Fallen Woman(77)
“We’ve spent hours talking about how we wanted to address the situation we find ourselves in, but in the end, my wife and I agreed it would be best to simply be honest and tell you our story.” His hand squeezed mine as he looked down at me and gave me a tiny smile before turning his attention back to the flashing lights and rolling cameras. “Gianna and I met in the lobby of the Faston Corporation. She was there applying for a job in the mailroom—although, I didn’t know that at the time. When she came off the elevator after having landed the job, she danced for just a moment, thinking no one was watching. In those thirty seconds, my fate was sealed. I loved the idea of a woman who could be so happy she needed to dance to express it—regardless of who might be watching.”
The crowd was quiet as they listened to him, totally enraptured. He had this ability to captivate an audience, and he was doing it with this group. Still holding his hand, I watched his mouth move and listened to the words as he spoke them, hearing his side of events for the first time along with the hundred other people standing in the parking lot.
“I held the door open for her as she exited our lobby, and when she made eye contact with me, for just a fraction of a second, there was an unearthly magnetic pull. Her gorgeous green eyes were laced with sadness, and her gaze hung on mine just a touch longer than necessary. Once I knew who she was, and where she’d be, I made a point to seek her out. To get to know her. I’ve never dated much, and certainly haven’t had relationships, so all of this was new to me.
“Foolishly, I sought advice from my friends. Most of who had no more real world knowledge about women than I did. They all encouraged me to take things slowly, spend time getting to know her, make sure she was legitimate and not another woman looking to get her name on my bank accounts. And that’s what I did.
“Gianna and I started to talk some at work, but the more I pushed, the more timid she seemed to be. I caused her to miss her bus one day, and she was forced to let me drive her home. I learned first-hand where the sadness in her eyes came from and why she was dancing in my lobby. As we drove into The Village, she directed me to the one-bedroom apartment she shared with her three children, who were under the age of four at the time. I realized her joy in landing an entry-level job was because it meant she was able to put food on her table.”
He glanced down at me, seeking my continued approval. With a slight nod, he kept going.
“I later learned, Gianna LeBron was none other the widow of Ryan LeBron—the man murdered in prison for trying to rat out the mob in an attempt to get out of jail to be with his wife and babies. By the time the courts were done with her husband, and the families were done with her, she had nothing left—a victim on all accounts who had no clue what her husband was doing. And before you cast judgment on how a woman wouldn’t know her husband was laundering money—imagine having three children under a year old you were solely responsible for as a stay-at-home mom.”
I started to choke up. The lump in my throat was so large, I had a hard time breathing. I should have seen it. Being consumed by children isn’t a reason to not know your husband is involved with the mob.
“My wife came from humble beginnings but pulled herself out, finishing Ivy League with a full scholarship and honors. She had zero familial support until she met her late husband. She’s a hard worker who insists on doing everything on her own. When I found out she was living in poverty, I was desperate to help her, but she insisted on earning her way.
“Failing once again to recognize my friends might not have been the best place to seek relationship advice, I went to them. Max Roster, Holland Hank, Drake Ballard, Willum Santer, and I all sat around Holland’s house talking late into the night about the best way to offer her assistance. They’d all met her at the Literacy Gala and adored her. We all wanted a way to help her. Foolishly, we devised a contract of sorts. It was meant to protect Gianna, not end up hurting her. I thought if we laid ground rules for what I was going to propose to her for the group, it would eliminate any gray area. My friends knew I was in deep emotionally, and I thought they were trying to help me win her heart.”
He stopped speaking for a moment. I didn’t know if he needed to collect his thoughts or his emotions, and it might have been a bit of both. I took a step closer to him, now holding his hand in both of mine. I wanted to ensure he felt my support standing here.
“We all attend functions regularly where we are either hit on or flat out propositioned by women who have made landing a wealthy husband their career. Gianna fit in with the crowd we socialized with—she was well-educated and well-spoken, so having her on any one of our arms deterred those women and gave us company we felt safe with. She should have felt the same. No one was ever supposed to touch Gianna. Not intimately. Yes, they would escort her into and away from functions, but it was clear she was off limits to my friends. Our agreement made arrangements for her to buy clothes for each event at the expense of the man taking her out and rewarded her with five hundred dollars at the end of the evening for her time.
“Things were going well as far as I knew. Gianna and I never went on a paid date. I didn’t accompany her on the outings with other men, nor did I arrange them. I simply provided her with a cell phone at my expense to be able to reach her. Months went by, and my friends talked of Gianna like she was one of our group and always had been. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago, the last time she went out with Holland Hanks, I became aware of a problem. The details of that night aren’t mine to share, but when Gianna confessed to me what had taken place, I took matters into my own hands.”