DUPED! (Letta Storm)

by Dee Dawning

  "Certainly. I should start by saying that I can't prove anything regarding what I'm about to tell you, but I am pretty intuitive."

  She nodded.

  "From what I've seen and what Tony and Jamilla have felt, I believe Shana is still with us in a spirit form. What's more I think she's trying to bring her sister, Jamilla and former love, Tony, together as a couple."

  Glenda looked thoughtful. "You know, I'm not surprised Shana found her sister. She must have sensed it herself, because she asked me on several occasions if she had a sister. Though she's dead, it pleases me to know she's still around. I take it Tony is Nickolas."

  "That's right, I forgot. Shana called him Nickolas."

  "I think, if it's all right with her parents, I would like to meet Jamilla."

  Thinking Jamilla would like that, Letta smiled. "All right, next question. The babies were born at Cedars Sinai Hospital. How were you able to afford all that when you weren't even working?"

  "My, but you are thorough. Whatever problem my other daughter has, I'm glad she has you."

  "Thank you. Would you answer my question, please?"

  Glenda shifted in her seat. "The babies' father, who shall remain anonymous, is a famous actor, who is known to have a thing for black women. I was a seamstress at his main studio, and I caught his eye. Flattered, I went along. I suppose it was the highlight of my life. Handsome, famous, rich and white, all things a woman at my station in life might dream about."

  "Wait a minute. He was white?"

  "Yes."

  "Your daughters don't look that much different than you?"

  "I know. That was fortunate for me. Shana was just a shade lighter than me. When she took up with Nickolas, I didn't like it, but what could I say? I'd done the same thing. She was half white after all."

  "And so is Jamilla," I thought out loud.

  When Glenda nodded, I said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you. Would you please continue?"

  Her hands held each other, fingers entwined. "The entanglement lasted a little over a month and resulted in pregnancy. He was very nice about it, until I mentioned abortion, then he grabbed my arms and shook me. 'No,' he said, "I don't want my baby killed," he said he would care for me and my baby until through college.

  "Does the father know about baby X?"

  She shook her head. "No. He said he would take care of his baby—singular—and me, so I didn't want to rock the boat."

  "Since Shana died, I lost the support, so I live by providing sewing services such as alterations."

  I took a deep breath and rose. "That's quite a story. Thanks for your help." I removed a card from my business card holder and handed it to Glenda. "Here's my card. If you want to talk, call me. I will see if the Turners are willing let Jamilla meet you and get back to you."

  It was four forty when I got back in my car. I called Jamilla.

  "Hello."

  "When is your last appointment?"

  She paused for two seconds. "Oh, Letta. I'm on it now. I'll probably be done in twenty minutes. Guess what?"

  I didn't feel like guessing. "I don't know. What?"

  "I can pay you your retainer now. The check came right to the shop, in one of those orange, purple, and white Fed Express envelopes."

  "That's great. When you finish with your last customer, I need to talk with you. Don't go anywhere. I'm on my way."

  "All right, but since I didn't eat lunch, I'm starved. Why don't you meet me at the deli two doors down?"

  "Good idea. I'm starving too. What's good there?"

  "Everything."

  "Okay, order me what you're getting, but before you go, let me have Max's number."

  "Are you kidding me?"

  "I don't kid about business."

  Chapter Nine – The Set Up

  Not surprising, I got Max's voicemail. "You've reached Max Randle. I'm busy right now, but if you leave your name number and a short message, I'll call you back."

  "Hello Max. You don't know me. My name is Letta Storm and I'm Jamilla's attorney. From what I've been able to determine, you've pulled enough shenanigans to get arrested. However, all is not lost. I might be able to help.

  "Why, you might ask? Actually, I don't really want to help you, 'cause I think your behavior warrants some hard prison time, but by helping you there's a good chance I'd be helping Jamilla too. Call me so I can tell you what I have in mind. 213-555-1110."

  I ended the call and touched in my next call. "La Guerno enterprises."

  "I'd like to speak with Mr. La Guerno."

  "Do you have business with him?"

  "Yes."

  "What's your name?"

  "Letta Storm."

  The receptionist put me on hold then came back in a few seconds. "I'm sorry but Mr. La Guerno says he never heard of you."

  "That's understandable. Ask him if he knows Glenda Easton?"

  After another half-minute on hold, Mr. La Guerno came on with attitude. "This is Robert La Guerno. What do you want?"

  Calmly, I replied, "I want you to meet and help your daughter."

  His voice raised an octave, "Are you crazy lady?"

  "Wait! Don't hang up. Shana had a twin sister who Glenda put up for adoption and never told you about. You have living daughter."

  "Did Glenda tell you this stuff?"

  "So you do know Glenda?"

  "Ah-huh. Nice gal. I went out with her a couple times, but that was about it. Did she tell you I fathered her daughters?"

  "No, she wouldn't tell me. I figured it out. Would you be willing to take a DNA test?"

  "What's you're angle, Ms Storm?"

  "Shana's sister, Jamilla is my client. She's in some marital and financial trouble and I'm her attorney."

  I heard him sigh. "Give me your number and I'll call you back."

  * * * *

  Sitting in my usual booth in Sal's Deli, with Sal, I'd just finished eating pastrami on rye when Letta walked in. I glanced at the clock on the wall and the hands read five-forty-two. "Took you long enough."

  Sal rose so she could sit down.

  She set her purse on the opposite bench and sat. "You try driving up from Bell Gardens during rush hour."

  "Letta, I'd like you to meet my friend Sal."

  Sal shook her hand, warmly. "Any friend of Jamilla's is a friend of mine."

  Letta smiled at Sal. "Thank you Sal. It's a pleasure to meet you."

  "My pleasure. I need to get back to kitchen. Come visit me anytime."

  After Sal left, Letta took a bite of the sandwich I'd ordered for her. "Mmm, good."

  I gave her a slight nod. "I told you. What were you doing in Bell Gardens?"

  Letta cut a teasing look. "Oh, just visiting your mother."

  My confusion was obvious. "But my mother lives in Sherman Oaks."

  "That's your adoptive mother. Surely you must have sensed something was off when you saw Shana's photo and found out her birthday was the same as yours"

  My lips tightened. "Yeah, I knew something was up. What's her name? What's she like?"

  "Her name is Glenda Easton and I liked her. You and Shana look very much like her. She would like to meet you if it's all right with you and your parents."

  "I'd like to meet her too." I shook my head. "This is so hard to absorb. All of a sudden I'm adopted and I have a dead sister, who used to go with my heartthrob."

  "Shana's dead, but not gone."

  "What do you mean?"

  "She's determined to put you and Tony together. It's the only explanation for what's been happening to you."

  "Are you saying—?"

  "I'm saying she loves Tony or Nickolas if you like, so much, she's in agony. She can't have him, so she wants the next best thing—her twin sister to have him. It's like he's a goodbye present for the sister she always wanted, but never met in life."

  I understood what Letta was saying, but it was too much to wrap my mind around. "I don't know. That's an awful lot to swallow."

  She shrugged. "You're the
one it's been happening to. What's your explanation?"

  I shook my head. "I don't have one. I never knew being hot for Tony would cause so much trouble."

  "Nothing is too much trouble for real love."

  "I guess that's true. Tell me, if you're right about Shana, and Tony and I get together, will she always hang around?"

  "I don't know, but I'd bet not. I think her seeing the love of her life find happiness with her twin sister will allow her, in good conscience, to move on?"

  I was fascinated. "Move on to what?"

  She chuckled. "That is the question, isn't it? The question whose answer has eluded mankind since the beginning of time."

  I ran my closed hand, index finger extended to my cheek and stared off. "You know, when I think about what you're saying, it sounds quite romantic."

  Letta smiled. "I guess, in a way, it does."

  "Except for Max, nothing really romantic has ever happened to me before and that was a fraud."

  Letta grinned, then came over, slid in beside me and wrapped an arm around me. "Well it's happening now and it's not a fraud."

  "Not to change the subject, but when are you heading back to Ojai?"

  "I'm not. I'll go back after your situation is satisfactorily resolved and that is why I want you to call Tony—right now."

  * * * *

  Letta insisted on driving to Tony's place in Hollywood Hills. I'd never been to his home and admittedly, I was more than a little curious. How does a glamorous, movie writing, stud-muffin live? He must have girls clambering to get him in bed. And he wants me.

  Yeah, but your twin set it up.

  What an effing spoilsport you are.

  All of a sudden, I saw red and blue lights reflecting off the interior of the Mustang.

  "Shit!"

  As Letta pulled over to the curb, I turned around to look. A motorcycle cop had busted her. I wondered why? She wasn't speeding was she? I hoped it wasn't that damned racial profiling harassment shit. The uniformed policeman walked up to the car, but I couldn't see him because he shined a flashlight in our eyes. I breathed a sigh of relief when he asked in an obviously African American voice, "You know why I pulled you over?"

  Obviously tense and looking straight ahead, Letta answered, "Stop sign."

  He chuckled, "Give the lady a kewpie doll."

  "Skip the sarcasm. Are you gonna give me a ticket or not?"

  "What for, I'd just spend fifteen minutes of writing for nothing."

  Letta turned her head. "Jonas, is that you?"

  "Ah-huh. I know if I gave you a ticket you'd have Captain Hadley fix it in a heartbeat."

  "You got that right. What happened to your voice?"

  "Had my adenoids taken out."

  "Sounds better. What you doin' riding a bike?"

  "After I got shot, they gave me a desk job. I hated it and asked to go back outside. The only thing open was motorcycles, so here I am."

  Letta turned to me. "Jonas and I went through training together and ever since, we keep bumping into each other." She turned back to Jonas. "This is my client Jamilla Turner." He lowered his head and waved at me through the window while she continued, "I'd love to shoot the breeze, but I have to get her up to her boyfriend's."

  "Okay, I'll let you go. Stay in touch and watch them stop signs."

  "I would if the city would trim the damn branches that block them."

  He chuckled. "Letta, you know the city needs the money."

  "Yeah right. I gotta go. Give me a call. We'll go have a beer together."

  "Will do." He tapped the door and walked back to his motorcycle, while Letta started the car.

  After the car started, she tooted her horn, stuck her arm out the window, waved, and took off.

  I glanced over. Letta had a rare smile on her face. "You like him don't you."

  She shifted her gaze to me. "A little, but right now I'm more concerned about your bizarre love life than mine."

  "Which makes me wonder why it was so all fired important for me to come up here tonight."

  "Because…God help me…I want you to…"

  "Yes?"

  "You know…"

  "Not really. You want me to…"

  "Fuck him. I want you to make your dreams come true and go to bed with him."

  "What!" My mouth and eyes opened wide. I didn't think I'd ever been more shocked in my life. Well maybe when Jeanette Randle told me I was married to her husband, or when the picture of my look alike came from Tony' wallet, but this was a close third. "I've only known him for three days and you're the one who wanted me to take it slow. You're the one who didn't trust him."

  "I've changed my mind. Things are different since I found out about your sister. Hell maybe Shana is getting in my mind too, but I suddenly want your budding, nascent romance to become a torrid affair. It feels like it's Shana's dying wish. I'm no longer worried about Tony. Hell he's been scrutinized and vetted by the best—your own flesh and blood."

  She pulled up to the curb. "Here we are."

  "Letta, even if everything you say is true, which it probably is, I'm not that way."

  I noticed Tony peek through the drapes of a small but darling Tudor style home.

  "Why? You want him and he's made it perfectly clear that he wants you. You've had sex with him three consecutive nights in your dreams and even climaxed."

  Tony opened the front door and stepped onto the porch.

  "That's not the same as actually having sex with him."

  I opened my door, glanced Tony's way and smiled. To do that, I'd have to feel comfortable. I'd have to get to know him better."

  He waved.

  I stepped out and waved then turned back to grab my purse.

  "Okay fine. Get to know him, then fuck him."

  Without warning Letta took off with a screech, slamming the open door as I fell backward and watched open mouthed.

  Tony rushed up, helped me to my feet, and embraced me. "Are you all right?"

  I made a brief mental examination of my body. "I think so."

  "What happened? Did you have a fight?"

  I couldn't believe what Letta had done to me. She dropped me off at this man's house the way a pimp would drop a whore off at a john's house—to get laid. "No. Let's go in the house."

  Chapter Ten – Cupid

  I felt like shit, doing that to Jamilla, but I felt Tony could warm her into bed easier than I could reason her into bed. Despite the fact she wanted him, she'd started digging her heels into the ground at the idea of somebody else wanting her to do Tony. So, the best thing I could do was hightail it out of there and let Cupid—I snickered—or rather Shana take over.

  My phone rang. "I did that for your own good."

  "What'dya mean, my own good? How's not being able to get at my money good?"

  It wasn't Jamilla. It was a man. "Who's this?"

  "It's Max. Who did you expect? President Obama? You asked me to call."

  "Oh Max, thanks for calling. It wasn't exactly your money was it?"

  "Picky picky. All I know is I can't even pay my hotel bill now."

  "I need to talk with you. Where are you?"

  "Oh no, you don't. So you can have me picked up and sent back to California for bigamy."

  "That's the least of your troubles. If you're in the states, you could be charged anywhere for federal bank fraud. Max, I'm a lawyer. Lawyers are duty bound to help their client and by an odd twist of fate, I can help her best by helping you."

  "You wouldn't con a con man would you?"

  "I told you, I'm an attorney."

  "All right, I'll trust you. I'm in Vegas."

  "I'm on my way."

  * * * *

  Opening the door Tony invited me in with a wave of his hand. I stepped into a good-sized foyer with a dining room to the left, what looked to be a home office to the right, and a great room with a magnificent evening view of The City of Angels straight ahead.

  He grasped my hand. Remembering what Letta wanted me to do, I y
anked it away. He shrugged and walked into the great room. "Have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee, iced tea, water, coke, wine."

  "Wine would be nice."

  I sat on a quarter-round sofa situated to take advantage of a magnificent city view, while he headed into the kitchen.

  A minute later he was back, carrying two half full wine goblets of white. Handing one to me, he set his glass on the coffee table and sat beside me. Leaning back, he looped an arm around my shoulders and I slid over enough that his arm fell away.

  Furrowing his brow, Tony crossed his arms against his chest. "All right what's up. Are you still sick?"

  I shook my head. "No, I'm fine."

  "Well, something ain't right. You were a lot friendlier at the party and even at lunch, before you got sick. What's going on?"

  Though it wasn't Tony's fault, I decided to get my grievance off my chest. "My lawyer has practically ordered me to have sex with you."

  I studied his facial emotions as they evolved from wide-eyed surprise to smiling concurrence. He chuckled. "Sounds like a pretty good idea to me."