Bad Girls Finish First (18 page)

Raven lay in bed next to Michael and thought about David. She couldn't believe she'd told him the Boston cream pie story. Worse, she'd cried in front of him! Raven didn't even like to cry when she was alone.

David had wanted to talk about Jacqueline but all Raven told him was that Jacqueline was a name-dropping snob and was not welcome in Texas. Jacqueline was beside herself because although she was the mother-in-law of the future governor, she was barred from capitalizing on the connection.

Something about David . . . I don't know, I'm in a different place when I'm with him, and it's getting that's where I want to be all the time,
Raven thought. The sex was different too. Michael was better at the pure freak action, but when David put his arms around Raven, the feeling that surged through her was soothing beyond anything she'd ever experienced. The closest thing to it was the feeling she'd gotten as a child when her father came home from work and picked her up. Raven stared at her bedroom ceiling and thought,
For the first time in my life, I think I might be in love. What on earth am I going to do?

 

 

“Why would you think I know something about Omar Faxton?” the woman asked.

Dudley licked the cappuccino foam from his top lip. “Well, you were fucking him, weren't you, Mrs. Huffmeyer?”

Shelly looked around the coffee shop to see if anyone had overheard Dudley. The only reason she had agreed to talk to him was because he threatened to call her husband with some old gossip about her and Omar.

Shelly's blue eyes were friendly, in case anyone was watching, as she said, “Mr. Capps, you might have me in a tight spot, but you've got to talk to me better that that. Otherwise I'll walk out of here and deal with whatever comes.”

Dudley reeled himself in but he didn't apologize. “Well, let me put it this way: My sources tell me that you and Omar were an item during his first and second years of law school. All I want to find out is what you know about his disappearance.”

“Six months after he went missing, Omar's condo was still filled with expensive things, most of which I bought. He liked the high life too much to leave all that behind.” She swept her natural blond hair to one shoulder. “And I know for a fact that he was sneaking around with Raven.”

She stood. “I hope you find Omar, but I doubt that you will.” She dug into her purse. “On the off chance that you do, give him this.” She handed Dudley a business card. “My cell number is on the back.”

18

“M
y, my. A personal phone call from Mr. Big Shot. I must be coming up in the world.”

Michael laughed. “John, you sound like a second-string girlfriend who's not getting enough attention. Don't treat me like that.”

“That's what I feel like,” John Reese joked back. “You've gone and gotten yourself friends in high places—the President of the United States, and whatnot—how am I supposed to compete?”

“Yeah, right. All I can say is, when I grow up, I want to be just like you.” Michael read from the invitation he'd just opened. “Maggie and John Reese request the honor of your presence as they celebrate forty years of marriage.” He placed the invitation on the corner of his desk. “Free limousine service for out-of-towners, reception at the Four Seasons Resort. You must be running an illegal business out of the back room at the bookstore.”

John Reese laughed so hard, he lost his breath. The sound of Michael's voice, easy and stress free, was like balm on a wound. Once, the two men had talked several times a week. Back then, Michael, Grace, and the boys came over at least once a month for Sunday dinner, and every other year both families took a vacation together. Never mind that there was no blood between them—Michael and John had been family in the truest sense of the word. John was like an older brother to Michael, not just any older brother, but the type who raised his younger siblings because the parents ran off or died. John had been his touchstone, his advisor and protector. They stood by each other, come what may, and told each other the truth, even when it hurt.

The qualities that had held them together for more than twenty years were the same ones that eventually pulled them apart. When Michael found himself falling for Raven, John Reese was the only person he confided in. Michael thought he'd get John's usual speech about not letting his outside affairs cause trouble in his home. John surprised Michael by going much further. John had done some investigating and he knew that Raven was nothing but trouble. When Michael and Raven married, John slipped out of Michael's life. Their weekly talks faded to birthday and holiday calls. Michael used to stop by John Reese's bookstore every time he went to Dallas, but on his last several trips there, he'd made excuses about why he couldn't go.

Although they'd become estranged once Michael left Grace, Michael thought about John almost every day, and Michael crossed John's mind at least as much.

“You know me, Michael, I'd just as soon have flown to Jamaica, had a small ceremony there. This is all Maggie. Forty years ago we got married at the courthouse because we couldn't afford a wedding, not even a small one. I didn't even know she missed being a real bride until we went to a ceremony for old friends in DC.”

“Got her to thinking?”

“Yeah. That's all she talked about for weeks, until I finally asked her if she'd like to do the same thing. My Maggie went nuts,” John Reese said, laughing at the memory. “I may go broke, but after what she's been to me all these years, how could I say no?”

“I know. I envy you, man. Hope I make it to forty.”

An uncomfortable silence followed, during which each man thought about Grace. If Michael had ever had a chance of long-term wedded bliss, he'd already blown it.

“The whole family will be there, John. Wouldn't miss it.”

“Speaking of family, two more things before you go. Maggie wants Evan to sing at the ceremony. Would you have him give her a call so she can see if he'll agree to do it?”

“I have no doubt he'll do it,” Michael said. “Tell Maggie it's a go. I'll have Evan call her to square away the details. What's the other thing?”

“Just so you know, we're hoping Grace comes.”

 

 

“She's got an invitation, Chris, Dad told me so. I don't know why I have to call her,” Evan reasoned.

He and Christopher had been going back and forth for a week over one question: should Evan call Grace and ask her to come to the wedding? The brothers were cruising the mall, supposedly looking for the perfect present for Uncle John and Aunt Maggie, as they called the Reeses. So far Evan had purchased two pairs of the latest tennis shoes, and Christopher had sexy Victoria's Secret lingerie for Genie and Monica. All they'd done regarding the Reeses so far was talk, but the talk was intense.

“Ev, you know how Mom is. Unless she finds out you're singing, she might stay home. Call her, help me get her out of the house.”

They stopped talking for a moment, their attention diverted by a group of well-toned college girls.

“Texas women is throwed, ain't they?” Evan commented as he openly eyed the girls.

“For real.” Christopher stared, too. It was the way things went down in the mall.

Then Evan said, “If Mom wants to stay locked up in her apartment, that's her business, man. Dealing with her is a trip. Seems like every time we talk, it's because you've made me call her. You made me invite her to my city-choir tryout and she didn't show up. I ain't with that.”

Christopher slapped Evan on the shoulder. “I know. But right now we're all she's got, and I'm telling you, Ev, she's getting better, crawling out of the hole she's been in. It's because of us. When's the last time you saw her?”

“Couple of months.”

“That's too long, Ev.” Christopher walked toward a bench. “Tell you what, I'll chill here for a minute while you give her a call.” When Evan started to protest, Christopher said the magic words. “Do it for me.”

Evan walked a few yards away and flipped his cell phone. “Mom? Hey, how's it going?” His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton.

“Evan! Honey, I'm fine. How are you?”

“I'm cool.” Evan was no good at casual conversation with either of his parents, so he got to the point. “I'm s'posed to sing at Uncle John and Aunt Maggie's wedding.”

“Baby, that's wonderful! I haven't heard you sing in ages.”

“Yeah, well.” He thought about his audition. “You ought to come to the wedding, check it out.”

“Well, I don't know. I really hadn't—”

“No problem. If you can't make it, you can't make it.”
Although we both know you don't have anything else to do,
Evan thought but didn't say.

Grace picked up his vibe, and said, “Evan, I'll be there. I promise.”

“I still don't understand why you have to stay, Chris.” It was late on a Friday night. Christopher had flown to Dallas Thursday morning, with the promise that he'd be back in Austin with her Friday evening. Now he was telling Genie that he wouldn't be back until Sunday afternoon.

“It can't be helped, Genie, I've got to finish this report. I'm already all set up here, so it'll be easier for me to stay, knock it out, then come home.” Christopher wished she'd pitch a fit and demand that he come home right that minute, but Genie was a trusting, independent woman. If he told her he had to stay, she'd take him at his word.

Genie slumped in her chair. “I'll get one of my girlfriends to go to the comedy show with me. I miss you.”

“Miss you, too. Have a good time.”

Genie took Christopher's advice and had a great time. She and her girlfriend ended up sitting in the front row, which made them prime targets for every comedian who took the stage. The comedians flirted with the women more than they made jokes about them. The one female comedian gave them props for keeping the guys in line.

When Genie got home, she called Christopher on his cell, but didn't get an answer.

“Stop it!” Genie said to herself after she'd called three times. But Genie didn't stop; she took her manhunting to level two. She called Grace.

“Hi, Ms. Joseph,” Genie said when Grace answered. “I'm sorry for calling so late, but I've been trying to catch up with Christopher and he's not answering his cell. Is he there?”

“Genie? Hi, baby,” Grace sat up and looked at the clock. It was almost one in the morning.
These young girls,
she thought, then remembered that once upon a time, she'd been a pro at tracking down her man. “No, Christopher isn't here. When did he leave Austin to head this way?”

When did he leave Austin!
Genie repeated in her head. “Thursday morning,” she said in a small voice. “He told me he'd be staying with you.”

“Oh.” Grace didn't know what else to say.

“Thanks, Ms. Joseph. If you hear from him, tell him I called?”

“Sure.”

Pause.

“And Genie.”

“Ma'am?”

“Don't stay up worrying about Chris. Get a good night's sleep. I'm sure he's fine.”

 

 

The next morning, not knowing quite how she got there—after all, her mind kept saying no way—Genie found herself on the road to Dallas.

She got to the Neighborhood Assistance Center at ten. Genie looked toward the office that Christopher usually occupied when he was in town. The lights were out.
What about all the nonstop work he's got to do?

“Hi,” she said to the young man at the reception desk. “Is Christopher Joseph here?”

“No. They'll probably be in about twelve, twelve-thirty.”

“They?”

“He and Monica.”

Genie felt like she was watching herself in a horror movie, making all the wrong moves. She knew that she should wait for Christopher to show up, but instead she whipped out her identification badge. “I need to use your computer for a sec, okay?”

As soon as Genie pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex, she spotted Christopher's Honda. She looked at the slip of paper in her hand. Monica Fowler, 5412 Finch Way, Apartment 123. This was the address and that was Christopher's car, no doubt about it. No hiding from the truth.

Genie took a compact from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. They weren't red, not yet, but it was clear she'd been crying. She fluffed her hair and got out of the car. As she searched for Monica's apartment, Genie tried to talk herself out of what she was doing.
Hunting down a man; it's degrading. Chris is where he wants to be. I don't want a man who doesn't want me. What if I lose it?
And, most troublesome of all—
What if he puts his arm around Monica and tells me to get the hell out?

But Genie knew what every woman knows. Unless a man is cold busted—unless his woman can tell him where he was, who he was with, what he had on, when it happened, and what he said—he'll say, “It wasn't me.”

Monica answered the door when Genie knocked. She looked shocked but composed. “Hey, Genie.” She wore a red silk robe. Genie had one exactly like it, in blue. Victoria's Secret.

“May I come in?”

Monica tucked her hair behind her ears. “It might be awkward.”

“I can handle it if you can.”

Monica stepped aside and Genie came in. She didn't sit down.

“Chris,” Monica called out and then thought better of it. “No, wait!” Monica hurried toward the bedroom.

Christopher, totally unaware of what was going on, yelled back, “Is breakfast done already? I'm starving.”

Then the man Genie knew so well stood in front of her in his bare feet and briefs.

“I was wrong,” Genie said, talking to Monica, but looking at Christopher. “I can't handle this.”