All About Eva (23 page)

So, there it was. I had made the decision to turn over the safe deposit key, and Donovan's note over to the authorities. Well, the note minus the part about the $250K in cash. I took a pair of scissors and snipped that little bit of information right on off the bottom of the letter.

Why?

Because, well, this was not some feel-good episode of
Good Times.
This was real life—my life. And besides, that two hundred and fifty thousand dollars wasn't just going toward my benefit. It was for my grandmother's well-being, for Tameka and her kids, as well as for Belle, who had lost every penny of her late husband's insurance policy to Donovan's scheme. Of course, I didn't have enough cash to replace all that she had lost, but I thought that Belle would be thrilled to have some money back in her hands, even if it was just a measly two hundred thousand in comparison to the one million that had been stolen from her.

“Welcome to Belle's, how can I help you?” Belle beamed from behind the counter, her usual radiant self.

The place was packed, something that I had never seen out of all the times I had been in there and passed by.

“Hello, Belle,” I said, “how are you today?”

“I'm doing just fine,” she said, while staring at me and trying to remember where she knew me from. “Oh, hey, baby!” she said after a few seconds. “Eva, right?”

“Yes, ma'am . . .”

“Oh, yeah! I couldn't place you at first 'cause you look so much happier—almost like a brand-new person. You must have gotten that thing worked out that had you so upset.”

“Not completely, but things are much better than they were the last time I saw you.”

“Praise God! I was praying for you, so it just goes to show that God answers prayer.”

“And I thank you for that, because Lord knows I needed all the prayer I could get!” I said. “I see you have a pretty nice crowd today.”

“And that's just another reason to praise God,” Belle said. “I finally took my son Steve's advice, and added a couple more items to the menu, and business has picked up ever since.”

Belle handed me a to-go menu, which now included chicken and turkey panini and a soup of the day.

“Corn chowder? Yum! I'm gonna have to get some of that to go,” I said. “But since it's close to Mardi Gras, maybe you should consider adding gumbo to the menu, just for that week leading up to Fat Tuesday.”

“Chile, what'chu know about Mardi Gras and Fat Tuesday?”

“Everything there is to know,” I said. “My family is from Chicago, by way of Shreveport, so I've been celebrating Mardi Gras and making gumbo since I was ye' high.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, my people are from down South too, but instead of gumbo, King Cake is my specialty,” Belle said. “Chile, you know something? That's a good idea. You think I should do a whole Mardi Gras menu and theme this year?”

“Sure, why not? I'm sure your customers would really appreciate it since people love to celebrate, no matter what the occasion is,” I said, “and you definitely can't get a good bowl of gumbo anywhere within a twenty-mile radius of here.”

“You're sure right about that. . . .” said Belle. “Only thing is, my gumbo is not the best. Do you have a good recipe?”

“Oh, yeah! I have a recipe that's been in my family for I don't know how many generations, and it's all up here,” I said, tapping my temple.

Belle's eyes lit up. “Ooh, this is exciting!” she said. “I'll tell you what: you whip up a pot of that gumbo when you get a chance, bring it by, and we'll take it from there, okay?”

“Good deal! Now can I get a turkey panini on rye and a bowl of that corn chowder to go, please?”

“Coming right up!”

I had stopped by Belle's to give her one of the Pathmark bags filled with two hundred thousand dollars, but after talking to her, I realized there was no way I could give her all that money without a lengthy explanation. She didn't know that I was Donovan's ex-girlfriend and I wanted to keep it that way.

A gift-wrapped box via messenger would be best.

Before I left, I gave Belle a hug and the number to my pay-as-you-go cell phone.

At that moment I realized that I could have bought myself a new and improved, superdeluxe and superexpensive cell phone with some of the money I had hustled up, not to mention all the cash that I had found in Flossie, but I was so consumed in making sure that everyone else was taken care of that splurging on things for myself hadn't even crossed my mind.

Considering how spoiled and self-centered I was just a few months before, that was real growth, and I have say, it felt real good.

I decided to break the news to Vance in the same indirect manner that I had told Tameka and Kyle.

Later that evening we were in our bedroom getting undressed after a dinner party, when I started the conversation off with hypothetically
. . .

“Forget all the ‘hypothetical' stuff. Talk to me straight, Eva, what's up?”

I showed Vance Donovan's note, and after he finished reading it, he chuckled. “I figured as much. Ever since I've known the dude, Donovan always had a trick or two up his sleeve.”

“So what should I do?”

“Absolutely nothing! Do you know how damaging this information would be to Donovan's case? At this point, it would be the equivalent of handing his head over on a silver platter.”

“Okay, fine,” I said, “I won't tell the feds about the accounts and hidden money until
after
Donavan has been tried and sentenced.”

“No, you won't tell them about it
ever!
” Vance shouted, his eyes bulging. “I'm Donovan's lawyer, so you let me handle this aspect of things, okay? As a matter of fact, where's the key to the safe deposit box?” Vance had had several drinks during the evening, but I didn't think he'd had enough to alter his personality so drastically.

“
Oh!
I wondered when we would have our first fight, and what it would be about, and here it is,” I said. “First of all, talking to me like that is a no-no, bruh! Let's just get that straight right now, and as for the key, it's in a safe place.” And that was right on my key ring, in my hobo bag, along with twenty-five thousand dollars, which was all that was left of the money.

“Look, this is serious business. Do you know how it would look for you if you turned that letter over? I mean, let's be real here. You're not exactly in the clear yet yourself, Eva.”

“I know you're the legal expert here, but to me, that letter says it all.”

Vance ripped Donovan's letter to shreds and threw the pieces up in the air like confetti. “What proof do you have to take to the feds now?” Vance asked, looking more and more sinister by the minute. I was determined not to show it, but he was scaring the hell out of me.

“Look, why don't you just go take a shower, lay down for the night, and we'll talk about this in the morn—” I said calmly.

“Listen to me real carefully,” Vance said quietly, grabbing me roughly by the arm, “you and I need to get on the same page on this, all right? Now, Donovan spelled it all out in his letter. All we have to do is lay low until all of the hoopla dies down, then we're set for life.”

I yanked my arm away from him. “Oh, no, I'm not down with that,” I said. “True, that type of dough would change anyone's life, but I don't want to have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”

Vance gave me a hard, disappointed look, as if I were an incorrigible child who was getting on his last fucking nerve.

“Okay, how about this,” he said, pulling at the hairs in his goatee. “Since you're all about the Benjamins, I will give you one hundred thousand dollars to give me that key and forget what you know.”

That disturbed my spirit and drove home the fact that I didn't really know this man at all.

The last couple of months flashed before my eyes, starting with the day I returned from Switzerland, and walked into Vance's office. Standing there in that moment with him begging me for the key that would essentially unlock a whole new life for him, it was as if the pieces to a huge puzzle suddenly arranged themselves and formed a complete, vivid picture.

“The only reason you took me in and stuck by me was because you figured that somehow, some way, I would eventually lead you to the money,” I said. “Hell, even coming to Chicago was just your way of keeping me close and luring me back here to New York.”

Vance clapped slowly, and sarcastically. “Finally!” He put my face between his hands and kissed me. “You're starting to use that head of yours for more than just a hat rack,” he said, “although I have to tell you that I initially thought that you knew more than you actually did.”

“Fine,” I said, “since that's all you wanted from the very beginning, give me the money and I'll give you the key.”

“Aww, why that sad face, Eva?” he pouted, mimicking me. “Look, I care for you, I really do, but this is New York City, baby. Nobody does anything for free unless there is something in it for them somewhere down the line.”

“Oh, I know the mentality quite well: ‘If I can't use you in some way, then I have no use for you.' I had forgotten that for a moment, but fuck it, let's do this.”

While Vance went into the closet where he kept a small safe, I removed the post office box key from my key ring.

I dropped the key in the palm of Vance's hand. He placed the stacks in my hand, but quickly snatched them back.

“C'mon, hand over the money, Vance. The sooner I can get out of here, the better.”

“You know, you really don't have to go,” Vance said. “I really would like for us to share in this newfound fortune together.”

“Naw, I'm good. Can I have the money, please?”

“No, I don't think so,” he said with mock sadness.

I'd had enough. Cool, and calm, I whipped a can of pepper spray out of my pocket and blasted Vance dead in the eyes.

He freaked out and started clawing at his eyes, and screaming like a little girl. “Ah, you bitch! It burns. . . . Aaah!”

For good measure, I went into a martial arts stance and hit him with a rapid combination of kicks, punches, and well-placed karate chops that I had learned in a self-defense class.

I was both surprised and relieved when Vance dropped to the ground, out cold.

Which brings us to today.

A year after the real Vance Murphy revealed himself, I am back in Chicago where I couldn't be happier. It is one of the best moves I've ever made, actually, because I am back working in print media, and back to doing what I love.

Larry Nichols became editor-in-chief of
Hue Magazine
and hired me on the spot as a features writer when I went in and inquired about a job. And believe me, Larry hadn't made the decision because we'd had dinner together once and he thought I was cute, but because I had walked in there armed to the teeth with excellent writing samples and a portfolio that even Rupert Murdoch himself couldn't front on.

Today, I had one of those days at the office that proves as long as you're doing what you love, you'll never work a day in your life.

I'd had an interview with none other than the legendary homegirl herself, Ms. Chaka Khan. I was nervous at first because of her notorious aversion to journalists and the media in general, but I spent half of the day with her and found her to be a sweetheart who was very approachable, honest, and
funny
as all get-out.

“Great job! You put her at ease, and got her to really open up,” Larry said after reading a rough draft of the interview. “Ms. Khan rarely does interviews, so this edition with her on the cover is gonna be a home run!”

I left work feeling like I could fly.

Spending quality time with a music icon had been wonderful and inspiring, but news had come from New York earlier that day that I couldn't wait to share with the rest of the family.

It had been a couple of months since I'd last been to the Big Apple, and at the time it was for Kyle's commitment ceremony to Alvin, a wonderful guy who came and swept Kyle off his feet after he got rid of Irwin's lying, cheating ass. Due in part to my testimony to a federal grand jury, Vance Murphy lost his license to practice law in the state of New York due to misconduct and ethics violations.

The last I'd heard through the grapevine was that Vance had relocated to the Atlanta area where he was working for peanuts as a paralegal and trying to get a law license in the state of Georgia.

Since Vance was abruptly removed from Donovan's case, Donovan's new team of attorneys suggested he do the opposite of what Vance had suggested and to go ahead and plead guilty in exchange for reduced jail time. Donovan is now serving a thirty-year sentence at Butner Federal Prison in Durham, North Carolina, which I hear is the equivalent of “Camp Cupcake” where Martha Stewart served her sentence for stock fraud.

Shortly after her son's conviction, Annette Dorsey's 6,800-square-foot mansion is Scarsdale was unceremoniously auctioned off by the IRS for $3.2 million, the minimum bid, and in addition, Mama Dorsey was made to pay back the $22.5 million dollars that she hastily, and prosecutors say unlawfully, liquidated from Donovan's estate.

I pulled my BMW into the driveway of the new Cantrell family home, which was a spacious five-bedroom on the north side of town.

“Well it's about time!” Gwen said when I walked through the door. “Girl, we've been waiting for almost an hour to hear this big news.”

It was a Friday night, and I had called Gwen earlier in the day to tell her to gather the family together for a big announcement.

Besides Gwen, my nieces, Pam, Uncle Booney, and a few extended relatives were also there waiting with baited breath.

Unfortunately, we were still on the Alzheimer's roller coaster, so Mama Nita was there in body, but her mind wasn't with us on that particular day, as it wasn't on most days. She'd had a few more “awakenings” since the first one, where she was lucid and coherent and almost back to her old self. Those days were very few and very far between, but if the smile on her face was any indication, then at least what little she could comprehend made her happy.

“Sorry I'm a little late, but you know how traffic is on the Loop this time of day,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, so what's the news?” Pam asked, simultaneously working on her BlackBerry. She has her hands full with Mother's Helpers these days, which took off and was much bigger and more successful than even she had anticipated.

After just thirteen months in operation, the business has earned $743,000, and Pam is already making plans to franchise the business into major cities across the country.

“All right, so I got a phone call and a few faxes from Belle today, and the distribution deal with Victory Foods finally came through,” I said, “and Mama Nita's Authentic Creole Gumbo will be available in the frozen section of over fifteen thousand grocery stores nationwide!”

Uncle Booney shouted, “We're in the money! We're in the money!” and started doing the typewriter dance made famous by MC Hammer.

“Wait a minute.” Gwen was shaking visibly. “When is all this happening?”

“Well, from what I've gathered so far, it's going down within the next six months,” I said, “and Belle is going to meet me at the plant in Buffalo to sign the contracts next week.”

Everybody started screaming and jumping for joy, like we had all just hit the Mega Millions jackpot. Specialty food distribution deals are hard to come by, and had the potential to earn millions upon millions of dollars per year.

Victory Foods was
major
in the industry, and I had Belle to thank for helping to bring the Cantrell family recipe to their attention.

Belle had screamed as if she had hit the lottery as well, when a messenger delivered that gift-wrapped box with a white bow on it.

Me, Belle, Steve, and a handful of Belle's regular, loyal customers had all gathered at the bakery-slash-sandwich shop one evening after closing time for the big gumbo tasting.

“This, my dear, is definitely going on the menu,” Belle told me after just one spoonful.

Everyone else had adamantly nodded their heads in agreement, and then the messenger had knocked on the door. He peered in the window, holding up the package, and I thought that if only he knew what was inside maybe it would have been his life that would be changed instead of Belle's.

Steve had unlocked the door and signed for the package that he in turn handed to his mother.

The look of surprise and sheer joy on Belle's face when she opened the box was priceless. “Thank you, Jesus! Hallelujah!” Belle had shouted so fervently that for a minute I thought she was going to start speaking in tongues.

“What is it, Mom?” Steve had asked, rushing to hold his mother up, who looked on the verge of collapsing. Steve's eyes got big, and he stared in disbelief at the contents of the three plastic Pathmark bags inside the box.

I had hung back along with the other customers so as not to invade Belle and Steve's moment, but Steve pulled out the letter I had written and read it aloud.

We all said how great it was, and that no one was more deserving than Belle to have recouped some of her money.

“Who would do something like this?” Steve had asked incredulously, his mouth still agape.

“Whoever it is, God bless 'em!” Belle said, pulling me into a hug.

Later that night, when we were cleaning up and it was just Belle and me in the kitchen, she had turned to me and said, “Thank you.”

“No problem, it was my pleasure,” I had said. “I'm just glad that everyone seemed to really enjoy the gumbo.”

“Well, thank you for that too, but I'm talking about the money,” she'd whispered. “I never miss an episode of
Most Wanted Fugitives . . .
it's my favorite program.”

Belle had winked at me, and we smiled at each other, sharing the understanding that she had known for quite some time that I was once Donovan's girlfriend, yet she hadn't shunned or judged me, but instead welcomed me into her life with open arms.

The doorbell rang, and I opened the door for my sweetie, Jayson.

“Hey, babe, what did I miss?” he asked, bending down to kiss me.

It was the Jayson Cooper that had been my first love and first everything.

I had taken Mama Nita to an appointment with Doctor Butler, and went down to the hospital cafeteria while she was getting her brain scan.

After paying for a cup of coffee and a slice of lemon meringue pie, I'd looked for a place to sit and had seen Jayson with his head buried in the sports section of the
Chicago Tribune.

“Paging Doctor Cooper,” I said, taking a seat across the table from him.

Jayson had smiled with his eyes when he saw me, and laid the newspaper aside. “Eva Cantrell,
wow,
” he said, “what a sight for sore eyes.”

For the first couple of minutes, Jayson and I had just looked at each other as if neither of us could believe what we were seeing.

Jayson and I had been the hood version of Romeo and Juliet. While other teenaged couples spent time hanging out and engaging in fun but nonproductive activities, the two of us studied together and quizzed each other on various subjects, because both of us knew that education was the only way we would ever get out of the projects.

Once we'd gotten over the initial shock of seeing each other so unexpectedly, Jayson and I got to talking and he told me he had just graduated from medical school and was now practicing pediatrics right there at Jackson Park Hospital.

Jayson was single with no kids, and was a Doctor McHottie if there ever was one, with smooth dark skin, a low-Caesar fade, and a body that I could tell was buff up underneath that doctor's coat. The two of us had reconnected that day, and easily fell back into our relationship as if we had never spent any time apart.

“See, didn't I tell you? I knew you two would eventually find your way back to each other,” Kyle had told me when I'd mentioned it at his commitment ceremony to Alvin.

While I was in New York, I checked the post office box that I had renewed the rental on for another year, and surprise, surprise! There was a three thousand dollar reimbursement check from Swiss Air.

Gee, thanks! I think there is something fundamentally wrong with an airline losing a hundred thousand dollars' worth of brand-new goods, but only being obligated to pay a maximum of three thousand. It was nothing short of highway robbery, but whether I had gotten the luggage back or more money, I didn't plan to keep any of it. Still striving to keep my karma slate clean, I cashed the Swiss Air check and donated every penny of it to Girls Educational & Mentoring Services, or GEMS, a wonderful organization that strives to keep young women from being sexually exploited. Tameka worked with GEMS, which was a cause near and dear to her heart, and if the check from Swiss Air had been thirty thousand, I still would have donated every bit of it to them.

Tameka ended up getting a four million dollar divorce settlement from her ex-husband Jamal, plus monthly alimony and child support totaling forty-five thousand dollars a month, which serves Jamal's trifling ass right. Tameka and I celebrated her divorce by taking her sons to Disneyland for a week. We then journeyed from Florida to Bermuda, where Kyle met up with us for five days of relaxation and fun in the sun.

The only thing I miss about living in New York is not being able to hook up with Kyle and Tameka on a whim. To do lunch, go shopping, or just hang out and talk over a glass of wine. However, we visit each other back and forth often enough so that I don't miss them too terribly.

There is nothing quite like chilling with folks you love, and one thing I know for sure is that all the money in the world can't buy true friendship.

Just the other day, Tameka e-mailed a poem she'd had written especially for me by poetess extraordinaire, Sharmina T. Ellis.