Grace unwrapped the paper, savoring memories of her father during good times before red Jell-O became a priority. She opened the box and held up a gold, heart-shaped locket. An engraving read “Somebody’s Wife” on the front and “Always Daddy’s Girl” on the back.
“Mom, I—”
“Your father always knew you’d meet someone. He wanted to stake his claim to your heart.”
Grace threw her arms around Fran. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Wait. That not all; this is from me.” Now Grace was shocked. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother gave her a gift. Gifts came from Santa, not from Fran and Roger Simms. She accepted the gift and opened it.
“A hummingbird!” Grace held the delicate glass bird high for all to see. “Thank you, Mom. I love it.”
“Your turn.” Grace hadn’t expected to see her mother for Christmas, but as always, she was prepared. Fran opened her package to find a memory book filled with photos beginning with her younger days into adulthood.
“Where did you find these old photos?”
“Daddy’s closet.”
“I thought you tossed everything like I told you.”
“I hid the box in my suitcase.”
Fran turned each page with care. “I remember that dress. I was so skinny then.” Fran closed the book and held it to her bosom. “Thank you, dear. I love it.”
John stepped up next to present Sal with a gift. The kids gathered around. John bent down on one knee as he handed Sal the small box.
“This isn’t your ordinary Christmas. It’s two weeks short of the day I fell in love with you twenty-five years ago. Before you open the box, I have a question for you. Before God, our children, and friends, Sal, will you renew our vows? Will you marry me, again?”
“I don’t know. Let me see.” Sal snuck a peek in the box. A sparkling three-carat, princess-cut diamond winked at her. “Oh, John! It’s gorgeous! We can’t afford— How did you? Why? C’mere, big guy. Kiss me before I faint.” Sal snaked her arms around John’s neck. “Yes,” she said. “I would marry you a thousand times over.”
John slipped the ring on Sal’s finger next to her simple gold band. The kids began a round of hugs. Paul slipped an arm around Grace. Sam squeezed Shannon’s hand. Oakland fist bumped Justice, Mack, and Buns. Fran hugged her book of memories.
In the distance, church bells rang…and so did Grace’s phone.
* * *
“It’s about fucking time, Simone.” Jess crossed the room, tightening the sash on his terry robe. “It’s Christmas for chrissake. They only serve breakfast until ten.”
“Pardon me all to hell and back. No one asked you to wait.”
“I was being polite.”
“Pish, you wanted to spar. I’m getting to know you quite well, Sheppard. You like your women saucy.”
“I like my women to be women, not— Never mind. What do you want to eat? I’m ordering the crepes and eggs Benedict.”
“Sounds good. Make it two. Bacon well done. Tell them to send extra coffee this time. Those piddly cups don’t hold much.
And no butter…on anything!”
“Ey-ey. Any other orders, sir, eh...ma’am?” Jess mocked.
“Yes. Don’t ever call me ma’am. I’m not your mother.”
“Really? Fooled me.” Jess bit back his words. Aside from Simone’s blond hair, her likeness was uncanny. If he admitted the truth about his mother to Simone, he’d have to kill her—disembowel her right there, on the spot. No. He was too hungry to be bothered with a mess. “It’s Christmas. Let’s play nice.”
“Whatever you say.” Simone shed her coat and shoes. She pulled Fancy’s cable-knit sweater over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” she replied, her eyes wide.
“Flaunt yourself like a harlot and act like the Virgin Mary. Face it. You love to torture me.”
She stepped towards Jess, her breath sweet like apples. “Mary who?”
“Fuck you, Simone. Two can play.” He undid his sash and let his robe drop to the floor. “Let’s be fair.”
“Oh, Sheppard. Get over yourself.” She regarded his erection with apathy. “Your equipment is nice, but it’s not my game. Put it away. Christmas, remember?”
Jess brushed past Simone, picked up the phone, and ordered breakfast. He posed and flexed while Simone watched. When he hung up the phone, he grabbed his robe off the floor and slipped it back on. “One day you’ll beg me to want you.”
“Fat chance.” She withdrew an emery board from her bag and tended a jagged nail. “What did you think of my get-up? I swear Fancy’s doorman didn’t have a clue.”
Jess scrolled through the photos she documented on her phone. “Good. Score one for the team.”
“Team? You contributed a few moments of brute strength.
The strategy was all mine. I set the trap. I did most of the work.”
“Gloat much? Only because you’re into women dead or alive.”
“Yes, dead or alive, I prefer them to men.” He sighed. How did you get back?”
“Cab. I threw Fancy’s coat and the wig in a dumpster about a block from here. No one saw me.”
“What about the calls?”
Simone laughed. “One guy sounded really upset with Fancy. You should’ve heard his mouth! He wanted to strangle her through the phone. He vowed to kill her. I almost told him we beat him to it, but I didn’t. I held my tongue.”
“Put some clothes on. You’re distracting.”
Simone sat in Jess’s lap. She stroked his jet-black hair. Her breasts bobbed inches from his face. He wanted to bite them and squeeze them, make her flesh burn with pain. He wanted to do to her what his mother’s lovers did to him—bend her over his knee and tickle her good.
The knock on the door startled them both. Jess rose, practically dumping Simone on the floor. He took off his robe and threw it at her. “Here, put this on and answer the goddamn door. I don’t want my breakfast getting cold.” She didn’t argue.
* * *
Darkness had fallen by the time the last gifts were packed in the car. Grace hovered nearby waiting for Sal to finish instructions. “I wish you didn’t have to go so soon.”
“John’s got work tomorrow, Sal said. “The boys have plans. I wish we could stay.”
“I’m glad we were able to spend time together.” Grace circled an arm around Sal’s shoulder. “I won’t be seeing clients until after the first of the year, so don’t worry about coming into the office until I get back.”
“Great, I’ll be busy with the kids.” Sal leaned her head against Grace. “John and I had a wonderful time. Thank you for inviting us.”
“Thank Paul for putting it all together. He’s amazing.”
“Yeah, had a good feeling about French fry. I think you’ve finally found the one. Don’t wait too long to get married, okay? I want to be in shape to do some serious dancing.”
“We’ll decide on a venue when we get back to town. I’d like to have it here on the beach. Small. Intimate. Close friends and family. What do you think?”
“I think whatever you choose will be lovely. You can’t go wrong with Paul.”
“I never thought I’d be this happy. Ever!”
“Me neither. I thought you’d never get over the serial killer!”
“Jess wasn’t always that way. I—”
“Yes, he was.”
“You’re right. I never saw that side of him, until—”
“Don’t look back. Be happy. Live for today. Look forward to tomorrow.”
“If I’m half as happy as you are with John—”
Sal’s eyes misted over. She clutched Grace’s arm. “Promise me you will always be there for him and the boys. Paul, too. Be their family.”
“Please don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine. Besides, God owes me one. He can’t have you until you’re ninety-seven. I said so.”
“Well then, it’s all good!” Sal
squeezed Grace tight. “We better get going before John decides to quit his job and become a beach bum.”
“You’ve got your own wedding to plan. Let me know what I can do to help.”
“I’m not feeling white this time around,” said Sal. “Maybe a black dress?”
“It’s your day.” Grace closed the car door and gave Sal a wink. “You can wear your dress again for mine.”
“Deal.”
Grace, Paul, and Fran stood at the edge of the drive, waving goodbye. A slight shiver traveled Grace’s spine. Jess. No matter how hard she tried to ban him from her thoughts, he seemed never far away.
* * *
Jess walked Nob Hill until he reached the peak at Sacramento Street. A chill permeated his outerwear when he saw lights glittering below. His mind wandered back to when he was six. He remembered sitting near the picture window in their thirty-six floor apartment waiting for Santa. The lights twinkled then, too. They taunted him and deceived him. They fooled him into believing there was something special about Christmas. Bing Crosby crooned White Christmas on Mother’s portable phonograph. The song played over and over while she slept, passed out from a day of drinking and whoring. He maintained hope that Santa would bring him a toy and a baby brother. If he had a baby brother, maybe the boyfriends would leave him alone.
Rain sprayed his face, and he lifted his collar to the wind. Christmas. His only decent memory of Christmas included Grace. He recalled the first year they met. They were snowed in. The airport closed down. She couldn’t fly home. Her apartment was too tiny for a tree. Christmas Eve, they made foil chains and popcorn garland. Grace painted plastic, container lids gold and trimmed them in glitter. He picked up apple cider from the No Exit Cafe and a pizza from Uno’s. Grace baked gingerbread for dessert. It was a glorious night. Together they waited for Santa. Though he never came, Jess didn’t lament. For the first time, he got what he wanted. Someone who accepted him, listened to him, and cared for him. Love? He didn’t know the meaning then. The definition hadn’t crossed his mind until he married a woman he despised, and Grace was gone.
She’s mine, he declared to the heavens. Mine! Though the lights seemed far away, he wouldn’t give up hope. Excitement bubbled in his soul.
He had a plan.
* * *
“Why Sacramento? It’s dreadful there.” Simone keyed in hotels on her iPhone.
“It wouldn’t hurt to stay low,” Jess said. “Besides I have work to do. All this lavish living is distracting. I could use some peace and quiet.”
“Oh goody,” her tone reverberated with acid. “I’ll get to see the state capital.”
“Humor me. The next city will be your choice. Perhaps you’d like to see Chicago? Boston?”
“Fine. I’m sure there are Fancy Picketts everywhere.”
CHAPTER 14
DEADLY NEW YEAR
G race’s glorious week of relaxation came to an end when she hugged her dog goodbye, locked all her doors, and headed for work. Traffic ran heavy with school back in session and people back from holiday. Her windshield wipers cleared the last bit of morning fog. The sky threatened rain. Happy New Year.
The clouds seemed to follow her into the office, where she stepped into her dark, silent space. She immediately flipped on the lights and shut the door. Her heart picked up speed. Breathe.
Once coffee was brewed, she felt better. Labeling manila folders would serve as a distraction until her first client arrived. Sal was out sick. John said she could barely keep anything down. Grace’s line-up for the day would keep her mind occupied and away from distress. “We’re survivors,” she reminded herself. There was no need to fret. Sal is coming back. Life will resume like before. She had no say about what transpired behind the scenes of life, only what she could do right here, right now. Thankfully, the door opened, and her new client strolled in.
“Darren Sheppard,” said the man, introducing himself with the extension of his hand and long, manicured fingers. His cool, Southern drawl lingered in her ears. Grace acknowledged the gesture, accepting his offer to shake hands. His silk suit easily cost a month’s rent, and his diamond ring easily commanded a year’s salary. She noticed her image reflected in his shoes. His skin, soft and warm to the touch, reminded her of another man. Jess? Impossible.
Grace gleaned from his call yesterday he was older, fortyish. Southern! He worked as a commodities broker. She hadn’t a clue why he sought her services. He preferred to discuss his reasons in person. Now that he was here, her curiosity rocketed. Something familiar about him manifested itself, but she couldn’t say what.
“Come this way. You can fill out the forms in my office.” Grace flipped a switch, turning on the surveillance monitors. Dr. Meltz insisted she install them to ensure her peace of mind and safety. She mentally thanked him for forcing the issue now that Sal wasn’t there to staff the front desk. Cameras blinked simultaneously as the couple headed down the hall.
Darren sat and stretched his long legs. He took the pen in his left hand and began filling out Grace’s forms. She caught herself staring at his well-groomed beard and mustache. Overhead lighting turned his jet-black hair into shards of blue. They gleamed each time he moved his head. Grace felt as though she presided over a prince—or a con. “How did you hear about me?”
“Dr. Meltz’s office recommended you.”
“Oh? Who, exactly? I want to make sure to thank them for the recommendation.”
“I didn’t catch her name. Californians talk so much faster than folks back home.”
Grace opened her mouth to ask where home was until he cut her off. She leaned forward, glancing at the form he held in his hand. Place of birth was left blank.
“I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice,” he said, handing her back the neat and completed papers. “I didn’t want to reveal much on the phone,” he looked around the room, “just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
“My phone is tapped−I’m almost positive.”
“Almost positive?”
His full lips stretched into a slow smile. Grace’s eyes gravitated to his mouth.
“Got me. I’m sure my phones are being tapped.” He extracted a slim, black rectangle from his pocket and placed it on his knee. “This one’s brand new.” He picked up the cell phone and tucked it under the pillow beside him.
“Why would someone want to tap your phone?”
“I don’t know.”
“Go on. I’m listening,” she said, crossing her legs and relaxing into her red chair.
“It started awhile back. Suddenly my clients started shelling out money for investments that were winners, and I made sizable commissions. I began hitting it lucky at the craps table. Next, I bought a lottery ticket, and won two-hundred-fifty grand.” He twisted the cluster of stones on his pinky finger.
Grace focused on his every move. Where do I know this guy from? The question echoed in her subconscious and shot warning signals to her brain. She couldn’t place him.
“I’ve traveled extensively,” he said, admiring the glittering diamonds on his hand. “I know my markets. I also know this business is competitive. I’ve had a streak of good fortune, and perhaps my peers are suspicious about the nature of my lavish lifestyle.” Darren leaned closer, his eyes intense. “I found the first bug in my iPhone last week and another one in the alarm clock on my nightstand. I find that a bit unnerving, Miss Simms. Don’t you?”
“Yes.” A chill skittered from her scalp to her toes. “I’d certainly want answers. Any idea who is planting these devices?”
“I’m not sure yet.” His teeth appeared large and white between his expanding lips. His mustache framed them in contrast. His beard reminded Grace of her neighbor’s lawn—trimmed to perfection. Too perfect?
“Don’t you wonder about people?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Grace asked.
“When you’re done staring at my mouth, perhaps you can answer my question.”
Grace’s face flu
shed hot with embarrassment. Bright red colored her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I seem to have missed something. Would you mind repeating what you said?
His smile faded. “I didn’t say anything worth repeating. It seems you weren’t listening.”
“I was deep in thought about your situation.” She felt the heat recede from her cheeks and settle in her chest. Breathe. “Please continue.”
Darren relayed how commodities worked, instructing Grace as though she were a schoolgirl and he were headmaster. She found the information interesting. However, she couldn’t let go of the feeling that she knew this man. Maddening—but from where? The question fragmented her concentration to the point she didn’t blame her client if he didn’t return. Her behavior was out of character. Her listening skills showed up as unprofessional. What’s wrong with me?
“My problem is rather unusual,” Darren said. “Perhaps I am not making myself clear.”
Grace regrouped quickly. “What do you hope to gain from our sessions together, Mr. Sheppard?”
“One, you make an ideal witness without me having to worry.” He pretended to zip his lips. “Silence is golden. Two, my situation is unnerving. I sleep with one eye open.”
“You’re afraid?’
“Wouldn’t you be?” His eyes blazed, scorching her soul.
“Yes, I suppose I would.” She lied through her teeth. She would be petrified to be in his position, yet she wasn’t buying it. Why not? “Let’s talk about your fear. What steps have you taken to remedy your position? Have you contacted authorities’?”
“And what do I tell them exactly? I’m a lucky man? Someone wants a piece of my action?”
“If you feel your life is in danger, I would think they’d be first on your list. Talking to me isn’t going to resolve the problem. It would be like me trying to unclog a drain with a cotton ball.”
“I can talk to you about what’s happening to me. Isn’t that why people see therapists? I’m deep in drama here, granted.” He paused as if to calculate his next move. “Okay, say fate has given me a break. I am a rich man. Sometimes people don’t like to see others succeed.”
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