by J. D. Mason
“Speaking of Desi, how is my son?” she asked coolly.
The relationship between the two of them had become strained at best since he’d had her placed here. Olivia resented him for trying to save her life, and he loved her enough to let her resent him.
Edgar had never kept secrets from Olivia. He’d always cared for her, probably in ways that were inappropriate for a man to care for his best friend’s woman. But despite his loyalty to Julian, Edgar always believed that Olivia deserved better than to ever be lied to. The Gatewood name, the family’s position, always seemed to mean so much more to her than it did to her husband. She relished it, and it was Olivia Gatewood who had added the grandeur to the name.
“I’m afraid he’s gotten himself into a mess,” he casually explained.
A thoughtful expression crossed her face, one that was hard to read. “How so?”
“With a woman.”
Olivia shrugged. “That was going to be my next guess,” she said in that delicious Southern accent of hers.
“Does the name Lonnie Adebayo ring a bell?” he asked curiously.
She thought about it and shook her head. “No. I’m afraid it doesn’t. Is he fuckin’ her?”
He smiled. No one said the word fucking quite like the beautiful Olivia. “He was, until he lost his damn mind and tried to beat the woman to death.”
The amusement vanished from her face. “She’s lying.”
“He admitted it.”
She looked shocked to hear Edgar say those words. “Jordan’s never put his hands on a woman, not even Claire.”
“He put his hands on this one, Olivia,” he said coolly. “And he made the mistake of not finishing what he started,” he continued.
Olivia stared wide-eyed at him.
“The worst thing he could’ve done was to leave that woman alive,” he explained without batting an eye. “Now he wants me to help him clean up behind him.”
“Don’t tell me that,” she muttered.
As angry as she was at her son, Olivia still believed that boy walked on water. She believed he was still her little prince, and that he could do no wrong. Edgar owed it to her to set her straight. He’d tried to get her to see the light where Julian was concerned, and she refused, until it was too late. The woman was getting too old to still believe in fairytales.
“The sonofabitch may not be Julian’s by blood, Olivia, but he’s certainly his by circumstance,” he said coldly.
Olivia raised her chin in defiance, but said nothing.
“The bitch is a beast, a reporter or photographer, or, hell, both—who’s covered some of the most incredible events around the world, and she is a pit bull,” he said, curling his hand into a fist. “She is relentless, and once she gets her teeth into something or someone, she doesn’t let go.”
In recent weeks he’d read every article Lonnie Adebayo had ever written, viewed every photograph she’d ever taken, and her work showed him more than any other human being on the planet could’ve ever told him about the woman.
“He should’ve made sure she was dead,” he said, in a hushed, angry tone. “Because if she can bring him down, she will! And she’ll do it at the expense of your last name, Olivia!”
She stared unemotionally at him. “There you go again, overstating things.”
Olivia Gatewood had a knack for taking the things he told her, and tucking them away safe inside herself for processing later on. Edgar had learned long ago not to force more on her than she could handle at any one time. He picked up his hat and put it on his head.
Edgar composed himself. He knew better than anybody that he had a problem with being melodramatic at times. “But don’t you worry your pretty little head about this Lonnie woman, Olivia,” he stated calmly as he stood up. “No one cleans up messes left behind by the Gatewoods better than I do. And I assure you, I’ll wipe up this dirty little stain the same way I have all the others.” He smiled at her one last time.
Olivia’s gaze drifted off. “Thank you, Edgar. You’re a good friend,” she said casually.
He paused before leaving. “Yes,” he said, nodding reassuringly. “I certainly am.”
The Makings of You
“You could’ve just met me at the motel room where I’m staying,” Frank said irritably, sitting next to Lonnie Adebayo in a crowded mall.
“Believe me, Mr. Ross. I’ve learned my lesson about not meeting an angry black man anywhere alone.”
“I’m not angry.”
“But you’re anxious, and that’s almost as bad.”
“I’m concerned,” he corrected her. Lonnie wanted to see him crack and he wasn’t about to give her that satisfaction. “You call me up with some cryptic shit about Cotton, Texas, and why I left there, sounding like you got something to say about it.” He looked at her. “You know something I don’t know?”
He waited, giving her the stage to stand up and say whatever it was she thought he should know. This one was manipulative, and cool as hell. Now that he knew what her game was, he’d made up his mind not to volunteer any damn thing. If she thought she had something on him, then let her tell him what it was.
“Edward Brewer. Jake Boston,” she said coolly. “Those names ring a bell?”
He nodded. “Sure they do. They were police officers in Cotton back when I was on the force,” he stated matter-of-factly. “They were found dead about a year ago.”
Lonnie stared at him, watching and waiting for Frank to give her some sign that this topic of conversation was making him uneasy.
“Any idea who killed them, Frank? Or why?”
“Not a clue,” he responded. “Last I heard, their murders were still unsolved.”
Frank didn’t blink. He didn’t sweat or swallow. She watched him, looking for those signs, indications that he knew more than what he was saying, but he wore that poker face like he’d been born with it.
“Why’d you agree to see me, Frank?”
“Why’d you ask me to see you, Lonnie?”
She smiled. “Why’re you so guarded?”
“Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
“Did you kill those men?” she asked, straight up.
Admittedly, hearing her ask if he killed them put a lump in his stomach. And it took every ounce of will power in his body not to flinch.
“Why would you ask me that?” he asked, trying like hell not to sound defensive.
“Because if you did, I’m sure you had a good reason for it. Ed Brewer had a gambling problem, and needed money. Lots of it. Jake Boston was just plain mean and greedy. He had a history of abusing his girlfriend, and getting in random fights whenever the hell he felt like it.”
He knew what she was doing. Lonnie was trying to reel him in. “I didn’t kill anybody, Lonnie.”
“But just for argument’s sake, let’s say you did,” she said, looking hard into his eyes. “How far can you run, Frank? How much money do you have? And what about Colette?”
He was shocked to hear Colette’s name come out of Lonnie’s mouth.
“She’s a mess. She’s a meth head, Frank. Or haven’t you noticed?”
Keep your mouth shut, man! Don’t fall for this shit. She was dangling raw meat in front of him, tempting him to say what she wanted to hear. He just shook his head.
“How long do you think it’ll be before she falls apart?”
Colette was fragile. She was getting more and more brittle every time he talked to her. Frank made the mistake of blinking not once but twice, quickly. He saw a spark in Lonnie’s eyes. “Colette’s a good cop,” he started to explain. “At least she was when we were partners. If she is on drugs, that’s news to me.”
Even he cringed at the sound of the lie coming out of his mouth.
“Texas is big, but it’s not big enough, Frank. And Paris, Texas, isn’t far enough away. You know how these things work. You’ve been a cop, and time always shines light on the truth, sometimes sooner, rather than later.”
“I didn’t kill an
ybody, Lonnie,” he repeated with certainty.
“The Cotton police force recently questioned a man named Reginald Rodriguez, a suspected drug dealer.”
Frank’s heart stopped beating.
“They found his address in Ed’s cell phone, and a series of phone calls to Reggie’s number.”
Why was she saying these things? Did she know, or was she just pissing in the wind, guessing and hoping he would come clean and tell her everything, like before? Frank swallowed when she wasn’t looking.
“I think Reggie’s afraid,” she continued. “I think he’s afraid that whoever had the balls to kill two cops might just come after him too.”
“What do you want, Lonnie?”
“I want you to be safe, Frank. I want you to be able to get as far away from whatever bullshit you left behind in Cotton, Texas, as you possibly can, and live to be a crunchy, old man.”
“You want me to press down on your boy, Gatewood?”
“Jordan’s got his eyes set on buying out this company, Anton Oil. If he does that, he’ll be worth double what he is now. Wouldn’t it be nice to get your hands on some of that money?”
“You don’t give a damn about me, so let’s just keep it one hundred, Lonnie. This ain’t about nothing but you getting back at the brotha for doing you wrong.”
She smirked. “Yeah. He did me wrong, alright.”
“So, you know who he is. Why don’t you come out with it to the press and leave me out of it?”
“Because all I got are words. You’re living proof, Frank.”
“You got papers on him?”
The look on her face told her that she probably did.
“Then you’ve got your proof. Use it.”
“Me putting papers out there would only irritate him. You’d make him nervous.”
“Nervous?” He shook his head. “I doubt seriously that that brotha has patience for anything that’ll make him nervous.”
“He’s used to having things his way.”
“And I’m supposed to shake him up? Go up to him and say, ‘Hey bro! Look, you don’t know me, but uh … we got the same daddy, and well, how ’bout you hook me up with a few hundred thousand, and uh … I’ll disappear like a ghost and you’ll never even know I was here. But if you’re not interested, then I’ll make a phone call to the Channel Three news and let them know that you ain’t who you say you are.’ Is that about how you see it going?” he asked sarcastically.
She laughed. “Yeah. That’s it.”
“And you don’t see how ridiculous that is? My word against his? So, maybe I do have papers, but how hard would it be for him to counter what I have with what he has and make me look like some gold-digging fool from the sticks? You don’t see anything wrong with this picture?”
“Oh, I’ve seen it. And I know how it’ll play out. You’ll go to him for money, and he’ll laugh in your face.”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “So you know I won’t get anything out of this?”
“I don’t know any such thing, Frank,” she said seriously. “He may pay you to go away, just like he’s paying Joel. But if he doesn’t…”
“If he doesn’t, and I go public, then I’ll end up looking like a fool.”
“Or you could end up with more money than you ever dreamed of.”
This didn’t make sense. What did she really want? And then it dawned on him.
“You need a distraction,” he said, finally figuring it out. “If he’s busy with me, then he’s not going to be paying attention to something else.” The look on her face told him that he was right. “What is it?” This time, he was the one looking for her to give away her secrets. “That oil company,” he eventually said. “That’s it. Isn’t it? I start a scandal now, and old boy’s too busy trying to clean up one mess while you start another one.”
Lonnie looked out into the crowd walking past the two of them. “When was the last time you spoke to your father, Frank?”
He didn’t answer.
She looked at him. “Did he tell you that Jordan was your brother?”
He thought back to his visit with Joel, the first one in nearly twenty years.
“You came all the way out here to ask me that?” the old man asked, looking disappointed, and looking something else too. “Who told you about him? Who you been talking to?”
“Is it true?” Frank didn’t want to hear that it was. He’d hoped his father would laugh at him and ask him what kind of joke this was he was trying to play on him.
Joel squinted at him. “What you askin’ for?”
“Because I’m your son too. Like it or not, I am.”
Joel rolled his eyes and groaned. “I never said you wasn’t,” he growled.
Frank had a long-ass argument that he could’ve come back with about how he barely ever saw Joel, and how it was easier for his ass to send a check than it was to pick up the phone and call. But now wasn’t the time.
“Is that man my brother?”
The old man’s face turned to stone. “He ain’t your brother any more than he’s my son,” he said gravely. “And it’s best you leave that alone, boy. He ain’t the kinda man you wanna know.”
“How do you know?” Frank asked bluntly.
The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticced as he clenched his teeth.
“Because he is your son,” Frank concluded.
The man shifted his focus toward the window, trying to hide the pain in his eyes. “Not anymore.” His voice was ragged. “Not in a long, long time.”
“What if he does pay up, Frank? What if he thinks it’s easier to pay you then deal with the scandal, publicly? Like you said, a public scandal would be a distraction, one he doesn’t need right now. Or, if you like, you can put your faith in Colette and Reggie, and take your chances with them. It’s up to you.”
Lonnie pulled her purse onto her shoulder, stood up, and walked away, and left Frank with one hell of a dilemma.
Right On for the Darkness
“What the fuck do you mean they held the meeting?” Jordan marched through the long corridors of Gatewood Industries headquarters, leaving his office and heading toward June’s. He was talking to the chief financial officer on his cell phone. “I canceled the goddamned meeting before I left for Houston!”
“June rescheduled it, Jordan,” the man said apologetically. “I reminded her that you had canceled the meeting, but her assistant had sent out the meeting notice before she’d ended the call.”
Jordan cut the man off and stormed into June’s office at the end of the hall. She was perched on the edge of her desk, talking to that sidekick administrative assistant of hers. June had handpicked the woman for the job.
“Jordan,” she said, startled, hopping off of her desk. “I thought you weren’t due back until tomorrow.”
Jordan glared at Vickie or Nickie or whatever the fuck her name was. “Leave,” he said simply.
She paused, looking at June for permission.
“We’ll finish up later, Lisa.”
He waited for Lisa to leave, closing the door behind her.
“How was your flight?” she asked casually, taking refuge behind her desk.
“Who told you to convene the acquisition team meeting, June?”
With everything else going on in his world right now, the last thing Jordan needed was to babysit his little sister. June had been a mild annoyance since she’d moved back to Dallas and insisted on coming to work for the company. He’d entertained it, only because she was his sister.
“I didn’t see a reason not to, Jordan,” she said, calmly crossing one leg over another.
She looked like Julian. June was lighter-skinned, with green eyes. People always marveled over how much more she looked like their father and how he looked so much like Olivia, their mother.
“It was a simple enough agenda,” she continued. “And I figured that we could handle it while you were gone. One less thing for you to have to worry about.” She smiled.
Now she was just
trying to push some buttons. Jordan found himself uncharacteristically amused.
“I’ve been running this business a long time, June,” he said with a smirk. “You’d be surprised by all the things I’m capable of worrying about.”
“You’re worried that I’m stepping on your toes?” June smiled. “Don’t, big brother. I’m here to help, and if I can take some of the heat off of you, then why shouldn’t I?”
June stood up, walked over to him, and pressed her hand against his chest.
“Baby sister has a great big MBA with an emphasis in finance. She’s mere inches from getting her PhD, big brother.” June smiled up at him. “I know what I’m doing.”
He looked down at her, and forced away the image of his twelve-year-old sister. “So do I, June-bug,” he eventually said.
He’d allow her some room to push, but only to a point. Jordan would entertain her muscle-flexing as long as it didn’t get in his way. But the moment she pushed too hard, or those muscles of hers got too big, Jordan would have to do some flexing of his own.
“I’ll have Lisa send you the meeting minutes right away,” she said assuredly. “And you’ll see. The meeting went great, and you’ll be signing the deal on Anton before you know it.”
As promised, Jordan had the meeting minutes in his inbox by the time he made it back to his office, and the notes did look promising. As he read through them, Jordan’s cell phone vibrated. He had a new e-mail from Edgar with an attachment.
Call me, his message said.
Jordan clicked the PLAY button for the video, and then picked up the phone and dialed Edgar’s number.
“I got your e-mail,” he said when Edgar answered.
The couple were sitting on a bench inside the mall talking.
“You recognize your former lady love, Lonnie Adebayo,” Edgar said sarcastically. “But do you know who the man is?”
Jordan paused the feed and studied the man’s face. “No.”
“Frank Ross,” Edgar explained. “She hired him for protection.”