The Demise of Alexis Vancamp

by Karen Williams

Genres: African American; African American Urban

Synopsis

Bestselling urban author Karen Williams returns with another explosive tale of obsessive love gone horribly wrong.

Twenty-four-year-old Alexis Vancamp has the world at her feet. She is young, beautiful, educated, and adored by her family, fiancé, and friends. Just when she thinks her life is set, in walks sexy, thugged-out Santana. He's a dangerous man with a dark secret, a rough past, and a plan to get Alexis under his thumb. Despite the warnings from the people around her, Alexis finds herself drawn to this man. To have him means to lose everything, but none of this bothers Alexis as long as she has him in her world.
Santana soon leads Alexis down a destructive path. He turns her away from her family and friends. Alexis's sheltered life dissipates as she finds herself wrapped up in deceit, violence, lies, and trouble with the law.
Despite losing almost everything, Alexis still refuses to let Santana go. When his mind-blowing secret is revealed, will she step away before it's too late?

Release date: May 1, 2013

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 224

Sample

When everything was oh so perfect in my life and couldn’t get any better, Santana walked in. I was the proud daughter of successful parents. My dad owned property all around southern California, as well as a tow truck business. My mother was a social worker and I had graduated at the top of my class at UCLA, in business and accounting. I worked for my father as a property supervisor. I was over all my daddy’s property managers; I dealt with all the finances. His company was called Vancamp Equities, Inc. It was located in Lakewood, California, on Candlewood Street. I also did the HR work: hiring and firing, paychecks. All of it.

He didn’t have to worry about a thing. My sister had just started college at Spelman. She, being a little wilder than I was, wanted to branch off on her own. I was engaged to one of the greatest guys on the planet, Dannon. I sighed thinking about him. He was my high school sweetheart and was three years older than I. Both his parents, who loved me, were doctors, and Dannon was working on his residency at Harbor-UCLA Medical Center. He was every bit of handsome. He was six foot three with creamy dark brown skin, and had a set of pearly whites. I was his queen and that’s how he treated me. He said he couldn’t live without me. I believed him. We had been together for over ten years, since I was fourteen.

The day Santana walked into my work office, I was busy getting time cards done so I could go home and get ready for a date night with my man. My dad had called me at the last minute, and told me he had a young gentleman for me to interview for on-site maintenance work at our Paramount complex. Santana was just what he felt he needed. I told my daddy okay, but I really didn’t have time for an interview. I wanted to go home, and take my time bathing and getting pretty for Dannon. With his residency he was always so busy, so he had been lucky enough to get a Friday night off. Dannon wanted the night to be special. He was going to take me to his favorite restaurant: Ruth’s Chris Steak House, in Anaheim. I wanted to take full advantage of our night together.

Glancing at my watch, I saw the interviewee was thirty minutes late. “I love you, baby,” I cooed into the phone to Dannon as I reviewed a time card.

“Same here. I can’t wait to see you tonight and make love to you.”

I purred into the phone, “You want me to wear something special for you?”

“You know I do.” He started telling me how his day was. I listened intently.

I signed off on a time card and looked at my watch again. Forty-five minutes had passed. It would just be his loss. There was no way I would ever hire someone who was that damn late for an interview.

“Okay, baby. Let me get off this phone so I can go home and get dressed.”

“See you later, babe.”

I made a kiss sound into the phone before hanging up. I then stood, put on my jacket, and grabbed my purse and briefcase. That’s when I heard a knock at the door.

Agitated, I turned and looked at who my visitor was. No, he didn’t have the nerve to show up this late.

I arrogantly studied him as he walked into the room. He was handsome nonetheless. He had brown skin and jet-black curly hair, telling me he was mixed. I figured he had to be Spanish and black. He wasn’t as tall as Dannon. He seemed to be six feet but he was muscular. It wasn’t hard to see that because the fool was wearing a wife beater tucked into a pair of slacks. Who wears a wife beater to an interview?

“How you doing, ma’am? I’m Santana Marcelino.” He held his hand out for me to shake. I looked at it disdainfully. Not only was he late, he was not dressed properly for an interview and his fingernails were filthy.

I shook my head at him. He was old enough to know better. “You are fifty minutes late. I’m on my way out.”

“I’m sorry. I have been having car problems. It stopped twice on the way here and I had to get a jump.”

That is the number one excuse for being late to an interview.

“Just give me a chance please,” he pleaded. “I really need a job.”

I rolled my eyes, and sat down. At least he can’t go to the labor board and say I didn’t give him a chance.

But I knew, even before he answered the routine questions, I wasn’t going to hire his ass. I only hired the best employees for my father. And to me, his tacky ass just wasn’t that. I knew we needed some of our managers to be a little rough around the edges, like Larry, at our Compton complex, but with how competitive the market was now in terms of employment, I knew I could find much better. Someone who could reflect our company’s professionalism.

He stared at me anxiously, clasping his hands between his knees.

I didn’t bother asking for a resume. Hell, he didn’t have on a shirt! “Do you have any experience performing maintenance work for a forty-unit complex?”

“No. But I’m a fast learner. I know how to fix stuff and—”

I didn’t want to hear that line so I cut him off. “What is your highest level of education?”

“Tenth grade. But—”

“Do you have any convictions? DUIs?”

He paused, then said, “Yes. But I can explain them.”

I knew all I needed to know. Screw a formal interview with him. He was wasting my time. “Okay. Thank you for your time. You will hear something back from us within two to five business days.” I stood and stiffly held out my hand.

He remained seated and looked at me like I was crazy. “Wait. That’s it? That’s all you want to know?”

“Yes. Like I said, you will hear something back in two to five business days.”

His lips snarled and he looked at me angrily. “Fuck that ‘two to five business days’ line. Are you going to give me a chance or not?” he demanded.

Who does he think he is? “Sir—”

“Are you going to hire me or not?”

“No. You came to the interview late, not properly dressed, and with no res—”

Before I could finish he took one of his arms and knocked everything on my desk to the floor. I gasped and took a step back.

“You fucking bitch.”

My heart started pounding fast. I placed a hand on my chest.

As he stormed out of my office, a text message came through on my phone. I ignored it, fearful that he would come back. But he didn’t. I got up, locked my door, and went to retrieve my phone.

I took a deep breath as my heart rate slowed down. The text was from Dannon:


“Damn,” I muttered. First I get cursed out by a thug and now my baby cancels. Well, who cared about the thug? I’d never have to see him again. He legitimized everything I felt about him based on how he just acted. But I was disappointed with not being able to see my man tonight.

I might as well get some work done. I turned on my iPod and put one of my playlists that included Eric Roberson, Beyoncé, Dwele, Anthony David, Tank, Raheem DeVaughn, Jazmine Sullivan; and I got to work. I would be so happy when my baby was done with his residency. I knew being a doctor was going to be hectic for us, but once we married and he paid his dues it would change. Realistically I knew he would always be busy, but once we were married we would be living together. So, off the bat, that was more time.

I left my office pretty late. But since my office was located in a typically quiet and safe area I wasn’t concerned. I set my attaché case on the concrete near my car so I could dig in my Gucci clutch bag for my keys.

It was hard to locate my keys because I had so much stuff in there. I sighed and pulled my wallet, phone, and my makeup bag out. I held all that stuff in one hand, and searched in my purse with the other. When I felt the cold iron of the keys against my fingers, I grabbed them. But before I could press the alarm to unlock the door, someone slapped me so hard I lost my balance and fell onto the concrete. I stared at the figure that hovered over me and screamed. He was wearing a ski mask.

That’s when a gun was pressed in my face. “Shut the fuck up.”

My right cheek burned. I closed my eyes at the burning and to block out the sight of the gun. My heart started beating so fast. I was scared shitless. Was he going to rob me? Rape me? Kill me? Or all three? I knew I needed to cooperate with him.

“First off, you dumb ho, push all that shit toward me.”

Since I had dropped everything in my hand when I was slapped, everything was on the ground near me. I scooted it all toward him.

He leaned over and picked everything up, saying, “Don’t look at me!”

I kept my eyes down.

“Off with that ring, too!”

At my millisecond of hesitation, his gun made a clicking sound. I jumped and shrieked when it did. He leaned down, gripped my hair, and shoved the gun in my face again. “Shut the fuck up before I kill you, tramp.”

I nodded. He gripped my left hand and forced my engagement ring off my finger. He tucked it in his pocket along with my wallet and phone. Then he used the keys to open my Infiniti.

“Get in the back seat.”

I started crying again, not knowing what was next for me. “Please don’t hurt me.”

When I guess I didn’t move fast enough for him, he gripped my hair and shoved me into the back seat of the car. I landed on my back. He immediately straddled me and slid between my legs. “Sorry, bitch. I need this car and I don’t ever leave witnesses.”

He was going to kill me! I panicked and tried to fight him and beg him at the same time. “No! Please!”

He smacked me, making my head reel backward. He aimed the gun at me. I prayed silently. Before he got a chance to pull the trigger, he was snatched up by someone. I sat up in the car and watched a man wrap his arm around his neck. When he moved his head back to avoid being head-butted, I saw it was Santana.

He gripped dude’s hand that held the gun until the man screamed. Santana punched him repeatedly in his face with his free hand, until he slumped against him, breathing heavily.

“Get the fuck off me, nigga!” Santana slammed him on the concrete. The man scurried to his feet as Santana grabbed the gun off the ground. He pointed it at the dude.

“Give her, her shit back!”

Dude hurried up and pulled my items out of his pocket and handed them back to me.

He backed up some and Santana said, “Now get the fuck out of here!”

The guy started running for his life.

I held my hand to my chest and breathed a sigh of relief that I was still standing and breathing. But I was shocked as hell as to who rescued me.

“Should I call the police?”

“Naw, let his dumb ass go. He just some young, dumb kid. You all right?”

I took another deep breath and offered a nervous smile. He walked over to me and grabbed my purse off of the ground. He then took the items out of my hands, slipped them in my purse, and handed it to me.

I sat there like I was mute and deaf. Truth was, I didn’t know what to say. This was the same man who I had looked down on a few hours ago. And he had just saved my life. I was so grateful to him for doing that. Alone, I didn’t have a chance against that man.

“Thank you so much!” I gushed out, grabbing both his hands in mine.

He gave me a look like he was thinking, Bitch, please.

Awkward . . .

Nervously, I babbled, “I don’t know what I was thinking, leaving work so late and not paying attention to my surroundings . . . And . . .” It continued to be awkward, standing in front of the man I had treated so badly.

To all I said, he replied simply, “It’s cool.”

“No. It’s not. Listen. I should have not treated you so badly. Looked down on you the way I did. But I mean you were really late and—”

“I don’t drive around in an Infiniti like you do. I got that little busted-ass Honda over there. It was giving me a lot of trouble today.”

“But the number one excuse people give for being late to an interview or for work is car trouble.”

“Has it crossed your mind why I’m still here, hours after the punk-ass interview? Think about it, I can’t get my car started for shit. That’s why I’m still here and was able to save you from getting killed. I called for a ride and they never showed up.”

He was making me feel worse by the second.

He chuckled. “You know, I had a nice shirt to wear. When my car stopped on the way here I spilled oil on it. But I figured if I could have gotten at least halfway through the interview, I could have explained that to you. Your dad acted like this was a sure thing because he liked me so much. He said things would be cool with you, not so much a formal interview. But that you liked to screen all future employees first. Still, I wanted to represent myself in a good manner. I really needed the job.”

I was such a coldhearted bitch to him, turning my nose up at him for simply trying to get a job. “I’m going to fix this. Look. My dad owns a tow truck company. It’s open twenty-four hours. I’ll call Sal, the manager, and have them tow your car to your home. You can ride with them, and tomorrow, I will take you to lunch for an impromptu interview.” I added with a chuckle, “You can wear whatever you like.”

He laughed at that comment. Ten minutes later, Mickey, one of my dad’s employees, came and loaded his truck up with Santana’s car. Santana gave me his address and number and I went home. I called Dannon to tell him what happened but he didn’t answer.

Wow, I thought the whole way to my house, that man saved my life.

Santana lived in a seedy part of Inglewood, a part I would not go to under any circumstances, unless I wanted to get robbed. He stayed in a run-down apartment building that had people hanging out. When I pulled up, I could hear someone blasting loud music inside the building. This new knowledge about his living circumstances now made me feel worse. He was simply a man trying to better himself; thus, he came to us for a job.

I dialed his number and, when he picked up, told him, “Hi. I am outside.”

“Cool.”

A few minutes later, he stepped out in a crisp white button-down top and a pair of black slacks, and had a pair of dress shoes on as well. I approve.

He stood beside the passenger side of my car. I quickly unlocked the door and he hopped in. As soon as he buckled up, I pulled off and drove toward the freeway.

“What are you playing?” he demanded of me with his lips twisted to the side.

I chuckled. “It’s Eric Roberson. Have you ever heard of him? My fiancé got me listening to him. After being on his feet for hours and hours because of his residency, he says his music relaxes him.”

When we came to a red light, he took my left hand and examined my ring. He whistled. “You seem worth that, too.”

He locked eyes with me when he said that.

I blushed like a schoolgirl and looked down at my lap. I didn’t know why, but, coming from him, I took that as a compliment seeing as though I was a straight-up bitch to him. It was cool to see that his perception of me was shifting. All of a sudden, I felt I needed his approval.

When the light changed, I turned and hopped on the 405 South. Our destination was Ruth’s Chris Steak House.

Twenty minutes after being seated, Santana had me cracking up as he mimicked how I had acted the day he came in for his interview.

“I was an ultra bitch,” I said regretfully.

“It’s cool.” He cut into his . . .