Devilish Details (15 page)

Jazz turned to face him. “So you’re the man
with a plan, all the bases covered.”

“I look ahead and have the right contacts.”
Higgins took out a pair of designer sunglasses and put them on.

“All sounds wonderful for me
if
the
city doesn’t shut me down and nail the doors shut,” Jazz said.

“The city won’t be shutting you down, Ms.
Vaughn. Concentrate on your business and leave those clowns
downtown to me. I’ll be in touch.” Higgins flashed the same cocky
smile he used for his television commercials before he strolled to
his black BMW coup.

Jazz watched him drive off and then turned
around. She almost bumped into Don. “Set off some warning beeps,
man. I almost got knocked out against this chest of steel.”

Don looked past her without smiling at her
combination joke and compliment. “He’s up to something. I can smell
it on him like cheap cologne.

“I can assure you, Godfrey Higgins doesn’t
wear cheap anything. Let’s get out of the heat.” Jazz spun around
and went back inside.

“Watch him,” Don said insistently.

“Damn, I’m gonna be too exhausted watching
my back to do any-damn-thing. Lorraine, Kyeisha, Cleavon, and
according to you, even Filipe is plotting something from prison.
Folks who want a piece of me will need to take a number.” Jazz gave
a laugh as she led the way back to the bar. She went to the fridge
and got a bottle of ginger ale.

“This ain’t no joke, Jazzmonetta,” Don
replied. His sober police officer tone was meant to get Jazz to
straighten up.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jazz waved a hand and drank
some of the soda. Then she looked at him. “Wait a minute. You heard
anything about Cleavon or Kyeisha?”

“They found blood in her apartment. Somebody
tried using bleach to clean it up. Doesn’t look good for us finding
her alive.”

“Or in one piece,” Jazz said. Her stomach
did a flip-flop as she winced. She looked at Don intently. “Her
blood?”

“Too degraded. I’m no fan of foster care,
but in this case, I’m glad her kids had been taken away a year ago.
They would have witnessed something bad, or even become victims,”
Don said.

“Yeah well take it from me, the same stuff
and worse happens in those places.” Jazz couldn’t think of one good
thing about foster care.

“Listen if you ever want to talk--”

Jazz flipped a switch on the sound system
and Erykah Badu’s voice flowed from speakers set in the walls.
“Sing it girl. Anyway, I promise to eat my veggies, get plenty of
rest, and shoot first, then ask questions.”

“Very funny. I’m going to be checking on
you, starting tonight,” Don said. His deep voice asked a question
and issued an invitation at once.

She studied him for a long beat as Erykah’s
signature sassy lyrics surrounded them. Going it alone had worn
thin as a stripper’s thong. She needed rest alright: rest from
loneliness and from hot guys who turned into killers in a blink.
What she needed was a good long rest from her okey-doke life. Is
that what he promised? Hearts and flowers?

“I’m not a pie baking, cute house in the
suburbs kind of woman. You better be careful,” Jazz warned.

“I’m ready.” Don leaned his tall frame down
to kiss her on the forehead. “See you around midnight.”

He strode out before Jazz could think of
anything smart to say. A first in a long time, she mused. She tried
not to tag after him like a puppy, but his exit yanked at her like
a magnet. He never looked back but kept walking to his car. When
Don got in and saw her standing in the door, he blew a kiss. Then
he drove off all casual like he hadn’t just caused a tiny
earthquake in her world.

“So romantic,” Lilly blurted out over Jazz’s
shoulder. “Now you’re doing cops? Girl, half your customers gone be
scared to set foot up in here.” She spun around and flounced back
inside the club.

“What the hell are you doing here so early?
You should be at your day job serving chicken tenders and lemonade
to college students,” Jazz snapped. She went back inside and pushed
the door shut with one foot. She locked it.

“I’m going to debut my new dance moves, and
I want my costume to be ready. I’ll be in my dressing room.” Lilly
flipped her multi-colored acrylic covered fingertips at Jazz as she
kept going.

“Of course your highness,” Jazz said and
gave a snort.

“Hey, why you closed that door? The lunch
crowd will be comin’ in soon. I done took six take-out orders on
the phone already,” Rochelle yelled from the back of the club. She
handed off a box of frozen onion rings to Byron.

“I got the side door open. Made a sign with
arrows pointing this way and put it out front,” Byron said. His
voice faded as he went to the kitchen.

“You thinkin’ more than I give you credit,”
Rochelle said. She looked genuinely surprised as she headed behind
him in the same direction.

Jazz blinked in surprise as well but at the
rise of emotion that came over her. She owed it to these people to
save her business. Byron wouldn’t have it easy finding another job
with his record. Rochelle hadn’t even finished high school, though
Jazz had talked her into working on the GED. Lilly felt more
comfortable here than anywhere, though she’d eat glass before she’d
admit it. Each one in their own way worked hard to make her
nightclub and restaurant a success. She would not give up. Maybe
city officials and other people saw Candy Girls as a skanky dive,
but this place meant a lot more to them. Jazz would not let them
down.

Chapter 9

A man of his word, Don showed up at
midnight. And, he showed out. He wore a dark blue shirt with the
sleeves rolled up and light blue distressed jeans. He stood in
Jazz’s living room looking all kinds of good. She allowed him to
play the gentleman for all of ten minutes before things got hot.
Jazz dispensed with the courtship nonsense he tried on her. They
were on the floor and naked in short order. Not even a break to get
condoms spoiled the moment. He rocked her to the beat of loud music
from Candy Girls. And thank goodness for the wall shaking sound.
Don had Jazz screaming. Jazz gave as good as she got. After a
while, she didn’t care if anyone heard them and from his
performance, neither did Don. Even after so much satisfying
strenuous exercise, neither fell asleep. They lay side by side on
Jazz’s expensive carpet without speaking for a good twenty
minutes—mostly because they were still finding it hard to
breathe.

“When you creep at midnight Officer Addison
you don’t mess around,” Jazz said. A first she resisted Don’s
attempt to pull her into his arms. Soon she relented and rested her
cheek against his chest. His rumble of laughter sent warmth through
her body again.

“You blew out some of my brain cells, girl,”
Don replied.

“Good, then we’re even.” Jazz nudged him
playfully.

Don lifted her chin so their gazes met. “I’m
not much into creepin’ these days. I want more.”

Jazz looked away. “Let me take a nap and eat
some protein, man. I can’t do much more right now.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Jazz scrambled out of his reach before he
could stop her. She went down the hallway. The spacious bathroom
next to her bedroom was one of her splurges. The waterfall
showerhead set in the ceiling was another. Soon she stood under the
stream of warm water covered in foaming multicolor bubbles. When
the glass shower door slid open, Jazz didn’t speak. Don lathered
his body, and they stood under the water together. He put his arms
around her and nuzzled her neck. Jazz felt sad, terribly sad. Still
she said nothing. They exited the shower. Neither spoke as they
toweled themselves dry. She went into the small closet and silently
held out a pair of men’s cotton draw string pants. Don didn’t
react. He put on his underwear and the pants. Then he followed her
out of the bathroom. Once back in the living room, soft music came
from her sound system. The digital clock on it said it was three in
the morning. Candy Girls had closed two hours before in keeping
with city ordinances.

“You want anything? I can scramble eggs or
make coffee.” Jazz started for the kitchen but he pulled her back
by the hand.

“In a minute. Come here.” Don led her from
the kitchen to the sofa in her living room. He sat down bringing
her along. “I’m guessing you don’t want more. And before you
answer, let me say I’m not rushing you. You need room to breathe, I
got that.”

“So we can see other people?” Jazz raised an
eyebrow at him.

Don pulled a large hand over his face,
sighed, and looked at her. “You ain’t gonna make this easy on me,
huh?”

“I’m not trying to make it anything for
you
. I’m telling you what I need. You’re right, I need room
to breathe, but that means more to me than just, I don’t have to
check in with you daily. Look, I’ve been through some serious shit.
I don’t feel all tingly and want some guy buying me roses. One
therapist says I have attachment issues. Whatever. I decide who I
see and when I see him.”

Jazz spoke matter-of-factly, and mostly she
believed the speech. Except resting her body against his solid
muscles did make her feel... sheltered. Still she had to think
through what was happening. He was one of the few good men she’d
met. Willa’s adopted father, and her foster brothers made it four.
Not good considering the number of men she’d known, including her
lousy no-show father. So she steadied herself for his anger,
disgust, and a heated exit from her life. Don held her hand without
speaking for five minutes.

“Good enough.”

“Wait, what did you just say?” Jazz stared
at him in shock.

“I just want you to loosen up with me, tell
me anything. Know that no matter what drops in your life, you can
call on me,” he said, his deep voice calm and steady.

“Nah, that was too damn easy. I’m sayin’ if
I want to be with another guy...”

“Yeah, just be safe and I’ll do the same. I
won’t put you at risk.”

“Uh, yeah, I mean, goes without saying.
I...” Jazz stammered. “Damn.”

“And Filipe?” Don said.

“Always used condoms, he...”

“Great, but that’s not what I meant. Are you
over him?” Don gazed at her steadily.

Jazz didn’t try to lie. Don somehow knew
that despite what she might have told others, Filipe had a rough
edge sexiness that fed her more than any other guy. She hadn’t
fallen in sloppy romance novel love, yet Filipe’s combination of
being rough and then talking sweetly in that smooth Latino accented
English... did something to her.. She also remembered his cold,
deadly way of making enemies suffer. Jazz shivered at the
memory.

“Done and over. Took a minute, but Filipe is
a dangerous guy. ”

“I I played it so Filipe won’t think I
snitched on him.”

“Unless Kyeisha and Cleavon decide to tell
him different,” Don said..

“I had sense enough not to confide in
Kyeisha. I knew she couldn’t be trusted with secrets.” Jazz gave a
hiss of contempt. Despite her dislike of the woman, Jazz felt a
chill when she remembered the bloody finger found in her house.
“Kyeisha may not be talking to anybody ever again.”

“Yeah, but that leaves Cleavon. He needs to
be dealt with fast.” Don’s deep voice sounded like a contained
thunder of doom.

Jazz twisted to face him. “Hell no to what
you’re thinking.”

“S’cuse me?” Don’s dark eyebrows went up as
he gazed back at Jazz.

“Don’t be trying to play the handsome prince
protecting me. I’m not one of those wimpy chicks you see in the
movies. You know, being so stupid somebody has to save her ass all
the time,” Jazz said.

“You think I’m handsome, huh?” Don put his
large left hand on her thigh.

Jazz shook free of his touch. Heat from his
flesh seeped through the silk fabric of her robe. Combined with his
voice, and smoky dark eyes, Don seemed to weave a spell clouding
her mind.

“Stay out of this shit with Cleavon unless
the case is yours. And I don’t think it will be even if he’s
charged with murder. Your old partner is trying to bullet-proof
your career.” Jazz stood up and walked to the kitchen. She glanced
at the clock. Almost four in the morning. It would soon be time for
breakfast.

Don followed her. “So Armand talked to you
the other night. He’s my pal, but he needs to mind his damn
business. Word for word, what did he say?”

“He talked some serious sense. I’m under a
spotlight, and my history ain’t squeaky clean. Oh, he didn’t have
to tell me outright. Look, the man has your best interest at
heart.”

“Your speech about wanting to be free and
easy was bullshit. You’re trying to protect my career, is that it?”
Don crossed his arms. “I wish y’all would recognize that I’m a
grown-ass man. I got this far on my own. And no, I don’t think with
my dick. I like being a cop.”

“All I’m sayin’--”

“No,” Don cut her off. “You think I’m all
muscle and no damn brains? Cleavon is a drive-by shooting waiting
to happen. I want him off the streets for more than one
reason.”

“If your bosses think I’m hooked up with
Cleavon or any of those drug dealing gang-bangers, and they find
out your doing me, they’ll have the excuse they need to block
another Black man from rising to the top.” Jazz picked up the glass
coffee pot to fill it with water. Then she stopped and turned to
him with a sigh. “Don, much as we complain about the police, decent
Black folks want y’all on the job. And they need more good guys
like
you
.”

“Damn.” Don blinked at Jazz. He leaned
against the granite countertop for support.

“Yeah, I said something nice about the
authorities. If you tell anybody, I’ll call you a lie,” Jazz
wisecracked. She became serious again. “I’m guessing Miller will
try to keep you far away from any case involving Cleavon. All you
have to do is let Miller help you.”