Bad Girls Finish First (25 page)

Christopher threw up his hands in exasperation. “What else, then? What else do I need to do?”

“It's not what you need to do, it's what I need to do for myself. I'm going back to school, Chris. Starting on my master's, next semester.” Genie looked away from Christopher and said words that hurt them both. “I'm going to move to Washington DC as soon as the election is over. I've been accepted at Georgetown.”

When Christopher left Genie's apartment he had his head down and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He could barely see through the tears that brimmed in his eyes.

Now he knew what men meant when they talked about the one that got away.

 

 

After he'd talked to Dr. Laverne, Dudley had a hard time deciding whether to have another bite of his treat immediately or savor it until later in the day. The idea of waiting a few more hours so that he could serve up his news in person appealed to Dudley. That way he'd have the entire morning to imagine what might happen once he set things in motion. Dudley picked up the phone and made a lunch date.

“You won't believe what I have to show you,” Dudley said as Raven rushed to his table and stowed her sunglasses in her bag.

“Yeah, what?” She picked up the menu and ran her finger down the selections. “This had better be good. I had to postpone my salon appointment for you.”

“Look at you, acting all bored and distracted,” Dudley said as he took the envelope from his portfolio. He pushed the envelope across the table to Raven. “Check these out, see if they pique your interest. They were taken last night.”

Raven found herself staring at David's penis and the blurred image of a woman. When she finally looked at Dudley, the pain and bewilderment on her face sent a delicious shiver down his spine.

“It's David,” she said. “I mean, is it David? Those look like his hands.”

“I had a feeling you'd recognize him, and I suspect it isn't because of his hands,” Dudley said as he reached across the table and rubbed her hand. “I thought something was going on between the two of you, I could feel it.”

“He was the one with Erika?”

Dudley nodded. “Yes, my source had it all wrong.” Dudley turned the photo sideways so that he could see it. “But looking at my baby brother, I can see why he'd be mistaken for a young buck.”

“You're sure these were taken last night?”

“Positive.” Dudley noticed that Raven had stopped at the second picture. “Go on, look at all of them.”

Raven flipped through a few more shots, then shoved the stack across the table to Dudley. She motioned for the waiter. “That Death by Chocolate on your dessert menu—please bring one for me, and bring him the crème brûlée,” she ordered.

Raven drummed her fingers on the table. “These pictures, if they were to get out, they'd hurt David as much as Erika.”

“Maybe, but what choice do we have? If you want Michael to win, David's got to suffer the consequences.”

Raven didn't say anything, just sat there shocked. Finally, she looked at Dudley with her stunning, icy eyes and asked, “Do you think he loves her?”

“It wouldn't surprise me. David's been waiting his whole life for a woman like Erika—someone smart, beautiful, and powerful.”

What about me? I'm all those things,
Raven wanted to scream. “There are lots of women around who fit that description. What's so special about Erika?”

“She's white,” Dudley said softly. He shook his head as though it pained him to speak of his brother's foible. “David's always had a thing for white women. You want to hear a man go on and on about white women, just buy my brother a six-pack.” Dudley laughed and feigned surprise at Raven's surprised look. “What? Don't tell me you didn't know?” Dudley laughed again. “David just plays the sisters. That's how he built New Word.”

He told me I cured him,
Raven remembered.
He lied to me.
By now she had finished her Death by Chocolate and started on Dudley's crème brûlée. The more she ate, the calmer she became. “So when he spends time with a black woman, say a woman like me, he's looking for something?”

Dudley waved his hand, “Well, yeah, but let's face it, David couldn't take advantage of you if he tried. You guys had some sort of “You wash my back, I'll wash yours” thing going on. Right?”

Raven sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “Let's just say we did. What would be in it for me?”

“If I had to guess?”

She nodded. “If you had to guess.”

Dudley was having such a delightful time, he had to remind himself not to overdo it. “I may be closing in on fifty, but nothing's wrong with my eyes or my memory. When Michael snubbed you at the Juneteenth gala this summer, I saw you make a play for David to get back at him. Now you're even more pissed off because Michael hasn't appreciated the way you've tried to help him win the election. What better revenge than to screw one of his closest friends?”

“And David. What would be in it for him?”

“Money. I don't know if you and I ever talked about it, but I'm sure you know David's mission in life is to get the bulk of the faith-based money. Michael told him he'd have to go through you to get funding. That's why he came onto you so strong. I guess my clever brother decided to bang Michael's woman and pick his pocket at the same time.”

Raven asked Dudley more questions, but she didn't ask him why he would give up his own brother. Having spent most of her lifetime turning on people, she didn't need a reason why.

 

 

Raven threw off so much heat as she paced, her bedroom should've burst into flames. How dare David! She thought about how she turned her back on Michael every night and all the while David was running around with Erika.
They've both lost their minds if they think I'm taking this shit lying down.

Raven was ready to deal with them both and she wanted to get Erika first, but she couldn't find her. She called Erika's home and cell phones, but all she got was her voice mail. Raven wanted to leave Erika a message—oh, did she!—but catching her off guard would be better.

Raven grabbed her keys and headed to Erika's.

 

 

Erika loaded her CD player with Bonnie Raitt and roamed around her house, searching for something to keep her mind off the pictures. Maybe the lighting wasn't right, so they wouldn't come out clearly. Maybe he dropped his camera in a puddle of water when he ran away. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

Erika kept wandering. She had lived in her home for ten years and she'd never so much as mopped the kitchen floor. She found where her housekeeper kept the cleaning supplies and cleaned her house from top to bottom. Erika lost herself in discovering her home. Her last job was to sweep up the glass from her broken French doors. As she swept, Erika tried to sing along with Raitt's “I Can't Make You Love Me” but the words making tracks in her head didn't match what came from her mouth. All she could think of was when and where the photos would show up.

When the doorbell rang and Erika answered it, seeing that it was Raven, she put one latex-gloved hand on her hip and asked, “What are you doing here?”

Erika reluctantly stepped aside for Raven, who walked in like she was the homeowner and Erika, the downstairs maid.

“Why haven't you returned my calls?” Raven asked. She threw her handbag on the sofa.

“That's how we do things, isn't it? One of us,” Erika pointed at herself, “usually me, makes a call, and the other one, normally you, doesn't return it. We've reversed roles, that's all.”

Raven walked over to Erika's shattered French doors. “Looks like you had a break-in. That's too bad.”

Erika didn't move from the entrance. She wasn't in the mood to play Raven's game; finding out who took those pictures was far more important. She decided to allow Raven enough time to do some moderately degrading groveling.

“Since you're here, I guess you've changed your mind. It took you long enough.” Erika took off her housecleaning gloves and tucked them in the back pocket of her jeans.

“Changed my mind about what?” Raven's intention was to tear Erika limb from limb, and on that point, her mind was made up.

“About making sure my organization gets its money's worth out of Michael. You almost waited too long, but I'll make some calls tomorrow, get his endorsements back on track.”

“STRAPPED? Erika, screw STRAPPED. I'm here about you and David.”

Erika, who was not shy, felt her neck turn scarlet. “David who?”

“Let me refresh your recollection.” Raven grabbed her handbag off the sofa. She whipped out one of the photos, and held it in one hand while she stabbed at it with her index finger. “
This
David. Reverend David Capps. Who do you think you are, sleeping with David?” Raven shouted.

The photographer had captured David in a stance that was particularly flattering. Erika was in the photo too, breasts swinging, stomach bulging, as she reached for the Sam Houston statuette she'd thrown through her French doors. If Erika looked like that in real life, David (or any self-respecting man) would've chased the photographer down and confiscated his camera rather than let anyone know he'd slept with her.

“Why do you care about me and David?” Erika shouted back.

“Because he's mine!” Raven blurted. That shut the both of them up.

Then Erika started to laugh. “Yours. Are you kidding? The man's a whore, or haven't you heard?”

Raven felt anger rise in her throat. She forced herself to calm down. She leaned the photo of David and Erika in front of a framed picture of Erika and a horse. “You can scream, shout, break everything in this house for all I care,” Raven said as she straightened the propped-up photo, stepped back, stepped forward, and readjusted it. While Raven displayed the picture of David and Erika to her liking, she talked to Erika in a shaky voice. “But the one thing you cannot do is laugh at me. It makes me angry.”

Erika thought about the stories she'd heard about Raven.
Those stories are so bizarre, they can't be true,
she told herself. And if they were, well, Erika wasn't just a STRAPPED member, she was its top-rated female marksman.

Erika backed down, but only so much. “I don't care about David one way or another, but obviously you do, so I'll give you a choice—Michael or David.”

“Explain.” Raven's voice was steady now. Her glassy stare of moments before was gone.

Erika relaxed. “You think you deserve to have everything you want, but you don't. So here's the deal. I let bygones be bygones as far as the STRAPPED money is concerned, which means I'll stop messing with Michael. In exchange, I keep David, exclusively. Or, I'll give you David, but Michael loses the election.”

Raven stared at Erika for a few beats, then said, “Okay, how about this? I keep David, you call your dogs off Michael so that he can win this election, and in return I don't expose the fact that you sleep black,” Raven shot back.

Erika called Raven's bluff. “People don't care who I sleep with, but when they find out that you're involved with David, Michael would be lucky to be elected president of a rock-collecting club.” The alarm on Raven's face told Erika she'd hit the mark. She continued, “I'll keep David around for as long as I want to, then when I'm done, you can have him.”

Erika reminded herself of who she was: Erika Chaseworth Whittier, a woman who cut the nuts off bulls and chopped the heads off snakes. She couldn't let a pest like Raven disrespect her in her own house and get away unhurt. “I've got no problem giving you my leftovers, especially since they suit you so well. When I got tired of Michael, he ran right to you, so I'm sure David will do the same.”

Raven wanted to hit Erika. But she'd learned a few things on the campaign trail; things like patience and how to wait for the right time to stick in the dagger.

“Fuck you, Erika, I'll get what I deserve, and so will you.” Raven grabbed her handbag and left.

Raven sped through Erika's quiet neighborhood, her entire being concentrated on one thing: hurting Erika. A small child chasing a ball or an old lady crossing the street would've been road kill, because Raven didn't stop for shit, not indecisive squirrels, not stop signs.

Her cell phone rang.

“What!”

“Raven, it's Jerry Minshew. Please don't hang up. Listen, I can't get you off my mind. I have to see you. I'll do anything you want—write another column, give you money—whatever, I don't care.” Minshew stopped begging, not because he'd run out of things to say, but because he was shocked that Raven hadn't hung up in his face.

Raven didn't hang up because she needed a target for her rage, and Minshew, with his unlucky self, was it.

“You're the most disgusting man I've ever let touch me, why would I put myself through that again? Why would any woman want you—have you checked a mirror lately?” Another call came in. “Hold on,” Raven said.

And the fool did.

Dudley was on the other line. He was having second thoughts about having shown Raven the pictures so soon. He wanted to plan their strategy for approaching Erika first before Raven did something stupid.

“Hey, sweetie.” Dudley tried to sound compassionate.

“I'm on the other line with Jerry Minshew. What's up?”

Why is she talking to Jerry Minshew?
Dudley thought. “Just wanted to check on you, see how you're doing.”