Her Secret Life Page 8

  Though he was very deliberate with his spending, Aaron was extremely generous. It’s why Onika didn’t care that she didn’t exactly have her own money. She’d never gone without anything she needed. The credit cards he gave her allowed her to purchase what she wanted. He just had a record of her spending.

  Still, she thought she could make do on two thousand until she found a teaching job. Her credentials were current, and she’d done her student teaching hours. It wouldn’t be hard to land a job.

  “I’ve had the clothes that you brought here cleaned, laundered, and packed,” Aaron said. “Your flight for home leaves tomorrow unless you want to change it. You can stay in the guest room tonight, but you need to be gone by morning.”

  “Why are you being so cruel?”

  “What was cruel was you murdering my child, Onika. Did you think I wouldn’t find out about that? You had an abortion. No. I’m not being cruel. I am simply asking you to leave my life now. It would be cruel to have you here when Raven moves in.”

  “That was several years ago, Aaron. I wasn’t ready for children yet.”

  “You. Murdered. My. Child.”

  “Is your new girlfriend pregnant? Is that why you’re asking me to leave now?”

  Aaron didn’t respond. He did this when he was angry—completely shut down. Onika knew that she could act out, scream, curse, and fall out in the middle of the floor. If she fell out, he’d step right over her and go to his cigar room to have a Cuban. He didn’t do scenes or emotional outbursts. Accusing her of murder was as close as Aaron was going to get to a meltdown.

  “For what it’s worth, I wanted that baby. The abortion hurt me badly. I’ve never gotten over it,” she said.

  “Well, I hope you never do. You never gave me the opportunity to raise my child. I will never forgive you for that.”

  Onika believed him. Aaron didn’t just go around making declarations like that. He fully meant to never forgive her. Again, Onika decided to save her energy, because wailing and moaning wasn’t going to work.

  So she’d leave quietly.

  Onika was sure Aaron had left no loose ends. Her credit cards had probably already been canceled, and she was surely not going to have access to any cash of his.

  “Please don’t start begging or anything like that. It won’t work.”

  For some reason, as if nothing else had been objectionable, this bothered her more than anything he’d said. Maybe, it was because her pride was all Onika had left.

  “I won’t be begging you for anything.”

  “Good. You’re proud. You’ve learned something from me, then.”

  Even though Onika had no idea what came next, she stood from the table. She didn’t want sushi or anything else he’d set before her as a consolation meal. She didn’t think she could swallow it anyway.

  “And I love you, Onika,” Aaron declared again. “More than any other woman. I would’ve never let you go. I would’ve eventually given you everything you wanted. I would’ve married you.”

  “You said we shouldn’t drag this out. Why are you belaboring your points?” Onika asked.

  “Because when you sit somewhere and dissect everything that went wrong here, I want you to lay the blame properly. At your own feet. I’ve always been honest with you. You’ve always known that I had other women. From the beginning. But the only truth you’ve told me about yourself is your name.”

  Aaron was correct. Onika hadn’t been truthful with him, and she was glad about it. He didn’t deserve to know her deepest, darkest secrets. He didn’t deserve her heart, and he sure wasn’t about to witness her pain or see her fall apart without him.

  She would leave with her head held high, dignity held intact with a tiny, thin thread. Maybe she didn’t have a plan, but she knew how to survive. That was the one thing Judy had taught her.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Onika left Aaron’s town house for a cheap hotel room in DC. It was cheap by Aaron’s standards, but with only two thousand dollars in the bank, the one-hundred-fifty-dollar-a-night room was actually expensive for Onika.

  She had no time to waste and immediately started submitting resumes. It hurt that it was July, and most schools’ administrative offices were out for summer vacation and had already hired their teachers for the upcoming school year. She applied for every teaching job that she could find, even substitute ones.

  After only one day of sending out resumes, Onika had a job interview at a charter school on the southeast side of DC. Not her first choice, but she needed a check.

  She showed up for the interview a half hour early, but had to stand outside in the stifling morning heat, because the door was locked and she had no way to call anyone to say she’d arrived. Aaron had shut off her cell phone and she hadn’t had time to replace it with a TracFone.

  Finally, someone did answer—a frantic-looking woman with hair that went in a million different directions. It looked like electricity and lightning were her styling tools of choice.

  “Hello, Ms. Lewis, I’m Charlotte Wilson. Come on in. I am sorry it took so long to answer the door. I was on the phone with our grantor.”

  “The school doesn’t have state funding?”

  “Some, but we need the grant money to stay afloat.”

  This worried Onika as she followed Charlotte down a long, dimly lit hall. She imagined children running through this hallway and sipping from the water fountain. But how stable was the school? She couldn’t depend on a start-up. She needed her paycheck twice a month, especially now.

  “When are you looking to fill this position?”

  “August at the earliest.”

  “I thought this was a summer school job?”

  “Yes, it was, but we had to cancel summer school. There was low enrollment, and the board of directors couldn’t justify the expense of staying open all summer.”

  Onika blocked out her voice and calculated her next move. She needed to find a different hotel that had monthly rates. There was no way she was going to survive until August in the hotel she was in now.

  Onika completed the interview with Charlotte. Hopefully they’d like her and she’d have a job there in a couple of months. Charlotte promised Onika would hear from her.

  Onika left the interview and rode the Metro to Gallery Place near Chinatown. There were dozens of stores and restaurants on that strip. Surely someone was hiring.

  She skipped the fast food places. There was no way she’d let anyone in Aaron’s circle seeing her constructing a burrito or dropping fries into the fryer.

  Unfortunately, every full upscale restaurant wanted someone with experience, and Onika had none. A waitress at a four-star Mexican restaurant had at least been kind.

  “You’re pretty and have a nice shape,” she’d said. “You should go to Hooters.”

  Onika imagined herself in the shiny shorts, orange T-shirt, and white boots. She balked at the mental image. She hadn’t gone to college for that. True, it had been five years since she’d graduated, and she’d remained unemployed, but still, Hooters was not what she wanted.

  Then she thought about her rapidly shrinking bank account and applied anyway.

  After pounding the pavement all day, and getting rejections and delays (most of the places she applied to wouldn’t hire her before a month’s time, and a check wouldn’t come until weeks later), Onika realized she was in real trouble.

  The only job she could think of that would provide immediate cash required her to take her clothes off. That thought simmered and festered at the back of her mind. She couldn’t go there. Not yet.

  Dog tired, Onika headed for the Metro station. Her mouth watered at the sight of one of her favorite restaurants, a sushi bar she had frequented with Aaron.

  Then her stomach dropped. She saw a young woman who could be her twin—petite, curvy, and curly-headed. The girl was wearing a white pants jumpsuit that was an original, the only one ever produced. The black belt said NL in Swarovski crystals. It stood for Onika’s pseudonym, Nikki
Lewis.

  That pantsuit had belonged to Onika, just like the man who purchased it.

  The woman was laughing with another woman whom Onika didn’t recognize, but the sound was so carefree that it made Onika furious.

  This girl was living her former life. She had her lady parts pressed against the skintight pantsuit. It was obscene to steal someone’s life. A criminal act.

  Without thinking or caring, Onika rushed to where the girl stood. Onika grabbed the glass of red wine, made it splash all over the white. Like blood.

  The girl stopped laughing.

  “You bitch!” she screamed.

  Now Onika laughed. Tears rolled down her face as she cackled at the top of her lungs. She hoped her grandmother could hear the sound all the way down in North Carolina.

  Then Aaron emerged from the restaurant. He ran to Onika’s soiled doppelgänger and tried to comfort her.

  He shook his head at Onika. “So bitter. So very bitter.”

  Onika spit every expletive she could think of at Aaron. Her voice sounded deep and gravelly—possessed.

  “Who is she, baby? Are you sleeping with her?” So doppelgänger wasn’t dumb after all. Maybe she wouldn’t last as long as Onika had lasted.

  “No, sweetheart. She is someone I used to care for.”

  “Really? She doesn’t seem like someone you’d go for. She’s so . . . so street.”

  Onika’s entire body shook when she started laughing this time. This girl was a carbon copy of Onika. It was like he’d stepped into a time machine and procured a younger version of Onika, although he had clearly aged himself.

  “I will be sending you a cleaning bill for this jumpsuit, if it can even be salvaged.”

  This tickled Onika even more. Where, oh where was he going to send that bill?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Onika sat on the bed in her hotel room and cried. Maybe she’d been in denial about Aaron. Maybe, somewhere in the back of her mind or in the depths of her heart, she’d assumed they’d get past his restlessness. Perhaps she’d believed restoration was possible, because she hadn’t truly believed it until she’d seen that girl wearing her clothes.

  It was really over for them.

  Mrs. Richard’s words kept playing over and over again in her mind. He’ll never marry you. She’d believed that she was smarter than that. That she’d be able to see the signs when they came. That she’d get out unscathed, if necessary.

  She’d been blindsided. She should’ve been prepared.

  Onika frowned when she looked at her bank account balance on the computer in the hotel lobby. Even at the cheapest Marriott she could find in DC, she was spending $149 a night. At this rate, along with food and Metro fare, her money would be gone in less than two weeks’ time.

  She tucked the confirmation for her flight to North Carolina in her bag. She’d called the airline, and since technically she’d missed the flight, they would allow her to fly standby to her original destination. Anyplace else would be a $200 change fee that she did not have. This was a last resort, and she tried not to think of going back there.

  The tears continued. Tears for the years she’d thrown away after graduating from college when she could’ve been in law school or teaching elementary school children. There were tears for the college girl who should’ve entertained many boyfriends instead of just seeing one man who was too old in the first place.

  Onika cried for the time and the love that she’d wasted on Aaron. Her heart ached with the weight of it all. But more than anything she cried over the uncertainty of her future.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  On day four of her hotel stay, Onika checked out of the Marriott and into an extended-stay hotel that would allow her to stretch her remaining money a few more weeks. It was on the southeast side of town, but the neighborhood wasn’t too bad. There was a crappy continental breakfast with stale muffins and fruit that was hard and not ripe, but it was edible, so Onika ate it and got enough for lunch. Her dinner consisted of a hamburger or chicken sandwich from the McDonald’s value menu and a cup of water. She had to preserve her cash for the Metro and the hotel.

  This hotel didn’t have Internet access, so Onika had to take her laptop to a coffee shop to check her e-mails. She’d spend two dollars on a cup of coffee and stay for hours.

  Some of the staff stared at her with curiosity. They probably thought she was homeless, and she pretty much was. She didn’t want to be kicked out, so she asked if they were hiring. Of course, the answer was no. It was summer. Teenagers had already filled whatever fast food jobs there were.

  Onika opened an e-mail from the charter school. She was hired, and the pay was $38,000 a year. Aaron had taken her on vacations that cost more than that. The bad thing was that the start date was the end of August, and it was early July. What was she supposed to do for two months?

  Feeling a little encouraged, Onika left the coffee shop and decided to treat herself for lunch. She’d have a whole meal instead of just a burger.

  She stood at the Shake Shack counter nearly salivating at the thought of a juicy burger, fries, and a shake.

  “Ma’am, do you have another method of payment? This card was declined.”

  “What? Swipe it again.”

  The girl swiped the card two more times, both with the same result.

  “Okay, let me call my bank. There is money in this account.”

  Onika stepped outside of the restaurant, her face a crimson red. It felt like everyone in the line was staring at her.

  Her hands shook as she dialed the 800 number on the back of her debit card.

  After putting in her card number and PIN, the computerized voice announced Onika’s balance. There was only eleven cents in her account. Panic tried to set in, but logic temporarily prevailed. She pressed the button to speak to a bank representative.

  After checking that Onika was who she said she was, the phone agent asked, “How can I help you?”

  “There must be a mistake on my balance. Can you review my transactions, please?”

  Onika listened to the list of her last ten transactions. She recognized only two. The extended stay hotel and the coffee shop.

  “Ma’am, I did not make eight of those transactions.”

  “Hmm . . . they were made using your PIN. Have you misplaced your card? Is the PIN written on it?”

  “No and no.”

  “Okay, ma’am, we will file a fraud report. You will be mailed a form to the address on your account. Please return that form to us.”

  “I’ve recently moved.”

  “But you just verified your address.”

  “Well, I did because that’s the address you have on file.”

  Onika heard the tapping of keys in the background.

  “Ma’am, we must verify your identity prior to putting any funds back into your account. I just sent you an e-mail. Please follow the instructions in the e-mail.”

  Onika groaned. “Can I verify it some other way?”

  “I’m afraid not. I need you to respond to the e-mail.”

  “All right. And then how long will it take to restore my funds?”

  “Up to five business days.”

  Logic gave up the ghost, because panic put it in a choke hold.

  “I need my money.”

  “I understand ma’am, unfortunately . . .”

  “No! Not unfortunately! Put someone on the phone who can put my money back now! Let me speak to your supervisor!”

  “I am the supervisor on the floor. The manager is not in, but I can send you to her voice mail.”

  “I don’t need voice mail. I need my money returned to me.”

  “Unfortuna . . .”

  “Do not say unfortunately again.”

  “Well, what do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to say you are putting my money back!” Onika yelled.

  “Ma’am. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to disconnect the call now.”

  Onika started to redial the custom
er service number, but then thought better of it. She’d go back to the coffee shop, log onto her e-mail, pull up the form, and then . . . Her planning paused. She needed to print the form. There was no printer at the coffee shop. The nearest Kinko’s was a fifteen-minute walk. Wait . . . she couldn’t print it at Kinko’s. She had no money. Then it was back to the hotel. Perhaps one of the employees would be kind enough to print it out.

  Onika was glad she had an all-day Metro pass. She’d used the last of her cash to purchase it, though. All the rest of her money was tied up in the bank.

  Once she was back at the hotel, Onika felt a brief sense of relief. She walked up to the tiny front desk with what she hoped was a friendly smile on her face.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, can you help me?” Onika asked.

  “How can I help?” the front desk clerk replied.

  “I have a document that I need to print, but I don’t have access to a printer.”

  “There is a Kinko’s about three blocks from here.”

  “I was kind of hoping you could just print it for me.”

  “Well . . . my supervisor is out right now. Where is the document?”

  “Can I e-mail it to you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh, wait, I don’t have Internet. Can you log onto my Gmail from your computer?”

  The clerk seemed to hesitate.

  “Please,” Onika begged.

  “Okay, what’s your room number?” the desk clerk asked.

  “Oh, it’s 214.”

  The desk clerk raised her eyebrows. “Are you Onika Lewis?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ma’am, we had to check you out of your room.”

  Onika’s mind shifted away from her banking situation to this new and imminent threat.

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, we run the credit card daily to make sure there are still enough funds to cover your stay, and your card was declined. So we checked you out. If you give us a new method of payment, we can check you back in.”