The Sugar Queen

by Sarah Addison Allen

  “I should be going,” Faith said, standing. “Remember, tell me when you move. Invite me over.”

  “I will.” Chloe followed her to the door, more confused than ever.

  Chloe opened the door for her and Faith walked out. But she’d only taken two steps when she stopped and said, “Oh my.”

  Chloe looked out to see Julian leaning against the wall directly opposite her door. Faith stared at him, as all women did, before turning to walk down the staircase. She cast a few glances back as she did so, almost tripping. Julian watched her go, easily, lazily. When Faith had disappeared, he turned his eyes on Chloe.

  He didn’t move, just smiled at her. His long hair was down and seemed to float around him. She could feel his pull from here.

  “Julian,” she said, “what are you doing here?”

  “I haven’t heard from you in a while. I wanted to see if you were all right.” His words surrounded her like perfume. It felt so soothing after her awkward encounter with Jake’s mother.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.”

  “Back with your boyfriend?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.

  “No.”

  “Are you going to invite me into your place?”

  She looked back into the apartment and thought about it. It didn’t feel right, Julian in Jake’s apartment. “It’s not my place.”

  “You don’t live here?” he asked, surprised. “I was told you did.”

  “I just meant it belongs to Jake. I’m buying a house, though,” she said.

  He tilted his head, interested. “Really? I’d love to see it. I might be looking for a place of my own soon too. Maybe you can help me out.”

  “How?”

  “How many bedrooms does the house you’re buying have?”

  She hesitated. “Three. Why?”

  “Just wondering,” he said gently. “Are you ready to find out who Jake slept with?”

  Her lips parted and she felt a ping of unadulterated excitement. “Is that why you’re here?”

  “Of course, sweetheart. I’ve been sitting on all this information. It’s not doing me any good. Come on.” Julian pushed himself away from the wall and walked down the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” she called after him.

  “To your car. Don’t you want to see where she lives?”

  She didn’t seek out this information, the information came to her. That was important. That was a distinction. That meant she was supposed to know.

  Didn’t it?

  She stood there for a moment. Which would be worse, spending the rest of her life knowing who it was, or spending the rest of her life not knowing?

  “I’m coming,” she said, grabbing her coat and purse.

  When they got in her Beetle, Julian said, “Are you ready for this?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “All right. Go left at the end of the street. Head east toward the Catholic church on All Saints Boulevard.”

  It was going to take some time to get there, so Chloe turned on the radio, eighties music. On the half hour there was a news break, and they listened while at a red light.

  “Police now confirm that it was a jogger who discovered the body in the Green Cove River this morning. They’re still not releasing any more information, just that it’s the body of a woman and it appears to have been in the water for several weeks.”

  “That’s terrible,” Chloe said, and her first thought was of going to Jake to see if he’d heard anything more about it at his office. People were still jumpy after the Beasley murder case, and this was sure to have tongues wagging. But then she realized she couldn’t do that anymore, she couldn’t go to him.

  She turned off the radio.

  Once she reached All Saints Boulevard, Julian said, “Turn on Saint Joseph’s Lane. It’s number twelve.”

  She was feeling woozy when she got there, so she pulled over and parked opposite the house. It was a beautiful colonial-style home behind an iron security gate.

  “This place looks familiar,” she said, which she didn’t understand. She’d never been on this street before.

  “This is where Eve Beasley lives.”

  She jerked her head around to face him. “Beasley?”

  “You have no idea what I had to do to find this out. I feel so dirty,” he said, grinning.

  “Jake slept with Eve Beasley?” Chloe said, completely bowled over.

  “You know her?”

  “You don’t?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve never heard of her.”

  The Beasleys were fairly new residents in Bald Slope. They’d bought a vacation home and spent about three or four months out of the year there. Wade was a fifty-five-year-old retired stockbroker, and Eve was his beautiful forty-five-year-old wife. No one knew much about them, and it would’ve always been that way, had Wade Beasley not murdered their housekeeper, an illegal immigrant, and dumped her body off a trail near the state park.

  There was only circumstantial evidence tying Wade to the murder, and halfway through the trial Jake was prosecuting, it had looked like the jury was going to acquit. But then Eve Beasley, who had stood by her husband from the beginning, suddenly filed for divorce and agreed to testify against him. She was the only one who knew her husband had sexually harassed their housekeeper. She’d seen it. She was the only one who knew, who had experienced, his violence firsthand. She’d been away visiting her sister when the murder occurred. When she came back and found the housekeeper gone, she’d asked her husband what happened. Wade had said, “She couldn’t take it. She wasn’t as tough as you.”

  That turned the jury around quickly.

  Jake had worked closely with her. He used to talk about her, how he felt sorry for her and how sweet she was. He felt for her because most people treated her like a pariah. Everyone blamed her for not speaking up sooner. But Wade Beasley had abused her for years. She was terrified of him. Chloe knew that Jake made her feel safe. Jake was the one who had ultimately convinced her to testify.

  Then, when the case was over, when everyone was celebrating, they’d slept together.

  Chloe knew now. She understood why he couldn’t tell her. If this got out, there was the possibility of a mistrial. People might think Jake had seduced Eve Beasley into testifying. Wade Beasley might go free because of this. And if he did, who knows how many other lives might be in danger?

  “Ah, look,” Julian said. “I’d hoped we would be here for this. She leaves for church every day about this time.”

  Chloe ducked as the gate opened and Eve Beasley pulled out, driving an Audi. She peered out the window as Eve passed. Eve was an elegant-looking woman, her hair prematurely silver, but her face was unlined and her skin was absolutely luminescent. No one knew why she was staying in Bald Slope. Most thought she would have left long ago. Was she staying for Jake?

  “Jake and an older woman,” Julian said as he watched her car disappear. “Not much of a scandal, but people make do, I suppose.”

  It was obvious Julian hadn’t followed the trial. It was obvious he didn’t know what was at stake. This was the second time in the space of an hour that she was put in the position of having to protect Jake, to defend him. And she didn’t want to. “Jake is called the wonderboy at work. I’m sure everyone had a good Mrs. Robinson laugh,” she said, to keep Julian on the wrong track. She still wanted to be angry with Jake, but she found the hurt was fading. There was a hole left where the hurt once was. It was deep and empty and numb.

  “Now you know,” Julian said, watching her carefully. “Here, sweetheart. Let me drive.” Julian got out and walked around the car to the driver’s side. Chloe obediently scooted to the passenger seat. She wasn’t sure she could drive anyway. Now what? she kept asking herself. Now what? She’d spent all this time thinking that once she knew who Jake had slept with, everything would be clear.

  Instead of driving back to the apartment, Julian took her to his house.

  She was just going to drop hi
m off and go home. She wanted to call Josey. “I need some time to take this all in,” she said.

  “Sweetheart, the last thing you need to do is think.” He got out, taking her keys with him. “Come inside.”

  She would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about where this strange, beautiful man lived. So she followed him to the door of the yellow bungalow. When they stepped inside, Julian immediately picked up some piles of clothing from the living-room floor and threw them into a bedroom. He straightened the couch cushions and looked embarrassed, which, despite everything, Chloe found endearing. He probably knew that.

  “I guess you still haven’t heard from your girlfriend,” she said.

  “No. And I’m not much of a housekeeper. Sorry.”

  Chloe looked around. There were feminine touches everywhere, baskets on the wall with artificial roses in them, a white wicker rocking chair with pink pillows. “This still looks like her place.”

  “It is, actually. She owns the house.”

  “It’s like living in Jake’s apartment.”

  “Exactly. I know what you’re going through.”

  She nodded. He made her believe it.

  He took her by the hand and sat her on the couch. “Let’s get drunk.”

  Josey felt small gusts of wind brush by her the entire time she was downstairs that evening. Once, sitting in the kitchen with Helena while eating dinner, she even got up to see if the kitchen windows were fully closed.

  Helena kept rubbing her crucifix and mumbling under her breath.

  Margaret and Rawley took dinner together in the sitting room, behind closed doors. It was well into the evening when Margaret finally walked him out, speaking to him softly. Josey and Helena came out of the kitchen to watch her. Margaret smiled slightly, but didn’t offer any explanation. She simply walked up to her room.

  “What do you think that was all about?” Josey asked Helena.

  “Oldgret like cab.”

  “Hmm,” Josey said thoughtfully as she walked to the staircase. It felt like she was stepping into small swirls of frantic, nervous air. She stopped. “Helena, is there a draft in here?”

  Helena glared at the ceiling and said, “No.”

  Josey shrugged and finally retreated to her room. She went to her closet and opened the door, then she took a startled step back. Della Lee was standing there. She’d never seen Della Lee stand in her closet before. The first thought that struck her was that Della Lee was shorter than she was. She hadn’t known that. Her second thought was, Something’s wrong.

  “What took you so long to get up here?” Della Lee demanded. She was nervous. Scared, almost. Tension was undulating from the closet like heat.

  “I ate dinner. Then I waited to see if Rawley Pelham would come out of the sitting room alive.”

  “Check your messages,” Della Lee said.

  “What?”

  “Check your cell-phone messages!”

  Josey went to her purse on the lounge chair. She pulled out the cell phone. There was one message. She retrieved it and put the phone to her ear, staring at Della Lee in the closet while she listened.

  “Hi, Josey, it’s Chloe.” Pause. “I really wish I could talk to you. Um, I’m at Julian’s house right now. I know I told you I wasn’t going to see him again. I didn’t mean to lie. Out of the blue, he came to see me today. He took me to see the woman Jake slept with. I’m not sure why I thought it would make me feel better. It made me feel worse, because I know now why he wouldn’t tell me and it really was for a good reason.” Another pause. “I saw Jake earlier this week. I don’t think I told you. He found out I was buying the house. I wanted to tell him that I wanted him there with me, but then his father came up to us, and I got a bad feeling that he was telling Jake to move on. I miss him, Josey. I’m not supposed to, because he hurt me. But I do.” Chloe took a deep breath. “Anyway, I’m here with Julian. He’s in the next room pouring drinks. He’s not all bad, you know. I know you think he is, but he’s not. I…kind of like him. Not in the way I like Jake, but he doesn’t have to be Jake. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Josey slowly lowered the phone.

  “Go,” Della Lee said frantically.

  “Come with me.”

  “Go!”

  Josey turned and ran out of the room.

  She got in her car and raced down the street, forgetting to turn on her headlights until she was at the bottom of the hill and a car coming in the opposite direction flashed its high beams to tell her she was driving dark.

  She made it to Della Lee’s house in under fifteen minutes. Chloe’s car was there and Josey pulled to a stop behind the Beetle at the curb. The lights were on in the living room and music was pounding from the house. She could almost see the house throb with the force of each bass note. It was a wonder the neighbors hadn’t called the cops. Josey got out and ran up the walkway, then up the stairs, shivering in her light sweater and skirt because she hadn’t stopped to grab a coat when she left the house.

  She went to the living-room windows and looked in, trying to make out images through the thin curtains. There was no movement inside.

  She went to the door and opened the screen. The door was locked, so she knocked. When that didn’t get a response, she began pounding on the door and calling out Chloe’s name until her fist hurt and her voice turned raspy.

  Chloe was a grown woman. If this was anyone else but Julian, Josey wouldn’t be doing this. But if Della Lee and all her rough ways couldn’t handle Julian, Chloe didn’t have a chance. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. Not every man was like Jake. Not every man was sorry when he hurt a woman.

  She went back down the steps and picked her way around the house, scratching her legs on the thorns of a dead rosebush and falling once in the darkness. She managed to find the back door off the kitchen, but it was locked too.

  The only thing besides her keys that Josey had taken with her was the cell phone she still had clutched in her hand when she ran out. She went back to her car and got in, her teeth chattering. She fished the phone out from under the seat where it had fallen, and she fumbled with the buttons. She called 911.

  “This is Marcie Jackson and my neighbor won’t turn down his music,” she said, exaggerating her accent. “It’s so loud that it’s shaking my windows and it woke up the baby. The whole neighborhood is complaining. He’s a nuisance.”

  She gave the address and they promised to send someone out. Josey hung up and stared at the house. She leaned forward when she suddenly caught some movement coming from inside. A shadow moved by the curtains.

  Josey got out of the car again. She was at the bottom of the porch steps when she heard the tumble of the deadbolt, and then the door flung open. The music from inside rushed out like smoke, louder than ever.

  Chloe appeared, her shirt half off and her lipstick smeared. She was carrying her coat and purse. Her words were muted by the music. It sounded something like “I thought I could.”

  Josey started up the steps.

  Chloe was just pushing open the screen door when Julian came up behind her and put his arms around her in an embrace, causing her to drop her coat and purse. “Come on, baby,” he said, talking loudly over the music. He sounded drunk. “Don’t make me do it like this. It’ll be good. I can make everything okay. I’m magic that way. You’ll see.”

  “Let me go, please,” Chloe said weakly, like she didn’t understand what was happening, like she needed a good, deep breath of air. Julian turned and pushed her into the living room. He tried to close the door, but Chloe’s purse and coat prevented him from doing so. He knelt to move them out of the way, and when he looked up, Josey was there.

  “I’ll be a fucking monkey’s uncle,” he said, slowly straightening. “The thief returns.” He was wearing boots and unbuttoned jeans, but nothing else. The smooth tan skin of his bare chest almost crackled with electricity.

  Josey opened the screen door and called into the house, “Chloe? Chloe, come on.”
>
  “Josey? Is that you?” Chloe came running up to the door. Julian blocked her way, his hands gripping the door casing, regarding Josey with a leer.

  “Let her go,” Josey said.

  Chloe started pulling at Julian’s arms from behind. “Julian, please. I told you I was sorry. I just can’t do this.”

  “I had three hundred dollars in that wallet,” he said to Josey, his voice a seductive hiss. “How about the money in exchange for Chloe? Will you give me more if she’s un-fucked?” He tried to close the door in Josey’s face, but Chloe’s coat and purse were still there.

  Josey caught the door and pushed against it as hard as she could. He pushed back for a few seconds, then he quickly stepped away, sending Josey flying into the house.

  Julian kicked Chloe’s things out of the doorway and started to close the door. Josey took Chloe’s hand and was about to run to the bedroom at the end of the hall. She prayed the door had a lock, and that they could get to it before Julian got to them. The police would surely be here soon.

  But then Julian’s long hair suddenly flew behind him, off his shoulders, like a sharp wind had blown through the door. He staggered back toward the kitchen at the other end of the living room.

  “What the fuck?” he said, when the wind blew at him again, sending him falling through the swinging kitchen door.

  Josey saw the clear path and darted for the front door with Chloe. She had no idea what was going on until she heard Julian say, “Della Lee, is that you?” Josey grabbed Chloe’s coat and purse and ran out just as they heard one crash, then another, like dishes being thrown, broken. “Get away from me, bitch!” Julian yelled.

  How on earth did Della Lee get here? She must have come in through the back door.

  She rushed Chloe to the Cadillac and got her into the passenger seat. She saw the police cruiser at the four-way stop down the street. Thank God. She ran to the other side of the car and got in, pulling away from the curb as the cruiser turned down the street. She didn’t want Chloe to have to explain what she was doing there. In her rearview mirror, she saw the cruiser come to a stop in front of Della Lee’s house. Two patrolmen got out.