Open Door Marriage Read online

  Bernice had coached and manipulated Tori along the way, and finally, Tori had suggested to Dallas that they take their friendship into a more practical area—straight down the aisle and into wedded bliss. Tori had no doubts that Dallas cared for her, but she was still nudging him toward the ‘in love’ part. As quiet as it was kept, she had been trying to graduate to the ‘in love’ part herself. Tori had told Bernice, “Mama, I’m not ready to get married. I have my own dreams and goals. I want to be a doctor.”

  Then, Bernice had sobered Tori from that thought with more pearls of wisdom. “I never understood why you wanted to be a pediatrician in the first place. One wrong step and you could lose it all—your practice, your license, and then what? You’re already swimming in student loans.”

  To this Tori bristled as she snapped, “And why is that?”

  Bernice waved away her concerns. “I’ve already apologized. That little money would’ve never covered everything any old way.”

  “One hundred thousand would’ve given me a great start,” Tori retorted, shifting on the sofa.

  “Okay, so I messed up,” Bernice huffed. “But I’m not going to let you mess this up. Now you can afford to do anything we—I mean, you want. You can work because you want to, not because you have to.” Bernice grabbed Tori’s hands and pulled them to her lap. “Juanita Jordan walked off with $168 million. Tiger Woods’ wife—I don’t even remember her damn name, but white girl made off with $100 mil. Dallas is smart, invests his money and is worth three times that amount. Do the math girl and—Go. Get. Your. Man!”

  Tori understood her mother’s motivation, but wasn’t quite sure of her own. Regardless, she had the good fortune of helping Dallas through some of the most difficult times of his life. He constantly stated how much he was indebted to her for saving his mother’s life. Thanks to Bernice’s guidance, Tori had outmaneuvered, outdistanced, and outsmarted all of the women who were angling to get Dallas.

  And now I have to fend off my aunt, too? Tori cut her eyes at Dallas Avery, ready to tear him a new asshole.

  Dallas pulled over and flipped on the switch to heat the front and rear leather seats. He tapped a few inquiries into the navigation system, and the directions to a hotel in the South Loop came into view. He swerved toward the meridian and spun the car around in the opposite direction, doing Alicia’s bidding without even asking if Tori wanted to go with them. Which she did, but that was beside the point. Dallas was only thinking of her aunt. The only thing he’d given Tori was a two-line disclaimer.

  She couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “I don’t see why you’re—”

  “Tori, there’s a lot on your mind right now,” he said in such a clipped tone that it brought her up short. “But I can’t spend the next,” he glanced at the dashboard, “twenty minutes arguing while driving in these conditions. We’ll talk when we’re alone.”

  Tori glared at him, hoping her look conveyed the extent of her feelings. Unfortunately, his attention was on the icy patches of road. His occasional glances at Alicia in the rearview mirror made Tori fume even more.

  “But—”

  “I’ll take Alicia in a cab and you can drive back home,” he said. “Your call.”

  Tori flinched. It took all she had to harness the words that were doing a tango on the tip of her tongue.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, the Benz pulled into the circular driveway of the Hyatt McCormick Place, a towering glass and white stone building attached to a sprawling multi-level convention center. Dallas slipped out from the driver’s seat and helped Alicia up. The shoes slipped from her feet and onto the pavement as he scooped her into his arms.

  “I can walk,” she mumbled, struggling to get him to put her down.

  Dallas angled to retrieve the loafers and said, “Not in these.”

  He said it so softly that Tori paused for a moment as she exited the car. There was a tenderness about him that she had never seen or heard before. “Keep the motor running,” she told the uniform-clad valet, then hurried to catch up with Dallas, whose long strides were practically eating up the pavement.

  As he navigated the revolving glass doors of the front entrance, several people focused in their direction, instantly recognizing Dallas. In his signature panther-like gait—even with the weight of a woman in his arms—he effortlessly maneuvered the green and gold marble floors, right past the gawkers milling about the lobby.

  The lattice lighting cast a dim shadow across the polished wood that made up the walls and the registration desk. The trio found themselves in front of a portly, dark-haired man whose silver nametag read Victor.

  “I’d like to have your best suite for the night,” Dallas said, causing Tori to glower in his direction.

  “The best suite? Really?” Tori snapped.

  Victor’s lips set in a thin, disapproving line as he took a sweeping look at the three people in front of him. “Sir, is everything all right?”

  “Just helping out a friend,” Dallas answered, as though it were normal for a woman swamped in someone else’s coat and shoes, with no hat or scarf, to be out in weather that was cold enough to turn corn flakes into frosted flakes. “Now, can you help us?”

  “Yes, sir,” Victor replied, as a spark of recognition lit in his eyes. He tore his gaze away and focused back on the screen. “The Presidential Suite is available. How many nights will she be staying?”

  “Through the weekend.”

  Tori choked, but with a steely gaze from Dallas, she bit back her response.

  “Could you please put me down?” Alicia asked in a voice just above a whisper.

  Dallas looked down at her tear-stained face. “Not until you’re in your room.” Then he shifted so that Tori, of all people, could retrieve his wallet from the back pocket of his slacks. He nodded when she held up a Black American Express card and his license. She slid both to Victor, who swiped the card, looked at the license, then gave them both back.

  “You’re on the top floor,” Victor said, presenting a slip for Tori to sign, along with the keys for the suite.

  Dallas asked him, “Can you have a meal sent up?”

  “I swear you act like you were lovers long before tonight,” Tori said through her teeth.

  Alicia and Dallas shared a speaking glance between them.

  Tori’s heart slammed in her chest as reality clicked a few wheels in her mind. “You were lovers?”

  Victor’s pale skin flushed bright red, and he quickly returned his eyes to the screen, trying to act as if he hadn’t heard a word.

  Tori shook her head in disbelief.

  Dallas instructed Victor, “Have them send up something with a Thanksgiving feel.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Alicia said softly.

  “And send up the basics for everything else,” Dallas told Victor, ignoring Alicia’s statement.

  Tori couldn’t help the angry glare she gave Dallas and the woman still bundled in his arms.

  “You’ve get some serious explaining to do,” Tori growled.

  With a quick glance, Dallas silenced Alicia when she parted her lips to speak. “Since you want to believe your mother,” he began, “the only person you need to be angry with is me. I’m the one who’s in a relationship with you.”

  “You know what?” Tori shot back, but stopped to regain what little hold she had on her sanity. She was livid, bristling at how calm and commanding Dallas was in a situation where he should have been groveling and begging for forgiveness. But Dallas was not one for drama, and if she let loose he would shut down completely. She took a calming breath, then turned to Victor. “Me and him,” she pointed a finger at herself, then to Dallas. “We need our own damn room.”

  Victor looked at Dallas, who simply nodded.

  “Would you like the one right across from the suite she’s in?” Victor ventured, with a sheepish look at Dallas, then Tori as his pudgy fingers hovered above the keyboard.

  “Hell no!” Tori slid the card back toward him. “Put
us as far away from her as possible!”

  Victor flinched at the venom spewing from Tori. She signed another slip before focusing on the clerk’s beet red face once again. “Forgive me,” she said in a softer tone. “It’s been a long day. And can you ask the valet to park our car.” She glared at Dallas. “Since it looks like we’ll be staying.”

  Chapter 3

  9:02 p.m.

  They entered the elegant Presidential Suite, walked across the ivory marble foyer, and past a spacious kitchen, where they were welcomed by a modern blend of chocolate leather seating in the living room, and white leather and ebony wood in the dining area. Marble floors throughout were complemented by ivory walls and black and white artwork, along with a series of cathedral windows that provided a panoramic view of downtown Chicago and Lake Michigan.

  “It should only take a few moments to get her settled,” Dallas said to Tori. “Then we’ll talk.”

  Tori grimaced as Alicia tried to get Dallas to release his hold on her, with no success. Tori turned from them, moved toward the living room, but quickly changed direction when she realized he was heading for the bedroom with her aunt.

  Dallas gently deposited Alicia onto the bed, settling her atop the plush white comforter. When he turned toward the bathroom, Tori snarled, “You run her some bath water and I’m going to put my foot so far up your behind, you’ll need a surgeon to figure out where it ends.” She barely recognized her voice, but with the rage bubbling inside her, she was fully prepared to back up her threat.

  “She’s still cold. And she needs to soak this foot,” he said, staring down at Tori. “Are you going to run some water for her?”

  “Does it look like I feel like being the fucking maid?”

  Dallas paused for a split second, surprised by Tori’s use of profanity, but his head whipped to the woman who moved to the edge of the bed as she said, “I don’t need her help. Or yours. I can take care of myself.”

  He flickered a gaze at a shivering Alicia, then pivoted toward the bathroom. “I can’t get into any more trouble with you than I’m already in.”

  The next thing Tori heard was the stream of water hitting the porcelain of the Jacuzzi.

  That bastard!

  Unable to see past the tears in her eyes, Tori went to the nearest chaise—a curved leather and steel design that cradled her as though the abstract furniture felt sorry for her.

  Dallas had always been a gentleman, but this—the care he was giving Alicia—was too much. It was as if Tori didn’t exist. And right now, she probably didn’t. Their earlier argument was still ringing in her ears.

  * * *

  Five hours ago, Tori had hurried from her parent’s living room to the foyer to retrieve her cell from the pocket of her new Sable when Dallas’ ring tone sounded.

  She didn’t get to say hello before he said, “We need to talk.” The tone was cold, more than distant. He didn’t even say, ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ and that caused a sliver of alarm to course through her.

  “About what?” she asked, pressing her back to the closet to close it.

  “I don’t hold these kind of conversations over the phone, Tori.”

  She froze in the middle of walking back to the dining room, closing her eyes as she tried to work through the reasons he would come at her this way. “Can you at least give me a hint?”

  “Your latest television interview. Your latest magazine spread. The latest invoices that my accountant just called about,” he said, and each sentence was like a hammer blow. “Tori, you landed a contract with a reality show by making a promise that I would make guest appearances? Without consulting me?” He released a frustrated sigh. “We need to rethink this whole marriage thing. Because it’s not about me and you anymore. It’s about you and the world. I don’t know who the hell you’ve become and I’m not feeling it.” He was quiet a few moments as though weighing his next words. “Before we make a mistake, I need to rein this in.”

  Tori silently cursed, now wishing that she hadn’t pressed him to talk. Bernice came to stand in front of her, arms akimbo, frowning.

  “So you’re not coming for Thanksgiving?” Tori asked as a stab of fear entered her heart. She waved her mother away, but Bernice didn’t budge.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he answered. “We’ll talk when you get back.”

  “Dallas, don’t leave me hanging,” she pleaded, causing Bernice to scowl. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it when you get here. It can’t be so bad that it can’t be fixed.”

  Bernice nodded as though she was hearing the other side of the conversation.

  “Tori, you’re tapping into accounts that aren’t even yours. Then you go on national television—The View of all places—and tell intimate details of our love life. Well, what there is of our love life—since the only lovin’ that’s been available to me has been from my five fingers and a palm.”

  Tori turned away from her mother’s distracting movements. She had never heard Dallas so mad. That’s when she realized that she had made a grave mistake by listening to her mother, and that included flying through the budget that Dallas had given her for the wedding. He didn’t even know about new bills that would hit in a few days. And the truth was, she didn’t know what her mother was spending it on.

  With Bernice’s recent diatribe about the major risks of Tori’s chosen profession—the thought of losing Dallas did not appeal to her in any kind of way.

  Now, as she reflected on his earlier words, Tori stared out the window at a midnight blue sky without a single star to interrupt the never-ending darkness.

  Tori wanted to demand answers from Alicia, but her heart sank when she remembered that her own words had put a wedge between them so deep that they hadn’t spoken a single syllable to each other for the past year.

  * * *

  Thanksgiving Dinner. Last year.

  “It’s time for you all to make a move,” Alicia said to James and her tone caused all of the guests to turn her way. She held a stack of charred pictures, and her hand was trembling with equal parts anger and sadness. “Bernice is making me believe that life in jail wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

  Bernice smirked and continued walking with a platter of dinner rolls she had carried in from the kitchen.

  “Just one more month,” he pleaded from his spot at the head of the dining room table. “That’s all we need.”

  “We aren’t going to make it another week under the same roof. She destroyed them on purpose,” she said, waving the damaged photos at him. “I know she did!” Alicia raked a look over Bernice and took one step toward her, but James scrambled out of his chair to block her way.

  “It was a mistake,” James said to his sister. “I’ll replace everything.”

  “Those things were irreplaceable!” Alicia shrieked, her green eyes flashing with fire. “You know they were. She just wanted to get rid of any evidence that could expose her lies.”

  “Evidence,” Aunt Yoli asked, her jowls shaking as her head snapped to Alicia, then Bernice. “Did she kill somebody?”

  “Well, she does cut up a chicken real well,” Uncle Bill added while stuffing his face with dressing. “A human should be no trouble.”

  Bernice gave him the evil eye, but he wasn’t cowed because he added, “They might be PlayBoy photos.”

  “My votes on those,” Nathan chimed in. “She was a real looker back in the day.”

  Nathan’s wife, Diane, elbowed him in the side and he almost spit out a mouthful.

  “Just give us one more month,” James said, taking Alicia’s hand in his and patting it, as though the mild action would be enough to calm her down.

  “Oh, yes,” Bernice taunted from the threshold of the kitchen. “Just keep begging, James. She always gives in to you.”

  Bernice circled the dining room and stood on the opposite side of the table, looking at Alicia with a hatred so strong it felt like it had its own zip code. “Just as he’s always catered to your uppity ass.” She rubbed a
hand across her face. “He only married me because I look so much like you!”

  “Uh oh. Here we go again,” Uncle Bill said, scraping the chair on the hardwood floor as he got up and fled to a safer spot near the front door.

  “Why is that, dear sister-in-law?” Bernice asked. Then, her thin lips curled into a sneer. “Only a woman who’s been giving a man some nookie has that kind of hold on him.”

  Diane scrambled from her seat and joined Uncle Bill, as the others who remained at the dining table gave them curious looks.

  One eyebrow raised, Bernice finished with, “So, what’s really been going on. Aleeeee-sha? You’ve been letting your brother have his way with you?”

  In the moment it took to draw a single breath, Alicia was across the dining room table and inches from Bernice’s face. Bernice struck out and landed the first blow, but Alicia blocked it and threw a punch that tumbled her sister-in-law to the carpet with a solid thud. The rest of the dinner guests scrambled from their seats to give the brawlers room.

  This had been a long time coming—and no one wanted to get in the middle. Ever since Alicia had told her brother not to marry that “pure gutter trash,” Bernice and Alicia had been enemies. At first, James had listened to his sister until Bernice fired back, accusing James of being “too intimately involved” with his sister to make his own decisions; that Alicia was practically holding his balls. The taunt worked. James eloped with Bernice and the relationship between Alicia and Bernice had traveled the fast lane of Satan’s highway ever since.

  Alicia was on top of Bernice slamming a fist into her face while growling, “You say some stupid shit like that?” Slam!—”In my house.” Slam!

  “Stop them!” Tori screamed as Uncle Bill held her back.

  “While you’re eating my food.”—Slam!—”Soaking up my heat and my electricity?”—Slam!—”You’re not paying one damn bill in this mother—”