Deadly Satisfaction (9 page)

“Donetta, I know you're excited, but please, please be careful. He may have seemed nice on first blush, but he could be crazy for all you know.”

“No crazier than I am.”

Geneva nodded her head, knowing her friend had just made a valid point. Donetta wasn't straitjacket crazy, but she could be a handful, and some of the situations she'd found herself in over the years were worthy of reality TV. “You know what I mean. Crazy, as in you could end up in his freezer.”

“Stop it,” Donetta said playfully. “You know I can handle myself. But wait a minute, what the hell are you doing up this late? Are you all right?”

Geneva finished the last sip of her tea. “I had a bad dream, so I'm sipping tea to calm my nerves.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetie. You want to talk about it?”

This was one of the reasons why Geneva loved Donetta as if they were sisters. Donetta's offer to listen wasn't just a polite gesture; she really meant it. She was the type of friend who took her relationships seriously, and despite the fact that a handsome man was waiting to buy her drinks at the most exclusive hotel in downtown, she was ready to put him on pause if she felt Geneva needed her. “No, I'm okay. I'll tell you about it later. Go ahead and meet that handsome man and have a good time.”

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yes, I'm certain. And listen, call me in the morning and let me know how things go. Don't forget, because if I don't hear from you by eight o'clock, I'm going to start blowin' up your phone.”

“Okay, I'll call you. Now go to bed and get some rest.”

Geneva hung up and prayed that Donetta would be all right. She washed out her cup, walked upstairs, and got back into bed. She snuggled next to Samuel and prayed for an answer to the mystery that she thought had been solved two years ago—who really killed Johnny?

C
HARLENE

I
t took Charlene a few minutes to figure out which room she was in when she opened her eyes. She slowly sat up on the couch before putting her feet to the floor in an effort to steady herself. Even though the room was dimly light from the elegant, flush-mount chandelier hanging above, she squinted as if she was sitting under a spotlight because her head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. “What time is it?” She fumbled for her cell phone sitting on the ottoman in front of her and looked at the time. “I can't believe it's one o'clock in the morning.” She blinked several times to focus her eyes, but all it did was make her head throb even more.

Charlene's stressful day, accompanied by a night of heavy drinking, had left her feeling listless. She strained her eyes when she saw a note lying beside the empty bottle of wine she'd drained. When she bent forward to pick it up, the room began to spin, so she leaned back into the soft pillows until she could gain her bearings. She looked to her left and saw a glass of water on the end table. She could tell it had been sitting there for a while because of the beads of condensation covering the glass and the half-melted ice cubes floating at the top. “Where did this water come from?” she mumbled. For the life of her, she didn't remember putting it there. Charlene licked her dry lips and swallowed the bad taste resting on her tongue. She was so parched at the moment that it didn't matter to her if the devil himself had put the glass there and had laced it with poison; she was thirsty, and she was going to drink it.

Slowly, Charlene reached for the water and held it tightly. When she brought the cool liquid to her lips, she gulped the entire glass down as if she hadn't had anything to drink in days. “Aaaaahh,” she said. She set the empty glass back on the end table and looked at the note again. This time when she bent forward, she moved slower and stretched her arms. She picked up the piece of paper and saw that it was a handwritten note from Phillip.

The thought of Phillip finding her drunk and passed out on the couch made Charlene feel slightly embarrassed. But she knew, being the kind of person he was, he wouldn't judge her, or even be disappointed in her for having a very human moment. In fact, knowing her son the way she did, she knew he'd probably been worried about her, wondering what terrible thing had happened to cause her to get wasted.

“If he only knew,” Charlene said to herself. But then again, she was glad he didn't know the details of what had caused her current state. She'd always tried to protect her children from hurt, and even though Phillip was now a strong, confident man, deep down he was a sensitive soul with a big heart. As a young boy he'd been polite, thoughtful, and kind, and again, she couldn't help but think about what a good husband he was going to make some woman one day—that is, if he could find it in his DNA to settle down. He was, after all, his father's child, and he loved the ladies.

Unfortunately, Charlene also knew that her ex-husband's philandering ways had had an impact on both of her children, and as a result they were on opposite ends of the spectrum in how they operated in relationships; Phillip had too many, and Lauren was in a perpetual dry spell.

Even though Phillip was honest with the women he fooled around with by telling them up front that he had no interest in having a committed relationship, he juggled more women than one man should. Charlene knew she couldn't control the actions of a grown man, but she wished her son would change that part of his life. She knew all too well how things could turn nasty if a woman felt scorned, whether she willingly knew what she was getting herself into or not—after all, that's how Johnny had ended up dead.

Thinking about the potential danger surrounding her son's love life made Charlene's head pound even harder. She wished she'd only drank two glasses of wine as she'd initially intended to do. But she'd gotten worked up over Vivana Jackson, Leslie Sachs, and the ghost of Johnny Mayfield, so she'd turned to alcohol in an attempt to chase her troubles away.

Charlene folded Phillip's neatly written note. “I've got to get up and go to bed,” she said aloud. She adjusted her blouse and moved her skirt back into place as she slowly rose from the couch. She stumbled down the hall, and after walking what felt like the equivalent of a 5K, she finally reached her bedroom. She dragged herself over to her custom walk-in closet and removed her clothes. She reached into one of the built-in drawers and pulled out a long, silk nightgown and laid it across the small sitting bench near her shoe collection.

She wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and continue to sleep, but she knew she couldn't do that. She stripped off her clothes and stood under her rain showerhead as the warm water beat down on her skin. But instead of feeling peaceful relief, Charlene was bombarded by images that flashed through her mind of the night she'd murdered Johnny.

Charlene had come home after killing him and had immediately jumped into the shower. She'd scrubbed with a solution she'd purchased with cash from a pharmacy in the next county over, that would wipe away any traces of bacteria, blood, and gunpowder residue. She'd showered for thirty minutes, and had used the entire bottle in her efforts to wipe away the evidence of her crime.

Now, as Charlene lathered up her netted sponge, her mind shifted from the past back to the present, and in particular, to the phone call she'd received from Leslie Sachs. Charlene was certain that Leslie had evidence that would clear Vivana, otherwise she wouldn't have bothered holding a televised interview, or even taken her case pro bono. But Charlene wasn't sure whether Leslie had evidence that would implicate anyone else, and if she did, Charlene hoped the finger wouldn't point back in her direction.

After Charlene toweled off and slipped on her nightgown, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. But as she rested under her 1,600-thread-count sheets, little did she know that the situations her two children would soon find themselves in would make murdering Johnny look like child's play.

D
ONETTA

D
onetta had just ended her phone call with Geneva, and now she was more worried about her friend than before. It was late, and instead of being sound asleep Geneva was up, traumatized and confused about a bad dream she'd had. “She thinks she needs to check on me, but I'm the one who needs to check on her,” Donetta said to herself. “I'll call her in the morning.”

She said a quick prayer for her friend as she maneuvered her car toward a space on her right. She preferred parking at a meter on the street whenever she ventured downtown, especially after business hours when parking was free. She didn't think the expensive parking decks and overpriced valet services were worth their touted convenience. But tonight as she drove down the mostly empty street with plenty of available spaces, she changed her mind. Keeping in line with her newfound attitude, along with the fact that it was cold outside and she didn't feel like walking several blocks wearing peep toe–style three-inch stilettos, she decided to splurge.

Donetta took a deep breath as she steered her car under the portico of the Roosevelt Hotel. She had to admit that she felt special pulling up to the luxury building. Despite being frugal in certain areas of her life, she loved high-end things, and she adored opulence. The Roosevelt was the epitome of style and refined taste, with its stately brick veneer, beautiful potted plants, and fragrant flowers flanking the front entrance to greet guests as they arrived. The lighting was so bright and perfectly staged that she felt as though she was stepping out at a Hollywood premier. There was even an actual red carpet leading from the front door to the lobby.

Donetta was about to open her door when a bellman, decked out in coat and tails, replete with a top hat, opened it for her. He extended his hand to help her out of her car. “Welcome to the Roosevelt, ma'am,” the bellman said. “Will you be checking in, or are you here to meet a guest?”

Geneva cleared her throat. “I'm here to meet someone.”

The bellman tipped his hat and spoke into his wireless earpiece to alert the front desk.
This is definitely my kind of place,
Donetta thought to herself as a valet came around to her door and handed her a yellow ticket stub. “We hope you enjoy your time here at the Roosevelt, ma'am.”

“Thank you,” Donetta said as she walked through the hotel entrance.

Although Donetta had been living in Amber for quite some time, she'd only been inside the Roosevelt on one other occasion, and that had been several years ago for a charity event. She'd fallen in love with the elegance and beauty of the grand hotel. Her taste had always gravitated toward high-end sophistication, which hadn't always matched her bank account. She let out a sigh when she looked around and thought about her beloved grandma Winnie. Her grandmother had been a plain woman who enjoyed the simple things in life, but she'd always encouraged Donetta to aspire beyond the boundaries of their life in rural South Carolina. “The only limits you won't be able to overcome in life is the ones you put on yo'self,” her grandmother had told her.

“Grandma, you'd really like this place,” Donetta whispered as she looked at the bright lights and blooming flowers surrounding the entrance. “And if I'm right, I think you'd like him, too.” She smiled when she thought about Phillip, the reason she was there in the first place.

When Phillip had asked her to meet him for drinks, Donetta had hesitated and had almost told him no. All she'd wanted to do after a long day at the salon was relax with a hot bubble bath and a glass of wine after enjoying her dinner. But when he'd suggested the prestigious Roosevelt Hotel, she didn't hesitate. She knew that men who favored the Roosevelt for casual drinks didn't come along often, so she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.

As she entered the lobby, she was greeted by a petite woman with a smile that seemed much too bubbly for so late at night.

“Welcome to the Roosevelt, ma'am,” the woman said with a toothy grin. “How may I assist you tonight?”

Donetta smiled politely. “I'm here to meet someone at your bar.”

“Fantastic! Just walk through the lobby and veer to your left, and you'll see the Kylemore Room straight ahead.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. And by the way, you look absolutely beautiful. Are you a model?”

Donetta smiled again and shook her head. “You're too kind. No, I'm not, but honey, I'll take that compliment any day.”

Donetta walked through the lobby at a slow pace because she wanted to take in the grandeur of the room, letting the sights, sounds, and smells engulf her senses. She listened to the soft, instrumental jazz playing through the speaker system as she strolled, taking measured steps so she wouldn't miss a thing. She brushed her hand against one of the plush, leather high-back chairs and ran her fingers over the intricate nailhead trim. “Nice,” she whispered. She glided across the floor as the heels of her stilettos sank into the rich Aubusson rug, and her eyes took in the bold tapestry of the heavy, silk jabot swags that adorned the floor-to-ceiling windows, accented by ornate crown molding.
I'm in my element,
she thought. She inhaled the sweet smell of fresh flowers and vanilla that filled the air, and made a note to herself that she needed to stop by Trader Joe's tomorrow to get some flowers.

For Donetta, the Roosevelt wasn't just a hotel, it was an experience, and she planned to enjoy every minute of it because she didn't know when she'd have the chance to do so again.

She saw the ladies' room just after exiting the lobby, and she ducked inside to take one last check of her makeup. When she walked inside she felt like she was in heaven. “Damn, this is nice!” She took in the long marble countertop that stretched the entire length of the room, boasting raised porcelain sinks and chrome fixtures that looked like they were straight out of a magazine. Two vases of fresh flowers added a special touch to the softly lit room, while the jasmine and lavender–scented reed diffusers made her feel as though she was smelling a fresh meadow. Donetta pulled her phone from her small purple clutch and started snapping pictures. “I'm gonna replicate this in my bathroom at home.”

Donetta put her phone away and smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror, pleased with what she saw. At first she'd had no intention of getting dressed up because she didn't want Phillip to think she was trying too hard. She'd decided to go for the “I look good, but this is no big deal” look, so she'd pulled a pair of gray slacks and a cream-colored blouse from the hangers in her closet, and laid the outfit across her bed. But as she stood in the middle of her bedroom staring at the drab getup, she had to be honest with herself and admit that the very opposite was true. Her date with Phillip
was
a big deal, and not only did she want to look good for him, she wanted to impress him, and she knew she needed to put forth effort to show him.

She pulled together a knockout look in no time flat, and was out the door in record time, looking as though she'd spent hours preparing. The subtle golden highlights in her dark brown, razor-cut hair were flowing in sleek layers down her back. She'd applied smoky hues of gray and eggplant–colored eye shadows that made her look alluring, and she'd finished it off with a barely-there lipstick that brought out the pinkish tint of her full lips. Donetta nodded with satisfaction while she continued to look into the mirror.

She turned from side to side and smiled, knowing why the young woman in the lobby had mistaken her for a model. Her black skinny jeans showcased her long legs, and the subtle bling design on her back pockets accentuated the curve of her behind and her slender hips. She smoothed her manicured hand across the soft material of her white silk cami, and adjusted her zebra-print bolero-style jacket so the lapels brushed against her cleavage. Her bold, silver bangles and silver hoop earrings pulled the outfit together. She was stylish and chic with a hint of sass, compliments of her black suede and rhinestone-studded peep-toe stilettos. “Okay, Donetta, go out there with an open mind and just see where the hell this goes,” she said, encouraging herself to be hopeful, and as she'd told Geneva, optimistic.

Donetta walked out of the restroom and veered to her left, as the bubbly woman in the lobby had instructed, and saw the Kylemore Room right in front of her. She suddenly became nervous with each step she took. This was a foreign feeling for Donetta, because there were very few things that could shake her. After all the battles she'd had to fight and hurdles she'd had to maneuver on her journey to find peace in her life, she rarely blinked an eye at difficult situations. And that was why she knew that drinks with Phillip was going to involve more than simply sipping alcohol with a handsome man. Her gut told her that he was very different, and her trembling hands reinforced that feeling.

She looked at the time on her phone and was glad she'd arrived ten minutes early, because she needed those moments alone to calm her nerves, and maybe even order a drink to relax herself before Phillip arrived. If she had him pegged right, he was the type who would be there right on time.

Donetta's heart started racing when she walked into the large, dimly lit room and saw that Phillip was already there.
Damn it!

She loved promptness, and she had a healthy respect for time, but in this case she wanted to adjust the hands on the clock. But that wasn't possible, so she knew she had to gather herself before she sat down in front of him. She took her mind off of being nervous by concentrating on each detail of the room as she walked in.

Although it was a large space, the mahogany furnishings and soft lighting made it feel intimate and warm. The chrome wall sconces and candles flickering inside tall, rectangular-shaped glass hurricanes gave it a daring edge. Donetta looked at Phillip, and it struck her how comfortable and relaxed he seemed to be, as if he owned the entire building. He was clearly self-assured and confident, which excited her. She loved a man who was secure and without pretense.

Donetta could see that he was staring at her, and the closer she got, the bigger his smile grew. He stood when she reached the table, and she couldn't help but smile back. She'd made an effort to look good for him, and she could see that he'd done the same in return. She knew she'd been right about Phillip having style when she saw how well he'd worn old Levi's and a sweater at the grocery store. Now he was sporting dark jeans, paired with a white shirt and a black blazer with a black-and-white polka-dot pocket square. His outfit was simple and classic, and the pocket square let her know he had a bit of flare.

“You beat me here,” Donetta said.

Phillip reached for her, gathered her in his arms for a light embrace, and delivered a small, but sensual kiss to her cheek. She breathed in the scent that had stopped her in her tracks earlier tonight. “I'm always early,” Phillip said. “And I'm glad you are, too. You look amazing, Donetta.”

“Thank you, and you look very nice, too.”

“I clean up okay.”

Phillip pulled out the chair beside him and slid it closer to his, then extended his hand, motioning for Donetta to have a seat next to him. She appreciated that he was the type of man who pulled out chairs, opened doors, and showed up on time. As she watched him take his seat beside her, her cynicism tried to rear its head, and she began to think like she always did—the bigger the fish, the bigger the flaw.

Phillip seemed so perfect and much too good to be true. She wondered what kind of chink was buried deep in his armor. But as soon as the negative thought came to her mind, she heard Geneva's voice telling her to stop feeding in to negative energy. “If you look for bad things, think about bad things, and speak bad things, that's exactly what you'll get,” her friend often told her. Donetta calmed herself, took a deep breath, and put her worries on hold . . . for now.