Bad Girls Finish First

by Shelia Dansby Harvey

  Dudley poured a drink for both of them before he said anything else. Raven waited. She could wait. These past months on the campaign trail had taught her a lot, including how to be patient. Sometimes waiting was better than bum rushing. This was one of those times.

  Dudley handed Raven her drink. “You are one smug bitch, you know that? I can’t stand a bitch anyway,” he said bitterly, “but a smug one really gets on my nerves.” He took a draw on his cigar. “If Michael gets elected, it’ll be because of me, not you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Raven said, smooth as silk. “I’ve got a hunch that the election is as good as over already.”

  Dudley was too caught up in his power trip to wonder what Raven meant. He sat on the arm of her chair and brushed his hand over her hair. “You’re smart, but not smart enough to really help Michael. You’re too emotional, too shortsighted.” Dudley sighed. “The way you tried to mess over Erika when all you had to do was make Michael keep his mouth shut.” Dudley gave a sad shake of his head. “Come to think of it, you screwed up everything you touched.”

  “Take your hand off my head before something bad happens.” Raven looked directly into Dudley’s eyes and added, “Bugle Boy.”

  Dudley’s heart skipped a beat. He not only moved his hand, he scurried from Raven’s chair and took a seat behind his desk.

  “I should’ve guessed,” Raven said. “You hate gays and you’ve never tried to come on to me.” She raised her hands like a magician’s assistant. “What else could you be but a bottom boy who can’t stand to look at himself in the mirror.”

  Dudley poured himself another drink while Raven talked. His hands shook so badly that he spilled as much whiskey as he got into his glass. Raven’s glass was empty also, but he didn’t offer her a refill. Something about her, the way she looked him straight in the eye nonstop, her eyes empty of emotion, made Dudley not want to get close to her again.

  “Don’t tell,” he said. It came out a half command, half plea.

  Raven toyed with him. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Because it’s not true,” he said in a firmer voice. “I’m a married man with daughters. A real man. I don’t troll the streets at night looking for young boys to dominate me.”

  Raven didn’t comment so Dudley rushed to make his second point. “And you need me to win the election.” He pushed the list on his desk forward so Raven could pick it up. “Look at these names. District attorneys, community leaders, corporate CEOs. I’m the only one who can turn these folks.”

  Raven made no move to pick up the list. Dudley tried to keep his cool but his inability to read Raven made it hard. “Like it or not, maybe you and I have to be partners,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “You keep quiet about the lies you’ve heard about me and I’ll forget what I found out about you and Omar Faxton.”

  It took every ounce of Dudley’s courage to meet Raven’s steely eyes, and say what he said next, but Dudley realized that if he showed a moment’s weakness, Raven would eat him alive. “Don’t be a stupid bitch, Raven. Take my offer.”

  Raven stood, one beautiful leg extended through the high slit of her long black skirt. “You’ve made a lot of mistakes with me, Dudley. But calling me a bitch—I think you’ve said it about three times now—that’s the worst. I don’t like being called bitch—makes me feel like one of those poor girls in the rap videos. So, no, we can’t make a deal.”

  She leaned across Dudley’s desk until she was nose to nose with him. “I know your kind. If you’d found out anything about Omar you would have used it against me a long time ago. When I tell Michael you tried to blackmail me with rumors about Omar, he’s going to cut you off. Once Michael’s done with you, you’ve got nowhere to go because you’ve made too many enemies.

  “I’ve already hired an investigator to flash your picture around gay bars on Sixth Street, see what kind of stories the boys down there have to tell about you. After that, what’ll you have left to live for, Dudley? Nothing.”

  Dudley couldn’t contain his panic any longer. “I’ve put my career on the line for Michael! A life in politics is the only life I know, Raven. You can’t destroy that by spreading rumors about me!”

  Raven laughed. “Tell that to Miles in Laredo.” As she walked out, Raven said, “Before this election is over one of us is going to be made a bitch, and I promise you, it won’t be me.”

  Dudley leaned back and closed his eyes. Think! he ordered himself, but he couldn’t because his head was pounding. Dudley began massaging his temples and just as the tension started to ease, his telephone rang. “Not now,” he complained aloud, but the 773 area code on his caller ID grabbed his attention.

  He pressed his speakerphone button. “Capps here,” Dudley said as he continued massaging his head.

  “Mr. Capps,” a woman’s voice said, “Mr. Thompson on the line for you, please hold.”

  The next voice Dudley heard was so sexy it made Dudley’s skin crawl. “Mr. Capps, this is Omar Thompson. I heard you’ve been looking for me.”

  “Omar Thompson?” Dudley stammered.

  Omar said, “Faxton, to you. My mother’s last name was Thompson. When I left Dallas I took her name.”

  Dudley grabbed the receiver. “But why?” Dudley cried. He sounded offended. “Why would you do that? How are people supposed to find you if you change your name?”

  “I’m back in Chicago, my hometown,” Omar explained. “It’s a long story that doesn’t have anything to do with me, but Faxton isn’t a very popular name around here and I needed a fresh start anyway. So I changed it and cut all ties to the old me.”

  “But I couldn’t find you! I was positive you were dead!” Dudley’s heart was racing. He wished for one of his wife’s blood-pressure pills.

  “It’s hard to find a man who doesn’t want to be found. As for me being dead, why would you think something like that?” Omar asked.

  “Once you disappeared all trails led back to Raven Holloway Joseph. She was the last person to see you alive and she’s crazy as hell. And it’s not just me, everyone thinks you’re dead, even Callie. She told me that you’re not the type of man to simply walk away.”

  Sitting in his law office overlooking Chicago’s Magnificent Mile, Omar hung his head. He had wanted to try to find Callie to let her know he was okay but he couldn’t stomach hearing about how happy she and Keith were together.

  “Now that we’ve established that I’m alive,” Omar said, in a voice that masked his emotions. “Tell me why you’ve been trying to find me.”

  Dudley sat back in his chair. Too bad he isn’t dead but maybe the situation is salvageable, he thought. “I was looking for you because of Raven. Maybe she didn’t kill you, but I know she did something bad to you. I don’t care what you say, I know she did!”

  Omar loosened the collar on his shirt. He felt claustrophobic at the mention of Raven’s name.

  Dudley kept talking. “She deserves to be punished for what she did to you, if not by the law, then by you. I can help you get back at her.”

  Omar forced himself to laugh again. “Mr. Capps, you don’t know me, but I’m a pretty tough guy—born and raised in Cabrini-Green. I can take care of myself. It would take a lot more that a hottie like Raven to hurt me. I’ve got no beef with the woman.”

  “But there’s got to be more to the story—”

  “No. I’m sorry, Mr. Capps, but I can’t help you.”

  Dudley sat there, numb, with the telephone receiver still in his hand.

  His one shot to destroy Raven missed the mark. His political career was dead. Those things he could deal with, but knowing that his secret, which no one, not even his brother or his wife knew about, was about to come out was more than Dudley could bear. He thought about what Raven asked him. What do you have left to live for?

  Dudley rocked and cried as he summoned the nerve to do what had to be done.

  27

  Michael pulled the heavy stage curtain back slightly so he could get a look at the audience.
He was in Dallas, in Monroe University’s auditorium. This was it, the final debate on the final Friday before the election, and Michael was going to lose.

  Michael was a master debater, and given a fair playing field, Sweeney wouldn’t have had a prayer. Michael thought back to how he’d dominated Sweeney during their first debate. But the field wasn’t level. Jerry Minshew was one of the panelists, and after his last opinion piece, Michael knew to expect the worst. Michael still hadn’t figured out why Minshew endorsed him one moment and turned on him the next and at this point he didn’t care. His brain was a ball of confusion. Things with Raven had been so awful lately that he knew she had to be having an affair. How could she?—but what kind of question was that? Raven was what she was.

  Michael just wanted to get the debate over with. A slow death wasn’t his style. “But I’m going out strong,” he said to himself. He was in agony, thinking about how he’d put his heart and soul into the campaign and into his marriage, but when pushed to the wall, Michael set aside his pain and focused on the task before him.

  “I’m a fighter.” Michael repeated Grace’s words, pumping himself up like a boxer about to enter the ring. He didn’t have any choice but to talk to himself, because no one was by his side. Dudley had agreed to meet him at the auditorium at four, but it was almost six, and Dudley hadn’t arrived. And where the heck was Raven? She’d been in a good mood that morning, which surprised Michael, because Raven was not a gracious loser. He figured she must be in denial regarding the fact that he was about to get slaughtered. Or maybe it was some other man who had her in such a good mood.

  At least Michael knew where Christopher and Evan were and what they were doing. They’d arrive in time for the debate, but for now, Senator Michael Joseph was alone.

  He flipped through his index cards to have something to do with his hands. Michael didn’t need the cards; he knew his position on the issues cold. He knew every statistic, every rule, and every issue, hot button and mundane. As he read the cards, a calm descended on him. He’d been that way, feeling calmer and calmer, since he visited Grace. The second time he ran for office, Grace convinced him that one reason he lost the first time was because he couldn’t break away from his notes. She convinced him that he was good enough to master the details, with or without cards. No one else believed he could do it; he didn’t believe it himself, but Grace did. She’d been his foundation. No matter how much Raven did for him once she entered his life, Grace was the grand architect, the one who imagined what he could become when he couldn’t see it himself. Regret washed over Michael, as he remembered how much he had taken Grace—his wife, lover, and confidant—for granted.

  As though he’d conjured her, Grace walked into the auditorium, flanked by Christopher and Evan. The room took on a low buzz as the word traveled from one member of the audience to the next: “Senator Joseph’s ex-wife is here.” Grace had decided to publicly close the breach between her and Michael. She finally understood her value—as an individual, a mother, and, in this case, a public opinion shaper. Hundreds of women still held a grudge against Michael on Grace’s behalf. She knew that by showing her face at the debate, she would free those women to let go of their own personal hurts. She might even help Michael pick up a few votes. Grace had a whole heap of blessings bestowed upon her; she didn’t mind letting a little of her grace rub off on Michael.

  Christopher saw his father standing behind the curtain, staring out at them. Michael gave a little wave, and when Grace moved to wave back, Christopher looked shocked. “Mom, I can’t believe you insisted on coming. And now you’re waving at him?”

  “It’s okay, son. We’ve worked it out,” Grace said. She made sure that at least one newscamera recorded her wave and easy smile.

  The moderator opened the debate. “Good evening, and welcome to the final debate between the candidates for governor. I’ll introduce them in a moment, but first, let me introduce our panelists.”

  He extended his hand to the three panel members one by one. “Lucille VanHoffer is president of the state chapter of the League of Women Voters.” Ms. VanHoffer stood and made a half bow as the crowd gave perfunctory applause. “Jerry Minshew, editorial board member, the Austin American-Statesman; and C.T. White, editor of blackscribe.com.”

  Behind the curtain, Jeff Sweeney walked up next to Michael. “This is it,” he said. “Make or break time.”

  “Guess so. Good luck, Jeff,” Michael said, extending his hand. In order to return Michael’s handshake, Sweeney had to brush aside his handler, who was trying her best to make the perpetually rumpled man look good for the cameras.

  Michael smiled as he watched the woman dart around Sweeney, because nothing she did would do any good. Sweeney’s shirt was sure to come untucked inside of five minutes. But tonight it didn’t matter; Sweeney was already the winner. Michael did wonder, though, where the heck was Dudley? Not that Michael needed any last-minute primping or prepping, but Dudley lived for moments like these. Where could he be that was more important?

  “Reverend Capps, so good to see you. Is this seat taken?” Erika said. The debate moderator was about to call the candidates to the stage, so Erika didn’t have time for polite chatting. Once she sat down, Erika whispered, “Why haven’t you returned my calls?”

  “I needed some time to myself, but that’s no excuse for being rude. I should have called,” David said evenly. “I’m sorry.”

  Erika had a biting retort on the tip of her tongue but David’s quiet manner threw her off. “Why didn’t you tell me about Raven?”

  David didn’t bother to do his usual glancing around to see who was watching him. He turned a little in his seat so that Erika could see his face and said, “I’ve been keeping a lot of secrets, Erika. My relationship with Raven was one more. Raven told me that she confronted you about it.” David felt an urge to drop his head but he didn’t. “I’m sorry you had to find out the way you did. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I’m not hurt,” Erika said even as she felt hot tears well in her eyes. She was grateful that the lights had already been dimmed. She realized that, when she wasn’t paying attention, David had stolen her heart.

  “I’m not hurt,” she repeated, “at least not yet. But someone is going to end up hurt, right?” She stared straight ahead into the darkness and said, “Tell me it’s not going to be me.”

  “I’m sorry, Erika, but I’ve got to follow my heart and it’s not leading me to you.”

  Michael was holding his own, and surprisingly, so was Sweeney. The first question had been on education, and Michael was required to respond first. He gave a confident, easy-to-understand explanation of why he was against school vouchers, but Sweeney came back with a commonsense argument in support of vouchers that, even to Michael’s ears, sounded well thought out and reasonable.

  Next, Minshew asked a question about the death penalty. Sweeney was a Republican, but God bless him, he was not in favor of the death penalty. He got to talk first, and because he said the same thing that Michael would later say, Michael’s response sounded like he was seconding a motion made by Sweeney.

  As the debate went on, Michael began feeling hopeful. He turned every question asked of him into an opportunity to explain away the endorsements and votes that he’d lost over the past months. So far Minshew had asked him three questions, and although they were tough, they were fair. If I step up my game, and knock Sweeney off his, I will win this debate. And if I win this debate, I will win the election, Michael told himself. He made a show of discarding his index cards, and began answering the questions so expertly and passionately that if people hadn’t known better they would have sworn that he wrote the questions himself.

  Raven slipped into a seat just as Michael hit his stride. She wore a bright red St. John pantsuit, the better for the cameras to spot her. From where she sat, Raven could see David and Erika. She stared at David until he turned and looked at her. David’s face was unreadable. Raven couldn’t tell whether he was alarmed or amused
by being caught sitting next to Erika. It didn’t matter. Raven puckered her lips in a silent kiss, then turned her attention to the debate.

  Minshew asked Michael a question about welfare, which Michael answered with ease. When Minshew turned to Sweeney everyone expected him to invite Sweeney to make a rebuttal, but instead he asked, “Mr. Sweeney, are you familiar with the name Richard Altoona?”

  Richard Altoona? Who the hell is Richard Altoona?! Michael’s mind raced through the list of state and local government leaders. Who the hell is Richard Altoona? Michael could feel his pulse racing. He forced himself to calm down and go through his mental roster once more. He went through every Texas town from Abbott to Zephyr but there was no Richard Altoona anywhere.

  Sweeney turned pale. Michael felt another surge of hope. Maybe Sweeney didn’t know who Richard Altoona was, either.

  But then Sweeney squeaked, “Sir, why do you ask?”

  “I ask because, as a member of this panel, I have a right to. Is the name Richard Altoona known to you?” Minshew sounded more like a prosecutor than a newspaper editor. But then again, he was a journalist, a part of the only profession whose members were bigger jerks than lawyers.

  Sweeney looked at the moderator, who nodded for Sweeney to answer the question. Sweeney’s plastered-down cowlick popped up. A sheen of sweat covered his top lip.

  “I knew him, yes.”

  Minshew took off his glasses with a flourish. He felt like Walter Cronkite announcing President Kennedy’s murder. “So you say you knew him, which leads one to believe, does it not, that Mr. Altoona is dead.”

  “I don’t see what Richard Altoona has to do with anything,” Sweeney said, in such a defensive tone that he managed to make it sound like Minshew’s question had everything to do with everything.

  The moderator, who said, “Mr. Sweeney, your time is up,” saved Sweeney. “Senator Joseph, your rebuttal, please.”