Curiosity and caution warred within me. I didn’t need anyone else seeing us together after the way they had been dragging her name, but I had to figure out what was going on with her. She looked like she needed a friend in her corner.
“Excuse me . . . excuse me,” I stated, pushing my way through the people. I could see her vehicle right behind her, and not only was the windshield shattered, but someone had sprayed “Home wrecker” all over the windows, the hood, and the sides of the car.
All I could think about was Muffin. She had been very silent lately, and I knew that despite everything we had been through, she didn’t want the divorce, but she hadn’t fought it. I thought about the underwear that I had been finding lately. Three more episodes had occurred since the first one. I had found them in my car, my home gym, and my home office.
Someone had been texting me weird messages like, “One day you’ll regret your choices,” “No one will ever love you the way I always have,” “You’re wasting your time with her,” “I wish that you loved me the right way all these years,” “One day you’ll see that I’m all you ever needed, not ball or any of the other crap.”
It didn’t make sense, and while my mind kept pointing to Muffin, I didn’t want to believe Muffin would stoop to that level, but she had changed a lot over the years.
“What’s going on?” I asked, stepping up and wrapping an arm around her to comfort her. I didn’t give a shit who saw it or what pages it appeared on the next day. She had been a friend to me, and she needed one right now.
I felt her body shudder, and she looked up at me, and the tears fell. “I don’t know who did this. I came out after the game and saw it. Someone threw a rock through my window, Ashton.”
“I’m sorry, Chanel. You don’t deserve this, and I’m sorry they’re dragging you in the middle of Zoe’s and my bullshit. What the fuck are y’all doing about this other than standing around twiddling ya gahdamn thumbs?” I asked the one who seemed to be in charge.
“Mr. Santoro, please calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to muthafuckin’ calm down, nigga!”
“Ash,” Chanel declared sweetly, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “I’m listening.”
“We’re checking security cameras and interviewing anyone who passed through here around the time that Ms. Dubois did or just before,” he explained, motioning to the small group of people who stood off to the side.
“Right now, we don’t have anything, but we’re waiting for security to get us footage, and then hopefully, we’ll know more. We’ve taken Ms. Dubois’ statement, and there’s not much else she can do right now. I advised her that one of our officers can take her home. The investigators are dusting the car for fingerprints, and we’d like to keep it as evidence.”
“For how long?” I asked.
“Just a few days.”
“You don’t need an officer to take her home. I’ve got her,” I declared.
“Ashton, you don’t have to do that. I know tonight was a hard game for you.”
“Man, fuck that game. I’m taking you home, Chanel, and I don’t wanna hear shit else about it.”
“Okay,” she replied in a soft voice.
“Ms. Dubois, we have your information. We’ll be in touch,” the officer stated.
She nodded, and I turned her in the direction of my car. Once we were settled inside and on our way to her place, I glanced ather, and I could tell she was out of it. Her phone rang, and she pushed the ignore button.
“Hey,” I stated, reaching over and taking her hand.
Her head was resting against the window, and she had her legs pulled up on the seat with her. She lifted her head slightly and looked at me. “Yeah?” she asked as her phone started ringing again. She hit ignore again.
“I’m so sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean for you to get caught up in all this.”
“It’s not your fault. Whomever did this is a sick individual, and neither your name nor my name deserves to be dragged in the mud the way that it is. I don’t know if the person who leaked those photos is the same person who’s been texting me or not, and I don’t know if the person who leaked those photos is the girl at the bar that night back in California. The only thing I—hold on,” she stated as her phone rang again. “This looks like the number to my apartment building. Let me see who’s calling me.”
“Hello? Yes, this is Ms. Dubois.”
She listened to someone on the other end of the call before she replied. “I’ll be there soon. But what do you mean an incident? What’s happened?”
She listened some more as I grew concerned and pressed the gas to pick up speed. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew she needed to get there soon. She ended the call and looked at me.
“What’s wrong?”
