“Don’t be so sure,” he answered. There was no way that he’d let her think that she was tougher than he was. That was no way to start a Bonnie and Clyde relationship. Clyde always had to be on top.
A gleam of excitement lit up her eyes as she squirmed in his lap, giving him an instant hard on. This was one of the tricks Charli had learned in the strip clubs. “Do tell, this is making me very hot,” she purred into his ear.
“No, I’d better not,” he said, though his eyes were rapidly glazing over in lust.
She stopped her grinding and took a stern tone. “I told you about me, so you have to tell me about you. It’s only fair. Plus you know I’d never tell anyone. If I did you’d tell on me, and I’m not trying to go back to jail.”
Hmm, so she’d been to jail, Max thought. Charli was proving to be a regular little hood rat.
She grabbed his dick in her hand and began massaging it slowly. “So tell me,” she crooned. “I am getting soooo wet.”
And he was getting soooo hard. “Let’s just say that me and a friend had to take care of someone who was blackmailing us.” He left out the full list of motives that he and Mildred shared. It was bad enough that Paulette was having his baby, but when she found out that he and Mildred were having an affair, she threatened to expose them both unless he left Lauren and married her, and Mildred forked over half a million in cash.
“So, how’d you do it?” she purred in his ear, while still stroking his dick.
“We sent her boy Joe out to L.A. to cut her brake line, sent that bitch right over into the canyons around Mulholland Drive. Trust me, she got just what she deserved.”
“Who is we?” Charli pouted. “You got another Bonnie?”
“Not anymore, baby,” he moaned. Lately, Charli had been holding back the sex, so he couldn’t wait to get down to business now that they were both all steamed up. “Miss Mildred is yesterday’s news.”
“You sure I don’t have anything to worry about?” She gave him the puppy dog eyes.
“From that old skank? Not at all, baby. It’s you and me now. Go ahead and give me one of your famous stripteases.”
She stood up and he leaned back on the sofa and took out his dick, stroking it in his hand as he prepared for his appetizer, knowing that his entree would be well worth the wait.
Charli began to slowly move her hips in a seductive grind. Her hands glazed over her breasts before sliding down between her cleavage. When she removed them, she also removed a very small listening device, which she held up and dangled in front of Max’s lust-filled eyes.
“What is that?” he asked.
“Your one-way ticket to jail,” she answered. The seduction was gone from her voice, replaced by pure venom.
He slowly began to understand that he’d been set up to confess. Max jumped from the sofa, reaching for the device, but was too slow.
Before he got to her, the door to the condo burst open and two men dressed in suits appeared with guns drawn. “Put your hands in the air, where I can see them,” one man’s voice boomed.
“You bitch!” he hissed to Charli. Then he remembered his leverage. “Officer this is a big mistake. You can’t believe anything she says. She is a prostitute who killed a man and has even been to jail. Her name is Charli Kemble.”
“I don’t think so,” another voice said. Max turned toward the door and there stood another Charli.
“What the fuck?” Now he was totally confused.
“I’m Charli,” the twin in the door said.
“And I’m Gillian,” the twin who he’d thought was Charli, said.
“And you’re fucked,” Lauren said, entering the condo with Gideon at her side. She turned to Gillian and said, “Congrats on another award-winning performance.” She, Charli, and Gillian all gave each other high fives, while Max stood by dazed and confused.
Chapter 40
Gillian should have been elated after solving the elusive three-year-old question of who killed Paulette, and also putting to rest the smear campaign designed to ruin her Oscar nomination and career, and finding Rowe’s father. But her satisfaction was dampened by the prospects of two conversations that were long overdue. It was time for her and Brandon to both remove their rose-colored glasses and talk honestly and truthfully with each other. Then she’d have to have a “coming to Jesus” with Imelda. This time her mom had finally gone too far with the family secrets, and Gillian was over it.
She dropped her coat and handbag on the foyer table and entered the study where she knew Brandon would be taking his predinner cocktail. She figured she might as well get it over with.
Just as she thought, he was at his desk reviewing a contract. “Hi,” she said.
He looked up at Gillian, and hesitated slightly before standing up to greet her. He seemed to know what was coming, and wasn’t looking forward to it. “How are you?” he asked.
“I’m okay.”
“Can I get something for you?” He gestured to the nearby wet bar.
Though she’d love to have a glass of wine to take the edge off, she thought better of it. This was a conversation that was best had stone cold sober. “No, thanks,” she said, before taking a seat.
Brandon poured himself a double vodka gimlet, before joining her on the sofa. He crossed his ankle atop his knee. “Welcome home, baby. From all accounts it sounds as if everything worked out perfectly down in Atlanta,” he said. Brandon and CoAnne had coordinated the acceptance of Max’s bribe to help set up the sting operation in conjunction with Lauren, Gillian, Charli, and the police in both Los Angeles and Atlanta.
“I suppose you could say that. I’m just glad it’s all over.” At least most of it was; there were still some loose ends to tie up before the arrests would be announced to the public. Meanwhile they had all been sworn to secrecy.
“Great job getting Max to confess to Paulette’s murder. At least now you know I didn’t kill her,” he said in a weak attempt at sarcasm. Once he found out that Gillian had had the missing flash drive at one point, and the rumors that he killed Paulette resurfaced with news of the tell-all book, he knew that Gillian had to have suspected him, especially after she realized that he lied to her about the laundered money.
“I have a confession.” Gillian decided to lay all of her chips on the table and let them fall where they may. “After Paulette was killed, and I went to New York with Reese, I came home with a blackmail note that Paulette had written to you and the flash drive proving you laundered the drug money. I didn’t know what to do. I should have told you I had the drive and I was planning to, until I read the note and wondered whether or not you may have killed Paulette. I’m sorry for doubting you without even bothering to ask you.”
“A blackmail note? You had a copy of that?” He hadn’t realized that Paulette left a copy behind, since it wasn’t among the things Tyrone’s thugs got from Lydia.
Gillian was surprised that he didn’t react to her finding the drive, only the letter. “Do you have the drive?” she asked. When she and Lauren discovered it was missing, they had turned the house upside down trying to find it. They figured that either Max or Imelda had it, since no one else had much access to the house.
“Not exactly. Lydia stole it from you and was planning to use the information in her book.”
“I can’t believe that Lydia would do that. So, where is it now?” she asked.
“Let’s just say that the stolen property was stolen once again.” Tyrone sent word to Brandon through his attorney that the package was wrapped up. He hadn’t asked for any details, nor were any offered.
“How are you going to handle these drug people? You can’t live your life with them hovering in the background.”
“I know. I’ve got a plan to sort it all out,” he promised. He’d avoided confronting them in the past, but he now realized that in order to have control of his own future, he’d have to deal with them, one way or the other. “I didn’t mean to get you wrapped up in all of this, I’m really sorry.”
&n
bsp; He decided to try to explain to his wife how he’d ended up where he was. “When I was much younger, trying to make my first CD out of my mother’s basement in Mississippi, I borrowed money from the only place people like us could, since the banks wouldn’t loan money to blacks back then, the local drug dealer. It wasn’t a lot of money, but he’s held it over my head since then, using threats and intimidation. I did not use their money to build Sound Entertainment, unless you count a three-hundred-dollar loan, which was paid back, but I was forced to launder their money as my and their business thrived. The more I agreed to do to keep quiet what I’d done already, the more they asked me to do. It just never stopped. I can’t tell you how often I’ve regretted that decision. I’ve tried to be clean ever since, but the streets still cling to me, regardless of how far and fast I run. I just didn’t want you to know about it.” He hung his head in shame. As bad as he felt, he also felt lighter for having unburdened himself of a forty-year-old secret.
“It’s okay, Brandon. We all make mistakes. None of us is perfect,” Gillian said. “I knew about the double books, and married you anyway, doubts and all.”
“Why?”
“I shouldn’t have, but I guess I was more interested in getting what I wanted than in the truth. In that respect, I’m certainly no saint.”
Brandon set his drink on the side table. “I just wish I hadn’t lied to you about what was on the flash drive, then you probably wouldn’t have doubted me about Paulette. I just wanted to be perfect for you and give you everything you deserved and wanted.”
“If I haven’t learned anything else from all of this, I’ve learned there is no such thing as perfection.”
“I’m certainly not.” Brandon took a sip of his drink, closed his eyes, and made a decision. “While I’m at it, I have another apology to make.”
“What is it?”
“I never should have doubted that it wasn’t you in those pictures, especially after you told me that it wasn’t.”
“Who knew that I had an identical twin sister?”
“But I do know you, and I should have believed you instead of letting jealousy, pride, and anger get in the way.”
Gillian reached over and touched his hand. “We’ve both made a lot of mistakes.”
“So where do we go from here?” Brandon asked. “You know I love you with all my heart,” he pleaded. “And that will never change.”
“I really don’t know,” Gillian said. “I think this time we should take it slow and think about everything before making any decisions.” Though she’d grown to love Brandon, their foundation was built on lies and deception, and she wasn’t sure that their love was enough to sustain them.
“That’s fair.”
“I’ll move into the guesthouse until we figure it out,” Gillian offered.
“I won’t have that. Besides, you’re not leaving me in this house with your mother,” he joked. “Not to mention, where will Charli live?” He hadn’t met his new sister-in-law yet, but was looking forward to having another version of Gillian in his life.
“I’ve asked her to come out to L.A. She’s wrapping up some business in Atlanta right now and should be here tomorrow sometime.” Gillian couldn’t hide her excitement at the thought of having her sister by her side.
“In that case, it’s all settled,” Brandon announced. “The three of you can stay in the main house, and I’ll move into the guesthouse. We can decide what to do about us after the Oscars.”
“Thank you, Brandon.”
“No, thank you. I just want another chance to get things right between us.”
They both stood up and hugged each other, not knowing if this was the beginning of the end or the start of a new beginning.
Chapter 41
Two Louis Vuitton steamer trunks lay open on the floor of Mildred’s bedroom, as she and James scurried about packing for her hastily arranged trip abroad. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be gone, but given everything, this felt like a good time to leave for a month or so.
Since Nathan left, the gossips around New York had started stirring the pot, adding a little extra spice here and there, with the rumor that she was having an affair, along with the speculation that it had something to do with the tell-all book that was supposed to be written about her niece’s death. Even though Mildred would have been ready to dish the dirt right along with them had it been anyone else, she still resented them for piling it on.
Well, she’d fix those nosy bitches; Mildred was going to leave the country until well after all this nonsense had died down. Soon enough people would be presented with another delicious new scandal to focus on. Hopefully, one not involving her.
She could kill Lauren for telling Nathan about Max. So what she caught them having an affair? It wasn’t as if Lauren were still married to the man. Besides she didn’t appreciate him when she had him, which was why he was still crawling into Mildred’s bed at every opportunity, not to mention that hussy Paulette’s, who truly got what she deserved. It was one thing for her to steal Mildred’s money—she let her slide with that—and worse that she was having an affair with her daughter’s husband and planning to have his baby—Mildred let her slide with that one, too—but for the gross heifer to try to take her man? The bitch had to pay for that one.
Mildred had no idea that Paulette was on to them until the no-class hussy had the nerve to stop by the house demanding a half a million dollars and that Max leave Lauren (and Mildred) and marry her, or else she would spill the beans. That was her fatal mistake. Mildred and Max agreed that under no circumstances could they allow either of those scenarios to unfold.
When Lauren told her mother that she, Reese, and Paulette were having a baby shower at Gillian and Brandon’s house in the hills surrounding L.A., they decided that this was the perfect opportunity to get rid of Paulette once and for all. The only thing they needed was someone to cut the brake line, knowing that as soon as she started down the hill, it would be a very bumpy ride. So Mildred called Joe, a gardener who’d once worked for her until she discovered that he had a criminal record, a fact which now came in very handy. For fifty thousand dollars and two nights at a hotel in L.A. with room service thrown in, he’d gladly followed Paulette up to Brandon’s house, parked down the street, and then snuck around the property to the garage where all the cars were parked. Mildred hadn’t realized that Reese would be riding with Paulette, and when she learned that Reese had been critically injured, she merely chalked it up to collateral damage.
“Madam, would you like for me to pack summer clothes as well?” James asked. James had no idea what was going on, except that Master Reynolds stormed out with a few suitcases days ago, and now the Madam had him packing steamer trunks full of clothes though she hadn’t yet said where she was going.
“A bit of everything. I’ll be gone awhile.” She had a 7:30 p.m. reservation on Virgin Atlantic into Paris de Gaulle. She’d always enjoyed the City of Lights, and loved staying at the Plaza Athenee, and of course, the shopping was world class.
“Will Master Reynolds be joining you, Madam?”
“Do you see him, James?” Mildred snapped. As much as Mildred dreaded being caught in her affair, fear of losing her marriage wasn’t the biggest reason, her reputation was. In many ways it was wildly liberating to finally be free of Nathan, who was such a drag. Sure, their families were the perfect match for each other, but boy what a stick in the mud! Once she’d gotten a taste of Max, she could barely stand for the old codger to look at her, let alone come waving his dried-up noodle her way.
Thinking of Max gave her a splendid idea. Maybe she should invite him along on her little escapade. It would be perfect! No one knew them in Paris, so they could hang out together somewhere other than in a locked bedroom, like young lovers enjoying sunsets and small quaint cafés.
As pissed off as she was at Max for having an affair with that no good slut Gillian, her hormones shooed her anger away. After all, she was married, so she couldn’t really expect him to
be celibate. But now that she’d also decided to divorce Nathan, she was positive that he would be faithful to her. She’d be Mrs. Maximillian Neuman III. Maybe they’d even live overseas where no one would know them.
Thrilled at the idea, she snatched up the phone to call his cell. She got no answer. She then dialed his condo in Buckhead, Atlanta. Still no answer, but she did leave a message. Desperate now to reach him, she picked up her Black-Berry and sent an e-mail and a text message. It read: On way to Paris. Call ASAP. Wld luv 4 u to join me for a long, romantic rendezvous!
She was just starting to pack her toiletries when the doorbell rang. While she was deciding between Annick Goutal’s Les Nuits d’Hadrien or Eau d’Hadrien, James appeared in the doorway wearing the most ridiculously sheepish expression.
“What is it, James? Can’t you see that I’m packing?” He was such an idiot sometimes. She often wondered why she’d kept him all these years, but she knew the answer. James, and before him, his father, and his father’s father, had always worked for the Baines family.
“Madam, there are some men here to speak to you.”
“What men? Who could possibly be dropping by without an appointment? You know I don’t welcome uninvited guests.” She continued to pack, dismissing James, and the men.
“Madam?”
“What are you doing still standing there?”
“It’s the police,” he nearly whispered.
This got her attention. “Did they say what they wanted?”
“Only to speak with you.”
“What about, James?” she demanded. Of course they wanted to speak to her, that much was obvious, but what about? That was the key question.
“They wouldn’t tell me,” James answered, though truthfully, he didn’t have the courage to even think about questioning the police. Once they flashed their badges, he scurried away to find Mildred quicker than a sand crab on the beach.
“I’ll be right down,” she said to the useless man. What good was a butler if he couldn’t even screen unwanted visitors, regardless if they were the police.
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