Vengeance(40)

“That Bianca broad?” Kagiso laughed. “Why do you even hang around her if you can’t stand her?”

“It’s not that I can’t stand her,” I fabricated. “I actually like some of her suggestions and want to see what kind of references she might have. She’s talented but seems to have a bit of an attitude.”

“Maybe that’s because you have one with her, Wicket.”

I pinched Kagiso on the cheek and walked toward the porch. “You all try to look inconspicuous in case someone else stops by.”

“How in the hell are we supposed to do that?” Diederik asked, overhearing my last comment.

“Blend in with the trees or something,” I stated jokingly. “Or you all could head back into town and have lunch at that diner.”

“Mr. Sterling would have all our heads on platters if we left you alone,” Diederik said. “We’re not that foolish.”

“Besides, that diner had grease packed on the windows,” Antonio chimed in. “I could tell that when we drove by.”

It was just like Antonio to peep out every single food establishment we passed. Even though he was technically the smallest of the three, he liked to eat the most food. It was rare that he would pass up food for his iron-clad stomach, so the place must have truly looked foul.

“Then back to blending in with the trees!”

Marcella stood as I started up the porch steps. Turns out that she had a pitcher of lemonade waiting and another jar for me packed to the brim with ice to pour it over.

“Good afternoon, Wicket. Did you have any trouble finding me?”

I glanced over my shoulder. “Not with three bodyguards and a driver. Even though men hate following directions, they had enough common sense to use GPS to get out in this forest.”

We shook hands and she motioned for me to have a seat. “We can sit out here, if that works, or go inside if that will make you more comfortable.”

“Actually, I would prefer indoors, if that’s cool. I’m not big on bugs, and I’m allergic to bees.”

“Oh dear,” Marcella said in a panic. “Let’s get you on in then.”

I was not allergic to bees, but I didn’t want to put myself in the position of pouring out my feelings on her porch with KAD right there. I helped her carry the lemonade and jars inside. The place was nicely decorated. Again, looked like a movie set. It was a Pottery Barn house, with everything in its place like a furniture catalog. Most of the furniture was a dark mahogany and appeared to be expensive. Marcella had a bookshelf lined with books, mostly fictional titles. That surprised me as I walked over and ran my fingertips over the spines. She had all of Allison Hobbs’s and Cairo’s books.

“Um, let me find out you have a little bit of freak in you,” I said to her.

She giggled. “When I come out here, I prefer to relax. No point in bringing my actual work out here with me, so I read a lot of fiction. And yes, I’m human, so I have a little bit of a freak in me.”

I turned to face her. “From reading your bio, I realize that you are a general psychiatrist, but do you deal with a lot of patients who have sexual issues?”

“What sort of issues?” She sat in an armchair and waved toward the sofa for me to take a seat. “Do you have intimacy problems?”

I plopped down on the sofa. “That’s an understatement.”

“To answer your question, yes, I have several patients who are dealing with concerns and disorders surrounding their sexual identities or behavior.”

“Such as?”

She poured me a jar of lemonade. “Addiction; survivors of rape, incest, and abuse; fetishes; hypersexuality disorder; gender identification issues; erectile dys—”

“Got you,” I said, cutting her off. When she said “gender identification issues,” I thought of Hannah. “Well, I most certainly have issues with intimacy, and I’ll open up about that at some point. Right now, I’d like to tell you about Hannah.”

“Yes, I remember you mentioning her before. It’s obviously painful for you to discuss.”

“Not all of it. Not the beginning of it, at least. Hannah was my everything. She rescued me and—”

“Rescued you from what?”

“Hell!”

I told Marcella about how Hannah had sought help for me in the bus depot but did not go into the details of the earlier part of that evening. I described how she had taken me to The Bronx, protected me from harm, shared her personal space and belongings with me, and was my ride-or-die after I met Daddy that Christmas Eve in Times Square. I talked about how she had been my nanny, my confidante, and my surrogate mother and sister that I had never had.