Over. (This. Is. Not. Over. #2)

by Dianne, Shannon

“I’ll contact you in six days; December seventeenth, at seven a.m. central standard time.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Dead air.

  Attorney Jackson Rouge ladies and gentlemen. Don’t fuck with his baby-girl.

  Danielle

  9:30 p.m.

  ‘Danielle Rouge is thought to have been married when she first met Attorney Blair, who was just on the cusp of ending his ten year relationship with Laura Rossi, daughter of Senator Carlo Rossi …’

  “Oh Danielle, this isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.” My mother says as I down my shot of scotch and look towards Oyster Bar’s TV screens.

  “Thank you ma.”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “Who in the world would release that information?” Rena asks as she takes her straw, slurps up her long island ice tea and then pops the cherry in her mouth. “Tell me … who?”

  “I always knew that Malcolm would ruin your life Danielle.” Jasmine says as she takes a sip of her martini. “I just didn’t know it would happen so soon, ya know?” She uses her front teeth to slide an olive off of a toothpick.

  “I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily ruined her poor little life,” my mother says, “oh, excuse me dears –bartender a scotch on the rocks, light on the rocks this time– but life is certainly getting more interesting now that he’s around.”

  “He’s no Jon.” Jasmine reminds us all. “Jon would have never tried to sleep with Danielle while she was married to him.”

  Why me? I nod for the bartender to pass me another scotch.

  This is how my entire day has been going. From the moment I entered the limo, Rena starting ragging on me about my faults: not telling her the house belonged to Malcolm, not telling her about Lola, not telling her about my contact high. I was starting to feel terribly disappointed in myself and even started thinking I was a horrible person, so I did what any other person in my position would do. I focused on someone else’s shortcomings. Enter Jon. About three hours ago, when he, Matt and Marlon walked into the rental home that we’re all staying in, I pulled him aside and laid into him:

  “Jon, why would you come all the way to New York to fight Malcolm?” I asked as we stood in the kitchen alone, while everyone else was in the living room reliving moments of the New York fight. They claimed that Malcolm called Jon and told him to come to New York to settle their issues once and for all. I think that’s a load of bullshit, but Jon swears by it.

  “Danielle, he’s full of shit, he needed to get knocked the hell out.”

  “Why does Marlon’s face look so much worse than yours and Matt’s? What happened?”

  “He and Jacob were fighting to the death, three cops had drag Jacob off of him.”

  “My god! Why was violence even an option? It wasn’t like Malcolm annoyed you or anything.”

  “What? Listen, all I can say is that ever since you’ve reconnected with Blair, look at your life. Now the entire nation is talking about you being an adulterer.”

  “Funny how my story came out but you and Marla’s Ritz Carlton rendezvous remains a secret and might I add, it was the catalyst behind me moving on with my life with Malcolm.”

  “I’ve already told you that I wasn’t in that room with Marla. Second, what are you implying?”

  “Where would the adultery story come from Jon?”

  “Do you think I’d tell the entire country that the mother of my son was fucking a white boy while she was married to me?”

  True. He had me there. But the truth is that I don’t trust anyone. Not even the father of my only child. Everyone is suspect. Well, everyone except for Rena and Georgie, the two people who were actually bold enough to skip town with me. They were the only people I trusted at that point.

  “All I’m saying is that my life wasn’t a bed of roses with you either.” I told Jon.

  “Well you never had anyone stalking you when we were married.” Oh no, I forgot I told Jon that. I tried to regain my composure and take the startled look off my face.

  “Yeah, well, I was mistaken. It wasn’t exactly stalking.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “It was more like …” I had to think quick, “someone was following me, hanging out in places where I went. And it was creeping me out.” Then it was his time to look startled. “What’s the look for?”

  “What did Malcolm say about that?”

  “Nothing. That I was overacting.” I lied. Jon noticeably relaxed and then exhaled. I have to admit, it was a bit touching that Jon seemed so concerned about my safety.

  “There’s something else Danielle, the news is trying to imply that you may have had no idea that Malcolm owned Laura’s home.” I knew where he was going with this.

  “That’s hardly a motive for murder Jon.”

  “Yes, Danny, it is.”

  An hour later, Rena, Jasmine, my parents, Nicky, Georgie, and the guys were gathered in the kitchen, drinking white wine and cooking dinner, while the guys continued recounting the story of the fight and how they won it hands down. My paranoia, which had simmered down after coming to Hilton Head, was growing again. Every time Malcolm called my cell, I just knew it was the FBI trying to find me. Every time I received a text from him, I just knew it was the police asking me where I was. I eventually called all of my employees telling them that I’d be out of pocket for the night and then gave them the number to the house’s landline for emergencies. I threw that damn flip phone in a dresser drawer and haven’t looked at it since.

  Now, while the guys and the boys are at the house watching the Lakers and Heat game, the ladies asked if they could join me at Oyster Bar for a drink, so that we can talk about how my life has made a turn for the worse. This was Jasmine’s idea.

  “One second, girls,” my mother says as she slides off of her barstool, “I need to head to the ladies room.” She downs her scotch. “Just in case, someone thought to spike it.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Jasmine says as she hops off the stool.

  The two of them walk away and I won’t lie, I’m happy for a moment alone with Rena.

  “Another long island.” Rena says to the bartender.

  “Rena listen, I’m getting nervous here.” I lean over and whisper to her.

  “Don’t start this shit again Danielle, okay? Everything is fine. And you really should talk to Malcolm, why are you ignoring his calls still?”

  “Rena, the entire nation has found out that I was sleeping with him while I was still married to Jon. They’re calling me an adulterer. Me! Can you believe that?”

  “Well you’ve been called worse.”

  “And to think that this could have been avoided if he just would have signed over the deed.”

  “Or if we wouldn’t have burned his house down.”

  “And so now here I am, my name is being dragged through the mud, my business is in jeopardy, my reputation is in jeopardy and Jon’s words keep ringing in my head.”

  “And those words are?”

  “That I was perfectly fine until Malcolm.”

  “Jon’s ass needs to shut the hell up. Just chill, it seems to me that you’re looking for someone to blame and trust me Danielle, there is no one to blame in this situation but you and me.” She raises her eyebrows while her lips wrap around her straw. “Now relax, call Malcolm back and let him do his thing. He’ll fix this.”

  “He wouldn’t have anything to fix if his ass had signed the deed over to Laura! Why was he still on the deed? Was it his way of still being connected to her?”

  “It was an oversight!”

  “And furthermore, if he owned that damn house, why didn’t his ass put her out when he learned of our porno pictures? How dare he let her still live there rent free! I think he may still have a soft spot for her.”

  “But Laura didn’t send those pictures, Lola did.”

  “He didn’t know that! The entire time, he and I thought it was Laura stalking me.”

  “Funny you would both think it was Laura because, for a moment, I t
hought it was Jon.”

  “Oh please. Jon stalking me? Yeah right. He’s moved on with Marla.”

  “Then why did he come all the way to New York to fight Malcolm?”

  “Jon’s like an old dog with a bone. He couldn’t give a damn about me, he came out of spite.”

  “So Jon traveled all the way from LA to New York out of spite? Don’t think so. Listen, it’s over. Let’s just move on. I’m confident Malcolm will fix this.”

  “It’s not just that Rena; I lost a friend this weekend.” I’m really mourning the loss of Lola as a friend. She was the first friend I had post Jon, she was the woman who helped me through the demise of my marriage, and by an act of the heavens, she and Cadence happened to stumble into Houston … because of that I met Malcolm. Yeah, I’m really mourning the loss of that friendship. “I can’t believe that she put me through five days of hell.”

  “Here we go talking about your five days in hell.” Rena rolls her eyes as the bartender hands her another long island iced tea.

  “Rena, Lola took naked pictures of me!”

  “No offense Danielle, but I think we’ve all been there.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about? You’ve had naked pictures taken of you before?”

  “Oh please, Matt and I used to do it all the time. I remember we headed to the Mandarin Oriental one weekend just for a change of scenery. Matt booked the Dynasty Suite and of course, it was fully loaded. Anyways, they had a small fitness area inside the suite and once I saw it, it brought out the artist in me. Matt and I deal with facts and figures all day Danielle, sometimes it’s good to express our creative side, ya know? So I had Matt pose for me, as a special reminder of that weekend.” She smiles fondly at the memory. “It was only when Matt’s mother accidentally found a picture of him butt naked, jogging on the elliptical trainer, that we stopped the practice all together. Too risky.”

  “Oh god, really…”

  “Scoff if you must but my Georgie was conceived that night in Room 1129.”

  “Beautiful, Rena. Way to go.”

  “Now, I’m off to go powder my nose.”

  “Goodbye.” Shit … good riddance.

  While Rena slides off her stool to head towards the restroom, I wonder how in the hell I got myself into this mess and why I’m still so damn paranoid. Because, I could have sworn, just now, as I watched Rena walk past the window and towards the ladies room, that there was a wavy haired brunette outside, staring right at me. But, by the time I blinked. She was gone.

  Malcolm

  9:45 pm

  Oh, come on. Not this cocksucker again. Why do I feel like every time I walk into a bar, he’s there? Blondie’s back. I walked through the doors of Oyster Bar and there, sitting on stools, right next to each other, are Red and Blondie. His ass couldn’t wait until Rena got up. He’s doing some smooth shit with his hands, his head flowing in rhythm with his words, she’s looking away to the television screens, her hand on a glass of scotch. Déjà vu.

  Oyster Bar is crowded tonight, filled with stacks of cash on pool tables, blues blaring out of the sound speakers and women buying rounds of Mud Slides. And then you have Blondie and Red who are sitting here looking like a couple. I’m certain Blondie knows who she is. I’m sure he’s seen the news, after all, that’s what’s playing now on the TV screens. ESPN and CNN. If he’d just glance up, he’d see a picture right now of the crew during our ‘happy’ days. That’s what the news is calling this picture of us, when we were heading to a Governor’s Ball during Christmas. Happy Days. They caught us in an action shot, with me sliding the door of a blue curbside mailbox open. I remember that night, all of us walking out of our condo building, Jacob and Winnie mean mugging the cameras and throwing up closed fists, Dena and Nat holding hands and smiling at each other, Laura’s arm wrapped in mine, she and Lola looking at each other and laughing, Cadence looking over Lola’s head and smiling down at Laura, and me reaching into my coat and pulling out Red’s birthday card. I slid it into the mailbox right before we all stepped into the limo. Flash! … captured for life. It was always the nine of us. It was never, ever, just us eight.

  Red’s looking at that picture now, while Blondie’s trying to be slick. He starts to take a sip of his drink, (it’s either vodka or a white wine spritzer, who knows) and then he sees me. He slides his mouth into a smile. My turn. Not even. I give him a smile back and nod. Nice try though. He raises his glass to me. Cute, but this isn’t five months ago and I’m not just some ordinary man. Red is mine. Mine. So I walk over to them.

  “Blondie.” I say to him and then immediately look at Red. She doesn’t even flinch. Badass. I’m right behind her, she had no idea I just flew in town, she’s looking at my picture on a TV screen, she suddenly hears my voice behind her and she doesn’t … even … flinch. Bad. Ass.

  “Malcolm, right?” Blondie says. Muthafucka, you know me. Now move your ass over. I point to the TV screen and then smile.

  “That’s what they tell me.” He nods and then takes a sip of his white wine spritzer.

  “I was just catching up with Red.” Blondie called her Red. He’s trying to ruffle my feathers.

  “Red huh?” He starts to grin. I look at Red and she takes a casual sip of her scotch. Hell yeah, Danielle. Ignore my ass.

  “Well that’s what the news says your pet name is for her. So I figured it could be mine too.”

  “Oh okay, so you do know who I am.” Blondie keeps his grin.

  “What can I get you?” He points to the bar. Are you serious?

  “I’ll take what you’re having.” I look to the bartender. “Martini, please.”

  “Vodka.” Blondie say, his grin starting to fade off his face.

  “Vodka, huh?” I look back to the bartender. “What’s she having?” I point to Red.

  “Double shot of whiskey.” The bartender answers as he dries off a glass.

  “I’ll have what she’s drinking.” I look back at Blondie who’s in a full scowl at this point. “Damn you’re always here.” I gesture around the bar. “You live out back or something?”

  “I own this place.” He smirks, pleased with himself. Wupty-fucking-doo. Red takes a lazy sip of her drink.

  “Bravo.” But I’ve been known to shut a bar down, just ask Jon. “Now slide your ass over.” Play Time over.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Are we going through this again?”

  “You can talk to her, when I’m finished.” Uh, oh. Bad move, Blondie. I watch Red turn towards him, her eyes shooting darts through his head. This makes me feel good inside, so I smile. Red doesn’t care about Blondie and I having a pissing contest but the feminist in her won’t stand for him passing her around. Watch this.

  “Can you believe this guy, Red? ‘When I’m finished’ … who does this asshole think he is?”

  “Shut the hell up, Malcolm.” She says. Okay. “Goodbye.” She says to Blondie. He’s holding onto his martini, giving me a nasty look.

  “Damn,” I say to Blondie, “you’d think a business proprietor would treat their patrons better.” I shake my head in disappointment. “Be nice, scoot over.”

  “Fuck you.” He says as he gets up. I give him a wink as I slide into his seat and he walks away.

  So, this can go one of two ways, I can bullshit or beg. Let’s try bullshit first.

  “Those were some badass cufflinks I had on right there.” I point to the TV screen showing Laura and me, both of us smiling, our faces inches from each other, my hand on the side of her face. You can’t say that I never tried with her. I did. I did try to feel as happy as I looked. Red looks at the screen and then cuts her eyes over to me. And I’m not exactly sure what I see in them. It’s not anger. It’s not hurt. Then what is it? We lock eyes and I try to figure her out. What is she thinking? She adjusts her earth pendant, making it perfectly center on her chain. Jim found it on the plane yesterday and I expressed it to the resort this morning. I have no idea why but if she would have lost that pendant,
it would have crushed me. It didn’t cost me a ton but that pendant tells our story. Losing it would have meant that our story would have been lost forever. It would have meant that our story was over. And trust me: This. Is. Not. Over.

  “Those are some nice cufflinks.” She takes a sip of her drink and then grabs her purse. Reaching in, she takes out a few bills and tosses them on the bar. “For him, me and the girls,” she says to the bartender who brings me my double shot of whiskey. Okay, I wasn’t expecting this. I was expecting her to be mad, yell, or ignore me (she’s notoriously famous for doing that). I wasn’t expecting her to buy me a round of drinks. Ok, joke’s over.

  “Red.” I say, as I grab her hand. “No bullshitting, let’s just talk.”

  “About what? About you owning Laura’s house still? About me being called an adulterer? About you looking like a Don Juan through all of this?” She points to the TV screens. “You know,” she says as she moves closer to me, “it’s a shame how the media flips everything on the women in situations like this. Now I’m an adulterer and Laura is a mistress. But tell me Malcolm, what the hell are you?”

  “Red–”

  “I’ll tell you, you’re the man who’s fucking one woman while trying to hang on to the next.”

  “Laura and I were done before last summer, I can promise you that.”

  “Then why did you still own her house!”

  “She isn’t–”

  “She isn’t what?”

  “She has–”

  “What? What does she have?”

  “Let me finish my sentence, Danielle. Please. She has problems. Serious problems. And I felt that she wasn’t responsible enough for her own wellbeing. She wasn’t responsible enough to take care of that home; pay taxes, pay home insurance.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? She’s thirty-two years old. I swear Malcolm …” she goes to turn around but I stand, take her by her arm and ease her back over to me.

  “Danielle, she has problems.” I say as I lean down to her, our faces nearly touching.

  “We all have problems.”