Gloria didn’t want her mother hovering over her, nagging her while she was trying to watch the debate. “I have an idea,” Gloria said. “Why don’t you go take your bath and I should be done watching by the time you finish?” She just wanted her mother to go away so that she could watch the debate in peace. It had already started. Gloria had never seen Kay in her element, but she seemed like a natural fit. Like she wasn’t intimidated by the big cowboy-looking man and his condescending tone.
“Fine, but when I come out, that TV is going to Family Feud,” Erma huffed.
Gloria didn’t bother responding. She just turned the TV up as her mother stomped out of the room.
The moderator asked a few questions about the state of the city and just when the debate was about to lose Gloria’s interest, she heard Marty Simon say, “Well, this has been a very competitive race. But I do believe there is something Kay Christiansen would like to tell the great people of Houston.” He turned to Kay and she just stood there looking like she had lost her voice.
“Isn’t there, Mrs. Christiansen?” he repeated when she didn’t reply. He had a big cheesy grin on his face. “Or would you rather I tell it?”
When Kay didn’t say anything the moderator jumped in. “We would like to know what you two are talking about.”
That stupid grin grew wider. “We’re talking about being trustworthy,” Marty announced. “The person you pick to lead this beautiful metropolis needs to be somebody you can trust,” he said like he knew a big secret.
Gloria drew a breath as she felt the volcano about to erupt.
“Are you trying to say we can’t trust Mrs. Christiansen?” the moderator asked.
Kay finally spoke up. “I think my record reflects—”
Marty let out a big laugh before interrupting her. “Please, let’s not talk about something being a reflection of.” He turned back to the moderator. “Because, Gail, if you want to know the truth, you’re not gonna get it from this lady.” He looked at Kay one last time. “You still plan on staying in the race, right?” he asked.
Gail and several other people in the room looked confused.
Kay looked like she was clenching the podium to keep her balance. But she finally spoke, although some of the confidence was gone from her voice. “I will repeat myself. I have no intentions of dropping out of the race for mayor. I think the people of Houston deserve someone fair and who has the best interest of this beautiful city at heart, not the interests of select groups.”
“Awww, that’s so sweet,” Marty said. “And such a load of crap.” He shook his head at her. “Well, it’s your funeral.” This time Marty turned his attention to the camera pointed in his direction. “My opponent is right that the people of Houston deserve fairness, and commitment, and might I add honesty. And when you talk about honesty and trustworthiness, you want someone that’s going to do what they say they’re going to do when they say they’re going to do it. You want people that know you are about your word. You want people with core family values, not people that have illegitimate children and who toss them aside.”
Gloria’s heart broke at the pain on Kay’s face. The moderator looked at Kay, then back at Marty. “Would you care to elaborate?”
He smirked as he looked over at Kay. “Maybe Mrs. Christiansen would,” he said with a chuckle.
Kay’s eyes glistened as if she was trying desperately not to cry. She could see Loni off to the side about to have a stroke.
“What Mr. Simon is alluding to,” Kay began, “what he has been threatening me with, is something that he learned while paying my assistant to spy on me, then using that information to blackmail me to drop out of the race.”
That wiped the smile right off his face.
Kay took a deep breath and composed herself, the pain she felt resonating through the screen.
“I have never told anyone this until recently and it is something I would’ve rather kept to myself, as I’m sure anyone out there understands who has endured a personal tragedy. But since I am refusing to drop out of the race, Marty Simon is about to tell you in hopes that you’ll turn against me and he’ll win the mayoral race.” The arena hall was deathly silent as she continued. “As a teenager, I was raped. That resulted in a child, which I gave up for adoption. It’s a personal matter that Mr. Simon now wants to take public.”
Not to be outdone, Marty added, “Well, I wanted to take it public because what Mrs. Christiansen is failing to tell the American public is that her son is the one that shot that police office in Jasper and I felt like the people had a right to know.”
The room erupted in chatter. Photographers and other media personnel began scrambling. Marty seized the moment, raising his voice.
“I mean, she was going to prosecute this hoodlum, probably tricking the people into believing she was working for justice and then throwing the case so that a cop killer walked free!”
Gloria wanted to come through that TV and hurt Marty Simon. He was just another person using her son to further his own cause.
“Oh, my. Is this true?” the moderator asked.
Kay inhaled. “It is, at least the part about Jamal Jones being the son I gave up for adoption. But I didn’t find out until recently, which is why I stepped down as prosecutor in the case.”
“So, you’re no longer the prosecutor?”
“No, I’m not.”
Marty pounded his podium as if he was trying to quiet the noise in the arena. “My point is if you can’t trust her to be open and honest—”
Kay cut him off. “Gail, I am here to discuss all that I can bring to the city, not rehash a painful part of my past. If the people want someone that’s perfect, who has never sinned, who has no flaws, then yes, they may want to vote for Marty Simon, if Jesus isn’t on the ballot.” Several people chuckled at that. Marty didn’t find anything funny. “I’m not perfect,” Kay continued. “I never claimed to be. That was a personal tragedy that has recently reared its ugly head and I’m dealing with it as best I see fit. But it has no bearing on who I am now and what I can bring to the city of Houston.”
Marty looked frazzled, like he was upset that his announcement hadn’t gone quite like he planned.
Gloria leaned back in her seat as the moderator struggled to regain control of the debate. Now the world knew that her husband was a rapist. They hadn’t made his name public yet, but Gloria had no doubt that soon they would. But she no longer cared what that revelation would do to Elton. She was worried about what it was going to do to her son.
Erma reappeared in the doorway, her silk kimono wrapped around her petite frame. “I hope that debate show is over, because I’m ’bout to watch Family Feud.”
This time, Gloria was glad to see Erma snatch up the remote and change the channel.
51
* * *
* * *
When it rained, it was a freaking tsunami. Kay sat across the kitchen table from her best friend, the girl she had just proclaimed days ago as her “ride-or-die chick.” But at this very moment it was like she didn’t even know the woman.
After last night’s stressful debate, the last thing Kay wanted to do was go at it with her best friend. Or judging from the look of contempt on Camille’s face, former best friend. But Camille had called her and demanded a meeting with her and Phillip this evening.
“So, let me get this straight,” Kay said, trying to process what Camille had just told her and Phillip. “You believe that my husband and I should pay for Charlie’s new school?”
Camille sat like a plaintiff on one of Kay’s cases. Her soon-to-be-ex-husband, who was sitting next to her, leaned in. “Look, we don’t like this at all. We wish neither of the boys got in trouble,” Vincent said. “But the bottom line remains this was all Ryan’s idea.”
“Says your son,” Kay countered.
“And I believe my son,” Camille replied.
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br /> On top of everything else in her life, Kay couldn’t believe that she was now battling her best friend. How much could one woman take?
“Look, we don’t have it like you two,” Vincent continued. Kay couldn’t help but wonder since when did they become such a united front.
“Yeah,” Camille added. “It’s no big deal to you that Ryan got kicked out of Whittington. You’ll just enroll him in another ritzy school and foot the bill. Meanwhile, Charlie lost his scholarship and he can’t just bounce to the next private school.”
“I don’t understand why you think we’re liable for that,” Phillip said.
“Because our son was selling drugs that your son was manufacturing. So your son is responsible for ruining his life,” Vincent said.
“Wow. Really?” Kay looked at Camille. Surely, this cockamamie accusation was coming from Vincent. “You agree with this?”
Camille glared at her. “The school has proof this was all Ryan’s idea. All of the chemicals, the chemical blueprints were found in Ryan’s locker. Charlie doesn’t know how to make drugs.”
“We didn’t come to debate with you,” Vincent continued. “We just decided to present it to you first. We can always get the money we need for his school by selling this story to a tabloid.”
Kay knew there was a reason she never really cared for Vincent. This had to be all his doing.
“Camille, you know you and I are better than this,” Kay said.
“Don’t go there with me, Kay. This isn’t personal. This is my son.”
“You’re supposed to be my best friend and this is what you do?” Kay asked.
“That’s. My. Son,” Camille repeated, her tone unblanched. “And I’m sorry, at the end of the day, he is the most important thing to me. Not my best friend, not my job. My son. The bottom line is Ryan is the one who got him caught up in this mess and I’m not gonna let my son have his life ruined for that.” She leaned back, her words pierced with finality.
“I don’t believe this,” Kay said.
“What do you expect us to do, Kay?” Vincent asked.
“Did our friendship mean anything to you?” Kay couldn’t help but ask.
Camille seemed to be getting angrier by the second. “You know, you can try and go there with me if you want,” Camille said. “But you are the one always talking about ‘those thugs.’ Maybe you needed to be keeping tabs on your own little thug.”
Kay was appalled at the words coming out of Camille’s mouth. It was like it was a totally different person sitting in her dining room.
“If this was anybody else’s child,” Vincent said, “you have to admit, you’d be the first one trying to throw him into jail.”
“Even if it was her own child, she would be ready to crucify him.” Camille rolled her eyes.
Kay didn’t understand where this anger was coming from. Just days ago, she and Camille had been laughing and playing Thelma and Louise.
“Now, that’s not even necessary,” Phillip said. “This is stressful for us all.”
“Tell me about it,” Camille snapped. “The only reason my son got expelled was because he hooked up with Ryan.”
“Camille, can I talk to you privately?” Kay said. She didn’t understand what was happening and she needed to find out why the 360-degree turn.
“There’s nothing for us to talk about,” Camille said defiantly.
“Yeah, really, there is.” They faced off, then finally Camille stood, scooted away from the table, and followed Kay outside. “What is your problem?” Kay asked.
Camille glared at her before answering. “My problem is that you are so busy trying to convict everyone else’s son, so busy talking about all these, quote, trifling young men out there, and you got one living in your own house. I had a good kid and your little pride and joy has ruined his life. And now I’m doing what I have to do to make sure that my son’s future isn’t ruined. You can buy your son another future. Charlie has to work for his. I’m not going to let him mess it all up because your son talked him into doing something crazy.”
Kay was dumbfounded. She would have never believed this if she wasn’t living it.
“And Vincent was right,” Camille continued. “You’re always standing in judgment of some child. He must be a thug because he has a tattoo, because he wears baggy clothes, because he hangs out with his friends,” she said, mocking Kay. “Even your own son, your real son Jamal, who you were ready to hang out to dry. Now, I don’t even get how a mother can disconnect from her own son like you did, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is, that boy’s mom came to you and told you he was a good kid who had made a bad choice and you weren’t trying to hear her, but now that your son is in the same boat—”
“My son isn’t accused of murder,” Kay said.
“I saw the video, Kay. It was an accident. Your real son is not some murderer. But you can’t see past your self-righteousness, woe-is-me-because-I-got-knocked-up mentality to get that. But the fact remains, Jamal Jones seems to be a good kid who got caught up in a bad situation and you convicted him because he looked like a thug. For that you were ready to write him off. You’re no better than some of the racist people you rail against. Your son doesn’t have a tat anywhere. He wears khakis and Polos, makes straight A’s, and oh, yeah, is a drug dealer.”
“He isn’t a drug dealer,” Kay said, her voice quivering. “He did something stupid. Should he be punished for the rest of his life?”
“Exactly,” Camille said. “For whatever reason, your son who has it all, who has the perfect life, the perfect grades, the perfect future, for some reason he made a dumb decision. Just like Jamal.”
Kay’s eyes watered up.
Camille moved toward the door. “Now, I’m sorry that this is turning out like this,” she continued. “But I’m like Gloria Jones. My number-one priority is protecting my son, even if that means losing my best friend in the process.”
She pushed past Kay and went back in the house, summoned her husband, and left without saying another word.
52
* * *
* * *
Gloria didn’t know what Phillip wanted, but the tone of his voice left knots in her stomach. When he’d called and asked her to come by his office, she’d asked him what it was about. But he was cold and standoffish. Not the same person he’d been since she’d met him. She’d had her mother drive her here and her insides did flips the whole way over.
“Hi, Mrs. Jones,” Phillip said. “Thank you so much for coming.” Stress lines filled his forehead. And for the first time since she’d met him, Phillip Christiansen didn’t look polished and refined.
“Are you okay?” he asked her. That touched her heart. He was carrying the weight of everything his family was enduring and yet he was still concerned about her.
She nodded because she couldn’t find her voice. Phillip had requested that Elton not come with her. He didn’t know that she’d left Elton, but that request alone spoke volumes.
Gloria took a seat. “Is this meeting you requested regarding the case? Is there some new evidence?”
Phillip sat down at his desk and looked at her. “Mrs. Jones, I like you a lot. And I like Jamal, too. I think he’s a good kid who’s getting a bad rap.”
“He is.”
“That’s why it pains me to have to do this.”
“Noooo,” she muttered, because she knew what was coming next.
“I’m going to have to step down as your son’s attorney.”
The sob she’d been fighting back escaped. She buried her face in her hands and cried.
“I am so sorry. But now that I know everything, I just can’t. I told my wife I was going to stay on, but the more I think about it, the more I know I can’t do it.”
“I am so sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but please don’t leave us.”
>
He held his hands up to stop her. “You know, I could even get over the fact that you weren’t entirely truthful. But your husband violated my wife. The woman I love. What do I look like helping you guys out?”
“You’re not helping us out. You’re helping Jamal,” she cried. “Please don’t do this.”
“I have some great people that I can recommend.” He started sifting through some business cards.
“We go to trial soon.”
“I’ll ask for a continuance.”
“That means Jamal will have to stay in jail even longer.” Gloria scooted to the edge of her seat. “Please, Mr. Christiansen. You don’t even have to work with Elton. I left him.”
Phillip stared at her like he was trying to determine if she was telling the truth.
“I swear. I left him two weeks ago. I’m not going back.”
“I’m sorry. My mind is made up,” he said. “Besides, I think it’s a conflict of interest anyway.”
“How is it a conflict for you to fight for my son? For your wife’s son?” she couldn’t help but add.
She regretted that because Phillip grew tense and said, “I’m sorry. I’ll pass on the name of an attorney, or if you prefer, I can speak with the attorney with the Black Justice Coalition and bring him up to speed. I know they really wanted this case.”
“I don’t want that attorney. I want you.”
“And I don’t want to bring my wife any more pain than she’s already enduring,” he said. “We have a lot of things going on personally and I don’t want to add any more stress, especially to my wife.”
Under different circumstances, Gloria might have admired his loyalty to his wife. But right now, she was feeling a pain like never before.
“Please . . .”
He stood, signaling the end of their conversation. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you out.”
Gloria eased the cards he’d given her into her purse. She struggled not to have a meltdown in the lobby of his law office.
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