Resisting Redemption

by Amabel Daniels

  “They never got along. Always fighting. That year at the ESPYs, both of them were charged with assault.” Kylie scoffed. “It’s old news Ben and Josh hated each other.”

  Roxie nodded. “And that night especially, because Josh criticized Ben’s wife?”

  “Probably. I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t in the club when that all happened.”

  Checking her notes of the interview Kylie gave to the police, Roxie agreed. “Because before the argument between Ben and Josh in the club, you went upstairs. To your room.”

  Which was true, according to the log of key-card activations. Kylie’s card did open her suite prior to when video showed Ben and Josh sparring words downstairs. Presuming Kylie had possession of her own card and opened the door herself. Maybe a goddamn fairy pick-pocketed the card and opened her door instead.

  “Yeah. My room. Should have been with Josh. If we’d have shared our room like usual, maybe my man would still be alive. But no. Dave wanted to play his games.”

  “Games?” Grant asked.

  Kylie sat up straighter. “I call it a game. It was all a game on me. That fucker never liked me. Not when Josh and I first met. Not when we started dating. Not when we made it public we were together.”

  “And not when you announced you were engaged?” Roxie asked. After Josh’s death, Kylie appeared in headlines as his fiancée, not his girlfriend.

  At the dig, Kylie averted her attention to her wineglass. “Actually, it was our little secret. Josh’s and mine. He didn’t want to give me a rock yet. It was real and official to me, to him, but not to the rest of the world. Because Dave insisted it would ruin Josh’s rep. Said he’d lose too many fans if we looked serious. If we looked serious?” She snorted. “We were living together. We were fucking each other. He left me damn near all his money. How’s that not serious?”

  So residence, intercourse, and finances are the barometer for affection. You sad, sad, woman.

  “Uh huh. Who wouldn’t think you weren’t meant to be together? But why was Dave opposed to the idea of Josh’s relationship with you?” Roxie tried dramatics and forced a laugh. “Anyone could see how in love you two were. It makes no sense why Dave would ask Josh to pretend to have a fling with Richelle.”

  “Dave didn’t ask Josh to pull that stunt and pretend to be with Richelle. He jus’ told him to do it. I loved my Josh. With all my heart. But it was no mystery he wasn’t the hardest guy to control,” Kylie said.

  Control. The precise way Dave had described Josh. Dave claimed Kylie controlled Josh too much for his liking, a version of clinging celebrity girlfriend. And here Kylie was admitting to Dave’s ease of reining in his musician. Were Dave and Kylie in a battle of control over Josh? For the sake of power? Or of money? Kylie was rewarded the bulk of Josh’s estate. Did that declare her winner?

  “And he was controlled, encouraged that night at Velocity to stick with Richelle. Even though you were there,” Grant said.

  “Even though I was there? Of course I was there. Josh was my man, and I stand by my man. Dave didn’t have any say over what I did.” She stabbed a finger at her chest. “You’re damn straight I went to the club. To make sure Josh didn’t get too shit-faced and put stock in Dave’s publicity stunt with Richelle. I got my own damn room next to Josh’s. We’d planned to hook up after the party was over. All that time Dave set up this big fake dating thing between Josh and Richelle, we were still fucking, he was still seeing me on the down-low. And Dave knew. That fucker knew he couldn’t break us up and he despised me more for it.”

  After a sip from her wineglass, Kylie continued. “I went there to party. Have a good time. And to keep an eye on my man, regardless of how much he still warmed my bed behind Dave’s back. Soon as Josh forgot I was there, I gave him a reminder.”

  “You started talking to Jaydon?” Roxie asked.

  Kylie laughed. “Talking? Hon, I wasn’t talking. I was rubbing these tits in his face and showing him I wanted a fuck.”

  How was it Kylie could have been one of the top ten highest paid supermodels in the country, but talked like a trailer park porn star wannabe?

  “Josh forgot I was there, so I reminded him.”

  Grant let go of Kylie’s hand and accepted a glass of brandy the waiter was delivering. As soon as they were alone again, he asked, “And then Josh and Jaydon had some words, correct?”

  Kylie shrugged. “That’s what I heard. As soon as Josh reacted to me hitting on Jaydon, my work was done. He saw me. He didn’t like it. So I left. I went upstairs to order some food. The party was losing my interest. Seeing as I got Josh all riled up, I figured he’d settle his business with Jaydon, tell him to fuck off, and then he’d come upstairs to my room—where he belonged, with me. Have some makeup sex while Dave could think Josh was with Richelle.”

  “Because Richelle wasn’t at the party?” Roxie asked.

  Another shrug. “I hadn’t seen her. I didn’t fucking care where she was, as long as it wasn’t on Josh’s dick. I didn’t have the time to check and see who’s where and doing what. I got the reaction I wanted from Josh, so I left. I went up to wait for him to come to me. ’Course I never thought he and Ben would start talking shit to each other and Ben would jump him.”

  No one spoke for a moment. Roxie leaned toward the table and said, “You opened the door to your room at 11:38. According to video, Ben and Josh entered the elevator at 11:46. You just waited in your room for him?”

  A scowl contorted Kylie’s perfect features. “Yeah. I got some food. Chilled.”

  “Josh was shot at approximately 11:50. And you didn’t think to stop by his room until 6:50 in the morning,” Roxie said.

  She sniffled. “I’ll never forget seeing him lying there. All that blood…”

  “How come you waited so long to check in on him? If you were planning some loving, how come you waited until morning?” Roxie asked. For as concerned as Kylie was about Richelle actually having a chance to get some from Josh, Kylie sure had lingered on claiming her man.

  Kylie shrugged. “I’m not some penis-whipped ho who goes to him. He should have come to me after getting so chummy with Richelle. I ate some food, watched TV. I’d been drinking… I was tired and fell asleep. When I woke up, I wondered what the fuck, where is he.”

  Plausible. And pointless anyway.

  Because if Kylie went upstairs before Josh, there was all probability she really had been in her room, chilling. Fact of the matter, no one entered Josh’s room until he unlocked it with his own card shortly before his death. To suppose Kylie headed up early to prepare for killing Josh was not wise. It wasn’t as though Kylie was in Josh’s room waiting for him. She’d entered her own room with her own key. Later, he’d entered his own room with his own key.

  “Gotcha. Just seemed like an awful long time to wait for him.”

  “Well, I sure as fuck wasn’t going to wait downstairs. Or go back down there. Dave woulda been pissed. He’d have been pissed I played on Jaydon to get a reaction out of Josh. I didn’t want to be near that fucker.”

  “Did Dave intimidate you?” Grant asked.

  “No. Not like that. He was nothing but an unpleasant man to be around. Never could stand him. Guess it went both ways.”

  And if she could control her boy-toy so well, why did she put up with his manager? “How come Josh stayed with him?” Roxie asked. “Dave wasn’t in the business before Josh became his first client. How come you didn’t suggest Josh find another manager? Surely Josh couldn’t have enjoyed the antagonism between his manager and girlfriend.”

  “I mentioned it. First time Dave got pushy about Josh showing up in pictures with me, I said maybe he should find someone more experienced. But that’s the thing. Josh could be gullible. Dave had convinced Josh he needed him. And Josh obeyed. Like he always did. He always seemed to be all right with Dave no matter how annoying he’d be.” She rolled her eyes. “Probably some kind of loyalty, them both being good old boys from Pittsburgh.”

  Roxie scribbled a no
te. Josh was from the ’Burgh, she knew that. But it was odd Dave hailed from the same city. Perhaps that was the origin of the friends of acquaintances that brought the two men together in business.

  “Have you and Dave been in touch much since Josh’s passing?” Grant asked.

  A snort from Kylie. “Fuck no. Only good thing about Josh’s death is no more of that man in my life.”

  Good thing about her lover’s death? Jesus. Roxie struggled to hide a reaction to such harsh, stark words.

  “We both went to the funeral. Put our differences aside. My lawyers dealt with the will and estate and such, and I assume Dave made do with his part.”

  Grant said, “You were aware of his portion of Josh’s will?”

  Kylie shrugged. “Sure. I mean I don’t know all the numbers and such. What could money possibly matter when I lost the richest thing of my life, my Josh? I know Dave got something. Why? Is he saying he was shorted?” She scoffed. “He still pissed off at me because I got most of it? Josh was mine. No one else’s. Josh and I were going to spend the rest of our lives together. As a couple. No matter his stupid stunts to pretend Josh was still available to the fans. Josh wrote up his will, like, ages ago. If Dave hadn’t been happy with it”—she crossed her arms—“he sure picked the wrong couple to break up.”

  “Never wise to interfere with true love,” Roxie quipped. She folded her hands together and listened as Kylie droned on. How sad she was. How they had to sedate her the day after Josh’s corpse was found in his suite. Would she ever be able to love again? Could she sincerely move on after such a perfect man? Once tears began, slight enough not to ruin her makeup, Roxie dared a glance at Grant. Like Roxie, he was sitting back, witnessing Kylie’s emotional flood.

  Wondering what he was making of the model who remained on his list of suspects, Roxie analyzed what she’d learned herself, having now had the chance to speak to the woman. No new facts. Not that she’d expected any. Grant had the DA’s notes and evidence for weeks, months now.

  Months? Roxie still struggled to respect how quickly time flew by. Lucy’s first birthday was testament to the speed of days passing. But when she was at work with Grant, it was too hectic for her to notice how long she had known him now.

  Grant had pored over every line. She, too, had reviewed and scrutinized whatever material Grant had permitted her access to. Fact was, conversing with Kylie provided no new insight to her specific whereabouts, recorded motivations, or reactions to the evening Josh was shot. Now, Roxie could sincerely believe—no longer assume, but truly gauge—that Kylie was a money-minded, manipulative woman.

  But did that make her a murderer? So many questions for Grant when they were alone.

  As Grant expressed his condolences again, Roxie took the cue that he was wrapping up their largely useless meeting. Still, something nagged at her. Yes, everything Kylie said matched what she had told the police. Her testimony rang consistent. But what about what others had said? Not in police interviews.

  Thinking through the interviews of the big players, those VIP guests Grant had his focus on, she searched for the hunch she was forgetting something. Paul, Jaydon, Dave. What was it?

  “One more thing before we depart, Kylie,” Grant said, his hands on his knees before he rose to leave, “when did you find out you were pregnant?”

  Roxie resisted the urge to whoop. That was it. Paul Minor had told them Josh really wasn’t seeing Richelle—knowing that detail besides the fact he was screwing Richelle that night—because he’d heard through the grapevine, via the singer, that Kylie told Josh she was having their baby that night at Velocity. A huge revelation mentioned nowhere in anything she said to the police or DA.

  Kylie froze. Her lower lip still stuck on her straw. “Excuse me?”

  “That evening at Velocity, Richelle heard you tell Josh you were expecting,” Grant explained.

  Kylie waved at him with a high-pitched giggle. “That crap? I didn’t know she’d been around or close enough to hear what I said to him. I’m not pregnant. I’ve had an IUD for years. I told Josh that night he was pretending to fuck around when he should be with me, the mother of his future children. Not that I was knocked up. Josh and I were waiting for the perfect time to start our family.” Watery eyes commenced and she resumed neatly dabbing at them.

  “I see. Once again, Kylie, it was lovely to meet you,” Grant said as he stood. “Thank you for allowing us to join you for lunch.”

  Roxie left her seat and acknowledged Kylie with a formal parting nod. On Grant’s heels, she checked her phone for alerts. Twitter had been promising for access to Kylie, and she maintained hope she might luck out with one more of Josh’s fellow VIP guests. Wayne had also been slated to appear at the same rained-out charity beach walk Kylie had been in town for. If Kylie lingered in Miami’s rain, what were the odds the actor might still be local as well?

  Absently chasing Grant’s speedy footsteps, her attention riveted to her phone, she vaguely gathered they were awaiting the retrieval of his rental car from under the awning at the front of the hotel. Rain whipped at her bare legs from the sides of the shelter.

  “You coming?” Grant asked, already waving his thanks to the valet and sliding into the driver’s seat. She jerked back from squinting at her phone and hustled to get in the car.

  Buckling in, she let the phone slip into her tote. “Where to?”

  “Hotel. I need a swim. Did you pack a suit?”

  She slanted her brows. “Well, yes. You ordered me to on the chance we would have the amenity of a pool and I might wish to enjoy it.” If he wished to do laps, he didn’t need her suit. “Why a swim?”

  So much for her suggestion to chase down Wayne while he was nearby. He had posted on his blog—or rather a minion had for him if personally updating his social media was too tough of a chore for him—that he was “stranded in a hurricane in Miami” and “heading to his favorite place for a steak later”. Surely she could research the location somehow. And they could crash a second celebrity’s meal for the day.

  He flexed one shoulder. “Need to think.”

  “About what Kylie shared with us?”

  A single grunt left his lips. “What exactly did she share with us?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  What had Kylie shared with them? Nothing. Nothing but a vivid reminder of how little he trusted women. Kylie’s manipulations of Josh, and her self-righteous attitude to claim command over her former lover’s life, had bile rising in his throat.

  Beautiful in a stark, commercial standard way, Kylie had it all. A career worth millions. Adoration of countless men. Multiple houses, vacation villas, bodyguards, peons. An easily malleable mate in life. Kylie was a woman who had need for nothing, yet she still couldn’t help but ‘control’ Josh? To ensure he was hers and only hers?

  Stroking through the water fiercely, Grant hoped to dispel the ugly analogy. Kylie had to ‘own’ her man. ‘Her Josh,’ she kept saying. People weren’t meant to be owned. Funny how women like Kylie and Tara could convince themselves otherwise.

  Breathing heavily at the end of the pool, his arms laying on top of each other on the tiled edge, his forehead down on his forearm, he rebelled against the gut-wrenching anger in his stomach. That fury that had led him to give up his commitment to his career a few months back, to drink for solace.

  Like Kylie, Tara had the need to control. Never content with her million-dollar penthouse downtown, or the outrageously expensive items she had to possess. The never-ending climb at the offices to score the hardest cases, hope for the most challenging wins. Sadly, he’d mistaken her desire to try harder and harder for complicated cases as a sign of her ambition to seek true justice in the world, like a runner training to top his PR. In reality, she’d wanted the unreachable: absolute power. Coming from a modest middle-class family, complete with ordinary hand-me-down cars and clothes, he’d felt like he was living in another universe in the five years of marriage with Tara’s expectations of brand-new, top-brand surroundi
ngs. Sure, they’d had the money for it, but he’d never consciously pegged it as a show of position and power she’d starved for.

  Also similar to Kylie, Tara was not shy to express her dominance. Kylie had manipulated Josh into thinking Jaydon was hitting on her. How many times had Tara whined about associates at the firm making passes at her when he’d been too busy on his own cases to meet her quota of affectionate gestures? Hundreds?

  Kylie had let Josh pretend to date Richelle, but she lacked the trust to let him attend the party at Velocity without being there herself to check in on him. All those instances of Tara insisting on being included in meetings that held no relevance for her? Just another version of mistrust. Granted, most of Tara’s deception was a bit more professional, rather than personal like Kylie’s, it boiled his blood nonetheless. If anything, it was even more dangerous.

  On the plane, Grant had used Roxie’s phone while his charged. He’d seen for himself how many texts, voicemails, and emails Tara had sent Roxie, asking about the case. Why did the controlling, deceiving woman care? She had surrendered the case to Grant when Ben refused to plead guilty. Her inquiries didn’t ring of demands, as was usually her norm, but curiosity. Why? Why was she setting him up for the ultimate betrayal, not only him and the firm, but to the sanctity of law itself? Two-timing the prosecution and the defense as she aligned her interests, or mouth, with the DA?

  Recovering from his first-hand insight into the vapid woman Kylie was, he drowned, not in the pool, but in his own memories of being a victim to Tara’s manipulations. It wasn’t a matter of pride, of not being able to call himself strong, or independent. He’d given Tara the benefit of doubt with hopes for what he wished for his future. He could sympathize how Josh was equally ensnared by his woman.

  At least Tara hit hardest with his heart in mind, not his life. Still, he couldn’t picture Kylie murdering Josh.

  “How could she have killed him?” he muttered to himself, the doubt persistent.

  “Well,” Roxie said to his left, “I’m sure she could have hid a gun in her bags. But the knife?” She grimaced. “Pretty little lady handling all that gore? Can’t see it.”