Drop Dead, Gorgeous Part 7

She smiled. "As long as she makes you happy."

"She does."

"Well," she said with a sigh, setting aside her knitting. "I've had about enough with the small talk. What about you?"

"Indeed."

"Did you send Joel Tunson his money?"

He nodded. "I send it every month, Olivia, although I don't believe he ever spends a dime of it."

"It doesn't matter. Keep sending it. What about Desi Green?"

"What about her?"

"Where is she? Hanging out with Oprah, I suppose?"

"Oprah was last month. This month, I believe it's Anna Wintour at Vogue," he joked.

Olivia looked perplexed by his attempt at a joke.

"She's launched a new business. Shoes, I believe. And purses."

Olivia laughed. "All of a sudden she thinks she's Coco Chanel?"

"Basically. She's lost interest in the Gatewoods and seems to have moved on with her life, Olivia. If you ask me, Desi Green's a nonissue, and you no longer need to waste your money or your time worrying about her."

"Your advice is appreciated, but unsolicited, Edgar," she said coldly. "As long as my husband's blood flows through her veins and I am still here on this Earth, I will always worry about Desi Green."

That was the bane of this woman's existence and it had been since that child was born. Edgar had tried talking sense into Julian. He'd warned him to leave that woman alone. Ida Green was not worth losing his beautiful wife over or the scandal he would suffer and the damage it would do to the business he'd worked so hard to build.

Edgar didn't tell Olivia the truth to betray his friend. He told her so that she could make her husband see just what was at stake if he continued that foolishness.

"H-how do you know, Edgar?" she'd asked him, sinking onto her knees and finally down on the sofa, shocked by the news. "How do you know he's the father?"

Ida Green was several months into her pregnancy. Edgar had known Julian well enough, and he'd known Ida well enough to know that she had been loyal to Julian. She loved him, and like Olivia, she lived for him.

"I just know, Olivia," he said dismally. "I wouldn't be telling you this if it weren't true."

"You shouldn't be telling me this period!" she suddenly snapped. "I don't believe you! That wh.o.r.e is not carrying my husband's child, Edgar, and shame on you! Shame on you for coming to me with this nonsense!"

The seed had been planted that afternoon in Olivia Gatewood, and they never spoke of it again, but at some point in her life, she'd accepted the truth that Desi Green was a Gatewood, and she'd never let the reality stray too far from her thoughts. It was the driving force behind the reason Olivia put that gun in Desi's hands instead of Ida's the night Julian was shot. She'd never said it, but Edgar had reached the conclusion on his own.

"Speaking of Desi, how is my son?" she asked coolly.

The relations.h.i.+p between the two of them had become strained at best since he'd had her placed here. Olivia resented him for trying to save her life, and he loved her enough to let her resent him.

Edgar had never kept secrets from Olivia. He'd always cared for her, probably in ways that were inappropriate for a man to care for his best friend's woman. But despite his loyalty to Julian, Edgar always believed that Olivia deserved better than to ever be lied to. The Gatewood name, the family's position, always seemed to mean so much more to her than it did to her husband. She relished it, and it was Olivia Gatewood who had added the grandeur to the name.

"I'm afraid he's gotten himself into a mess," he casually explained.

A thoughtful expression crossed her face, one that was hard to read. "How so?"

"With a woman."

Olivia shrugged. "That was going to be my next guess," she said in that delicious Southern accent of hers.

"Does the name Lonnie Adebayo ring a bell?" he asked curiously.

She thought about it and shook her head. "No. I'm afraid it doesn't. Is he f.u.c.kin' her?"

He smiled. No one said the word f.u.c.king quite like the beautiful Olivia. "He was, until he lost his d.a.m.n mind and tried to beat the woman to death."

The amus.e.m.e.nt vanished from her face. "She's lying."

"He admitted it."

She looked shocked to hear Edgar say those words. "Jordan's never put his hands on a woman, not even Claire."

"He put his hands on this one, Olivia," he said coolly. "And he made the mistake of not finis.h.i.+ng what he started," he continued.

Olivia stared wide-eyed at him.

"The worst thing he could've done was to leave that woman alive," he explained without batting an eye. "Now he wants me to help him clean up behind him."

"Don't tell me that," she muttered.

As angry as she was at her son, Olivia still believed that boy walked on water. She believed he was still her little prince, and that he could do no wrong. Edgar owed it to her to set her straight. He'd tried to get her to see the light where Julian was concerned, and she refused, until it was too late. The woman was getting too old to still believe in fairytales.

"The sonofab.i.t.c.h may not be Julian's by blood, Olivia, but he's certainly his by circ.u.mstance," he said coldly.

Olivia raised her chin in defiance, but said nothing.

"The b.i.t.c.h is a beast, a reporter or photographer, or, h.e.l.l, both-who's covered some of the most incredible events around the world, and she is a pit bull," he said, curling his hand into a fist. "She is relentless, and once she gets her teeth into something or someone, she doesn't let go."

In recent weeks he'd read every article Lonnie Adebayo had ever written, viewed every photograph she'd ever taken, and her work showed him more than any other human being on the planet could've ever told him about the woman.

"He should've made sure she was dead," he said, in a hushed, angry tone. "Because if she can bring him down, she will! And she'll do it at the expense of your last name, Olivia!"

She stared unemotionally at him. "There you go again, overstating things."

Olivia Gatewood had a knack for taking the things he told her, and tucking them away safe inside herself for processing later on. Edgar had learned long ago not to force more on her than she could handle at any one time. He picked up his hat and put it on his head.

Edgar composed himself. He knew better than anybody that he had a problem with being melodramatic at times. "But don't you worry your pretty little head about this Lonnie woman, Olivia," he stated calmly as he stood up. "No one cleans up messes left behind by the Gatewoods better than I do. And I a.s.sure you, I'll wipe up this dirty little stain the same way I have all the others." He smiled at her one last time.

Olivia's gaze drifted off. "Thank you, Edgar. You're a good friend," she said casually.

He paused before leaving. "Yes," he said, nodding rea.s.suringly. "I certainly am."

The Makings of You "You could've just met me at the motel room where I'm staying," Frank said irritably, sitting next to Lonnie Adebayo in a crowded mall.

"Believe me, Mr. Ross. I've learned my lesson about not meeting an angry black man anywhere alone."

"I'm not angry."

"But you're anxious, and that's almost as bad."

"I'm concerned," he corrected her. Lonnie wanted to see him crack and he wasn't about to give her that satisfaction. "You call me up with some cryptic s.h.i.+t about Cotton, Texas, and why I left there, sounding like you got something to say about it." He looked at her. "You know something I don't know?"

He waited, giving her the stage to stand up and say whatever it was she thought he should know. This one was manipulative, and cool as h.e.l.l. Now that he knew what her game was, he'd made up his mind not to volunteer any d.a.m.n thing. If she thought she had something on him, then let her tell him what it was.

"Edward Brewer. Jake Boston," she said coolly. "Those names ring a bell?"

He nodded. "Sure they do. They were police officers in Cotton back when I was on the force," he stated matter-of-factly. "They were found dead about a year ago."

Lonnie stared at him, watching and waiting for Frank to give her some sign that this topic of conversation was making him uneasy.

"Any idea who killed them, Frank? Or why?"

"Not a clue," he responded. "Last I heard, their murders were still unsolved."

Frank didn't blink. He didn't sweat or swallow. She watched him, looking for those signs, indications that he knew more than what he was saying, but he wore that poker face like he'd been born with it.

"Why'd you agree to see me, Frank?"

"Why'd you ask me to see you, Lonnie?"

She smiled. "Why're you so guarded?"

"Why don't you tell me what you want?"

"Did you kill those men?" she asked, straight up.

Admittedly, hearing her ask if he killed them put a lump in his stomach. And it took every ounce of will power in his body not to flinch.

"Why would you ask me that?" he asked, trying like h.e.l.l not to sound defensive.

"Because if you did, I'm sure you had a good reason for it. Ed Brewer had a gambling problem, and needed money. Lots of it. Jake Boston was just plain mean and greedy. He had a history of abusing his girlfriend, and getting in random fights whenever the h.e.l.l he felt like it."

He knew what she was doing. Lonnie was trying to reel him in. "I didn't kill anybody, Lonnie."

"But just for argument's sake, let's say you did," she said, looking hard into his eyes. "How far can you run, Frank? How much money do you have? And what about Colette?"

He was shocked to hear Colette's name come out of Lonnie's mouth.

"She's a mess. She's a meth head, Frank. Or haven't you noticed?"

Keep your mouth shut, man! Don't fall for this s.h.i.+t. She was dangling raw meat in front of him, tempting him to say what she wanted to hear. He just shook his head.

"How long do you think it'll be before she falls apart?"

Colette was fragile. She was getting more and more brittle every time he talked to her. Frank made the mistake of blinking not once but twice, quickly. He saw a spark in Lonnie's eyes. "Colette's a good cop," he started to explain. "At least she was when we were partners. If she is on drugs, that's news to me."

Even he cringed at the sound of the lie coming out of his mouth.

"Texas is big, but it's not big enough, Frank. And Paris, Texas, isn't far enough away. You know how these things work. You've been a cop, and time always s.h.i.+nes light on the truth, sometimes sooner, rather than later."

"I didn't kill anybody, Lonnie," he repeated with certainty.

"The Cotton police force recently questioned a man named Reginald Rodriguez, a suspected drug dealer."

Frank's heart stopped beating.

"They found his address in Ed's cell phone, and a series of phone calls to Reggie's number."

Why was she saying these things? Did she know, or was she just p.i.s.sing in the wind, guessing and hoping he would come clean and tell her everything, like before? Frank swallowed when she wasn't looking.

"I think Reggie's afraid," she continued. "I think he's afraid that whoever had the b.a.l.l.s to kill two cops might just come after him too."

"What do you want, Lonnie?"

"I want you to be safe, Frank. I want you to be able to get as far away from whatever bulls.h.i.+t you left behind in Cotton, Texas, as you possibly can, and live to be a crunchy, old man."

"You want me to press down on your boy, Gatewood?"

"Jordan's got his eyes set on buying out this company, Anton Oil. If he does that, he'll be worth double what he is now. Wouldn't it be nice to get your hands on some of that money?"

"You don't give a d.a.m.n about me, so let's just keep it one hundred, Lonnie. This ain't about nothing but you getting back at the brotha for doing you wrong."

She smirked. "Yeah. He did me wrong, alright."

"So, you know who he is. Why don't you come out with it to the press and leave me out of it?"

"Because all I got are words. You're living proof, Frank."

"You got papers on him?"

The look on her face told her that she probably did.

"Then you've got your proof. Use it."

"Me putting papers out there would only irritate him. You'd make him nervous."

"Nervous?" He shook his head. "I doubt seriously that that brotha has patience for anything that'll make him nervous."

"He's used to having things his way."

"And I'm supposed to shake him up? Go up to him and say, 'Hey bro! Look, you don't know me, but uh ... we got the same daddy, and well, how 'bout you hook me up with a few hundred thousand, and uh ... I'll disappear like a ghost and you'll never even know I was here. But if you're not interested, then I'll make a phone call to the Channel Three news and let them know that you ain't who you say you are.' Is that about how you see it going?" he asked sarcastically.