Double Dippin': Misty Part 6

"Does he remember me?"

"He hasn't mentioned you, but that's probably because your mom doesn't bring your name up. But his memory will be refreshed when he starts spending time with us at the crib."

"I don't know why my mother is so bitter; she's the one who stole my man-"

"Let's not go there again, Misty. Leave it in the past."

Misty sighed audibly.

"I gotta go." Brick leaned over and kissed Misty on the lips. "See you in the morning."

Misty was curious about the big donor and was ready to talk to him. She pressed the b.u.t.ton for the nurse, and less than two minutes later, a young nursing a.s.sistant named Paulette entered her room.

"Do you need anything, Misty?" Paulette asked in a cheerful tone.

"It used to take y'all d.a.m.n near the whole s.h.i.+ft to answer when I buzzed you, but now that I'm famous, I see you're Johnny-on-the-spot," Misty said derisively.

"That's not true. We always come as soon as one of us is available."

"Whatever. Do me a favor, Paulette-tell Johanna McBride that I need to speak to her about something. It's urgent, so tell her to hurry up."

"Johanna is on break. Can I do something for you?"

This chick really thinks she's going to get a psychic reading out of me, so I'll have to string her along. "Can I use your cell phone?"

"Sure."

"I need you to call someone for me and put him on speaker."

The nursing a.s.sistant retrieved her phone from the pocket of her scrubs. Misty recited the number and after Paulette made the call and set it on speaker, Misty motioned for her to leave. "You can come back and get your phone in about fifteen minutes."

Paulette exited and a male voice said, "h.e.l.lo."

"Hi, Mr. Stallings; this is Misty Delagardo."

"Ah, Misty! Thanks for getting in touch with me. I read that you're still recovering in the hospital, and I wasn't sure if you'd be able to get back to me."

"Yes, I'm still here, waiting to get the doctor's approval for release. Thank you for the donations; I appreciate your generosity."

"I wanted to do my part to help. Your story touched my heart. And by the way, did they ever catch the monster that did that to you?"

"No," Misty said regretfully. Back when she wanted to die, she wasn't concerned about getting revenge, but she wanted it so badly now, she could taste it.

"I actually cried tears when I saw the beautiful before picture that was placed next to the after shot. Oh, Misty, my heart bleeds for you, and I'm officially offering to pay for your reconstructive surgery."

"The surgery I need is not as simple as getting a facelift or a nose job. My bones were crushed. My face literally has to be rebuilt and I need extensive dental work. The cost is extremely expensive."

"How much do you consider extremely expensive?"

"For all the work I need, it's going to cost somewhere in the area of two hundred thousand dollars." Misty had done her homework after getting access to the Internet, and the twenty to thirty thousand that Johanna had quoted was far from accurate.

"That's nothing; it's peanuts to a wealthy man like me."

Misty's breath caught in her chest and her heart began to beat rapidly. If this man was on the up and up, then she wanted to get started immediately. But before she got her hopes up, she had to find out a little more about him. "Uh, what do you do for a living, Mr. Stallings?"

"Call me Gavin. In response to your question, I don't do much of anything. I paint a little when the mood hits me, and I travel when I get bored, but I mainly take care of my dogs and wait for Randolph to return."

Who the h.e.l.l is Randolph? Gavin didn't sound very stable and Misty's heart sank. She hoped he wasn't playing games with her.

"I don't work because I was born into money," Gavin continued. "But believe me, being born with a silver spoon in your mouth is not all it's cracked up to be."

"I bet," she said, still wondering if Gavin could help her.

"I need a reading, Misty. I can't tell you how many so-called psychics I've been to in the hope of locating Randolph. With all the money I've spent, not one psychic has been able to help me. But after reading your story, I have renewed hope."

"Who is Randolph?"

"My life partner. We've been together for years, but he refused to leave his wife until his kids were grown. Finally, his youngest child went to college, and he still didn't have the b.a.l.l.s to tell his shrew of a wife about our great love. We had a big fight, and shortly after, my darling Randolph vanished off the face of the earth. I need to know where he is. Can you help me?"

"That's not how my gift works. I see flashes of your life and then I see a scene from your future. I don't know in advance what I'm going to see." She hoped her surgery didn't depend on finding this nutjob's missing lover. h.e.l.l, the man probably didn't want to be found.

"I have faith that you're going to be able to tell me where Randolph is. In fact, I have so much faith, I'm going to set up a consultation for you with Dr. Henry Cavanaugh, one of the best plastic surgeons in the area. Leave it up to me, and he'll be there to consult with you in a day or so."

"Really?"

"Yes. I believe in you, Misty. Your story spoke to me, and I'm looking forward to meeting you. You need your rest, so I'm not going to keep you on the phone. Give me a call after your consultation with Dr. Cavanaugh."

"I'll do that," Misty said, wondering if she dared to dream that a new face was in the foreseeable future.

Misty researched Gavin Stallings online and it turned out that he was a descendant and one of the heirs of a great fortune, pa.s.sed down from his great-great-grandfather, the founder of a well-known American chemical company, established in the early 1800s. Apparently, in an attempt to keep the money within the family, there was rampant incest in the Stallings family, with cousins marrying cousins and even siblings producing offspring.

If Gavin was a kook, he couldn't help it with all that inbreeding in his family. With the kind of money he had, Misty wouldn't dream of holding his craziness against him.

The Stallings family tree was endless, and after reviewing the history of some of the living family members, she learned that numerous members of the prominent family held positions on the company's Board of Trustees. Some played a large part in politics, and most were well-known philanthropists. The only information she found on Gavin was that he was a patron of the arts.

It was good to know that Gavin wasn't a regular rich guy; he had mega wealth! Excitement surged through Misty's body, enlivening her paralyzed lower limbs, making her feel able to walk, skip, dance, and jump with the snap of a finger. With a bleeding heart like Gavin in her pocket, she could be wealthier than she'd ever imagined if she played her cards right.

CHAPTER 9.

"Girl, I did all of 'em," Natalie said over the phone in a bragging tone.

"All of what?" Anya glanced at the bedside clock and it was only seven in the morning. "What are you talking about Natalie, and why are up so early?"

"Haven't been to sleep yet. Last night was the bomb. I sucked two of those n.i.g.g.as off in the back of the VIP, and then partied with them later at the Radisson Hotel. I'm still here, chilling in the suite and killing the wet bar."

"You f.u.c.ked Sergio's boys?"

"Sure did. All of 'em except Majid and the two that left with you and Sergio." She went quiet. "Did you party with them?"

"Of course not. How can you brag about letting those guys run a train on you?"

"They didn't run anything on me that I didn't want to happen."

"Why would you play yourself like that?"

"Girl, you don't know anything about the game."

"School me."

"The way to a man's heart is not his stomach; it's his d.i.c.k. And Majid told me if I took care of his boys, he'd take care of me."

"That's so twisted. So, let me get this straight: Majid had you f.u.c.king and sucking his friends but you didn't do anything with him?"

"Not yet. But I'm gonna get some of that d.i.c.k eventually. The next time we party, I hope to get with those other two who left with you and Sergio."

"You sound crazy, but you're grown, and hopefully you know what you're doing."

"Oh, I definitely know what I'm doing. Majid gave me five hundred dollars to make his friends happy. How much did Sergio give you?"

"Nothing. It wasn't like that."

"Bye, girl. Sounds like you're the one who got played."

"I value myself too much to ever get played," Anya retorted.

"Yeah, right. Everybody gets played some time or another."

After listening to Natalie's warped way of thinking, Anya felt dirty. Lots of people in Indianapolis had fallen upon hard times, but she doubted if they were whoring themselves out to eke out a living. She needed to rethink her budding friends.h.i.+p with Natalie. A girl who would f.u.c.k a man's friends for profit wasn't working with a full deck. And Majid, the man who had paid for the freaky entertainment, had to be a little twisted himself.

After hanging up the phone, Anya tried to go back to sleep, but she could suddenly smell Sergio's cologne clinging to the sheets. It was a pleasant, masculine fragrance, no doubt very expensive. Everything in Sergio's world was expensive, and she supposed that acquiring luxurious possessions was the reason he put his life and freedom at risk. The reason he sold poison to his own people.

So what if he's a drug dealer, I like him, she admitted to herself. Doctors turned more people into addicts than drug dealers did, she rationalized. Still, sensing that an involvement with Sergio would only bring her despair, Anya decided to push him out of her thoughts. She pulled off the layers of bedding and replaced them with a fresh set of sheets and a different comforter. She still wasn't over Brick and having another man's scent in her bed seemed wrong. And even though Brick had encouraged her to move on, it was too soon to get entangled in a relations.h.i.+p.

Taking her mind off Sergio, she decided to focus on the business of finding her father.

Jonathan Whitman, the private investigator from Philadelphia, whom she found online, a.s.sured her that he could find her father.

"How can you find someone who has been missing for years?" Anya questioned, speaking to him over the phone. "I looked everywhere and he seems to have vanished from the face of the earth."

"I specialize in finding missing persons."

"Suppose he's dead?"

"Then I'll get that information and let you know." Whitman cleared his throat to fill the silence after his last comment, and then said, "Fax me the info I asked for-a copy of the most recent picture of your father, his approximate height and weight, date of birth, and make a note of any tattoos or scars. You can go to my website and make a down payment of the fee, using a debit or credit card."

After Anya agreed to fax the info and to take care of the down payment, she asked, "How long does it usually take you to find a missing person?"

"At least thirty days. Sometimes sooner; sometimes longer. I'll keep you posted."

"Okay," Anya agreed. Paying someone that she found online probably wasn't the smartest move, but it was time to resume the search for her father. If Whitman turned out to be bogus, she'd go to Philly personally and find someone who could get the job done.

By early evening, Anya found herself eyeing her phone for a text from Sergio, and she was beyond surprised when the concierge called to let her know she had a guest named Sergio in the lobby.

He was in her building? Suddenly, she was more annoyed than flattered. How dare he pop in on her? She bet he wouldn't be pleased if she showed up at his place without an invitation. "Put him on the phone, please," she said to the concierge.

"Hey, ma-ma. I was in your neighborhood and thought you might want to make a run with me." He sounded completely at ease as if asking her to make a drug run was normal.

He must be out of his d.a.m.n mind. "No thanks. I'm not interested in your proposition."

"I'm not propositioning you; only asking you to accompany me to one of my favorite places."

"Where?"

"I don't want to ruin the surprise."

"I have to be cautious."

"You win. Look here, an artist I know well and admire is having an exhibit and a party at a gallery not too far from your apartment. I thought you might like to check out his work."

Now, Anya was flattered. A smile crept across her face. "I don't know anything about art, but I'd love to go. What time does it start?"

"It starts at seven, but people trickle into these events throughout the evening."

"What should I wear?" she asked, feeling fl.u.s.tered.

"I'm sure you'll look amazing in anything you select."

"I need at least thirty minutes to get myself together."

"Don't rush, ma-ma. I'll be waiting in the Range outside your building."

She raced to her closet and selected a black c.o.c.ktail dress. A woman couldn't go wrong in a little black dress. A little makeup, a quick touchup to her hair with the flat iron, and she was good to go.