Grace looked surprised. “You knew?”
“Of course, sweetie, we all did. But you didn’t want to talk about it, so we didn’t say anything.” Carolyn ordered them both another glass of wine. She added more Thai pepper to her dish, and enjoyed a few bites before she went on. “I remember running into you once, right when things were really bad with you and Michael. You had on a royal blue St. John suit and a pair of two-toned patent shoes. I still remember those shoes.” Carolyn shook her head as she recalled the moment. “You were fabulous.”
Grace didn’t remember the suit Carolyn was talking about but she was sure it was in her closet, way in the back. Most things about that time in her life were a blur, but she vaguely recalled that she had looked outstanding.
“Even if you don’t feel good, you’ve got to look good.” The wine had gotten to Carolyn, and it took her back to her roots. “We’re South Oak Cliff girls who moved to ritzy North Dallas. But no matter where we live, this”—she made an up and down motion toward Grace’s sweat suit ensemble—“is not how we roll.”
Carolyn dug a fifty out of her handbag and put it on the table. “Come on. We’re going shopping, and I don’t mean for groceries.”
“Genie, will you grab me a beer?”
“Already got that covered,” she said as she walked into the room with two cold beers and paper plates.
Christopher opened the pizza box that sat on the coffee table in front of them. He fixed Genie’s plate, then his, while she flipped through TV channels.
“The preseason game between the Patriots and the Eagles should be on,” Christopher said as he took a swig of beer.
“Here it is,” Genie said. She laid the remote on her TV tray and bit into a slice of pizza. “Hey,” she said to Chris. “Slow down, you’re halfway through your second slice already! We should’ve ordered two.”
He ended up eating twice the number of slices Genie ate. As Christopher went into Genie’s kitchen to get two more beers, he said over his shoulder, “Your boss has been in rare form lately, hasn’t she?”
“For sure. That staff meeting was pretty intense.”
Chris sat down next to Genie. “Whenever I think she’s hit her limit, that she can’t possibly do anything more outrageous than some of the things she’s already done, she surprises me.”
Genie placed one leg on the sofa, knee bent, and turned so that she faced Christopher. “Shouldn’t have been a big surprise. Those guys had been screwing up for months, especially Pete. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to question Raven’s decision.”
“Well, honey, it wasn’t her decision to make and Pete knew it. Key staffers shouldn’t be fired without my father’s say-so, and it was obvious that Raven hadn’t consulted him beforehand.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Genie said dryly.
Chris stared at Genie. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Genie put her hand on Christopher’s arm. “Chris, I don’t mean any harm, you know that. But your father was . . . hesitant . . . to tackle the problem, even though he’d been told umpteen times that it needed to be done. Heck, he’s said it himself. It’s a good thing Raven took charge, that’s all I’m saying. There’s no telling how many more endorsements we would’ve lost if she hadn’t stepped in and let them go.”
“Whatever. Let’s see what else is on TV,” Christopher said, and reached across Genie to get the remote.
Christopher lay back and Genie reclined in his arms. They watched a silly sitcom, and Christopher found his good mood restored.
“This is cool, just the two of us spending private time together. Guess we better enjoy it while it lasts,” Christopher said.
“You planning on going somewhere?”
“No. I’m talking about this phase of our relationship, when we don’t have anything else to worry about. It’s great. How long are we going to be able to sit in front of the TV and eat off paper plates?”
Genie shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal to her. “For as long as we want to, I suppose.”
Christopher hesitated, then plunged in. “Well, I don’t want my kids sitting on the floor with their paper plates on the coffee table, yelling, ‘Hey, Mom, bring me some more juice.’”
Genie had been looking at TV and half-listening to Christopher but now she gave him all her attention. “Kids?”
“Don’t get it twisted, Miss Dupree, I’m just talking. No way am I ready for diaper detail.” Christopher cautiously felt his way forward. “But we’ve got something special, Genie, I recognize that. Things are going good, we’ve got Dad on track, for the most part.” Christopher went for the gold. “I think we ought to start thinking about the future. At least about getting engaged.”
Genie abruptly sat up. “I’m in no hurry, Chris. Getting engaged, marriage, children—maybe all that will come in time. I love you, but I love me, too, and I love my life right now, just the way it is. A demanding career, my own space—those are the things I’ve dreamed about since the day I graduated from high school.”
She sounds like I’m talking about putting her in prison, he thought. “You’re older than me, Genie, I just assumed you’d be on the fast track when it comes to planning for the future.” Although Christopher had been nervous about bringing up marriage, this wasn’t the reaction he expected. Wasn’t a woman supposed to be happy—overjoyed—when a man made up his mind to take their relationship seriously?
“I don’t want to rush through my life.” She lay against him again and added, “And you shouldn’t want to rush through yours, either. You’re way too young to be thinking about starting a family.”
One of the reasons Christopher loved Genie was because she knew her own mind and wasn’t afraid to speak it. But those same traits annoyed him, too, when Genie turned dismissive. “I don’t know about all that,” Christopher replied in a cautious tone. He wasn’t in the mood for a debate. “My parents married when they were young.”
“We see what a huge success that was,” Genie quipped.
This time Christopher was the one to sit up, all but shoving Genie off him.
She put her hand over her mouth and said, “I’m sorry, Chris, that didn’t come out the right way.”
“No problem,” Christopher said. He burrowed into the sofa and finished his beer. Genie tried to strike up a new conversation but Christopher wouldn’t bite. Finally he put his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. “I think I’ll tackle that environmental commission report tonight.”
“Is it in your car?” The authority in her voice was gone, replaced by worry.
“No. At my apartment.”
“But I thought you were spending the night.”
As Christopher put on his jacket, he gave Genie a look she didn’t like, a look she’d seen his father toss at Raven, and said, “I wouldn’t want to encroach on your space. Maybe some other time.”
Dudley had hoped that putting Raven in charge of the faith-based initiative would keep her out of his way, but he was wrong. She ran the staff meetings and placed calls to key legislators and lobbyists without consulting him first. He kicked his plan to get the goods on Raven into high gear. He started by visiting an acquaintance at Monroe School of Law.
The man who was director of admissions was not happy to have Dudley drop by his office. “I can’t give you information from student files. That’s a crime!”
“Calm down, Crawford, I don’t want anything out of the files, at least not yet,” Dudley assured the man. Crawford was a married man on the down low. Dudley had so much dirt on Crawford that the poor man would have given Dudley the key to the student files if Dudley had asked.
Dudley tried to get his squat body comfortable in the cheap chair in Crawford’s office. “I want to find out what you know about Raven, Senator Joseph’s wife.”
Crawford lit up. The scandal that Raven left in her wake hadn’t been forgotten. “That Raven was something else,” he said as he closed his office door. “She had her little clique: Callie Stephens, a guy name Ke
ith something, and Omar Faxton,” Crawford explained. “When you saw Raven, you saw Callie, but Raven was the queen bee. Top of her class, beautiful, and screwing a powerful man.”
Rather than sit behind his desk Crawford took the seat next to Dudley. “Everyone got along fine as long as Raven was the lead pony, but when Callie pulled out front by proving herself an awesome litigator, Raven decided to get rid of her.” Crawford spread his hands in the air as he painted an imaginary picture. “Now get this. Omar and Callie had a thing: she called it love but Omar didn’t love anybody but himself.” Crawford paused and arched his brows at Dudley. “You should have seen him. Fine as shit. What I wouldn’t have done—”
“Crawford! You know I can’t stand that faggot talk!” Dudley barked. “Get back to the story!”
“Anyway, Callie was a real nice young lady, real nice.” Crawford shook his head as he remembered Callie Stephens. “Raven somehow convinced Omar to help her get Callie kicked out of school. They say she was slipping Omar a little bit through the back door.”
Dudley wondered whether Michael knew that Raven was sleeping with one of her classmates at the same time she was sleeping with him. He probably did, the punk, Dudley concluded. “Keep going,” he said to Crawford.
“Raven and Omar set up Callie in a cheating scandal. There was a big hearing. You should have seen it, child,” Crawford said as he slapped Dudley on his wrist. “In the end Callie got off and Omar went missing.”
Dudley was disappointed. He’d heard rumors that Raven was a true bad actor, but this crap didn’t even qualify for honorable mention.
“Thanks, Crawford. See you around,” Dudley said as he started to squeeze himself out of his seat.
“Don’t leave! You haven’t heard the best part,” Crawford said. “Six months passed and no Omar. Although Raven denied it, the police and Omar’s acquaintances believed that the last time anyone saw him, he’d been on his way to meet Raven.”
A slight smile crossed Dudley’s lips. As best he could, he got settled into his seat. “Really?” Dudley drawled. “Tell me more.”
“From what I heard, Omar’s fiancées suspected foul play, but they mainly relied on their intuition.”
“Fiancées? He had more than one?”
“I’m telling you, Dudley, Omar was a straight-up dick slinger.” Crawford sighed. “Too straight, unfortunately.” He put himself back on track before Dudley could snap at him again. “But to answer your question, he had three women. Callie Stephens—I’m not sure whether they were ever engaged. But he was engaged to two other women at the same time, a married white girl—her husband owns that big computer company, what’s the name?—Huffmeyer? Yeah, Huffmeyer. And he had another one, a little Louisiana girl. What was her name?” Crawford snapped his fingers as he tried to remember. “Boudreaux? Micheaux? Hold on a minute,” he told Dudley as he went and sat behind his desk. After a few strokes on his computer, Crawford said, “Tanisha Malveaux. She was nice, too.” As though he had personal insight into Omar’s preferences, Crawford added, “Omar liked them nice, except for when it came to Raven.”
“I can’t believe our luck,” Michael said to Christopher as Lawrence shuttled them both to the airport. Christopher was headed to Dallas, and Michael, to Washington DC. “I shouldn’t call it luck, though; I knew you did a lot of work to get that new office space. Good job,” Michael said.
Michael was talking about Christopher’s successful bid to have Michael’s Dallas office moved into a larger facility. Christopher called on Dallas-area business leaders and convinced them that a larger, better-equipped Neighborhood Assistance Center would benefit their businesses as well as the community. Christopher did everything above board, followed all the campaign finance rules, and was about to oversee the actual move.
“Thanks, Dad. I can’t wait to get things off the ground. We’ve got lots to do, but Monica’s a great help. It’ll take over a week to get everything set up. Genie’s coming up Wednesday or Thursday to take our communications system offline. Then I’ll have her come back the week after that to put us back online.”
“Good deal; when Genie does something, it’s always right. She’s about the only person in the world meticulous enough to work for Raven and diplomatic enough to get along with her. Genie’s a hell of a young woman.”
“She’s all right,” Christopher said with a marked absence of enthusiasm.
“Just all right?” Michael closed his portfolio and put his electronic organizer in his breast pocket. “I thought I noticed a little strain between the two of you.” He rubbed Christopher’s shoulder as he prepared to step from the limousine. “I know you don’t think much of my choices when it comes to love, but your old man’s still good for some decent advice. Let’s talk about it when we both get back to town, okay?”
“Sure, Dad. Have a safe one.”
Christopher spent the day working side by side with Monica Fowler. She might be all hip-hop on the outside, but inside, Monica was pure brains. She oversaw the packing of the boxes, supervised the movers, and, rather than waiting for Genie to come to town, personally took the communication systems offline. All in one day.
That night Christopher took Monica to dinner. They planned their setup strategy for the next day, and when Christopher mentioned that he’d be there about nine, Monica drawled, “The building opens at seven. What’s up with wasting two hours?”
“You’re a workaholic, Miss Monica. Why aren’t you finishing your degree instead of working as a receptionist?”
Monica put her elbows on the table and formed a tent with her fingers. “Got into a little trouble.” She momentarily seemed lost in her own thoughts, so Christopher kept quiet and watched the tattoo on Monica’s breast rise and fall. He kept watching it.
“To tell the truth, I’m not sitting out this semester of my own free will. I’ll be enrolled next semester, though. In the meantime, my grandfather called your dad and hooked me up. Grampa Buddy’s always trying to tame me.” Monica used her straw to dig at the ice in her glass as she spoke.
She gave Christopher a wicked grin. “I’m trouble, true enough, but I’m the best kind of trouble, Chris, because I’m smart. And I’m as good on the inside as I look on the outside.” She noticed him watching her tattoo, and glanced down at it herself, to let him know she caught him staring and didn’t care. “I’ve got more, but I don’t show them to just anybody.”
Genie wouldn’t get a tattoo, not even a hidden one, if her life depended on it, Christopher thought. He’d once joked with her about getting a tattoo in a private spot, but she said she would feel unprofessional, even if other people couldn’t see it. “Yeah. Whatcha got?” he asked.
Monica rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling as she thought. “Well, I’ve got an hourglass in the small of my back.”
“What does it mean?”
“Private joke. Drunken mistake.” Monica grinned. “And I’ve got a butterfly that’s off the chain. It’s filled in.”
“What color?” Christopher asked.
“Dark brown, the same color as this,” Monica flipped one hand through her hair. “Outlined in deep red. Can you imagine how good that looks against my skin?”
Monica was a golden girl—her skin looked like honey. And yes, Christopher could imagine it.
“And I’m about keeping it real, so other than the ink outline, my butterfly is all natural, the same dark brown as the hair on my head,” she giggled. “Except it’s not permed,” Monica said.
It took Christopher a minute to catch on, and when he did, he blushed. “Oh.”
“You’re so cute. It’s been a long time since I hung out with a brother like you. It’s nice,” Monica said. “Now, let’s finish talking about tomorrow.”
By the time Genie flew in Thursday, there wasn’t much for her to do. She breezed in wearing a Prada ensemble and Gucci shoes. Monica’s gear was expensive too, all Sean John. Monica showed Genie around and told her that she’d already taken the computer system offline. All Genie w
ould have to do was connect the system to Michael’s network once the move was complete.
“Monica, this is good. You’re really a bright young lady.” Monica was sitting at her desk, and as Genie walked by, she patted Monica’s shoulder. “Good job!” she said in a cheery corporate voice.
“Gee, thanks,” Monica said.
As Christopher drove Genie back to the airport, Genie asked him, “When are you going to have a talk with Monica?”
“About what?”
“Her attire, for one thing. Now that the center’s high profile a lot more people will be going through there, businesspeople who’ll expect to be greeted professionally. Monica seems like a smart girl, so maybe she’ll be good at accepting constructive criticism. Unless she does though, you should think about getting someone new to be the first face people see when they walk into the center, put Monica in the back.”
Christopher came to Monica’s defense. “Genie, Monica’s not a girl, she’s a woman. She’s a college student who’s taking a break, and what you saw today? She’s twice as smart as that. Monica’s the main reason that the move to the new space is going without a wrinkle.” Christopher laid out his case as a lawyer would, but he was a little miffed that Genie felt like he needed her advice. If it weren’t for Monica, you’d still be down on your hands and knees, unplugging wires, he thought. Christopher kept going. “Monica is Buddy Fowler’s granddaughter, and after all Buddy’s done for my dad, I wouldn’t disrespect him or Monica by putting her ‘in the back’ as you say.”
Genie took the point. “I’m sorry, Chris, you’re right. I fly in here for half a day and start making judgments and recommendations. This office is your thing, and you’re working it. If Monica’s all you say she is, you’d be a fool to move her.” She leaned over and kissed the side of his mouth. “I’m probably just being a hater. Did you check out Monica’s pants? I couldn’t fit into those if I tried.”
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