The Other Side of Dare Read online

  “Darius?”

  He looked in her face. “Gigi?”

  Gigi Thornton frowned at first, then smiled as she straightened her white ruffled blouse. “You go to this church? I didn’t realize you went here.”

  “Yes. I’m a member here. I thought I told you that.” Darius frowned a little.

  “Oh, you very well may have. I’m sure if you did, I just forgot,” Gigi said. “Sometimes I think I might forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on to my body. It appears we keep running into each other everywhere. You’re not following me, are you?”

  “Yeah, we do. Maybe God is trying to tell us something,” Darius said.

  “That’s a nice suit you have on, the man in black. You’re looking open-casket sharp. But then, every time I see you, you’re fashionably dressed.” She laughed as she scanned him from his freshly cut hair down to his ECCO Windsor slip-on shoes, then back up again. “How’s the job hunt going? Have you landed anything yet?”

  “Not yet. But I think I’m close. Maybe you should send up a prayer for me that the job I desire comes through.” He rubbed his bottom lip as he smiled at her.

  “I can do that, although I’m not sure how much my prayers will help you. I’m not exactly the best Christian out there. In fact, I’m not certain that God is even taking my calls, at least these days,” Gigi said.

  “Well, if you stay around this church and Pastor Landris too long, you’ll find yourself having a personal relationship with God. You’ll be talking about how God walks and talks with you on a daily basis.”

  “Really now?” Gigi said. “I can believe that. I really enjoyed Pastor Landris’s sermon. He has a way of taking scriptures and breaking them down to what’s really going on in real lives. I like that. In fact, I hope to come back again. So I suppose that means we may run into each other some more.”

  “Well, we’ll be more than happy to have you.” Darius scanned the area to see if he saw Tiffany anywhere around. “Look, I hate to bump and run, but I need to catch up with my family. I enjoyed seeing you again.”

  “Same here,” Gigi said.

  Darius turned back to her. “Oh, I meant to ask: Is Gigi your real name?”

  She laughed. “You mean real as opposed to fake?” she joked. “Don’t tell anyone, but my birth name is Georgina.”

  Darius nodded a few times. “Georgina. Okay.”

  “But I prefer Gigi. That’s what everyone calls me.”

  “All right, Gigi. It was good seeing you again. And you are rocking that short cut. I like your hair like that better.” Darius winked at her, then hurried over to Tiffany, who was huddled together near the information desk with their three children.

  “Who was that you were talking to?” Tiffany asked Darius as soon as he stepped up to her.

  “Oh, just someone I bumped into who’s visiting here. You know how crowded this place is when church is over. You can’t turn without bumping into somebody.”

  “So do you know her?” Tiffany asked.

  “That’s what she and I were trying to figure out. I met her at one of those networking functions a month or two ago. This was her first time visiting here. She said she really enjoyed Pastor Landris. I don’t know what it is about you women drooling all over Pastor Landris and his preaching. He’s all right, but y’all act like he’s Moses bringing down the Ten Commandments from the mount or something.”

  “Daddy, Moses is old,” four-year-old Junior said. “I saw a picture of him in that book Mommy reads to me and he had a really long white beard. Pastor Landris’s beard is not long or even white like Moses’s.”

  Darius placed his hand on his son’s head and gently wiggled it. “I know, Son. I was merely making a point to Mommy here.”

  “Well, Mommy knows Pastor Landris isn’t Moses.” Junior turned to Tiffany. “Ain’t that right, Mommy?”

  “Isn’t that right?” Tiffany said, correcting him. “It’s ‘isn’t that right.’ Not ‘ain’t.’”

  “Isn’t that right?” Junior looked up at his mother and smiled.

  “Yes, Junior,” Tiffany said. “We know that Pastor Landris isn’t Moses. But he is someone God uses to bring the Word to His people, just like God used Moses.”

  “I like Pastor Landris’s preaching,” nine-year-old Jade said. “He makes it so interesting and plain. I remember that time he told the story about the people in the cave who’d never seen fire before and were afraid of what they didn’t know.”

  Tiffany placed her hand on Jade’s hair, which she’d allowed her to wear hanging down, and brushed it down. “Oh, you remember that one?”

  “Yes. It was so good,” Jade said.

  “I remember that one, too,” seven-year-old Dana said. “The people didn’t realize that the fire would not only warm them, but give them light and help them to see what they’d never been able to see before while they were in the dark.”

  Junior jumped up in the air twice. “I like fire!”

  “Yeah,” Darius said. “You like fire a little too much. And I’d better not ever hear of you trying to start one on your own again, either. You hear me? Not until you have children of your own.”

  Junior laughed. “Daddy, you funny!”

  “I ain’t being funny. I mean it.”

  “Ooooh,” Junior said. He turned to his mother. “Daddy said ‘ain’t.’” He turned back to his father. “It’s ‘isn’t.’ I isn’t being funny. Oops!” He clamped both hands over his mouth and giggled. “I’m not being funny.”

  Tiffany nodded, then looked at Darius with a scowl.

  “You ready to go home?” Darius asked Tiffany.

  “We’re ready,” Tiffany said.

  They started toward the set of glass doors. For some reason, Darius felt prompted to turn around and looked where he’d left Gigi standing. She was still there, looking quite intensely his way. He couldn’t quite explain it, but there was something that bothered him about that.

  The questions were: what and why?

  Chapter 6

  And he brought me to the door of the court; and when I looked, behold a hole in the wall.

  —Ezekiel 8:7

  “Why didn’t you tell me Fatima Adams invited us to her wedding?” Darius casually asked Tiffany as they were preparing for bed.

  Bent over, Tiffany was brushing her straight hair to the side, wrapping it, and pinning it in place with large bobby pins. “Because I knew you weren’t interested in going, that’s why.” She stood up straight and finished, gathering the ends of her hair together and pinning them down.

  “I’d go.”

  Tiffany placed one hand on her hip. “Yeah, right. I’ve asked you about attending weddings before. You never go.”

  “Well, I’d go to hers. She’s your friend and fellow dancer in the ministry, right? She’s over the dance ministry right now, at least until Gabrielle returns full time. I’d support you and go.”

  “Darius, do you know the last wedding you attended?”

  Darius grinned. “Yeah, I know. In fact, I even remember how bad I felt for that beautiful bride. In my mind I was screaming, ‘Run, girl, run. He ain’t no good! Run while you can!’”

  “Boy, you’re crazy.”

  Darius wrapped his arms around her waist and reeled her in to him. “I know I’m crazy . . . about you.” He gave her a quick peck on her lips. “So, yes, I do remember the last wedding I attended—it was ours.”

  On vibrate, his phone made a buzzing sound. He pulled out his phone and looked at it. “I need to take this,” he said with a coolness he’d perfected over years of practice.

  “Who is it?” Playfully, Tiffany reached for his phone.

  He maneuvered the phone up and out of her reach, giving her a quick peck on the lips when she reached upward. She laughed and sauntered to the bathroom.

  Darius quickly left the bedroom, trotting down the steps. “Hey,” he said, hoping she hadn’t hung up.

  “Hi,” Paris said. “I was just about to hang up. I hope it’s okay that I’m ca
lling you this late. I didn’t want to, but I don’t have anyone else to turn to at the moment.”

  “It’s not late. It’s only, what?” He glanced at his watch. “Nine thirty. So what’s going on? What do you need?”

  “I need some help. Andrew is out of town on business and I can’t find anyone to help me. I know this is asking a lot, but would it be possible for you to come here to my house?”

  “To your house? You mean right now?”

  “I know it really is asking a lot. And believe me: If I had any other option at this point, other than calling nine-one-one, I would. I promise I wouldn’t be imposing on you like this. I wouldn’t.”

  “So you want me to come to your house? Right now? Tonight?” Darius asked again.

  “You know what? On second thought, don’t worry about it,” Paris said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll find some other way to take care of this. Forget I even called. Okay?”

  “Hold on. It’s not a problem. You can’t call somebody up for help, then say that’s okay. I was just making sure you were serious. Give me your address, and I’ll be right over.”

  “That’s okay. Let’s just forget it. I shouldn’t have even called you. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll just try to find someone else—”

  “Girl, quit playing and give me your address. I told you it’s not a problem. I’ll be right there.” Darius quickly tore a page off the shopping list pad being held to the side of the refrigerator with a magnet and grabbed a pen out of a nearby holder. It was apparent she needed help with something.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m ready. Now give me your address, and I’ll be there in a few.” Darius wrote down her address as she gave it.

  He then went back upstairs and hollered at the closed bathroom door. “Tiff, I have to run out for a few minutes. I’ll be back shortly.” He went to the garage, got in his car, put Paris’s address in his GPS, and found his way to her house.

  Paris was waiting at the door, opening it before he even rang the doorbell.

  “Thank you so much for coming. This way. Hurry!” She walked quickly up the stairs. Darius followed close behind her into her wine-color-scheme bedroom. Paris kneeled down, practically placing the side of her face on the rose-colored carpet. “She’s either stuck or she’s just refusing to come out on her own,” she said.

  “She?” Darius said. “She who?”

  Paris looked up at Darius from the floor. “Ambrosia. She’s under this armoire entertainment center here. She went in through that decorative opening, and she either can’t or won’t come out. She’s probably scared, poor baby. The thing is too big and heavy to move to get her out of the hole she’s gotten herself into.”

  “I’m sorry. Apparently, I’m missing something. Who, or should I say what, is Ambrosia?”

  Paris sat on the floor and looked up at Darius. “I’m sorry. I’m just babbling without telling you everything. My father came by Friday and brought me a puppy.”

  “A puppy?” He began to chuckle as he realized what this was all about.

  “Yes. She’s a cute little Maltese I named Ambrosia.”

  Darius chuckled some more. “Oh, so you got one of those little toy dogs instead of a real dog.”

  “Ambrosia is a real dog. Or she will be a dog when she grows up. Right now she’s just a baby . . . my baby,” Paris said.

  Darius was fully laughing now. “Please. You’re going to make me gag.” Darius reached down and grabbed her hand, helping her up off the floor. “Bring me a saucer of warm milk.”

  “Milk? Why, of course,” Paris said, softly slapping the heel of her palm against her forehead. She swished out of the bedroom, returning shortly with a saucer of heated milk. “Here you are.” She carefully handed the saucer of milk to Darius.

  Darius put the saucer on the floor close to the entertainment center opening, but far enough away for the puppy to have to fully come out to get to it. “Come on, girl. Come on. Come and get some nice, warm milk. Here, girl, here.”

  “Ambrosia, baby. Come to Mama. Come and get you something to eat. It’s milk, baby.”

  The puppy poked her head out of the opening and slowly walked over to the saucer of milk. Paris quickly grabbed her up along with the saucer of milk, allowing the puppy to lap it as she carried her over to the bed, carefully sitting so as not to spill the milk.

  “Thank you so much, Darius,” she said. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that on my own. I tried using a stick to help guide her out to no avail. I didn’t want to hurt her. But I didn’t even think about offering her some milk.”

  “So what’s Daddy dearest trying to do? Buy you off.”

  “Most likely.”

  “Well, is it working?”

  “Nah,” Paris said, shaking her head. “But before I can move forward with my plans, I have to convince my husband he and I need to unite on this front. I can’t very well go into court petitioning to get a child from a woman claiming that I’d be better for her because I’m married when my own husband is not standing by my side. To the court, it will look like we’re both single.”

  “If you can’t convince your husband, and you need me to stand in as his double, just let me know.”

  Paris laughed. “I doubt that will work. If Gabrielle sees you, she’ll bust us on it for sure. And even if Gabrielle didn’t know you, I’ve told you before that I don’t want to cause any problems between you and your wife. I hope my little dumb call tonight hasn’t messed up things.”

  “Don’t worry about it. My wife is probably already in bed now.”

  “So where did you tell her you were going at this time of the night?”

  “I didn’t. I just told her I had to run out for a few minutes.”

  “And she just let you leave without asking a million and one questions? Oh, she’s a good one.”

  Darius walked over to the bed and snatched up the decorative roll pillow with gold fringes hanging on it. “Tiffany is pretty cool. She trusts me, most of the time anyway. As long as I’m not gone for too long, it’ll be okay.” He stuffed the pillow into the opening where the puppy had originally made her way in. “You might want to find something to cover up this hole so Ambrosia can’t do that again. At least until she gets bigger.”

  “Sure.” Paris set the now empty saucer on the nightstand. “Ambrosia has her own bed. I was going to put her in her own room, but I was keeping her in here with me these past few days until she gets used to being away from her mother. Poor baby. I set her down on the floor and was only gone about ten minutes. When I came back, I couldn’t find her anywhere. I was looking everywhere for her. I then heard her whimpering. And like I told you: I tried everything I knew to get her out.”

  “So your husband’s out of town?” Darius sat down at the bottom of the bed away from Paris. She didn’t object nor appear bothered by him doing that.

  “Yeah. Some kind of conference in Dallas. They left Friday morning. He’s due back home tomorrow.”

  “So he hasn’t gotten to meet the newest addition to the family yet, huh? You said your father brought her by Friday evening.”

  “Not yet. In fact, I haven’t even told Andrew about her. Andrew didn’t really want me getting a dog, at least not one like this one. He’s not crazy about house dogs. Don’t get me wrong; he likes dogs. He’d just prefer we have something like an Alaskan Husky or a German shepherd. That’s why we hadn’t gotten a dog before now; we couldn’t reach a consensus. My mother and father have known I’ve wanted one of these little doggies for years.” Paris snuggled Ambrosia up to her face.

  “So your father, being the caring and loving man that he is, got you one.”

  “Yeah. I suppose he thinks getting me this puppy will distract me from trying to get Jasmine. Like somehow the two are remotely equal.” She shook her head.

  “I don’t mean to appear mean or overstep my boundary, but it doesn’t sound like your father really knows the real you.”

  Paris tilted her
head slightly. “Thank you for that. He really doesn’t. I believe everybody thinks I’m a little shallow. They say I’m self-centered, like it’s impossible for me to care about anything or anybody unless it somehow benefits me. But I do care.” Her eyes became soft. “I do.”

  “Believe me: I understand how that can be. Personally, I think you wanting to get that little girl is a noble thing. It takes a lot to raise a child. I can attest to that. And anyone who puts him or herself out there to take on parenting responsibility is definitely not self-centered. Not in the least.”

  “I enjoy talking to you. You really seem to get me,” Paris said. “I don’t understand how my father can sit back and let someone like Gabrielle just take that child and he not do anything to stop it.”

  “So you still believe that little girl is your father’s? Even though he’s repeatedly denied it?”

  “I do. I don’t know why I can’t shake it, but there’s something deep down inside of me telling me that Jasmine is my father’s child. I’m sure, if it’s true, Daddy doesn’t want my mother to know anything about it, which is probably why he’s allowing things to go on as he’s doing.”

  “Maybe that’s something you should be thinking about as well,” Darius said. “Your mother and how something like this might affect her. How will she feel if what you’re doing, whether it’s actually true or not, backfires?”

  Paris frowned. “You know, I didn’t really think about that part.”

  Darius stood up. “Well, maybe you should. You need to count the full cost of what you’re doing before you proceed. It sounds like your husband isn’t for this. Your daddy certainly isn’t. And if you push it, you may end up hurting a lot of innocent people, including your mother. It is something to consider.”

  “Yeah.” Paris stood up as well. “Thanks for coming over and helping me out with Ambrosia. Andrew wasn’t here. My father is at some campaign function somewhere. My brother, Malachi, wouldn’t even answer his phone, most likely ignoring my calls on purpose. Not that he would have come over anyway, especially if he’d known why I was calling. And he would have made me tell him before he would have agreed to come. I didn’t have all that many options left.”