A pout remained etched into Angela’s face.
“C’mon, babe, forget about her.” He kissed her on the neck.
Angela still wasn’t satisfied. “What did she mean when she asked if I know what you do?” Angela mimicked Shawntay’s voice.
Dre stiffened. “Uh, let’s just say I wasn’t always the goody two-shoes that I am today.”
“Oh, so you used to be a bad boy?” she asked, finally in a playful mood again.
“You might say that.” He kissed her again and this time, she kissed him back.
Just when Angela was beginning to relax, she followed Dre’s gaze across the room. Shawntay was sitting at the bar shooting him a nasty look.
“Shawntay doesn’t look too happy. Are you sure you two are really done?”
“Hell yeah. Ignore her ass. She’s crazy.”
“That’s fine,” Angela said, turning back to him. “As long as she doesn’t get crazy with me.”
CHAPTER 49
It was after nine o’clock at night and Waverly had just circled the block—his own block—for the third time.
He finally eased over to the curb several houses away. While he’d been running away from his problems all of his life, there was one person he had to face. His wife deserved better. She’d left three voicemail messages on his BlackBerry that he’d been too much of a coward to even listen to.
Waverly wished he’d kept a change of clothes at the office as he had in the old days when he never knew when a last minute court appearance might be necessary. His shirt was wrinkled and he reeked of sweat and brandy. This wasn’t how he wanted to make his plea. Maybe he could slip in and clean himself up before facing Deidra.
He had no idea what he was going to say. He turned the key in the ignition and drove slowly toward the home that had brought him so much joy. When he was two houses away, he pounded the steering wheel in frustration.
“Damn!”
Leon Barrett’s Lincoln was now parked out front. Waverly pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine, but did not get out. He wanted to have a private conversation with his wife, but her father’s presence meant that would not be possible. He hoped her mother and sister weren’t there, too.
Just as he climbed out of the car, the front door opened and Leon marched down the walkway as if this were his domain.
“I didn’t think you’d show up this soon,” Leon said, his hands gripping his waist. “You really surprised me.”
Waverly walked past him as if he had not been standing there. Deidra’s mother stood in the living room. She didn’t say a word, but the castigation in her eyes didn’t require verbalizing.
“Where’s Deidra?” Waverly asked.
He followed Myrtle Barrett’s eyes down the hallway.
Deidra was standing halfway out of the bedroom. She looked almost as frazzled as he was. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red and she had a tattered tissue in her hand. He half hoped she would run into his arms, but she didn’t move.
Leon marched in and blocked his view of Deidra. “Let’s hear it. I can’t imagine what you could say to account for all the lies. But let’s hear what you have to say anyway.”
Even at a distance, Waverly could see the hope in Deidra’s eyes. She wanted him to say something to make this all disappear. But there were no words that would accomplish that.
“I want to talk to my wife,” Waverly said. “Alone.”
“We’re not going anywhere. Whatever you have to say to Deidra, you can say to us, too. Though I doubt your lies will be worth listening to. You were disbarred and you never even told your wife? You’re really a piece of work.”
Waverly wanted to sling him out of the way, something he could probably accomplish with a simple sweep of his hand. “Leon, this is between me and my wife.”
“Oh, the hell it is. I—”
“Daddy, can you please give us a minute.” Deidra crept further into the hallway. “Just go in the family room, okay?”
Leon stood his ground, fixing Waverly with a hateful stare. Then he turned and stalked off. Deidra’s mother followed.
Waverly hurried toward Deidra. He now regretted the long length of the hallways. Two people didn’t need a house this big. As he reached out for her, Deidra shrank away.
“You need to explain,” she said, her lips quivering with either anger or sorrow, maybe both.
She stepped into the bedroom and Waverly rushed in behind her.
Deidra sat down on the edge of the bed and stared up at him looking very much like a scared child. “Is it true? Were you disbarred?”
Waverly wished there was some lawyerly explanation he could offer her. Something that wasn’t exactly the truth, but was close enough to it. “Yes,” he said.
“And you couldn’t tell me?”
“I wanted to. But I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“So you never planned to tell me?”
No, not if I could help it. “I couldn’t face letting you down.”
Deidra wiped a tear with the shredded tissue. Waverly had never seen her in such a distraught state before.
“And this new business of yours,” she said derisively, “is it really making money off of dying people?”
“It’s not the way that reporter made it sound. I’m really helping people. People who need money in their dying days.” His explanation sounded too much like a pitch to an investor.
She stared up at him with disgust and, for the first time, he saw her father’s daughter.
He was about to speak when Deidra stood up, her eyes boring into his. “Are you killing people? Is that how we’re able to live in this house? Because you’re killing people?”
“Hell no!” Waverly shouted as if a louder response might be more convincing. “That’s a complete lie!”
“The L.A. Times isn’t the National Enquirer. Why would the reporter say that then?”
“She didn’t say it. She implied it.”
“And it’s not true?”
“No.”
He tried to reach for her again, but she pushed him away. “We aren’t going to lose this house are we?” She was suddenly dry-eyed and angry. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me? I’m never going to be able to face my friends again.”
Now, Waverly grew pissed. “Yes, Deidra, it is always about you, isn’t it?”
“Don’t you dare put this on me!” she said angrily. “I want no part of this. I want you out of here. You have thirty minutes to pack your bags.”
Waverly chuckled. “You watch too many Lifetime movies. You’re not kicking me out of my own house. I pay the bills here, remember? You want to leave, fine. Just make sure you take your mama and daddy with you.”
Waverly walked past her into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Ten minutes later, feeling clean and refreshed, Waverly lay back in bed, his fingers hooked behind his head as Deidra stormed around the bedroom, throwing clothes into a suitcase. He thought about asking her not to go, but actually wanted to be alone.
Longing for a drink, he jumped up from the bed and walked into the family room. He ignored his in-laws sitting on the couch and grabbed a fifth of brandy from the shelf behind the bar and poured himself two shots.
Leon stalked up to him. “You’re a disgrace. How dare you—”
“Deidra’s packing,” Waverly said, taking a swallow. “I’ll tell her you’re waiting for her in the car. Now get the fuck out of my house.”
Leon’s face darkened. The body language of both men signaled the approach of a physical altercation.
Myrtle grabbed her husband’s forearm. “Leon, let’s go wait in the car. They can work this out without our help.”
Leon continued to sneer at Waverly for several seconds, his fists balled at his sides. “C’mon, Myrtle,” he said to his wife. “Didn’t I tell you this guy was up to no good? I knew it the minute I laid eyes on him. But nobody ever listens to me.”
He paraded out of the room, slamming the fr
ont door behind him.
Waverly finished the rest of his drink and refilled the glass. He heard Deidra coming out of the bedroom and went to meet her. She was pulling a large suitcase on rollers with one hand, while struggling to hold on to an overstuffed duffel bag with the other.
“You need help with that?” he asked, reaching for the duffel bag.
Deidra turned up her nose at him. “I can manage.”
Waverly threw up his hands. “Okay, fine then.”
He stepped aside and Deidra walked out of the front door without another word.
Peering out of the bay window, he watched as Deidra climbed into the backseat of her father’s Lincoln. He felt a pang of regret for the pain and turmoil he had caused her and wondered if he’d be able to fix things between them.
As he headed back to the bar for another refill, he focused on the bright side. At least he hadn’t wasted his money buying her that Benz.
CHAPTER 50
Angela lay in bed watching Dre sleep. She turned on her side, her head propped up by her hand and began gently twirling Dre’s chest hairs between two fingers.
He opened his eyes, then smiled. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven.”
Dre yawned. “How would you like it if you woke up and found me playin’ with your chest?”
Angela laughed. “I might actually like it.” She continued her exploration, tracing the outline of a tattoo near his left shoulder. “Does getting a tattoo hurt?”
“Naw,” Dre said. “Not if you’re a real man like me.” He flexed his arms and made his pecs move up and down.
She laughed. “Show off.” She fingered a faded symbol on his bicep. “What’s this supposed to be?”
“An owl, but the guy screwed it up.”
“Why an owl?”
“It symbolizes wisdom.”
Angela ran her finger to the left side of his chest. “This one’s an anchor, right?”
“Yeah,” Dre said.
“And the symbolism?”
“It’s important to keep your feet on the ground. No matter how good life gets or how screwed up things are, you have to stay anchored. Otherwise, circumstances can beat you down.”
“Wow, you are so deep,” she said facetiously.
“Thank you.” Dre smiled. “I try to be.”
“So who’s L.D.?” She pointed to the letters stenciled on his upper right shoulder.
“Little Dre, my son.” He turned on his side and faced her. “How many tattoos you got?” He lifted the blanket and started running his hands over her naked body.
“Stop it,” Angela said, laughing. “I’m really ticklish.” She squirmed away and climbed on top of him, sitting up.
“I don’t have any tattoos, but I was thinking about putting your name right here.” Angela pointed to her left breast.
“You always got jokes this early in the morning?”
“Yep.”
Dre pulled her to him and kissed her. “I really like kickin’ it with you.”
“Ditto,” Angela replied. “I feel like playing hooky today. Let’s go see a movie.”
“No way,” Dre said. “You’re not gonna blame me when you get fired.”
“I have loads of vacation time. Let’s just hang out today. What do you have planned?”
“I’m rehabbin’ a property on Western. They’re almost done with the kitchen. I want you to come over and check it out when it’s finished. I’m hopin’ I can put it on the market in another month.” He gave her a pensive look.
“Got something on your mind?” Angela asked.
Dre’s eyes held hers. “Yeah, I do.”
“Okay,” she said, surprised at his sudden seriousness. “I’m listening.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Really? So tell me.”
“I will,” Dre said. “When the time is right.”
“How come you can’t just tell—”
A loud knock boomed from the living room.
Angela’s face clouded. “Someone probably has the wrong apartment. The only person who knows I live here is my sister. And she never gets up this early.”
The knock suddenly turned into pounding and whoever it was started leaning on the doorbell.
“Angela, open the door! We need to talk!”
Angela jumped out of bed and scrambled into her robe. “I don’t believe this!”
“Is that the judge dude?” Dre asked, sitting up.
Angela cringed. “I’m afraid so.”
Dre snatched his jeans from the chair next to the bed and stepped into them.
“No, Dre, just stay here. I don’t want a scene. I’m not even going to open the door. Maybe he’ll just go away.”
They waited, but the pounding only grew louder.
“Angela, please open the door!” Cornell sobbed. “I need to talk to you. I love you.” He was obviously drunk.
Dre zipped up his jeans. “You need to let me deal with dude.”
“No!” Angela said. “I’ll handle it.” She stepped into her house shoes and tied her robe. “Please stay here. I don’t want him to know I’m seeing anybody.”
Dre started to protest, but Angela held up both hands. “Let me handle this my way, okay?”
Closing the bedroom door behind her, Angela marched into the living room. She had never told Dre that Cornell attacked her the night she broke off the engagement. Her sister had wanted to go back and confront him. Maybe if she had, Cornell would’ve gotten the message.
“What are you doing here, Cornell?” Angela said through the closed door.
“I need to talk to you,” he cried. “Please open the door, Angela. I just want to talk to you.”
“I’m not opening the door. Just leave!”
“Open the goddamn door!” Cornell kicked it hard, causing Angela to jump back in alarm.
“If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police!” she yelled.
“You have to talk to me. You have to give me another chance. Please, I love you.”
“I’ll talk to you,” Angela said. “But not here. Not now. Leave or I’m calling the police.”
She peered through the peephole and could see that Cornell was red-eyed and unshaven, wearing a rumpled suit that looked as if he’d slept in it. He had the same crazed look in his eyes that she’d seen the night of Jon’s accident. Even with Dre in the next room and a heavy wooden door between them, she did not feel safe.
Cornell kicked the door again and Angela thought she heard one of the hinges crack.
She took a step back and bumped into a bare-chested Dre. Before she could stop him, he reached over her shoulder and snatched open the door.
Shock, followed by rage, spread across Cornell’s sullen face.
“Dude, you need to back off,” Dre said. “She told you it’s over. You need to step.”
Cornell seemed paralyzed for several seconds, apparently shocked into speechlessness. He lost his balance and fell back against the hallway wall.
Dre waited a few seconds, then shut the door in his face.
Angela covered her mouth with both hands. “You shouldn’t have done that. You just made everything worse. No telling what he’s going to do now!”
“He ain’t doin’ shit ’cuz he’s a punk.”
“You don’t know Cornell. He doesn’t like to lose.”
“Well, he’s definitely lost you, so he just needs to get used to it.”
“I really wish you hadn’t done that,” Angela cried. “This just creates a whole new set of problems.”
Dre pulled her to him. “Babe, you don’t have a thing to worry about. Just trust me. I got this.”
CHAPTER 51
Becker took a few seconds to rehearse everything in his head before picking up the telephone. He hoped his call to Waverly Sloan turned out better than his attempt to talk some sense into Ashley. Becker couldn’t believe it when the little brat hung up in his face.
When Sloan came on the line, Becker t
hought the man’s voice might have been slurred. He did not want to converse with a drunk. He wanted Sloan fully cognizant of everything he was about to say.
“I’m calling on behalf of United States Attorney General Lawrence Erickson,” he began. Becker did not plan to give his name, even if asked. He might have to later deny that the call ever took place.
“What? You got a complaint, too?” Waverly’s speech was badly garbled.
Becker paused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Join the crowd. It’s Jump on Waverly Sloan Day.”
Becker was disappointed. The guy was bombed. The conversation would not go according to plan.
“I’m calling because Mr. Erickson is concerned that your activities could create some unwelcome fallout for him. When he hired you to broker his wife’s insurance policy, he had no idea about your criminal activities. I understand that you’re under investigation for fraud and, possibly, murder. The things we’ve been reading about you are quite troubling.”
“Whatever.”
“Mr. Sloan, you need to listen to me and listen to me very carefully. If you had anything to do with the death of Mr. Erickson’s wife, you’re going to pay.”
Becker’s words seemed to rally Waverly out of his drunken stupor.
“What did you say?” Waverly’s voice sounded a little clearer now.
“I’m sure you heard me correctly.”
A long patch of silence followed.
“Is everybody crazy? You think I killed Mrs. Erickson, too?”
Too? “And who else thinks you murdered her?”
“Two prosecutors from the U.S. Attorney’s Office came to my office without even making an appointment. They implied that since I brokered Mrs. Erickson’s policy, I had something to do with her death.”
Damn! So Hargrove and Evans had made the link to Erickson. The fact that they’d withheld that information was quite problematic.
“And exactly how do they think you killed her?”
“Beats me.”
“Sounds like you’re in quite a bit of trouble,” Becker said. “I suggest you go out and hire a good lawyer.”
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