Harlem pressed the button on her key-fob to open the trunk. She placed her bags inside, and when she closed the door, Elaina was standing on the other side of it.
Her new appearance was throwing Harlem for a loop. “What do you want, Elaina?”
“I want a lot of things. World peace, a cure for cancer, and for you to stay away from Carter.”
“He seems to enjoy my company. Therefore, that’s a conversation you need to have with him.”
Elaina’s eyes flashed with such hatred that it looked borderline unhinged. Her stare was intense, fevered, and demonic.
Harlem watched in real-time as Elaina worked to control it. It was the strangest display of human behavior she had ever seen. The woman’s body stood rigid. Elaina blinked rapidly as if she were fighting a war within herself.
Once she seemed more in control, Elaina spoke through clenched teeth. Her voice dripping with suppressed rage. “I told you that I would even the playing field.”
Harlem was not going to be intimidated by this woman. She was angry too, but Carter didn’t deserve to be manipulated in such a way. “You’re disgusting, Elaina. Women who get pregnant and use their baby to trap men are lower than pond scum.”
Elaina was boiling with fury. Her lips tightened, and there was a slight twitch at the corners that told Harlem that her words had hit the mark.
Elaina shot back. “You really have a lot of nerve! Every fuckin’ time I turned around, there you were, needing Carter's so-called help.” Elaina lifted two fingers on each hand to mark her last word in quotes. “You’ve been using that baby to lure him into your clutches from the moment Damian died! You don’t like being alone? Is that why you’re screwing the best-friend only months after his death? Now that’s disgusting!”
From the outside looking in, Harlem could imagine that’s how it might look, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Harlem’s hands were balled into fists. Her nails dug into the palm of her hands as she worked hard not to wrap them around Elaina’s neck. If she weren’t pregnant, this conversation would have looked a hell of a lot different.
There was a silent stare-off between the two women as they stood in the parking lot. Elaina’s arms were still folded across her chest as she stepped closer into Harlem’s space.
She is doing way too much. Oh Lord, please give me strength not to snatch this woman up. Please, God. Give. Me. Strength.
“I told you, I wasn’t giving Carter up without a fight.” Elaina reached into her purse and pulled out her cell. She made an exaggerated display of making a call. Her entire demeanor changed as she spoke. “Carter? I hate to bother you, but I’m not feeling well. Do you think you can drop by to bring me some saltine crackers and soup?” Her eyes narrowed into tiny little slits as they landed on Harlem. Her voice dripped with sweetness. “Thank you so much. I’ll see you later.”
It was more than freaky to see the way Elaina could transform–and not just her appearance. Her voice and demeanor were polar opposites. They didn’t match.
After Elaina disconnected the call, her Colgate smile turned sinister. “Let the games begin.”
Their gazes held a bit longer before Elaina turned and walked away.
Harlem could only come to one conclusion. Elaina was batshit crazy, and she should probably buy a gun.
Chapter 9
Carter’s head was swimming. The past few days were exhausting. His Sports Agency had been working tirelessly in conjunction with the NBA Player’s Union to figure out how to protest a high-profile killing of an unarmed black man by the police. The players were rightfully angry. Carter thought everyone should be. He watched the murder on the news like millions of others. Something needed to be done. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to dealing with the police. He and Damian had been pulled over several times simply because Damian was driving a car people didn’t believe a black man should drive. Carter had seen the disrespect up close. Still, this situation hit him differently. Carter would soon be a father to a child that might experience police brutality simply for being black. How do you protect your kid from that bullshit?
Thinking of his baby inevitably leads back to thoughts of Harlem. Carter had to push his personal problems aside to focus on the matter at hand. They all wanted to do something meaningful and impactful. Since Carter managed several of the top players, his words mattered. He’d discussed his players' situation with them and laid out the pros and cons to every scenario presented. Once a consensus was made, it was time to earn his money. It was Carter’s job to protect his guys and figure out the best way forward short of them walking off the job, if possible. However, a player’s strike was a last resort and remained in his back pocket if necessary.
Discussions were grueling. Mostly all of the demands Carter’s players requested were going to be presented to the team owners. A strike could still happen, but the talks' level of urgency and delicacy meant those meetings had to be handled in person. Everything was so fluid that he flew out almost immediately.
It was now a waiting game to see how things were going to unfold. Carter figured he could wait at home and took a red-eye back to Chicago.
He wanted to go straight to Harlem’s but similar to his recent
