Truth Be Told (37 page)

“S
tarlight! Starlight! Starlight!”

She smiled into the darkened half-moon-shaped arena. Starlight held her arms wide to the thousands, receiving their adoration.

It had been this way from the beginning, when more than an hour before she had walked onstage. The audience had been told to be silent as she glided onto the platform in her white silk wide-legged jumpsuit trimmed in gold. She'd stood in the middle of the stage, pressed her hands together, bowed, and said, “May the light forever be with you and yours.”

The ten thousand were supposed to return her greeting in the same manner, but instead, a deafening roar filled the arena.

Since then, it had been difficult for Starlight to speak through the continous screams and ceaseless stomping. She loved this passion.

“What we're going to do today is celebrate life,” she said at the beginning. “Celebrate that you are part of the universe.”

When she held her hands to the stage's ceiling, the crowd followed.

“Celebrate!” she shrieked into the microphones. “You are a star, and I am your light.”

The applause roared like thunder.

“This is about energy that you need to grasp now, take into the world, and be the god that you were designed to be. Stand and receive your measure.”

Howls mixed with their applause.

“Dance! Dance to celebrate life!”

The multitudes began to jump, twist, and turn.

Since that point, Starlight had been able to speak only a few sentences at a time.

“I am here today to teach you what has taken me to the highest level that the One meant for all of us to achieve. You too can have millions in the bank. You can live anywhere you want. You can drive any luxury car you desire. First, you must recognize that you are god. Recognize your supremeness.”

The cheering that followed kept Starlight silent for almost ten minutes.

“The key is to believe in yourself. Believe that you can accomplish every dream because you are a god. The Higher Being gave you the capacity to become greater than the creator. Yes, yes, yes!” She clapped her hands.

The crowd followed.

“
For all the promises of God … are yea
,” she said quoting part of 2 Corinthians 1:20. It had been Lexington's idea to include scripture. “God says yes to your being great. God says yes to your having all that you desire. Yes, yes, yes,” she yelled, working the crowd into a greater frenzy.

She smiled. One more scripture for good measure. She looked at her notes—the cheat sheet that Lexington had created with Bible verses that might fit her message.

“The Higher Being says,
What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive and ye shall have
.”

It worked. The roar was louder than before.

“You can have whatever you desire. If you believe, you will receive!”

Through the cheers, Starlight glanced at her watch. This was supposed to be five hours, but after ninety minutes, the crowd's cries told her it wouldn't last that long.

“Believe and achieve!” Starlight yelled because she was too exhausted to say more. The fever that she raised with that exclamation would give her time to rest and enjoy these moments.

The crowd's roar created a rumbling that made the entire arena tremble. Starlight closed her eyes. This was where she belonged, in the center of the light. This was why she did this: to bask in the affection. And it didn't hurt that in the end, Lexington said they would clear a million dollars.

The screams were much louder. It was wonderful to be in the midst. The arena quaked. She was adored.

“Starlight!” She squeezed her eyes tighter. They were worshipping her.

It was the tug at her hand that made her open her eyes. She blinked, then squinted when a wave of dust and debris accosted her.

The dark powder, inches thick, billowed in front of her, filling the air with a dense mixture of concrete chunks and ash. She snapped her eyes shut as Lexington dragged her backstage.

“We have to get out of here,” Lexington screamed above the others.

“What's going on?” She coughed into her hand, trying to clear her lungs.

“The building—it's falling,” he cried, pulling Starlight through the screaming bodies that packed the staircase.

Starlight's heart pounded as she bumped through the crowd, tripping as Lexington dragged her faster than she could move.

It had taken minutes to get from the limousine into her waiting room when they arrived. But now as Lexington crushed past others running toward safety, the minutes were much longer.

When the day's light finally greeted them, Starlight jerked her hand away from Lexington, bent over and coughed, releasing the grit that was floating inside her chest. But Lexington gave her only seconds. He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the maze of screamers.

Moments later, Lexington shoved Starlight into the car. “Go,” he yelled to her driver.

She coughed, trying to clear the dust from her lungs and the thick ash from her tongue. “What happened?” she asked hoping that what he'd said before was not true.

Lexington's breathing was labored as he looked through the back window. “Part of the building collapsed.”

“Oh, my God.” She didn't dare follow Lexington's gaze. His wide eyes told her all she needed.

“Maybe we should go back,” she said, through the fear that rose from her toes and filled her completely.

He shook his head.

“But suppose someone is hurt?”

He looked at her for only a second, before he turned his eyes and his body away. “I'll make some calls.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed.

Starlight closed her eyes and listened to the succinct communication. She heard only words that defined disaster:
collapsed, injured, ambulances.
It was when he said
police
that she opened her eyes and stared at the back of his head.

Her mind couldn't comprehend this. She remembered that she was speaking and that people were screaming. She told them to dance—they were dancing in their seats. She told them to believe and achieve—they chanted. After that, only confusion.

Lexington hung up the phone. “It doesn't look good.”

“Tell me.” When he didn't answer, she peered in his eyes. “Lexington?”

He shook his head. “The balcony collapsed, Starlight.” He grimaced. “Too. Many. People.”

She tried to clear the thick knot expanding in her throat. “You don't know that for sure.”

His thoughts came through his eyes. Then he turned toward the window.

“Where are we going now?” she croaked.

“My place.” He remained turned away. “Don't want to be tracked down at the penthouse.”

She nodded, even though he wouldn't look at her. He believed they needed to hide, but what were they running from? She trembled at the answers that whirled through her mind.

“Too many people.” His words replayed in her head.

She closed her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she wished that she could pray.

Starlight paced the narrow space that formed the living room and dining room as Lexington held his cell to one ear and his land phone to the other. His words, quick and short, made her shudder.

She stopped in front of the balcony, a square concrete box that overlooked one of the ponds scattered throughout the apartment complex. These ponds, with water cascading over the rocks, were the only reason she enjoyed Lexington's apartment. She melted to the sound of tranquility in the middle of Culver City.

But today the pond's waters were still. Just like the leaves on the trees. Not even the air moved.

“Okay, keep me posted,” she heard Lexington say. He clicked off his cell phone. “I'll get back to you,” he said into the other phone.

He sank into one of the plastic-covered chairs that surrounded the octagon-shaped dinette table.

Starlight took slow steps to him and waited until he raised his head.

“It's bad.” The fire that Lexington carried in his eyes was gone, extinguished by the words he'd just heard. He dropped his head again in defeat.

Starlight sat next to him. “Tell me everything.” She tried to sound strong, but she managed only a whisper.

When he looked up, the tears that clouded his eyes made Starlight change her mind. She didn't want to hear what he'd heard.

Lexington's lips quivered. “People may be dead.”

She shook her head.

“The balcony collapsed. No one knows if everyone got out.”

She stood and rubbed her hands along her arms, trying to warm against the chill that streaked through her. She began to pace.

“Starlight.” She could feel Lexington behind her. “It was the balcony. Where we added the chairs. Where we put the extra people.”

His words poured guilt into her soul. She covered her ears, unwilling to hear more.

“We put too many people in there,” he yelled, breaking through her barrier. “Twenty-five hundred more than capacity.”

She whipped around, almost striking him, he stood so close. “Why are you telling me this?” she hissed.

He leaned away. “You asked.” He reminded her as if it pleased him.

Her chin fell to her chest.

“It won't take long for the investigators to realize what happened.”

She raised her head, stared at him, then grabbed her cape from the couch and stomped toward the door.

“Starlight, we have to talk about this.”

She opened the door and rushed into the hallway, but his words followed her. “The police will be coming.”

She pressed the button for the elevator.

“I'm not going to take the fall alone.”

She turned toward the Exit sign.

“I will tell them what I know.”

She stopped her steps but didn't look back. A moment later, she ran down the stairs.

Outside, her eyes wandered up and then down Green Valley Circle, finally spotting her driver. She was standing in the middle of the street when the limousine slowed in front of her.

“Take me home,” she said. She closed her eyes as the car rolled toward the freeway. But her mind wouldn't close to Lexington's words: “I'm not taking this fall alone. I will tell them what I know.”

She shivered, his threatening tone settling in her mind. Surely she couldn't be held responsible.

It wasn't my fault.

The arena was over twenty years old. It must have been an earthquake or something else that made the building fall.

It wasn't my fault.

“Dance! Believe and achieve. Dance!”

Her own words taunted her—the last ones she remembered before the gigantic plume of dust ensconced her.

It wasn't my fault.

The more she silently recited the mantra, the more she thought about Lexington and the fear in his eyes and the threat in his voice.

A husband cannot testify against his wife.

Her eyes snapped open at that thought.
Where did that come from?
But as she closed her eyes again and settled back into the seat, she began to wonder if Lexington had been right. Maybe they should have been married.

“M
om, I can't believe we're not going to have a funeral for Ms. Pilar,” Jayde said as if a major crime had been committed. “We have to … for Solomon.”

“We're honoring Pilar's wishes. Funerals can be sad, and maybe she didn't want Solomon to remember her that way.”

Jayde sighed, then slinked into her bedroom. Minutes later, she raced across the hall, interrupting Grace as she sat at the desk they'd moved from their office into their bedroom. “I have an idea.”

As Jayde explained, Grace listened and marveled at the metamorphosis—how the wrathful child had transformed into the compassionate one.

Now Grace recalled that conversation she and Jayde had had two days before as they all made their way toward the ocean. It hadn't taken much to implement Jayde's plan: a few phone calls, a talk with Conner, and then she and Conner taking the idea to Solomon. Their son had sat silently at first. Then he rushed into Jayde's room and hugged her.

As the group strolled down the boardwalk, no one noticed the seven who moved past southern Californians zipping by on skateboards, moseying by with hands filled with snacks from the Santa Monica eateries, or just sitting on the weatherworn benches revering the sun, sand, and surf.

They stopped at the edge of the promenade, and though no one said a word, they formed a small circle.

Pastor Ford spoke first. “Solomon.” She smiled as she said his name. “We're here today to celebrate your mom's life. I know you're sad because you'll miss her. But you can be glad because your mother knew God, and now she's resting with Him.”

Conner put his arm around his son.

“Is there anything you want to say, Solomon?” Pastor Ford asked.

He shook his head, but then began to speak as if a thought suddenly came to him. “My mother was a good mom because she taught me about God, and she loved me.”

Everyone in the circle nodded.

Pastor Ford looked at the rest of them. “Does anyone else want to speak?

For seconds, no one moved. Then Amber stepped to the center of the circle. “I want to tell Ms. Pilar that we will take care of Solomon.”

“I agree,” Jayde said, though she kept her place.

Pastor Ford nodded as the ocean breeze blew her shoulder-length hair away from her face. When almost a minute of silence had passed, Pastor Ford opened her Bible. “I want to read a scripture.” As she flipped through the pages of her book, she asked, “Solomon, do you know what it means to mourn?”

He nodded. “It means to be sad.”

“Yes,” the pastor agreed. “Let's see what God says about that. Matthew 5:4 says,
Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted
. Solomon, when you tell God that you're sad and that you're mourning, He will put his arms around you and comfort you, making you feel better, just like your mom did when you were feeling bad.”

It was the first time Solomon smiled since they'd begun this trip after the second church service this afternoon.

Solomon looked up at Conner. “Is it time?”

“Yes, son.”

“I want to go first.”

Solomon kissed the pink balloon, then allowed the string to slip through his fingers. When he said, “Good-bye, Mommy,” and then waved as the balloon drifted over the blue brine, Grace blinked.

She looked up, shielding her eyes with her hand from the sun's light, and watched the balloon glide toward heaven. With the others, she stayed still until Solomon's salute was just a sliver in the sky. One by one, the others released their tributes to Pilar Cruise, whispering their own farewells.

They stood until the seven balloons became one with the sky. Then without words, they turned away—first Conner with his arm around Solomon, next Grace, holding a daughter's hand in each of hers. Behind, Pastor Ford followed with Lily.

As they made their way to the parking lot, Grace's cell phone rang.

Before she could say hello, Chandler said, “We're on our way to the hospital.” He spoke so loud that Grace had to hold the phone away from her ear. “The doctor said it will still be a few hours, but another Monroe is on its way.”

Grace made the announcement to the others. The sorrow tha thad circled the group just moments before was replaced with excited expectation.

“I'm going to have a new cousin,” Amber chirped.

“Me too,” Solomon said, and took Amber's hand.

Grace slowed her steps, letting the group move ahead. She turned back to see if she could find any signs of the balloons they'd just released. She saw nothing. The symbols of death were gone. This day had become about life.

Grace filled her mother's coffee cup and then sat at the table and wrapped her hands around the warmth of her mug. Although June burned its sun's rays through the kitchen window, Grace relished the heat her cup radiated, taking away the chill that still filled her from this morning's boardwalk ceremony.

Behind them, the television played on the counter, though the sound was only one notch above mute. Grace made no moves to turn up the TV's volume. She and Lily sipped their drinks, savoring the quiet. Conner had taken Amber and Solomon with him to the office to pick up the final Jacoby documents that had to be delivered to the courts in the morning, and Jayde had been furloughed for the first time in a month. This was precious downtime.

The sun was sinking, shifting the kitchen's shadows when Lily said, “Solomon did well today. He's really adjusting, isn't he?”

Grace nodded. Although surprise was in her mother's tone, Grace held no amazement. For the few months that Solomon had been in their lives, Grace knew there was something special about the boy—something different that allowed him to see, hear, feel, know, and understand better than those around him. Whatever grew inside him would get Solomon through and beyond his mother's death.

“Have you spoken to Starlight?”

The ends of Grace's lips turned up slightly at her mother's question. Weeks ago, she would have cringed. But the challenges her family had borne through the spring led to a renewed mind this summer. What was important two months ago wasn't so now. And, the reverse was true too. She was going to make some kind of peace with Starlight.

Grace shook her head. “It's been about a month since I've spoken to her. With all that's been going on …”

Lily held up her hand. “I understand. I had planned to attend her Revival and didn't even get the chance to call and tell her that I wouldn't make it.” Lily's eyes fixed on the television. “Grace, honey, turn that up,” she said.

Grace followed her mother's glance as a photo of Lexington Jackson flashed across the TV screen.

“The Police Commissioner has announced that the District Attorney will be involved in the investigation as criminal charges may be brought in the collapse of the arena. As reported, the arena collapsed yesterday during a motivational seminar given by Starlight, a national speaker who is a resident of Los Angeles. There are unconfirmed reports that fifteen people are still missing. Now, here's Victor Blume with a look at today's weather.”

“Oh, my God. The arena collapsed?” Lily pushed back her chair, scraping the legs across the tiles and rushed to the telephone. As she dialed, Lily walked toward the foyer.

Grace pressed the remote, turning from channel to channel for more news. But when there was nothing, she lifted the Sunday newspaper from the table where it had stayed since it'd been delivered that morning.

Her eyes widened at the headlines—a double-column front-page story on the arena's collapse. Her face stretched longer with surprise as she read. It was the final lines of one article that made her shudder: investigators suspected that illegal permits had been issued to fill the arena beyond capacity. “‘It makes me sick to think that people may have lost their lives due to greed,' the District Attorney stated. ‘If this is the case, those involved will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.'”

Illegal permits? There had to be a mistake. She and Starlight had many disagreements, but there was no way Starlight would put money ahead of safety.

“Was there anything in the paper?” Lily asked, returning to the kitchen.

Grace tucked the front page between the folds of the Calendar and Lifestyle sections. “Nothing much. What did Starlight say?”

Lily shrugged, her face bunched in a frown. “She said that everything was all right. That part of the arena collapsed, but that she's fine and everyone got out.”

Grace's eyes narrowed, but she kept what she'd read to herself.

Lily returned to the table and sipped the last of her coffee. She smiled, but a smile that was full of doubt and concern.

“Why don't you go over there, Mom? I'll drive you if you want.”

She shook her head. “Starlight doesn't want me there. She's resting from all of the calls she's had to take.” Lily paused. “I can understand that.” But her tone said that she didn't understand at all. “There's nothing to worry about.” The creases in Lily's fore headdeepened. “Starlight said everything was fine.” Lily lifted the empty coffee cup to her lips and sipped as if she were swallowing liquid.

Grace took a deep breath, sat next to her mother, and covered Lily's hands with hers. She prayed that there was nothing more to the story than what her mother said. But the twisting in her stomach told her that was not so.