“But I didn’t do anything!” Terrell said for the one hundredth time.
He was pacing the living room of the modest apartment. Erica could tell that he was scared enough to give up the street bravado. She wanted to reassure him, but she wasn’t sure how to do it.
“Jonah thinks you did.” Erica was sitting on the sofa, trying to stop biting her nails off from nervousness. “We’re just going to have to convince him that it wasn’t you.”
“I don’t even know what that website is,” Terrell said. “You know me, Erica.”
“It’s true,” Erica said to Alex, who was standing in the archway between the dining and living rooms. “I didn’t think about it before, because everything happened so fast, but Terrell wouldn’t bother with a political gossip site.”
“What is this DNA evidence he seems to think you have?” Alex asked.
Terrell and Erica looked at each other. Erica shook her head and Terrell responded with a sigh.
“I guess I don’t know,” Terrell said.
“What was that?” Alex asked. “That look! What the hell is going on?”
“We just need to figure out how to convince Jonah that—”
“I’ve brought him to my mother’s house!” Alex yelled. “I have a right to know what this is about. I’m sorry, man, but there is no way you’re a real threat to Jonah, not enough to make him want to break the law. You’re both hiding something from me.”
Erica got up from the sofa and walked over to Alex. She could see how angry he was. She knew that she had to do something about it.
“Just calm down,” she said. “I need your focus, Alex.”
“Hey,” Terrell said, “I didn’t ask for this.”
“Yeah, you kind of did,” Alex snapped. “Talking shit is considered asking for it.”
“Look, man!”
Terrell started toward them, but he stopped. They all turned to the dining-room table as his phone, sitting on top of it, rang.
Terrell looked from the phone to Erica, wondering what he should do. She gestured for him to see who it was and he walked over to it.
“Oh.” He laughed, picking the phone up. “It’s just my boy, Chris.”
“Chris who?” Erica asked.
“He’s my . . .” Terrell halted for a moment. “He’s my next-door neighbor.”
Erica had a feeling this wasn’t a friendly call. “Don’t tell him where you are. Don’t tell him anything.”
“Hey, man,” Terrell said casually as he held the phone to his face. “What’s up?”
“I’m not playing around,” Alex whispered to Erica. “I want to know what’s going on. This isn’t about some stupid infidelity rumor. I’ve put my career at risk for you, Erica. I’ve brought my mother into it.”
She could see that Alex had reached the end of his rope. He’d been the understanding friend, who wanted to be more; but now, if she didn’t come clean, he was going to back out of everything. Without him, Erica knew she couldn’t handle this.
“Holy shit.” Terrell placed the phone back on the table. “He—he said that two white guys in suits, wearing sunglasses, went into my apartment. They opened it with a key and everything. He says they’re in there now.”
Erica shivered at the thought of what those men were there to do.
“Jesus,” Alex said, seeming to have the same thoughts as Erica. “Erica?”
“Sit down,” Erica ordered.
“Just tell me,” Alex said.
Erica pointed to the closest chair. “Trust me, Alex, you’ll need to sit down for this.”
Alex didn’t have much reaction while she told him about how she came to meet Jonah and later, through Terrell, found out that he was her father. She also told him about the history of Jonah’s relationship with her mother and the trouble Terrell had been causing for Jonah over it.
Alex ran his fingers through his hair as he sat back in the chair. He shook his head for a few seconds before saying, “Wow.”
“Yeah, that was my reaction at first,” Erica said.
“And he’s keeping you a secret for his political career?” Alex asked.
Erica nodded, feeling the pain that always came with that fact. “I’m too much of a liability for his plans and the people who back him.”
“I thought . . .” Alex seemed at a loss for words. He clearly wasn’t happy.
“You’re disappointed in him,” Erica said. “You thought he was a better man than that. What he did with my mom, her decision to keep me a secret, isn’t his fault.”
“But his choice to keep you a secret after finding out is,” Alex said. “He’s not . . . Jonah’s not the man I thought he was.”
“No shit,” Terrell added.
“There are other things about him,” Erica said. “He’s done things to people who have threatened him. He’s threatened Terrell more than once.”
“I don’t need to know more,” Alex said. “I get it now.”
He looked up at Terrell with a confused expression on his face. “Why would you push him like this, if you knew what he was?”
“I didn’t,” Terrell said. “I mean, yeah, the first time, but I was just looking for the money. I got it. I’m telling you, man, I was ready to leave town. Especially now that Erica—”
Erica looked at him and they exchanged an understanding glance. There was nothing left there, at least not romantically for either of them. He’d finally realized that. She felt sorry for him and angry at the same time. He was finally over her. That was a good thing. However, as long as he was a threat to Jonah, he would always be in danger. Erica still cared about him enough never to want that to happen.
“Well,” Terrell said, “let’s just say I had no reason to stay here. I didn’t do that shit in the blog.”
“Then who did?” Alex asked. “Who else knows about this?”
Erica went down the list. “His wife, my friends Sherise and Billie. That’s it, I swear. None of them would do this. You can trust me.”
“Doesn’t your friend Sherise work for Northman now?” Terrell asked. “That’s a shady bitch. She would—”
“No,” Erica insisted. “Besides, the trace was from your part of town, Terrell. How did that—”
Suddenly there was the noise of keys in a lock and the front doorknob started to move.
“Oh no,” Erica said. “They’ve found us.”
“Wait.” Alex stood up. “I think it’s . . .”
Erica sighed the second she saw Alex’s mother walk in the front door. His mother gasped at the sight of the three of them standing in her living room and the keys fell out of her hand. Alex rushed to her and quickly spoke a few words to her in Spanish, seeming to calm her down.
She turned to Erica, who tried to offer the most appreciative smile she could under the circumstances.
“So nice to see you again, Mrs. Gonzales,” she said. “Thank you for letting us use your home for a bit.”
“I wasn’t actually aware that I had.” Leeza Gonzales looked awkwardly at Terrell. “So, what exactly is going on?”
“Long story short,” Terrell said, “Jonah Nolan is trying to kill me.”
“Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?” Leeza asked, not at all amused.
“Don’t I wish.” Terrell plopped down on the sofa.
“Mama”—Alex reached out and took her hand—“come with me to the bedroom. I’ll tell you about it.”
“What has that man done?” she asked, ripping her hand away.
“Mama, just hold—”
“I told you not to work for him,” Leeza said. “I told you he was no-good. That man is no-good. I swear to you, Alex—”
“Enough,” Alex said. “I get it now. You were right all along, Mama. All those times you warned me against him. You were right, okay? Please.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to calm herself.
She reached out to him and took his face in her hands. He leaned down and let her kiss his forehead before they hugged each oth
er.
Erica was starting to realize something as she watched the scene before her. She remembered the scene at headquarters when she and Jonah ran into Alex and his mother. The look she’d given Jonah. She hated that man.
Just then, her phone rang. She checked the ID. It was Jonah.
“Who is it?” Alex asked.
“Go ahead and talk to your mother. I’ll be a second. Hello,” Erica said cautiously as she stepped farther into the dining room for some privacy.
“Where are you?” Jonah asked immediately. “Don’t screw around with me, Erica.”
“None of your business,” she responded. “So you’re adding murder to your list of bad deeds? Or let me guess, this isn’t the first time.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jonah said. “The only people I’ve ever murdered were in combat during wars. I just want to make sure Terrell isn’t a threat to me anymore.”
“Well, you’ve done everything else,” she said. “So what was left?”
“There is a lot left,” he said. “Is he with you? Are you at your apartment?”
“No,” she said, “but you probably already know that. How many men in suits and sunglasses did you send to my place?”
“Erica, I would never hurt—”
“Save it,” she said. “This is the last straw, Jonah.”
“Just come into the office and we’ll discuss—”
“No,” she said. “I’m not coming to campaign headquarters or the Pentagon. I’m not working for you anymore. I quit.”
“You don’t mean that,” he said. “You’re angry over someone who doesn’t deserve your anger.”
“Terrell didn’t post that comment,” she said.
“I know.”
“He would never have . . .” She stopped after realizing what he’d said. “You . . . what? You know?”
“What I showed you earlier today was preliminary. That was my investigator’s first stab at finding out who was behind the comment. Five minutes ago, I got more information. The commenter has a history and uses that same username at other sites. We locked in on an IP address and will probably know who it is soon. One thing we’re sure of is that it’s a woman, not some idiot thug.”
“Is it your wife?” Erica asked, at least feeling like she could calm down a little now.
“Don’t be stupid,” he answered. “Just come back and we’ll—”
“No,” Erica said. “No matter how this turns out, I can’t come back. You were gonna do something awful to Terrell, and now you’re going to do it to someone else—whoever this turns out to be. It doesn’t change anything.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with you anymore, Erica.”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s who you are and I can’t support you.”
Jonah sighed and, after some silence, responded. “You don’t mean that. I’m your father and you’re my daughter. That means a lot.”
“Not enough to tell the world, though, right?”
There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds and Erica’s heart broke. This man was never going to acknowledge her. Even if he did win the White House, achieve everything he wanted, she would always be the dirty secret of a man who wasn’t even worthy of her.
“Is Alex with you?” he asked.
“No,” she lied. “I don’t want him involved in any of this.”
“But you do want to turn him against me,” he said.
She didn’t understand what he meant. “You’re the only one who can do that.”
“Stay away from him,” he said, “if you really want him out of this.”
“There’s no more ‘this,’ Jonah. Terrell is leaving town. You’ve made your point. We’re done here.”
“You and I aren’t done,” Jonah said.
“Yes, we are,” Erica said, her voice a little uneasy. “We finally, definitely, are.”
17
When Billie stepped into the Downtown Boxing Club in the Shaw neighborhood of D.C., she was pleasantly surprised. Although she wasn’t sure what to expect, having never been in a boxing club before, she thought it was nice that this place didn’t have any bells or whistles. It was bare-bones and old-school. Men were in different corners of the main room, using different types of training equipment. There were two boxing rings in the center of the room. One had a practice bout going on; the other looked as if it was preparing for one.
That was where she saw Michael. He was standing along the side of the ring, looking at an older man who looked as if he was giving him instructions in an exasperated way. The man was making fighting gestures, left hooks and uppercuts. Michael was nodding, but the other man was clearly frustrated.
Billie had to say that Michael looked incredibly sexy. He was topless, in a pair of loose shorts. His smooth, dark chest was muscled and wet with slight sweat. His perfectly sculpted arms tapered into red gloves worn over his hands. She remembered those arms taking her, grabbing at her waist, and pulling her to him. She craved it now, and so much more.
Michael didn’t notice her. He was focused on his instructor. The only reason he looked toward her was because every other man in the room had turned his attention to her.
She smiled as their eyes connected, but he just stared. He looked her up and down like every other man in the room. She wasn’t stupid. She had no intention of getting him back because of her looks, but every little bit helped. She made sure to look amazing. As she stepped closer to him, she could see it was having the desired effect. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Hi, Michael,” she spoke softly as she reached him and his instructor.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“You must be Billie,” said the instructor, a Latino man in his sixties, with all-white hair and tired eyes.
“Hi,” she said.
Michael reluctantly made introductions. “Billie, this is Joseph Tammer.”
“Are you his coach?” she asked, shaking Joseph’s hand.
“Yes, but I’m about to quit,” he said. “You’re to blame for this.”
“Joseph.” Michael nudged Joseph a bit and shook his head. “Don’t.”
“Don’t?” Joseph asked. “I’m trying to save you from getting hurt.”
“How am I to blame?” Billie asked.
“When he’d met you, he couldn’t stop talking about you,” Joseph said. “He was very happy.”
Billie smiled, but Michael was getting angrier.
“That’s enough, Joseph,” he said.
“But since you broke up,” the older man continued, ignoring Michael, “he’s been hell on wheels. He thinks he’s ready for a real fight, but he’s only a recreational boxer. He’s not ready yet. He’s gonna get hurt.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Michael said.
“You know the moves,” Joseph responded, “but you’re hotheaded right now. The way you were hitting that bag the other day, you could’ve broken your hand.”
“Joseph!” Michael pleaded. “Can you give us a moment, please?”
Joseph nodded, turning back to Billie. “Please talk some sense into him. A broken heart is not a reason to fight.”
“Is it true?” she asked Michael after Joseph walked away.
“What are you doing here?”
Billie smiled softly. “I’m happy to see you again. I’ve missed you.”
“Billie—”
“I’ve brought you something,” she interrupted. She held out the gift she’d been holding in her hands the entire time. It was a painting.
“It’s my first painting,” she explained, “and it’s you.”
Michael looked at the painting and frowned, looking confused.
“It was the moment after we were on the grass at the outdoor movie theater and our shoulders touched.” She looked into his eyes, hoping to see some effect from recalling that tender, yet charged moment. “Then you looked at me and . . . I remember it so fondly that I painted it.”
“Tha
t’s me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Billie smiled as she could see he was trying to suppress a laugh.
“I know it’s amateur, but—”
“It looks like”—he squinted, leaning in–“a donkey in a polo shirt.”
“I did it from memory,” Billie said.
“You don’t remember me looking like a human being that night?”
“Michael.” She placed the painting down, leaning it against the base of the ring, and sighed. “Give me a break. I haven’t painted in almost a decade. I tried.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “Look, Billie. I don’t want any gifts from you. I have to fight. I think you should leave.”
“Is what I did so unforgivable?” she asked. “Do you really intend to ignore me forever?”
“I have to,” he said. “Looking at you, hearing your voice . . . I don’t trust myself to do the right thing.”
“How is staying away from me the right thing?” she asked. “The time we had together was short, but it was right. It was definitely right.”
“If it was right,” he said, “we’d still be together.”
“I know I screwed up,” she said, moving beyond the hurtfulness of his words. “I messed up a great thing. But it was a mistake, and I . . . I really want you to forgive me. I need you to.”
Michael was looking at her and she could see that he really wanted to give in, but he was cautious. He was seeing her as yet another disappointing relationship in a string of many and was trying to resist the truth—that she was much more than that. She wasn’t going to leave until he faced it.
“I know I’ve done enough damage to make you want to run the other way,” she said. “You met me at a time I was caught up in something that I wasn’t prepared to handle.”
“Are you saying this was just about timing?”
“No,” she answered. “It was ongoing . . . inevitable. You got caught in the cross fire and I regret that more than you know.”
“You want me to accept this back-and-forth between you and Porter,” Michael said. “I’m not willing to do that. It makes me feel—”
“Secondary,” she said. “I know. You were great to me and only asked one thing in exchange. I didn’t give it to you. I couldn’t at the time and you were right to dump me. But Porter and I have . . . We’ve worked it out.”
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