Bad Girls Finish First
Page 18
“You think your name describes you perfectly, huh?”
“Of course, David was the ideal man to name me after, much better than Jacob, when I think about it. That’s what I am: a modern-day David, a man after God’s own heart.” Comparing himself to David of the Old Testament made David feel better about himself. Sure he was sinning now, but he’d get right later on.
“When it comes to a hot woman, I’m like my namesake.” David moved closer to his lover and kissed her on his favorite spot. “It’s the goodness and the courage in my heart that matters. What I do is beside the point.”
After they had sex, David’s guilt set in. “You know this can’t go on forever,” he said to Raven as he dressed. “It’s not right.”
Then he asked, “Can you slip away to Dallas one day next week?”
That night David tossed and turned. When he finally fell asleep he dreamed of being at the Joseph home with both Michael and Raven. In the dream, the couple went about their evening and barely acknowledged his presence. They treated David like an uninvited guest who had overstayed his welcome.
“Dudley?” Raven opened the door to Dudley’s office and looked around for him. Certain that he wasn’t inside, Raven quietly closed the door behind her. Although she had a key to his door—she’d stolen it from his secretary’s desk—Raven was glad that the door was unlocked. Less to explain. She and Dudley planned to meet in his office at three, and when she found out he was stuck in a committee meeting at the state capitol that started at two and was bound to run over, Raven decided to show up fifteen minutes early so she could snoop around. Dudley was far too close to Michael for her not to know more about him than she did.
She looked around the office. Where to begin? Raven got the desk drawers out of the way first, then went through Dudley’s credenza.
“Dudley, you ass. You really shouldn’t keep things like this in your office, even if they’re under lock and key,” Raven said as she picked up a lock box from Dudley’s credenza. She used a paper clip to unlock the box and found copies of medical insurance claim forms. She saw the name Dr. Dennis Laverne on several forms. “I wonder what’s wrong with Dudley,” she said aloud as she went over the forms, line by line. She found what she was looking for: prescription receipts for Melleril.
Raven leaned back in Dudley’s chair. Well, I’ll be damned; Dudley’s a certified nut case. He’s taking antipsychotic drugs, she thought. Raven looked at her watch: five minutes until three. She moved to Dudley’s floor-to-ceiling closets, and unlocked those. She felt around in the corner, where she couldn’t see. Raven, who didn’t scare easily, touched something that made her nearly jump out of her skin.
Slowly, she pulled out Dudley’s sawed-off shotgun. Dudley’s not only a nut case, he’s a nut case with a gun. Raven realized she was starting to sweat. She put the gun back, locked the closet doors (and triple-checked to make sure she’d locked them), and looked around the office. Everything was back in place, but it was too late for her to sneak out. She might run into Dudley on his way in.
Raven walked behind Dudley’s desk, where she stared out the window at the beautiful Austin hills and waited.
Dudley loosened his tie, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, his eyes closed.
“Don’t tell me we lost another endorsement!”
He blinked several times, clearly surprised to see Raven standing behind his desk. “What are you doing in my office?”
“Relax, I just got here. I’m surprised we didn’t run into each other in the hallway. The door was unlocked.”
“We lost one, and we’re on the brink of losing another,” he replied. “The Educators for Change pulled out this morning. They’re penny ante, have about ten members, so screw them. I’m more worried about a Latino group out of San Antonio. Their leader’s getting nervous; the organization has backed losers in the last two elections and they’re not anxious to do it again. I expect to hear from them this afternoon and I doubt it’ll be good news.”
Raven sat in Dudley’s chair. “You’re telling me we can’t even hold onto a bunch of Mexicans?”
“They’re Americans. Mexicans don’t get to vote in our elections,” Dudley dryly commented.
Raven waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever. Instead of making jokes, you ought to be figuring out how we’re going to turn this election around. We’re in trouble, and it looks like it’s because you can’t do your job!”
“You’re angry, I’m angry, and we’re both crazy. If you want to find out which of us is craziest, scream at me again. And by the way, get out of my chair.” Dudley never moved and never raised his voice. Raven thought about the sawed-off and took a seat in an armchair.
“I know why this is happening. Erika’s pissed off at me because we took the STRAPPED money but couldn’t get Michael to keep quiet on gun control,” Raven admitted.
“Can we give her back some of the money?” Dudley asked.
Raven raised both palms. “All gone. I’ve tried reasoning with her, but she wants what she paid for, and honestly, I can’t blame her.”
Dudley smirked. “I’m surprised that you’re so understanding.”
Raven shook her head. “I understand Erika, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to let her push me around.” She leaned forward on Dudley’s desk, her chin resting on her fist. “You know what? Erika’s got too much time on her hands. Instead of us trying to get her off our backs we need to jump on hers.”
She slapped both hands on the desk. “That’s it! Dudley, when it comes to digging up dirt you claim to be the master. Let’s see how good you are. Find something nasty on Erika and figure out a way to use it. We need to be in full swing on this by the end of the week.”
Raven was relieved to finally have a game plan. And she was pleased that her meeting had yielded unexpected information. Who would have ever guessed that Dudley Capps owned a shotgun?
“Are you going to finish that?” Raven asked.
“No, help yourself,” David replied. He propped himself on one elbow and watched Raven eat the rest of his hot brownie à la mode. They were at David’s home, cuddled up on his sofa. “I’ve seen some women put away the sugar, but you set a new record.”
Raven took a bite of the brownie and faked a shiver. “It’s because this is better than sex. If I were forced to choose which chocolate treat I like the best, you or this brownie, you’d be in trouble.”
“Have you always been hooked on the stuff?”
“Since I was a little girl.” Raven set down the empty bowl and burrowed deeper into David’s arms. “When I was about ten, my parents and I passed by this bakery and I saw a Boston cream pie. It was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen, so I begged my parents to buy it. Jacqueline said no, I wouldn’t like it, but my daddy was so happy to see me happy that he bought it anyway. Jacqueline got so upset that she stopped talking to Daddy. We ended up cutting our day short and going home.”
Raven blinked her eyes rapidly and whispered to herself, “I should have known then.”
David’s eyes were closed. He rubbed her stomach and said, “So what happened next?” David was only half listening to Raven, but her voice was like warm honey and he wanted to keep it flowing. If he kept feeling like he was feeling, Raven wasn’t going to get to finish her story.
“Daddy cut me a huge slice, probably a quarter of the whole thing. I took one bite and started crying. Jacqueline was right: I hated everything about the dessert: the texture, the taste, everything. Jacqueline wanted to make me eat it anyway, ‘She wanted it, let her eat it,’ she told my daddy, but he’s not like that. He told me I didn’t have to eat it if I didn’t want to, so I threw the rest of my slice into the trash. Jacqueline didn’t say a word, just kept chain-smoking those cigarettes of hers, those damn Virginia Slims, and watching me.”
Raven’s voice didn’t sound so sexy anymore and David, after years of hearing parishioners go on and on about their problems, noticed the change. He kept rubbing Raven, but he started listening, too.
David kept stroking Raven, but there was nothing erotic in his touch. He looked down at her. Tears were sliding from the corners of Raven’s eyes.
“Jacqueline made me dig my slice of cake out of that filthy can. Boston cream pie is really a cake, not a pie, did you know that? I’d eaten the dessert early in the afternoon, so by midnight there were all sorts of things on top of my slice of cake. What I remember most is her ashes. That bitch probably smoked ten extra Virginia Slims that day, just for me. By the time I got the Boston cream pie out, my fingertips were black with ash.”
Raven seemed unable to say the actual words, so David said it for her. “Your mother made you eat it.”
“Every crumb. And David, it was so big. I’m sure it didn’t take me more than a half hour to eat it, but it seemed like it took all night.” Raven’s eyes, and her voice, were now desert dry. “To make it worse, I had to listen to her fuss at me about how I needed to learn that everything that looks good isn’t good for you. Jacqueline compared me to that cake, pretty on the outside . . . you know. She always said things like that. All the time.”
David stretched out on the sofa and pulled Raven to him. As they lay face to face, Raven said, “After she made me eat that trash, I threw up for two days. You’d think I’d hate sweets, but,” she wiped away a tear, “look at me. Still taking in trash, using my body as a garbage can.”
“Oh, baby. Come here,” David said as he put his arms around her.
Raven reached for his sex, but he took her hands and put them around his waist. He pulled her to him. “No, just come here.”
Raven lay in bed next to Michael and thought about David. She couldn’t believe she’d told him the Boston cream pie story. Worse, she’d cried in front of him! Raven didn’t even like to cry when she was alone.
David had wanted to talk about Jacqueline but all Raven told him was that Jacqueline was a name-dropping snob and was not welcome in Texas. Jacqueline was beside herself because although she was the mother-in-law of the future governor, she was barred from capitalizing on the connection.
Something about David . . . I don’t know, I’m in a different place when I’m with him, and it’s getting that’s where I want to be all the time, Raven thought. The sex was different too. Michael was better at the pure freak action, but when David put his arms around Raven, the feeling that surged through her was soothing beyond anything she’d ever experienced. The closest thing to it was the feeling she’d gotten as a child when her father came home from work and picked her up. Raven stared at her bedroom ceiling and thought, For the first time in my life, I think I might be in love. What on earth am I going to do?
“Why would you think I know something about Omar Faxton?” the woman asked.
Dudley licked the cappuccino foam from his top lip. “Well, you were fucking him, weren’t you, Mrs. Huffmeyer?”
Shelly looked around the coffee shop to see if anyone had overheard Dudley. The only reason she had agreed to talk to him was because he threatened to call her husband with some old gossip about her and Omar.
Shelly’s blue eyes were friendly, in case anyone was watching, as she said, “Mr. Capps, you might have me in a tight spot, but you’ve got to talk to me better that that. Otherwise I’ll walk out of here and deal with whatever comes.”
Dudley reeled himself in but he didn’t apologize. “Well, let me put it this way: My sources tell me that you and Omar were an item during his first and second years of law school. All I want to find out is what you know about his disappearance.”
“Six months after he went missing, Omar’s condo was still filled with expensive things, most of which I bought. He liked the high life too much to leave all that behind.” She swept her natural blond hair to one shoulder. “And I know for a fact that he was sneaking around with Raven.”
She stood. “I hope you find Omar, but I doubt that you will.” She dug into her purse. “On the off chance that you do, give him this.” She handed Dudley a business card. “My cell number is on the back.”
18
“My, my. A personal phone call from Mr. Big Shot. I must be coming up in the world.”
Michael laughed. “John, you sound like a second-string girlfriend who’s not getting enough attention. Don’t treat me like that.”
“That’s what I feel like,” John Reese joked back. “You’ve gone and gotten yourself friends in high places—the President of the United States, and whatnot—how am I supposed to compete?”
“Yeah, right. All I can say is, when I grow up, I want to be just like you.” Michael read from the invitation he’d just opened. “Maggie and John Reese request the honor of your presence as they celebrate forty years of marriage.” He placed the invitation on the corner of his desk. “Free limousine service for out-of-towners, reception at the Four Seasons Resort. You must be running an illegal business out of the back room at the bookstore.”
John Reese laughed so hard, he lost his breath. The sound of Michael’s voice, easy and stress free, was like balm on a wound. Once, the two men had talked several times a week. Back then, Michael, Grace, and the boys came over at least once a month for Sunday dinner, and every other year both families took a vacation together. Never mind that there was no blood between them—Michael and John had been family in the truest sense of the word. John was like an older brother to Michael, not just any older brother, but the type who raised his younger siblings because the parents ran off or died. John had been his touchstone, his advisor and protector. They stood by each other, come what may, and told each other the truth, even when it hurt.
The qualities that had held them together for more than twenty years were the same ones that eventually pulled them apart. When Michael found himself falling for Raven, John Reese was the only person he confided in. Michael thought he’d get John’s usual speech about not letting his outside affairs cause trouble in his home. John surprised Michael by going much further. John had done some investigating and he knew that Raven was nothing but trouble. When Michael and Raven married, John slipped out of Michael’s life. Their weekly talks faded to birthday and holiday calls. Michael used to stop by John Reese’s bookstore every time he went to Dallas, but on his last several trips there, he’d made excuses about why he couldn’t go.
Although they’d become estranged once Michael left Grace, Michael thought about John almost every day, and Michael crossed John’s mind at least as much.
“You know me, Michael, I’d just as soon have flown to Jamaica, had a small ceremony there. This is all Maggie. Forty years ago we got married at the courthouse because we couldn’t afford a wedding, not even a small one. I didn’t even know she missed being a real bride until we went to a ceremony for old friends in DC.”
“Got her to thinking?”
“Yeah. That’s all she talked about for weeks, until I finally asked her if she’d like to do the same thing. My Maggie went nuts,” John Reese said, laughing at the memory. “I may go broke, but after what she’s been to me all these years, how could I say no?”
“I know. I envy you, man. Hope I make it to forty.”
An uncomfortable silence followed, during which each man thought about Grace. If Michael had ever had a chance of long-term wedded bliss, he’d already blown it.
“The whole family will be there, John. Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Speaking of family, two more things before you go. Maggie wants Evan to sing at the ceremony. Would you have him give her a call so she can see if he’ll agree to do it?”
“I have no doubt he’ll do it,” Michael said. “Tell Maggie it’s a go. I’ll have Evan call her to square away the details. What’s the other thing?”
“Just so you know, we’re hoping Grace comes.”
“She’s got an invitation, Chris, Dad told me so. I d
on’t know why I have to call her,” Evan reasoned.
He and Christopher had been going back and forth for a week over one question: should Evan call Grace and ask her to come to the wedding? The brothers were cruising the mall, supposedly looking for the perfect present for Uncle John and Aunt Maggie, as they called the Reeses. So far Evan had purchased two pairs of the latest tennis shoes, and Christopher had sexy Victoria’s Secret lingerie for Genie and Monica. All they’d done regarding the Reeses so far was talk, but the talk was intense.
“Ev, you know how Mom is. Unless she finds out you’re singing, she might stay home. Call her, help me get her out of the house.”
They stopped talking for a moment, their attention diverted by a group of well-toned college girls.
“Texas women is throwed, ain’t they?” Evan commented as he openly eyed the girls.
“For real.” Christopher stared, too. It was the way things went down in the mall.
Then Evan said, “If Mom wants to stay locked up in her apartment, that’s her business, man. Dealing with her is a trip. Seems like every time we talk, it’s because you’ve made me call her. You made me invite her to my city-choir tryout and she didn’t show up. I ain’t with that.”
Christopher slapped Evan on the shoulder. “I know. But right now we’re all she’s got, and I’m telling you, Ev, she’s getting better, crawling out of the hole she’s been in. It’s because of us. When’s the last time you saw her?”
“Couple of months.”
“That’s too long, Ev.” Christopher walked toward a bench. “Tell you what, I’ll chill here for a minute while you give her a call.” When Evan started to protest, Christopher said the magic words. “Do it for me.”
Evan walked a few yards away and flipped his cell phone. “Mom? Hey, how’s it going?” His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton.
“Evan! Honey, I’m fine. How are you?”