Snapped 2:

Book 2: Snapped

by Tina Brooks McKinney

Genres: African American; African American Urban

Synopsis

The night Army Specialist Merlin Mills’s identical twin brother, Gavin, slept with his wife, everything changed. Now Merlin must come to grips with the fact that Cojo may be carrying his brother’s child. For Gina Meadows, Merlin’s mother, it’s a brutal reminder of the dysfunction that has always plagued her family. Tension escalates when Gina pops up pregnant after a night of drunken revelry, and an icy finger points to her deviant son as the father. The drama that ensues forces them all to take stock of their lives.

Hurt, angry, and confused, Merlin is caught up in a complex struggle between yesterday and today; between a mistress who wants to give him real love and a wife who doesn’t know how; between nasty lies and secrets, and their life-altering revelations.

In his struggle to mend a marriage that is as fragile as a cobweb, Merlin learns that the past, present, and future are tangled in a knot that he can never unravel.

Release date: November 1, 2012

Publisher: Urban Renaissance

Print pages: 288

Sample

I should have known things weren’t going to work out the way I wanted them to. They never did. So I didn’t know why I thought this time would be any different. But I guess it was all water under the bridge now. The damage had been done, and now I had to figure out a way to clean up the mess I’d created for myself. I thought I could pull a rabbit out of a hat and claim the girl of my dreams. Wrong. Now I was cuffed at the wrists and shackled at the legs and on my way to a cell that was not fit for a pet, let alone human being.

I was not necessarily worried about going to jail. Been there and done that. I just didn’t want to stay; this time the stakes were higher. I was not a juvenile whose sentence would disappear with time and good behavior. I was an adult now, so if I didn’t find a way out, my tiny cell would become my second furnished unit.

“Watch your head,” the officer barked as he pushed me into the back of his patrol car.

I did my best to shield my face from the cameras and to ignore the rude questions being shouted to me, but it was hard. Normally, I enjoyed being the center of attention, but this time I preferred to pass.

“What are all these cameras doing here?” I was dumbfounded.

The officer ignored me as he shut the door and elbowed his way back inside the motel room. I could only imagine what was going on behind the closed door. It made me sick to my stomach thinking about it. Regardless of how things looked, it wasn’t my plan to hurt Cojo. The only reason I had brought her to a motel room was so I could try to talk some sense into her. I thought I could change her mind about being with me if I got her out of her own environment.

I would have taken her to my apartment if I had invested more time in sprucing it up, but it was just a room and hardly a home. I couldn’t very well expect her to leave her comfortable apartment to live in my cramped one-bedroom. That would be stupid. I wanted to show Cojo she could have a life with me if she gave me a chance. But she wasn’t trying to hear anything I had to say. She kept crying and fighting with me.

The front of the motel was ablaze with lights. It seemed like every faction of the media was present and accounted for, and they were bugging to have a word or two with me. I rolled my eyes as I viewed the vultures who stalked the patrol car, waiting for me to do something. Their eyes, wild with excitement, gawked at me as they shouted questions.

“Mr. Mills, why were you holding your sister-in-law hostage?” asked one person who had been banging on the glass repeatedly.

“Is it true she is the mother of your child?” another belted out.

“Is she hurt? Is that the reason why she hasn’t come out yet?” called another.

When I failed to answer these questions, the crowd turned belligerent and the lies spread quickly. For the next several minutes, the focus shifted from me to a journalist as she did a teaser for her station. Cameras blazed, and for a brief moment, the people quieted down to hear what the journalist was saying. They listened until they realized they were about to lose their chance to “break” the story themselves. Almost simultaneously other reporters cued their cameras and cited their versions of what went down. If they weren’t lying about my life, it might have been comical.

“I didn’t hurt her,” I yelled, frustrated because I couldn’t wind down the window and set the record straight. I wanted them to hear from my mouth that I had wanted only to talk with Cojo. I wanted them to understand I really loved her, but they were no longer interested in me. It also became clear they weren’t interested in the truth; fiction made for a better story. They were concerned only with being the first to report something, even if it was a lie.

“Good evening. I’m Natalie Spence, reporting live outside the Baymore Motel, the scene of an intense hostage situation turned violent. The police have apprehended Gavin Mills, a family member of the victim. Mr. Mills, seen behind me, is waiting for transport. A spokesperson for the Clayton County Police Department informed us they will charge Mr. Mills with attempted murder. . . .”

My heart felt like it was trying to leap out of my chest. “Murder? Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t try to kill anybody,” I shouted as I butt my head against the window, trying to get their attention. If they were going to tell my story, they should at least wait until they had their facts straight.

I kept beating my head on the window. Murder? How the hell did they come up with that? I wasn’t trying to kill anyone. “What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t try to kill anyone,” I shouted in vain. But that wasn’t entirely true. If they’d have arrived ten minutes later, Cojo might have died.

“The victim’s husband is on the scene, but so far we have not been allowed to speak with him. He appeared to be upset when he was allowed into the room. . . .”

“Right. Get Merlin out here. He’ll tell you this is all just a big misunderstanding,” I yelled, but no one was paying me any attention. I couldn’t understand why I could hear them so plainly but my voice was being ignored. My brother had plenty of reasons to dislike me, but I was so sure he wouldn’t want me to go to jail. Or would he? In the past, he had always shielded me. But this time it was his wife. Chances were he might not feel the same way he did for the random chick that got killed.

I couldn’t believe the cops had found us so fast. We hadn’t been in the room long before they came bursting through the door. How did they find us? Somehow I needed to get my brother alone so I could explain to him what happened. Cojo was his wife, but there was also a good chance she was the mother of my child. I banged on the window again, trying to get someone’s attention. I needed to speak to my brother.

I had thought that by bringing Cojo to the motel, she would not see me as her husband’s brother but as her man. So I’d made a mistake, but I was sure we could work it all out if they would just give me a chance to talk to them.

“Gavin Mills, a bartender at Tiffany’s, a well-known strip club in Decatur, Georgia,” the reporter droned on.

They were telling all my business. If I’d wanted the world to know I worked at the club, I would have done my own infomercial. Things were happening so fast, and I needed everyone to shut the fuck up so I could think.

“If they are taking me to jail, they need to hurry the fuck up,” I shouted, but there was no one around to hear me. The officer who had brought me to his car had gone back inside the motel room. I didn’t want to be around when they brought Cojo out of the room. I didn’t want to see the fear in her eyes. This was not the way I wanted to remember her.

I watched in disbelief as they wheeled a stretcher into the motel room. This was certainly overkill, and I thought they were doing it because of the media attention. “Oh, come on,” I shouted. This bullshit was not necessary. Cojo was perfectly capable of walking out of that room by herself. “I’ll bet that bitch Gina put her up to it.” Thinking about Gina made my head hurt, as I recalled the nasty words she’d hurled at me as they were leading me out of the room. I didn’t understand why she was there in the first place. Last I heard, she hated Cojo, and Merlin didn’t want anything to do with her. When did Gina become friends with Merlin and Cojo? Gina claimed she hated them both, so why was she up in the motel, all hysterical, like she’d lost her best friend?

I slumped back in the seat. Nothing was making sense. How had they found us in the first place? As the events of the night replayed in my mind, I recalled Gina’s final words. Maybe I was insane. If they hadn’t come into the motel room when they did, maybe I would have killed Cojo. As soon as the thought settled into my head, I shook it away. I was upset with Cojo, but I didn’t want to kill her. Did I?

I sat in the car a few minutes before I gathered the nerve to knock on Merlin’s door. Even though we’d mended our fences, I still wasn’t entirely comfortable around him and his wife. Cojo really was a sweet woman, and I felt bad for misjudging her. Thankfully, she wasn’t a bitter woman, or she wouldn’t be giving me a second chance to be a part of their family.

I got out of the car and paused while I got myself together. I was still suffering from an upset stomach, but at first I attributed it to all the craziness going on around me. I wasn’t eating, and when I did manage to get something down, it came right back up. I smoothed down my top and walked up the short path to Merlin and Cojo’s apartment.

Cojo answered the door when I knocked. “Hey, Gina. Come on in.” She was smiling brightly, and it eased some of my fears. I could not believe how good she looked. She was positively glowing.

“Cojo, you look amazing. Your skin is radiant, and this belly fits your small frame.”

Obviously pleased with my compliment, Cojo patted her stomach and led the way to the sofa. “Thanks, Gina. You made my day, because I spend most of my days feeling fat and unattractive.”

“Hell, I wish I looked as good.” I looked at my own belly, which could easily be confused with a pregnant pouch.

The look Cojo gave me would have been hysterical if I had said something funny, but it was exactly how I felt at the moment: fat and unattractive and totally confused. I thought I was having phantom symptoms because of Cojo’s pregnancy, but I came to the realization it was something more than that. Either I was deathly ill or I was pregnant.

“Is there something wrong?” Cojo’s brow was wrinkled with worry.

I panicked. I didn’t know for sure what was going on with me, so I wasn’t ready to share it, whatever it was. Right now my focus was on repairing my relationship with my son and his wife. “No, girl. I’m fine. Just a little tired. Gavin has been calling the house day and night, trying to get me to come and visit. I told him the night they arrested him, I was finished with him, but I guess he didn’t believe me.”

Cojo’s face visually paled at the mention of Gavin’s name. I could only imagine what she was feeling, and I didn’t even know the entire story. One day I was hoping she’d feel comfortable enough to confide in me about the true nature of her relationship with my other son. She shook her head and grimaced, as if she tasted something really bad in her mouth.

“Thank God he hasn’t called here. I don’t want to hear from him ever again.”

“I know, but you’re going to have to go to court and testify whenever they set a date for his hearing.”

She absently rubbed her belly, and I felt a twinge of envy.

“I know, but I’m still not looking forward to it.”

We fell into silence, but it wasn’t strained.

“Where’s Merlin? I didn’t see his car,” I finally said.

“He had to report to the base. He should be home soon. He’s sticking closer to home these days.”

Silence again.

I looked around the room, trying to think of something else to say. “So when are we going to have your baby shower?” I didn’t know who was more shocked by my suggestion, her or me. I wanted to attend her shower, but planning it? I didn’t think so.

Cojo laughed. “Merlin and I haven’t even thought that far. We just want to have a healthy baby.”

I heard what she was saying, but I wasn’t buying it. Why wouldn’t she want a shower? I thought about it some more and decided I should be the one to give it to her. Especially since I had treated her so badly in the beginning. “Nonsense. You have to have a shower. This is your first baby. Just leave everything to me, and if you have someone you want me to invite, let me know so I can send them an invitation.”

Cojo looked as if she wanted to cry. I didn’t mean to make her upset. I had thought my offer would make her happy.

I moved over to the sofa and put my arm around her. “Honey, what’s wrong?” I wasn’t used to this emotional Cojo. Now that I was getting to know her, it was hard for me to see her crying.

“I’m all right. Lately, I seem to cry at the drop of a hat.”

I understood what she meant. When I was pregnant, I cried all the time, even though my pregnancy was short lived. “You scared me. I thought I did something wrong.”

“No, actually, I’m overwhelmed by your thoughtfulness. I always wanted this type of relationship with you.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

I went into the kitchen and grabbed a paper towel for her. It wasn’t as soft as a tissue, but I didn’t feel comfortable enough in their space to look for anything else. Her candor touched me in ways I hadn’t felt in years, and it was a feeling I couldn’t describe, even if I had to. “Cut that out. There is nothing cute about a snotty nose,” I said as I walked back into the living room. I felt giddy and needed to do something to expel the nervous energy I was feeling. “Hey, since I’m here, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Gina, I’m fine. Merlin hasn’t allowed me to lift a finger since you guys rescued me.”

I didn’t see the black cloud enter the room, but I damn sure felt it. “Wow, what a buzz kill.” I was trying to be funny, but I’d never been so serious in my life.

“You ain’t kidding a bit. I just wish I understood what was going through Gavin’s head. Part of me wants to forgive him for what he did to me, but the other side of me would like to castrate him for scaring the shit out of me.”

Absently, I patted Cojo’s hand as my mind drifted off. I understood exactly what she was saying, but on a deeper level. I was beginning to believe my dream wasn’t just a nightmare and Gavin had actually fucked me. And to add insult to injury, I could be carrying his child. How twisted was that? I felt like my life had become some low-budget movie, and I was terrified of the ending. I wanted to confide my fears to Cojo, but I was afraid if I said it out loud, it would come true.

“Gina?”

“Huh?” I’d been daydreaming and wasn’t paying attention to the conversation.

“I asked if you were okay. You got this weird look on your face. Kind of scared me.”

I patted her hand again and shook off my thoughts. I hadn’t decided what I was going to do, and until I did, I would keep my fears to myself. “Sorry, dear. I guess I was off in la-la land. Hey, I could use something to drink. I’m feeling a little parched.”

She got up, but I stopped her before she could leave the room.

“I don’t want you waiting on me. I can fix it myself. Do you want something? Water? Milk?” I assumed she had plenty of milk, or at least I would if I knew for sure I was having a baby. I looked down at my own stomach, which was protruding before any thoughts of being pregnant had entered my mind, and smiled. If this turned out to be a false alarm, I was going to have to get my ass in a gym with a quickness.

“No, I’m good. I’m so sick and tired of going to the bathroom. I try to limit the amount of fluids I drink so I’m not running myself crazy.”

She had given me something else to think about. Perhaps I wasn’t pregnant, after all. It could also be stress, since I hadn’t noticed any changes in my bathroom habits. Surely if I were pregnant, I would have noticed something by now. I went in the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the cabinet, and got some water from the tap, but the instant I turned on the faucet, I felt the urge to pee.

“Damn. Cojo, where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall, first door on the right.”

I noticed a pregnancy test on the shelf of their bathroom caddy. I picked it up to read the directions. It had been a long time since I’d used a test, so I was unfamiliar with the manufacturer. I shook the box. It was a twin pack, and one of them was missing. Without giving it too much more thought, I used her test. Comparing my symptoms to Cojo’s was one thing, but with this test, I’d find out for sure and put my mind to rest. I closed the top of the now empty box and placed it back on the caddy. With any luck, they wouldn’t think to look in the box before I’d had a chance to replace the contents.

“Gina, is everything okay?” It sounded like Cojo was standing right in front of the bathroom door.

I jumped, splashing urine all over my hands and the seat.

“Uh, um, I’m good. My stomach’s a little upset, though.” I wasn’t lying. My nerves were getting the best of me, because I honestly didn’t know what I would do if I was actually pregnant.

“Oh, okay. I’m going to hit the other bathroom. You got me going too.”

I allowed a small chuckle, which sounded fake even to my ears. “I’ll be right out.” I cleaned up the mess I’d made, and slipped the used test inside my shirt. It felt like it was burning against my skin, but I knew it was just my imagination. I rushed back to the living room, hoping to slip the test in my purse before Cojo finished in the bathroom. Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling social. I wanted to go home and view my results in private. The walls began to close in around me.

The bandages were going to be removed from my legs and arms today. I had been in a fire and had burns over 70 percent of my body. I wasn’t under any illusions of what I would look like once they took them off. The doctor had advised me there would be scaring, and he’d suggested I watch several movies dealing with burn victims. He’d also had me talk with a counselor several times in an attempt to get my mind right. Even though I wasn’t expecting much, I was still impatient to have the bandages removed. My wounds itched, and I couldn’t wait to scratch them.

I also missed taking a bath. The first thing I was going to do when I got back home was take a long hot bath. A delicious bubble bath with my favorite read, soaking till my skin looked old and withered. That was my plan.

The doctors didn’t want to do any of the cosmetic surgery I wanted because of my pregnancy. If it was up to my mother, I would wear my scars like a banner as punishment for my sins. What I wanted didn’t matter. They would talk about my options in front of me like I wasn’t in the room. Since I didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of, I had no say. My father thought I needed to see the scars on a daily basis as a reminder of the dangers of the world. As if I could fucking forget I’d slept with a man I didn’t know who’d tried to deep-fry my ass with gasoline!

But they didn’t know all that. They thought Gavin had forced his way into the house, raped me, and set the house ablaze to cover his tracks. Although parts of my story were embellished, it was my story, and I was sticking to it. Regardless of how it happened, I was pregnant and my parents didn’t believe in abortion. I spoke to the counselor about it, but she couldn’t advise me. It was my body, but I was completely dependent on my parents until I could afford to pay the cost to be the boss.

I didn’t want a child. Period. And I damn sure didn’t want one by a nut like Gavin Mills. But once again, I didn’t have a choice. My parents were going to make me have this baby, even if it killed me! My mother said this to me at least once a day, and I was sick of hearing it.

“Angela, come on. We’re going to be late,” my mother called up the stairs. She used her nice voice, but I wasn’t fooled.

I tossed a couple of pain pills in my mouth and swallowed. As I put the cap back on the bottle, I contemplated taking the rest of them, but thoughts of wearing this body in hell deterred me from taking such drastic measures. Once the baby was born, I would have my plastic surgery, and with any luck, the scarring would be minimal.

“I’m coming.” I paused at the top of the stairs, anticipating the pain. Going down was torture, but coming back up was pure hell. Bending my legs hurt the most, but I moved as fast as I could, because I didn’t want to piss my mother off. These days, if she wasn’t yelling, she wasn’t talking. She said I was a big disappointment. I felt like she was more concerned about what the ladies down at the church were saying than how I felt. I heard the front door slam. If she thought it would hurry me up, she’d wasted her energy. I could move only as fast as my bandages allowed. My mother would see it if she bothered to look at me. But she wouldn’t. She never did.

Even though she didn’t come right out and say it, I knew my mother didn’t believed my account of what happened to me. She said I must have done something to make that boy bust up in their house and shame the entire family. She never acted all crazy around my father, but the second we were alone, it was on. I couldn’t wait until I was able to move out of their house and get on with my life.

“You’re getting a sonogram today,” my mother announced as I closed the car door and buckled my seat belt.

“For what?” I didn’t know how I was going to make her understand I couldn’t care less about this baby who lived inside of me.

My mother shot me a look that closely resembled hatred. It was so powerful, I felt like it was pressing me back against the seat.

“The child you carry is innocent. You are not going to punish this child because you . . .” She threw the car in reverse without finishing her sentence. Even though she didn’t finish what she was saying, I knew exactly where she was going. I had heard it all before and had it memorized. Fo. . .