WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT WHEN CARMA'S INVOLVED?

VEINTIUNO

“Alixxander, I'm pregnant.” I swallowed the knot in my throat. Three of the most beautiful words in the English language were spoken by her. At least I knew this baby was mine.

I bombarded her with questions. All she wanted was time to process. It was a logical request. After all, she didn’t ask me to impregnate her. Rubbing my neck as I drifted to the elevator, I reamed myself for how the last year of my life played out. There have been married men I represented in my current situation. Who was I to look down on them as if I were better? Serves me right, doesn’t it? I mean, ya, I knew better than to cheat on my wife. No matter what she's done to me. Dragging Harmoney into my drama was wrong. You bet your ass I was thinking with the wrong head. My heart is now involved, and everything is more complicated. Part of me hoped she would call my name and ask me to stay. If only to discuss the future of our child. Then I thought about how many women felt the same way when I walked away from them for no reason other than boredom? All of them were fill-ins for Carma because she was unattainable until Travis dropped her like a hot potato. My dad always told us to never meet our hero because they pretend to be better than they are for money. The same rules apply to women in magazines.

Stepping into the elevator, I wished I could take it all back for Harmoney's sake. Whatever her decisions, they were fine with me. Her body, her rules. As much as I would like my child to live, she's the one making the sacrifice. I looked at my pathetic reflection in the doors as they closed, shutting me out from her. I'm not the type of man to back down from what I want but, Harmoney requested time alone, and I thought it best to let her have it.

Club Smash sent invitations to my home and office constantly. They look for influential figures to visit their establishment and spread the good word. I am not in a partying mood, but I am in a drinking mood. The line to get in spanned the entire block, the next one and went around the corner from there. Men and women holding clipboards walked up and down the street plucking from the crowd those looking worthy of the club. Jeans, a white T-shirt, and a navy-blue blazer didn't shout worthy, but my face should.

Of course, the young blonde woman would recognize me after the gorillas passed me up three times. If I wanted immediate entry, I would've brought an invitation with me. The blonde locked elbows with me as she escorted me to the front of the line. After presenting me to the head gorilla, I was refused entry. Tapping her hooker heel on the pavement, she warned him that it would be a mistake to reject one of the Savage men. Rolling my eyes, I pulled out my ID. Guess I should've grabbed the invitation.

The VIP setup was off the chain. As a thank you from the owners for my guest appearance, I was given the choice of any bottle I wanted. Great, cause right about now I can use it. A bottle of Grey Goose and two glasses were placed in front of me. Pouring the first of many, I sat back and looked out at the crowd as they carelessly danced their hearts out. My view became obstructed by a pair of long legs in a miniskirt. As my eyes went north, I admired how good they looked. That was until I saw the belly and face they belonged to. One bottle wasn't going to be enough to deal with her.

She took a seat in my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Alixx, baby. When are you coming home?”

Lifting her off me, I carefully placed her on the couch. Then I got close to her ear and said, “Never.”

“Oh poop. Why are you letting one lousy affair break up our family?”

One affair? Was she drunk? I asked how she found me, and learned she’d followed me to Family Heights. To her, my renters are hobos. What she fails to realize or chooses to forget is where she came from. Sipping my drink rather than downing shot after shot, I waited for her to bust me. Harmoney's name never dropped from her mouth. Nope, she thought I was there checking on my tenants. Worked for me.

Making herself comfortable, she ordered a virgin something or other while I poured myself another shot. Carma was not going to let me slip away anytime soon. And another, and another, and another, until the bottle was empty. That meant it was time to go. Carma did her best to get me to stay and drink more. The last time that happened I got fcked in every way except the best way.

Making it outside with my wife hot on my heels, I knew I was in no condition to drive. If I called a rideshare, I couldn't return to the apartment. Same goes if I called one of my brothers or my sister. With one eye closed to help the other focus, I searched for someone to call. Trying to fight off Carma wasn't helping. She tried going through my pockets for my keys to drive us home. No one drove my Ferrari except me. What pissed me off was she couldn’t get it through her thick skull. I wouldn't return to my home if she remained in it. I’ll sell the fckin’ place first.

“Club Smash, I need you to pick me up asap.” Carma slapped the phone away from my ear and when it hit the pavement, she stomped on it.

Snatching it off the ground, I somehow managed to get in my car and lock the door. Sitting on the passenger's side dozing off, I didn't know if the person I called would even show. Carma pounded on my windows and tried her best to gain access. My eyes were barely open, but I saw the heel of a pair of Manolo Blahniks hit my windshield, repeatedly, until it cracked and then some.

“Ma'am? Ma'am? Stop what you are doing.” Someone called the fuzz and the paparazzi by the looks of the amount of flashes going off.

“Isn't there a donut shop calling you because they are discarding the day's leftovers, pig?”

A man’s voice continued to instruct Carma to stop what she was doing. He even threatened her with force if she refused to comply. A strong female voice yelled at Carma. With my windshield destroyed, I couldn’t make out who it was. Whoever it was, Carma turned her rage on them.

“Officers, I must insist you be delicate with Mrs. Savage.”

“Who the hell are you to be tellin' us how to do our job?”

“Glad you asked. Harmoney Sanchez at your service. I represent Alixxander Savage in his divorce. I don't have an issue suing the Boston P.D. if Mrs. Savage's fetus came to any harm through the negligence of its officers. Do we understand each other, officers?”

I must’ve nodded off after that. It wasn’t until the pounding roused me and caused me to almost jump into the driver’s seat. Squinting my eyes while getting closer to the window, I recognized Harmoney. She told me to get out. I didn’t so much as get out of my car, it was more like I fell out. That bottle finally fully kicked in.

“IF I SEE ONE NICK ON THIS PRETTY BLUE PAINT, YOU BET YOUR ASS YOU'LL BE PAYING FOR A NEW PAINT JOB. CAPISCE?”

I clung to Harmoney as she dragged me to her car, pushed me in, and then buckled me up. “Why was she outside my place? Why was she here with you? I gave you specific instructions to stay away. If you are not going to listen to me, why should I bother speaking, Mr. Savage?”

“We're back on that, huh?” Not sure if we ever left it. It could've been a one-time thing because of the circumstances.

“My job is to make sure you sever all ties to her. If you continue to entertain her, you make it look like you don't want a divorce. We could make it so much easier and tell her she was right about us sleeping together. Why not add icing to the cake and tell her you hit it raw and knocked me up?”

From her perspective, it looked bad. Screwing up isn't new to me, not defending myself is. Harmoney wanted answers. I was too drunk to give them, so I let her rant. Now I will deny it if I'm asked, but had she asked me to stay, I wouldn't be drunk, Carma wouldn't have been in my vicinity, my Ferrari wouldn't be on a tow truck, and I wouldn't be getting my ass handed to me by my pregnant mistress. Laying down that manure sure has everything coming up roses for me, doesn't it? Tomorrow I will face the music and, hopefully, all will be forgiven.