed to cry on most of them swearing my accusations had no basis to them. In one message, she offered approaching Dwayne with her by my side as if that would prove anything. That clown wouldn’t admit shit to me. More than Tara, he knew who I was and what the consequences of his actions could do to him and his budding career. I’m sure he was surprised that I hadn’t confronted him yet—shit, so was I. Another message from Tara assured me she wouldn’t ask about the “M” word again. She didn’t get it.
What was surprising was the message from her father, Big D. It went like, “Hey man, you know I don’t like getting in the middle of a lover’s quarrel but my wife’s on my back saying Tara called her crying. She never mentioned the cause but I wanted to know if we needed to talk…you know…man to man. Let me know.”
Unbelievable! Does she really want me to talk to her fuckin’ father? His tone was even but the details surrounding this entire situation was fucking insane.
I returned a few calls and made arrangements to be at the club at around eight p.m. I showered again and realized I had no fresh clothes to throw on. I forgot that I hadn’t moved any of my personal items in yet. I kept debating when I would; I had no rush other than wanting asylum here at the Marina occasionally. I also needed to decide if I wanted to keep the crib in Pasadena or sell it.
After long deliberation, I came to the conclusion that I had to free-ball it to the house in Pasadena. I’d hoped I wouldn’t get into an accident on the 10 or 405, be taken to the hospital and surprise the nurses.
About forty-five minutes later, I was pulling into my driveway when I noticed something in front of my door. When I got out of the car and approached the door, I saw there were flowers…about six dozen of them. I knew automatically who they were from. I pulled an envelope from one of them and my suspicions were correct—Tara. I wasn’t in the mood to even think of her. Leaving the flowers where I found them, I strolled into the house. I checked my home voicemail and again, the same messages from the cells. I called the club to announce my soon arrival and had them order food, I was starving. I cleaned up—again to feel fresh, dressed and got out of dodge.