“Come on. It can’t be that bad, Jo-jo. He loves you.”
“He’s going to love me to death.”
“Don’t talk that way.”
“I’m halfway dead already.” Jo’s tone of voice indicated that she meant what she was saying. “This video is my only chance to get away with Anthony. If I don’t leave soon, then I’ll end up dead by Reuben’s hand or by my own.”
“Aw, girl, don’t say that. Suicide is a sin.”
Angie bit her tongue so she wouldn’t scream.
Marcus asked, “I guess you told your mama about all this?”
Jo didn’t answer. Was she shaking her head?
“How long have you been carrying all this on your shoulders?”
“Too long.”
“Jo—”
She started to cry in earnest. Angie pressed her hand to the door. She could feel Jo’s sadness pressing back.
She said, “It started back in college. I had to drop out because he beat me so bad. Did you know that?”
Nothing from Marcus.
“My dorm mate reported it, and the cops were called. The only way to keep Reuben out of jail was to marry him. The minute that ring went on my finger, it was over.” She gave that same dry laugh from before. “Eight years I’ve been walking toward my grave. The only thing I can control is how fast I jump in.”
Marcus said, “Jo-jo, let’s talk about this. We can figure it out.”
“I need to pick up Anthony from school. Reuben makes me call as soon as he’s in the car.”
“Don’t leave. Not like this.”
“If I’m late—”
“You’ll be on time,” Marcus told her. “Let’s talk about what you’re going to do.”
“I don’t know.” Jo sounded torn. “I can’t show anybody that video without implicating you, and I won’t do that, no matter how bad you were.”
“On my life, Jo, on my kids’ lives, it’s not what you think it is.”
Jo didn’t answer at first. She was obviously conflicted. Whatever tied her to Marcus Rippy ran deeper than LaDonna realized.
Jo said, “I want to care about that girl. I want to want justice for her, but all I see is a way out.” She gave a sharp laugh. “What does that say about me? What kind of person am I that I’m willing to trade one woman’s life for my own?”
Marcus said, “You know me, Josephine. You know me better than anybody else. We got a history, going back to when I was a boy and you were my girl. I ain’t never been rough like that. Not with you. Not with nobody. You know me.”
“That’s not what I thought when I saw the video.”
“I was never like that with you.” He added, “Not back then, not last month. Not right now, if you’ll have me.”
“Marcus.”
They were kissing. Angie recognized the sounds. She felt herself shaking her head. What the hell kind of Russian roulette was her daughter playing?
“No.” Jo had obviously pulled away. “I can’t do this.”
“Play the video again,” he challenged. “Show me where I hurt that girl.”
Angie waited for her daughter to remind him that even doped up, the junkie in the video had kept saying no.
Instead, Jo told him, “Take my phone. Destroy it. I can’t hurt you. Not like this.”
Angie tasted blood in her mouth from biting her tongue.
He said, “What happens if Fig calls and you don’t pick up?”
Jo didn’t answer. Angie prayed her daughter was seeing through this. Marcus knew that Fig kept track of her through the phone. He also knew that there was a copy of the video on Fig’s laptop. Telling Jo to keep her phone built trust, and there was only one reason that Marcus needed Jo to trust him: he was going to fuck her over.
Marcus asked, “What are you going to do, Jo? I want to help.”
“Nobody can help. I was just venting.” Angie heard footsteps as Jo walked across the carpet. “I need to pick up Anthony.”
“Put this problem on my shoulders,” Marcus said. “I’ve always taken care of you. Stood up to that teacher who was trying to get free with you. Made sure your mama knew you were a good girl.” He paused, and Angie hoped to God Jo wasn’t nodding.
Marcus said, “Let me figure out how to take care of Fig in a way that gets you what you need.”
“There’s no way, Marcus. Not without hurting you, and I won’t do that.”
“I appreciate that, but you deserve better.” He paused again. “La D has this party on Sunday. Fig already said y’all would be there.”
“God, I can’t take a party.”
“You gotta show face, girl. Make him think everything is okay.”
“And then what?”
“Give me some time to get a plan. I’m going to figure this out, and I am going to take care of you, even if it means moving you and Anthony into one of my houses, putting a guard outside the door, to buy you some space to think about this.”
“Oh, Marcus.” Jo sounded heartbreakingly hopeful. “Would you really do that? Could you?”
“Just give me some time,” he said. “I need to pray on it a bit, figure out the right thing to do.”
“Thank you!” Jo’s voice was almost euphoric. “Marcus, thank you.”
There was more kissing.
Again, Jo pulled away first. “I need to pick up Anthony. Thank you, Marcus. Thank you.”
The door clicked open then shut as Jo left the room.
Angie heard her soft footsteps out in the hall.
“Shhiiiit,” Marcus whispered from the next room. The mattress squeaked. There were ten beeps as he dialed his phone.
Marcus Rippy might very well pray on the situation, but Angie knew exactly who he was going to call on to fix it.
“Kip,” Marcus said, “we got a big fucking problem.”
TUESDAY—3:18 PM
Angie rode the elevator up to the twenty-seventh floor of the Tower Place office building. Not the twenty-eighth or -ninth floor, where 110 was located, but the one below that Angie had never been to. Dale had texted her to meet him there. He’d told her to come as soon as possible.
Paranoia teased up the hair on the back of her neck as she watched the lights announce the floors. Had Dale figured out that Angie was on Jo’s side? He had a weird sixth sense, especially where Angie was concerned. She didn’t like surprises. She held her purse tight to her body. She should’ve loaded her gun. This didn’t feel right. There was no reason for Dale to text her to meet him on a different floor.
No good reason, anyway.
The elevator doors slid open. Angie hesitated before stepping out. The floor was under construction. Lights dangled from their cords. Stacks of building materials and buckets of paint created a maze. Outside, the windows showed blue sky. Inside was ominous, filled with shadow.
If Angie was going to kill somebody, this would be as good a place as any.
She walked around the room, picking her way past the stacks of paint cans and rolling scaffolding. She thought about the iPad with the rabbit ears, the one that held a download of everything on Reuben Figaroa’s kitchen laptop. Angie hadn’t had time to search for the video that Jo had shown Marcus Rippy. She assumed that Marcus had told Kip about the backup and she guessed that Kip would find a way to wipe the machine clean. Whether or not that meant the iPad would wipe clean, she had no idea. Angie couldn’t call Sam Vera for help. He was Dale’s guy, like just about everybody she knew. In the end, all she could think to do was tear off the antennae, shut the thing down, and leave it in the safe at the OneTown Suites.
For $5,000, she hoped like hell the manager really did know how to take a payoff.
“Progress,” Dale said.
Angie almost jumped out of her skin. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Dale seemed to enjoy the effect. “Kip’s upstairs with Rippy.”
“Then why are we down here?”
“Because there ain’t no security cameras down here.”
Angie swallowed t
o clear the dust from her throat. She made herself walk toward him, open, nothing to hide. “Why the cloak-and-dagger?”
“Something with Rippy. That’s all I know.”
Angie let go some of her tension. Of course that’s why they were here. She’d heard Marcus call Kip with the problem. She should’ve anticipated that Kip would call in Dale, who would call in Angie.
She glanced around the room, pretending like she hadn’t already scoped out the exits and hiding places. “What’s going on here?”
“Progress,” Dale repeated. “One-Ten is expanding. Now that the All-Star deal is going forward, they need a whole team to manage the branding, make sure the athletes are out front and center, keep all of their noses clean. Laslo’s gonna run it.”
Angie nodded, because that made sense. Sports management didn’t just mean negotiating contracts. They managed every aspect of the athletes’ lives.
“You hear back from Denny?”
Angie had forgotten about Dale’s bookie problem. She looked at her phone. Denny had texted her back three hours ago. She scrolled through a long explanation, about how much trouble he was going to get into for rounding up every whore on Cheshire Bridge, before she got to the only part that mattered. “He says they’ll do it tonight.”
“Good.” Dale said, “I gave the lawyer that paperwork for the trust. It’s official.”
“Have you told Delilah yet?”
He shook his head. “I want you to tell her.”
The last thing Angie wanted to do was tell a junkie she’d hit the mother lode. Then again, he could be lying just for the sake of lying. Dale liked to fuck with people. She asked, “How do I get in touch with her? Is she staying at your place?”
“She’s moved into her mama’s old place. I figured Kip would clean out my pad at the Mesa the minute I’m gone.” He coughed into his hand. “If the job falls on you to turn it over, don’t go into the attic. There’s just a bunch of papers up there. Old cases and shit.”
Angie wasn’t going anywhere near Dale’s house. “Sure.”
“You’ll wanna stay out of the bathroom, too. Different reasons.”
The elevator dinged. Kip and Marcus were talking in low murmurs that drained away when they saw Angie and Dale. She tried not to think about the hope in Jo’s voice when Marcus mentioned putting up Jo and Anthony in one of his houses, protecting them from Reuben Figaroa with an armed guard if necessary.
The only person Marcus Rippy was ever going to protect was himself.
Dale asked, “Where’s Laslo?”
“Not here.” Kip told Marcus, “You should go back upstairs, bro. Let me handle this.”
Marcus shook his head. “This ain’t like those other situations, man. I’m not going to let you hurt her.”
Angie studied Marcus Rippy’s face. He looked conflicted, which made a sort of sense, if you didn’t already know how this was going to end. Angie had spent most of her professional life talking people into doing things they knew were wrong, whether it was getting a suspect to flip on his buddy or bribing someone into changing their testimony before a trial. Without exception, everybody’s weak spot always ended up being some combination of self-preservation and money.
Dale asked, “Who are we supposed to not be hurting?”
Kip gave Marcus another chance to leave. When he didn’t, Kip answered, “Jo Figaroa has a video.”
“Of what?” Dale asked.
Marcus said, “None of your fucking business.”
Dale glanced at Angie. She kept her expression as still as she could.
“It doesn’t matter what’s on the video.” Kip crossed his arms. Angie realized this was one of the rare times she’d seen him without a bottle of BankShot or a basketball. He said, “Jo has the video on her phone. That’s all you need to know.”
Angie asked, “Are there copies?”
“We’re taking care of that.”
That explained Laslo’s absence. Kip would’ve sent him to get the laptop before Jo could get home from school with Anthony.
Dale said, “There’s a computer—”
“The copy isn’t on a computer,” Kip interrupted. “Laslo has it handled. End of discussion.”
Angie considered the lie. Marcus would have already told Kip that the incriminating video came from Reuben’s laptop. The first question out of the agent’s mouth would’ve been to ask about copies. Kip was holding back as much information from Dale and Angie as he could, which actually benefitted Angie. Dale knew the laptop had been cloned onto the iPad. Apparently, Kip did not.
Angie said, “I can hire a skell to Apple pick the phone right out of her hand. Problem solved.”
“You can’t take the phone,” Marcus said, his voice strident. He was thinking about Jo, and the fact that Reuben made her check in. Which on the surface was laudable, but if he were really concerned about Jo, none of them would be here.
“It’s not just the video,” Kip said. “It’s that Jo’s seen it. We can’t trust her not to blab. She’s got to be taught a lesson about keeping in line.”
Dale asked, “Time to use the ax?”
Angie felt her stomach tighten.
“No.” Marcus sounded alarmed. “You can’t hurt her. Not physically.”
“It’s a euphemism. We won’t hurt her.” Kip said, “We’ve got an alternate plan.”
“Alternate plan?” Marcus repeated. “How’d you come up with that so fast? Who you been telling my business to?”
“We’re your team, Marcus.” Kip explained, “We’ve known for a while that Jo might be a problem.”
Angie waited for someone to point out that Reuben Figaroa was the problem. When it didn’t happen, she asked, “What about the husband?”
“Fig can’t know about this.” Marcus asked Kip, “When’s he coming home?”
“He isn’t cleared to fly until tomorrow night.” Kip held up both his hands, like a traffic cop trying to stop an oncoming bus. “And I understand—Fig can’t know about the video, or Jo meeting you alone. Trust me, Marcus, I know Fig has a temper. We don’t need him stuck with a murder charge when we’re less than two weeks away from the biggest jackpot of our lives.”
Marcus gave a slow nod, seemingly sad about the fact that money trumped everything. Angie was the only person in the room who didn’t accept the trade-off. Jo’s life was worth more than a basketball game or yet another glorified shopping mall.
Marcus asked, “What’s the alternate plan?”
Dale answered, “Long time ago, Jo was arrested with a bunch of scripts in her car.”
“Back in high school?” Marcus shook his head. He was back to playing Jo’s savior again. “Naw, man, those were for me. I hurt my back, had to keep playing. Jo took the weight. She knew they’d go easy on her.”
Angie thought about Jo sacrificing herself for Rippy. Was this what her daughter was like, always lying down for a man?
Kip said, “Details on the arrest are still out there. We can use it.”
“Use it how?”
Dale said, “I’ll put some Oxy in her car, call in a buddy of mine, and she’ll spend a few days in jail. Give her time to reflect on her problems.”
“Nuh-uh.” Marcus shook his head. “You can’t send Jo to jail. I won’t allow it. You work for me, man. All of you—you work for me, and I say no.”
In any other situation, Angie would’ve laughed in Rippy’s face. He had convinced himself that he was a good man backed into a tight corner. She wanted to look at her watch and time how long it took for him to capitulate. Her best guess was three minutes.
“Marcus.” Kip sighed a heavy breath, feigning frustration at this awful dilemma that he, too, had no taste for. “I don’t want to send her to jail, either. But this is serious stuff. We’ve got to figure out a way to put Jo in her place without alerting Fig. She needs an ax, not a hammer.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
Dale said, “It means that she needs to understand this is a business.”
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Kip took over. “The next ten days are precarious for all of us. You saw what happened to the investors when that Keisha Miscavage bullshit came up. What do you think is gonna happen if you and Fig get embroiled in a new scandal? We’re not just talking about Jo blowing up your career, your home life, your family. This could blow up the entire project.” He shrugged, helpless. “Someone has that much power, you don’t shut her up, you shut her down.”
Marcus shook his head, but Angie could tell he was close to breaking. “That ain’t right, man. She came to me for help.”
Kip shot Dale a look of desperation. Angie looked away so she didn’t get the same. Jo in jail for a few days wouldn’t be a bad thing. She’d be safe from Fig. Two days would give Angie some time to figure out a plan. If she could juggle the right balls in the air, Jo would be on a plane to the Bahamas on Sunday morning instead of scuttling off to rehab.
Kip said, “Marcus, tell me our other options. This isn’t like Chicago. We can’t twists arms and throw around some money. Jo gets away with blackmailing you once, she’ll try it again. And people will listen to her, man. You want a Rolling Stone cover about that shit? Or worse, for her to go to LaDonna with some bullshit story about video this and video that?”
Marcus physically recoiled at the mention of his wife. “She wouldn’t bring LaDonna into this.”
“You sure about that?”
Marcus didn’t look sure of anything.
Kip saw an opening. “There’s no telling what else Jo is planning. We need to make it clear that she’s not the one with the power. It’s not like I enjoy the prospect of backing her down.” He shrugged, helpless. “But if we scare the shit out of her, let her sit in a five-by-nine cell for a few days, eat shit on a shingle and watch the clock tick with no idea when it’s going to stop.” Kip shrugged again. “It’s the best way to handle it, Marcus. You know that.”
The Kept Woman Page 30