The Best Possible Angle

by Lloyd Johnson

  “I know, son,” Wallace said. It hurt Wallace’s pride to make such a concession.

  “Daddy, I love you,” Kendrick blurted out. The sentiment surprised both men.

  “Let me give you over to your mama,” Wallace said. Unease moved through the old man. No one ever showed Wallace how to embrace the emotions that brought about vulnerability. Wallace refused to do vulnerable.

  Diane took the phone. “I’m back.”

  “Mama, I’m taking the next plane out.”

  “Why would someone do this? Huh? Why would they do this to my baby?”

  “Mama, I need to call you back in a little while. Stay by the phone, okay?” Kendrick said, ending the call before Diane answered. He dialed Lenox’s cell number. But as before, the call went to voicemail. “Lenox, something’s happened to Paris. I know you two had a fight. I need you to call me back right away. Please.”

  Kendrick was too emotional to return to the movie theater. Sabathany’s seed had been planted; the insinuation of Lenox’s involvement continued to roll around. He breathed deeply and ducked when someone passed by his parked car.

  Easy breathing helped Kendrick find the clarity to call Brenda at her office. She only needed to hear his voice to know something was dreadfully wrong, and offered to meet him wherever he wanted. He decided on meeting at her house because it was closest from the movie theater.

  Because of his emotional state, Kendrick took his time driving, much to the chagrin of fellow drivers. His speed was consistently slow. He hoped to give Brenda enough time so they would arrive at approximately the same time.

  He timed it perfectly, making his way down her street just as Brenda turned into her driveway. He parked next to her. As soon as they were both out of their cars she embraced him. All of the tears welling inside of him released. It did not matter that in the hour and a half moviegoers spent immersed in the fictitious world of his film, he had reached a new fan base, or had become the swoon worthy, up-and-coming prince of Hollywood.

  Brenda stood with him in the middle of her driveway, allowing him all the time he needed. She stroked his back, like a mother comforting a distressed child. She still had no idea what created this level of sorrow, but once Kendrick separated himself from her and stood on his own, she escorted him inside the house.

  After the first glasses of wine were poured and they settled on the chaise lounge out by the pool, Kendrick shared what he found out from his mother. He paused for moments at a time, taking large gulps of air to keep from retching. Brenda listened intently.

  “I can’t believe someone could be filled with that much hate,” Kendrick said.

  Brenda, too, was filled with wonderment as to who would do this to another human being. “What if it was less about her and more about the killer? Maybe the killer had some unresolved issues, some self-loathing that made him lash out this way.”

  Kendrick thought about Lenox and the numerous calls that had gone unanswered. “I don’t give two shits about their issues. They’ve got therapy for that. And I don’t care if it was as simple as having a bad day. You don’t do that to someone.”

  Brenda looked down at her empty glass, but made no move to refill it. “I’m not sure if there’s anything I can do to help you, but if you can think of something, please let me know.”

  Kendrick appreciated Brenda’s offer although he had no idea what she could do.

  “Should I call someone to help with the arrangements?”

  “I think my mother has it covered. I’m going to pay for everything, of course. My family doesn’t need this financial burden.”

  “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

  “Considering this is all my fault, I’d say it’s the least I can do.”

  “How do you figure it’s your fault?”

  “It’s all karma for me walking around here scot-free. This is God’s way of getting me back. My family is being made to suffer for what I did to Kayla.”

  “No, no. It doesn’t work like that. Look, I know you’re sorry for what happened. I can see it in your face. And you’re taking care of it.”

  Kendrick refused to be consoled. “It’s not just the money. I keep telling you, Kayla comes to me in my dreams practically every night. And things are happening to her in these dreams that shouldn’t happen to a seven-year-old.”

  Brenda sighed. “Well, like I said before, whatever you need from me, let me know.”

  The two fell quiet. Brenda used the lull in conversation as opportunity to refill her empty glass.

  “I just figured out what you could do to help,” Kendrick said upon her return.

  “Anything.”

  “Come home with me to attend the funeral.”

  Brenda’s eyes fluttered with surprise. Accompanying Kendrick to Minnesota to bury his sister would mean meeting his family. Meeting his family would be nice, but under these circumstances the idea did not sit well with her. Plus, if anyone were to ask, she had no idea how to define their burgeoning relationship.

  “Um, I don’t know what to say.”

  Kendrick looked quizzically at her. “What do you mean, you don’t know? I thought you were willing to help in anyway.”

  “I am, but you have to admit, my meeting your family like this is a little weird, and don’t forget your mom just met Sabathany. How would you explain that to her?”

  “Evidently the whole family just met her.”

  “Even worse.”

  Kendrick’s face brightened from an idea. “You’re still my agent and publicist. We can tell them that you’re there to help navigate the story before it hits the tabloids.”

  There it was again. Agent and publicist—Kendrick’s way of minimizing her presence in his life. She thought back to Tammy’s drop by at his place, and how awkward Kendrick behaved when throwing the agent-publicist line out there.

  “If you’re ashamed to say that you’re banging a heavy-set woman, why don’t you just say so?”

  “Not this again! You know what? Forget I said anything. I’ll go by myself!” Kendrick set the glass of wine down and rose from the chaise.

  Brenda was stunned when Kendrick stormed from the patio and into the house. She realized her paranoia was bound to sabotage whatever they had before it blossomed into anything deeper. She got up to apologize for making it about her when he needed her support, but by the time she reached the front door, Kendrick was already gone.

  THIRTY-THREE

  December 2, 2013

  The pandemonium stretched from LAX to the Minneapolis/ St. Paul International Airport. Had circumstances been different, Kendrick would have relished feeling like a rock star.

  It had been an overwhelming feeling, being in a fish bowl with everyone watching. Kendrick thought he could handle people clamoring to get close to him for a selfie or autograph. And he thought it would be a piece of cake to pretend to be charmed by the thousandth story of so-and-so’s daughter, girlfriend, or wife having the biggest crush on him as though it was the first time he heard such a story. Then there were the women, and few men, brazen enough to flirt with him. He feigned flattery, when all he wanted to do was get to his destination, and be with his family. He had no choice but to stand there as the fans got too close, ignoring cues like tears raining from his eyes, because a selfie was more important to them than the brutal murder of his transgender sister.

  Kendrick did not have it in himself to act like a Hollywood brat because he had heard horror stories about the actors, without half the film credits he had, behaving as though they were onstage night after night receiving Emmys and Oscars. Even the so-called reality show personalities were in on the diva routine. But, Kendrick refused to behave like them because he was grateful to finally be on Middle America’s radar. No, Kendrick would give the fans what they wanted. He could always cry in the backseat of a limo later.

  Besides the fan madness, Kendrick spent much of the trip worrying about what Paris’s body would look like once it came back from the coroner. Apparently, his mother
made up her mind to have an open casket. Diane told him she wanted the world to see what evil did to her child. He understood her frustration, but was unsure of the appropriateness of that decision.

  There was also the unrelated worry of what sleeping with Brenda would do, not just to their working relationship, but to his career. Her incessant fishing for reassurance was off-putting, an unpleasant surprise from an otherwise strong and together woman.

  Kendrick instructed the driver to take him to the funeral home. When he arrived, his sister Arlene greeted him with a hug.

  “How’s Mama holding up?” he asked.

  “She’s devastated,” Arlene said, breaking their hold. She led Kendrick into a sitting area where their mother waited on a burgundy-colored velvet bench, flipping through a thick catalogue of caskets. “I’m going to see if I can track down the man so he can show us some of the models they have on the premises.”

  Kendrick embraced his mother, but she pulled away in agitation. “I told those people over at the medical examiner’s office not to take forever and a damn day with my child.”

  “It’s a murder investigation, Mom. Let the people do their job.”

  “Well, they can start by telling me who did this. Never mind all that other stuff. What good does it do to know how many times she was stabbed? Won’t bring her back. No, best thing to do is get this over and done with. A quick burial is the best thing we can do for her and for ourselves.” She looked down at the catalogue and continued flipping through it.

  Kendrick decided not to argue with the grieving woman. “See any you really like?”

  “You know, these are beautiful, but I never understood the point of spending all that money on something that’s going six feet into the ground.”

  Diane scooted over to allow Kendrick space to sit. She placed the book between them so that he had a better look.

  “Listen, I don’t want you and Daddy worrying about money. I got this covered, so spare no expense.”

  “Thanks, son. Your father and I appreciate it.”

  Kendrick stared at his mother’s profile. The skin below her eyes puffed from crying.

  “That’s a nice one,” Kendrick said, pointing to a gleaming, silver casket.

  “Costs too much.”

  “Mom…”

  “I know what you said, but for that kind of money you could buy a used car.”

  “Paris deserves it.”

  Diane’s eyes wrinkled when she spoke, “Yes, she does, doesn’t she?” She closed the catalogue, slapping both hands on top of it. In an instant, she became taken by fury. “It’s not natural for a mother to lay her child to rest. I tell myself that God must have some plan I don’t know about.”

  “It’s okay to be angry, Mom.”

  “Oh, you better believe I’m angry. If it had been anybody else, they’d have the SOB in custody by now.”

  “Don’t even worry about it. I plan to stay on them until they find whoever it is.”

  Diane appeared relieved, gripping her son’s hand. “I know you will. You’re a good son, Kenny. I’ve never had to worry about you because you always do the right thing. I’m so proud of you.”

  Kendrick took an anxious breath, lacking the words to disabuse his mother of her unspoiled perception of him. She still had no clue of the secret he kept, and this made his heart jump. Because if Diane knew of his involvement in the death of Kayla Jones, she would have looked at her son quite differently.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Tammy called an hour before her arrival. There was something different in Sabathany’s voice when she answered the phone. The sweet-as-pie tone Sabathany rolled out when she needed a favor had been replaced by a tone Tammy was better acquainted with—the one from the bossy, self-entitled diva who wanted what she wanted, and could not care less about the broke backs and hurt feelings necessary to get it. Yes, Sabathany could be a lot of fun—inspirational even—but to enjoy that, Tammy had to put up with the lesser attractive qualities of Sabathany’s personality. However, the five thousand dollars Tammy was making for the drive was enough anesthesia to dull Sabathany’s best shot.

  The trip was a good one—winding through Nevada to Utah, then on to Colorado, Nebraska, Iowa and finally Minnesota. Having made the decision not to rush, the journey took a little longer, but allowed Tammy some alone time to think about whether to proceed with Kendrick Black’s offer. She even got to relish parts of the country she might otherwise have never seen, rather than mere glimpses of what whizzed past her from the car window.

  The weather became challenging once Tammy crossed the state line into Iowa. Heavy snow skewed her vision, but conditions improved the closer she got to Minneapolis.

  Once Tammy went inside the hotel lobby, she called to let Sabathany know she was there. She was proud of herself for having made the trip alone, and arriving in one piece. As far as she was concerned, she earned her five thousand bucks.

  Tammy found a place to sit at the bar. Twenty minutes later Sabathany came down to find her nursing a cocktail.

  “Where are my things?” Sabathany asked.

  Tammy stirred her drink with her index finger and then licked the finger. “No hello or how was your trip?”

  Sabathany sat down, gesturing to the bartender. “Yeah, I’ll have a glass of your Pinot Grigio.” She gave Tammy a tight smile. “How was your trip?”

  “Don’t you worry, your Louis Vuitton luggage and everything in them made it here safe and sound,” Tammy said.

  This again? Why do I have to finesse every damn thing I say to her? Sabathany thought. She winked at the bartender when he returned with her wine. Her tone became like saccharine, “Girl, I’m just anxious to get the hell out of here. I’m sorry. How was the trip?”

  Tammy stared into her drink. “Weather turned bad when I got around Iowa, but other than that, it was nice.”

  “Good. Not often you get the chance to see the country. How many people can say they’ve done that?”

  “True,” Tammy said, smiling at the accomplishment. “When do you wanna get going?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon. I figure you could use some rest in an actual bed.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Okay. I say we get something to eat. I don’t know if you’re in a going out kind of mood, but I’m sure we can find someone who knows the best places to hang out.” Sabathany stroked Tammy’s back.

  “I assume you’ve got my money, right?” Tammy jerked away, tossing Sabathany a side-eye.

  “Look, didn’t I say you’ll get your money?”

  “Yes, you did. But saying it and actually putting it in my hands are two different things.” Tammy looked about the bar before leaning in. “I want my money, and I’m not playing with you.”

  Sabathany pursed her lips, stung by Tammy’s moxie. “I see someone found her big girl panties during her little adventure.”

  Tammy knew she pushed a button, and for the first time she did not much care if Sabathany was offended. As far as she was concerned, it was long past time Sabathany received some of her own medicine.

  “I didn’t travel all those miles to get the runaround. The intent isn’t to get out of character with you, but if you plan on screwing me over, I will.” Tammy confidently sipped her drink.

  The two ladies ordered dinner at the bar. Tammy looked forward to eating something other than fastfood. Lobster Cobb salad and side of hush puppies would do the trick. Sabathany ordered an arugula salad and linguini with Cajun tiger prawns.

  When the food arrived, the women glanced at each other’s plates, but ate in silence. There would be plenty of hours to fill with innocuous conversation during the drive back.

  The suite was unlike anything Tammy had seen before. Contemporary-styled living room, kitchen, dining room, media room and two bedrooms with en suites. The colors throughout were taupe and white. The view from the window looked down on to Marquette Street on Nicollet Mall. Christmas lights were already strung along potted trees, lamp posts, and framed sto
refront windows.

  It was early evening when Tammy showered and crawled into bed. Between the trip and the lovely dinner, it did not take long for her to dissolve into the most comfortable bed she ever slept in.

  Sabathany poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle of Sancerre Sauvignon Blanc delivered to her room. Closing her eyes, she pondered Tammy’s earlier show of defiance. Not wanting to create a scene at dinner, she allowed Tammy to have her moment. But, now filled to her chest with exorbitantly priced wine, she was tempted to march into Tammy’s room, wake her up, and give her a piece of her mind.

  Let the bitch sleep, she thought to herself, resisting the impulse to go into Tammy’s bedroom. There was no need to begin miles of journey back to California with such negative energy. Besides, once Sabathany arrived safely in San Diego, she would be sure to remind Tammy who was boss, and more than happy to do so.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Lenox Hunter awoke to the expensive, burgundy down comforter being torn from his body. The room was dark, his eyes unfocused. He had no time to react to the deadly heaviness crushing his larynx.

  “What’d you do to my sister?” a thundering voice demanded to know.

  There was something familiar about the voice.

  “Answer me!”

  Recognition of the voice came to Lenox as he struggled to pry fingers from around his throat. A heavy tingling coursed through his temples and forehead. His words came out in a panicked jumble. “Man, I didn’t do nothin’ to her! I found her like that!”

  “I thought you said you broke it off with her!” Kendrick loosened his hold just enough to allow Lenox to speak clearly.

  “I did!”

  Kendrick removed his hands completely from Lenox’s neck. His expression was one of manic astonishment. “Then what in the hell were you doing over there in the first place?”

  Lenox rubbed his throat and tried to find steady breath. “Man, Paris went crazy! She was pissed that I dumped her, and wanted to get back at me. Plus, she was threatening to rat to the cops!”