“Well, what do you know?”
Rachel twisted her lips, grabbed her purse, and stood up. “Everything I know about you I got from snoopin’ . . . and I know a lot.”
Jasmine frowned.
“I got this,” Rachel said. “This is what we’ll do. I’ll get as much information on those two hussies as possible. And if I don’t find anything, I’ll make something up. While I’m doing that, you figure out what we’re gonna do with the information once I get it all.”
“Okay,” Jasmine said softly as she led Rachel to the door. Before she opened it, she stopped, turned around, and faced her. “What do you know about me?”
Rachel sighed. “Nothing, I was just saying that. Dang! You take everything so seriously. I’ll call you later.” She shook her head as she bounced down the front steps with a different attitude leaving than she’d had coming in.
Jasmine stood at the door and watched as Rachel slid into her Range Rover, then circled the driveway and rode away.
She stood there and wondered, what Rachel meant. What did Rachel know about her? But then she closed the door. It really didn’t matter. Rachel was on her side . . . at least for now. All Jasmine needed to be concerned about was what were they going to do with the information Rachel found—or made up. It was all about bringing Natasia Redding and Nathan Frazier down!
Chapter
TWENTY-EIGHT
Natasia
As Natasia put her key into the door of her apartment, she had only one thought—it had been a helluva wonderful day.
“I’m a genius,” she whispered to herself as she stepped inside the living room. With a few more steps, she was in the bedroom and she tossed her purse and the portfolio she carried onto the bed.
“I’m a genius,” she repeated, though if she were honest, she knew that all the credit didn’t belong to her. Nathan Frazier was the mastermind behind this wonderful day.
When Nathan suggested that they have Rachel served at the Women’s Day event, Natasia thought that was brilliant. She had already planned to set Rachel up to look like a fool by having her preach without any advance notice. She was sure Rachel couldn’t find Genesis in the Bible, so there was no way she’d be able to deliver a substantive message without a lot of preparation and coaching. But Nathan’s suggestion had made Rachel look like a fool and a thug.
Rachel Jackson Adams behaved exactly the way Natasia had expected. A hood rat was a hood rat no matter how many discount designer clothes she bought from T.J. Maxx. What Rachel had done when she was served those papers today proved that theory. Natasia couldn’t have scripted it better.
It was true that when the show first began, she didn’t want any fighting. But then, with the way Rachel and Jasmine and Mary behaved, it was inevitable. She would never allow fighting every week, but this thing that happened today . . . this was going to be one of the scenes they’d use in the promotional trailer. With one First Lady knocking out another in the series teaser, the first episode was going to score record ratings for OWN.
Natasia pumped her fist in the air, then flopped down onto her bed. She was exhausted. Today, even though things had gone great, her aches and pains were taking their toll. She truly needed to rest. Especially since today had been stressful, though filled with anxiety really described it better.
When the processor hadn’t shown up during the service, Natasia had tried her best not to fret, but it had been difficult. At least it had all worked out and for the rest of the afternoon, she’d be able to take it easy.
As she approached her closet, Natasia’s thoughts had already moved away from this afternoon. She unbuttoned her dress and stepped out of it. She took her focus back to where it needed to be—on Hosea, now that she had put Rachel in her place.
Even though she had spoken with him every day since her doctor’s appointment, Hosea had not repeated what he’d said in Dr. Ginsberg’s office. Maybe he just needed a little push, a little encouragement to bring that up again.
Natasia slipped into a T-shirt and a pair of leggings, then grabbed her iPad and cell phone from her purse. She lay back against the headboard, opened the Scrabble app, set it to play against the computer, then she pressed Hosea’s name on her phone.
Usually he picked up on the first ring, but tonight it rang a few times. She exhaled when she heard, “Hello?”
Right away, she pushed tears into her eyes and her voice. “Hosea!”
“Natasia, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing . . . I didn’t want to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me. What’s wrong?”
She sniffed back fake tears as she studied the letters on the Scrabble board, then set L-I-E-S on the tiles.
“Natasia!”
“I’m sorry, I just . . . I didn’t get good news from the doctor.”
“Doctor Ginsberg? You saw him today?”
“No, I didn’t, but he called me about my tests . . . and it’s not good.” She paused as the computer placed H-O-P-E on the board. Then, she said, “The doctor said there’s not much hope.”
“What does that mean?”
“He didn’t want to say it, I think. . . .” She placed the letters C-H-E-A-T on the tiles. “I think he’s trying to tell me that my time is running out.”
“I’m shocked. He sounded so positive when we saw him.”
Natasia paused. She had to make sure that Hosea wouldn’t call the doctor, though because of privacy, she doubted the doctor would speak to Hosea without her since they weren’t married. “He is still positive and hopeful. And you know I’m not giving up, right?” She pushed the Scrabble board aside. “But it’s hard.”
“I know it is, darlin’,” he said.
Natasia sat up and grinned. For the years when they were together, she’d melt whenever he called her that. That term of endearment was saved for only the people whom Hosea loved.
She wondered if he noticed, but then she thought he probably didn’t. That was even better—he’d called her “darlin’ ” subconsciously.
She took a breath and took herself back into her role. “I’m just so afraid that I’ll be thinking about this all night and I won’t sleep, which will just make everything worse.”
“I think you should stop working, Natasia. Jasmine told me what happened this afternoon . . .”
She inhaled a quick breath. Had Jasmine blamed it on her?
“. . . and I think it’s all too stressful for you,” he finished.
She exhaled. “You may be right,” she said. “I just don’t know what to do.” Then she sighed loudly. “Do you think, would you mind coming over?” Before he could answer, she rushed her explanation, “I’m only asking ’cause I don’t have anyone else but you to talk to, and to help me get through this news that I got today.”
“Natasia,” he said, “you don’t have to explain every time you ask me for something.”
“I just don’t want you to think . . . or Jasmine to think . . .”
“We’re fine. You’re fine. But I can’t come over.”
What? He had never turned her down before.
“I’m in New York,” he explained.
“Oh.” The emotion he heard in her voice was real this time. She’d just put on the show of her life, all for nothing.
“But,” he added, “I’ll be back in the morning and I’ll come to see you before I go home.”
That made her smile. He’d come to see her before he went to his wife? “Really?” she said.
“Definitely. I just want you to rest tonight.”
“I’ll try,” she said, putting the sadness right back into her voice.
“Well, maybe I could help you with that.”
Her smile was wider this time. What was he going to do? Would he really consider flying back tonight?
“If you can’t sleep,” he said, “call me and we’ll talk. I’m sure I’ll bore you so much you’ll fall right off to sleep.”
She laughed just a little. “That’s one thing you can never d
o. You can never bore me.”
“We’ll see. So, call me, if you need me, okay?”
I always need you. “I will.”
“And Natasia,” he paused, “I’m praying for you.”
“I know that. Thank you.”
She hung up without saying anything more. She’d done enough. With what she’d just told him, Hosea was close to being ready to do all of her bidding.
She kicked her feet in the air and giggled before she settled down. And she thought about Hosea’s wife. He hadn’t mentioned Jasmine, and Jasmine hadn’t said anything else to her about staying away from Hosea. That meant that he probably hadn’t told Jasmine anything, not about her illness, not about her doctor’s visit, not about the time they were spending together.
That was better, really. Sneaking around was always better. And when the time was right, she’d make sure that Jasmine found out that Hosea was spending all of this time with her.
That giddy feeling spread through her once again, and Natasia jumped up from the bed with more energy than she’d had in a long time. She needed to give Melinda a call, let her know what had happened on the set today before she heard the news from someone else. And she wanted to do that before the night housekeeping staff came into her apartment.
She took two steps away from her bed and paused. Her eyes widened and before she hit the ground, her world had already faded to black.
Chapter
TWENTY-NINE
Rachel
Rachel’s mind had been churning since she’d left Jasmine. She had no clue how she would get to Natasia, but she was determined to help Jasmine bring Natasia down. She wanted to do this not just because Jasmine had helped her, but now her vendetta against Natasia was personal. The process server, the impromptu sermon, even the fight . . . none of that would’ve happened without Natasia’s stamp of approval.
And now, Natasia was about to learn, like so many others, that Rachel was not the one to be messed with.
Rachel navigated her Range Rover onto Interstate 75. Lester’s flight would arrive first thing in the morning, and Rachel knew that once he found out about the fight—which she conveniently had not told him about—he’d be ready to pull the plug on her reality TV debut and focus all of her attention on fighting for their son.
But Rachel was starting to feel that maybe Jasmine was right. Maybe the petition for sole custody was all for show and nothing would ever come of it. But regardless, she knew her fighting on national TV would not help her cause, so she needed to make sure that clip didn’t air. She’d handle that first, then she would deal with Natasia.
Rachel reached into her hobo bag and grabbed her cell phone. She kept one hand focused on the steering wheel while the other scrolled through the phone until she found the number she was looking for.
“Hey, Rachel,” Melinda said, picking up her phone on the second ring. “Make it quick. I’m about to board my plane.”
“Hey, Melinda. Just wanted to see if you had heard what happened on set today.”
The phone went silent, as though Melinda had stopped moving. “No. What happened on set today?”
“Well, there was a little altercation . . .”
“What? Somebody got into a fight?”
“It wasn’t really a fight, but I did hit Mary in the jaw.” Rachel debated telling her about what she’d later seen at Mary’s house, but she decided she needed to keep that ammunition for when she really needed it. Part of her felt sorry for Mary, but if she wanted to stay in an abusive relationship, that was on her.
“Rachel,” Melinda sighed.
Rachel used to really like Melinda, but now she didn’t trust her as far as she could hear her. And quiet as it was kept, Rachel wouldn’t be surprised if Melinda knew all about Natasia’s plans. Melinda definitely struck Rachel as someone who would sacrifice her first child for ratings.
“Well, I was just calling to tell you that I don’t want the altercation aired,” Rachel continued. Silence filled the phone again.
“Hello, did you hear me?” Rachel repeated.
“Rachel, that’s out of my hands,” Melinda finally said. “You need to talk to Natasia about that.”
“My contract says—”
“I am well aware of what your contract says,” she replied, interrupting Rachel. “I’m the one you went back and forth to make that happen. But you know at the end of the day, the executive producer has final say. You have some creative control, but the EP has the final say.”
What good was creative control if she couldn’t call any shots? “I guess I need to just call Oprah myself,” Rachel snapped.
“Yeah, Rachel, how about you do that?” Melinda said, her voice full of sarcasm. “I’m sure Oprah will side with you after she finds out that yet again, you showed your tail.”
Melinda had a point there. The last time Rachel had been in front of Oprah, the Big O had to cancel her show behind Rachel and Jasmine’s drama. No, she needed to keep Oprah out of this.
“Look, I have to board my plane. All I can tell you is, try to appeal to Natasia,” Melinda said, and Rachel couldn’t help but feel her friend was blowing her off.
“Fine, I’ll talk to Natasia,” Rachel said, feeling hopeless. She had worked so hard to build up her image as a First Lady. She’d made strides not only with her own church, but as the First Lady of the ABC. Her dad would be so disappointed. Their members at Zion Hill back in Houston would be disappointed, and Rachel knew Lester was not going to be happy, especially since he hadn’t wanted her to do the show in the first place.
Unfortunately, Natasia was the key. Rachel had to convince that battle axe not to air the show. How was she supposed to do that, and try to bring her down at the same time?
Suddenly, an idea hit Rachel. Maybe she could pretend she was going to help Natasia with whatever cockamamie plan she had to steal Hosea. Once Natasia thought Rachel was on her side, she’d nix the video, then maybe Rachel could get close enough to find some information they could use to get Natasia fired. It was a win-win for both Rachel and Jasmine.
Rachel smiled, proud of herself as she grabbed her phone and dialed Melinda’s Atlanta office.
“This is Margaret Sims, assistant to Melinda Lawson,” the recording said. “I am out of the office but please leave a message and I will return your call on the next business day. If you need to get in touch with me immediately, please call 770-443-7645.”
Rachel memorized the number, hung up, then punched in the ten digits.
“Hi, Margaret,” she said when the young administrative assistant answered. “It’s Rachel Jackson Adams. Melinda is running to catch a flight.”
“I know, she’s on her way back.” Margaret sounded like she wondered why Rachel was regurgitating her boss’s schedule.
“Yes, and she asked me to get in touch with you and have you give me Natasia Redding’s address. We have a meeting and I don’t know what I did with her address.”
Margaret was quiet for a minute, then said, “Oooh, I don’t know if I’m supposed to be giving out that information.”
“Really, Margaret?” Rachel said, making sure she sounded super irritated. “You can call Melinda yourself.”
“But I thought she was getting on the plane?”
“She is.” Rachel paused. “Then, fine. Don’t give me the address and when Oprah asks why I missed our very important meeting, I’ll say because Margaret wouldn’t give me the address like her boss asked her to.”
Rachel could hear the fear through the phone. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just being careful,” she quickly said.
Rachel heard some ruffling of papers and Melinda rattled off the address.
“I’ll make sure and tell Melinda you did a good job. You’re a doll.” She disconnected the call.
“Buckhead Tower,” Rachel mumbled, reading the address Margaret had given her. Of course, Natasia would be living it up in one of Atlanta’s most exclusive long-term hotels.
Rachel made a U-turn and headed tow
ard Buckhead.
Twenty minutes later, she was getting off the elevator and heading to Natasha’s apartment. She had just turned the corner when she heard the scream for help.
Rachel raced to the door where the scream was coming from. Her eyes blinked in shock when she saw the apartment number and realized it was Natasia’s apartment.
Rachel pushed the door open and eased inside. A woman in a maid’s uniform was pressed up against the wall, her mouth open in horror.
“Oh, my God, she’s not breathing,” the woman cried.
Rachel’s eyes eased toward the floor, where Natasia was sprawled out like she was dead.
Visions of the last time she’d happened upon a dead body immediately began to fill Rachel’s head. That’s why her first instinct was to turn and get the heck out of there, but the cleaning lady was a basket case and Natasia might still be alive.
“Did you call 911?” Rachel asked, dropping to Natasia’s side.
“N-no . . .”
“Well, call them,” Rachel snapped as she took Natasia’s arm and felt for a pulse. A flutter of relief ran through her when she felt one.
Minutes felt like hours, but Rachel soon heard footsteps racing toward the room. Soon, paramedics and security personnel filled the apartment.
The paramedics immediately went to work and Rachel actually exhaled when she heard one of them say, “We’ve got her stabilized.”
Natasia moaned as they rolled her out of the room on the stretcher.
“Ma’am, can I talk to you?” a man in a too-small gray suit asked Rachel. He had on a name badge so Rachel assumed he was hotel security. “Do you mind if I ask your relationship to the victim?”
“Victim? She’s a victim?” Oh, Lord, Rachel didn’t need anyone thinking she’d done something to Natasia. Rachel glanced around the room. Where was that cleaning lady? She needed to get over here and tell these cops that Natasia was like that before Rachel arrived. The last thing Rachel needed was to be accused of yet another crime that she didn’t commit.
“Maybe that’s the wrong choice of words,” the security officer corrected. “She’s stabilized, but we’re trying to ascertain what happened.” He pulled out a notepad and a pen. “So, again, you are?”
Fortune & Fame: A Novel Page 20