Drop Dead, Gorgeous Part 19

Jordan's foolish, pompous a.s.s had bought into the lie that was him and owned it hook, line, and sinker. He truly believed that he was all his mother had promised him that he was. Edgar had no choice but to take some of the blame for the man that Jordan Tunson, now Gatewood, had become. After all, he'd orchestrated it himself, drawing the notes with his own hands because Julian was too love-struck and p.u.s.s.y-whipped by that country mouse in Blink, Texas, to see straight. But Lonnie Adebayo had Jordan by the b.a.l.l.s and he didn't even know it, because he was too busy playing king of the hill at Gatewood Industries, and at the house with his lovely, delusional wife.

"Is that right?" Edgar asked, finding it hard not to sound condescending.

Jordan looked curious. "Are you drunk already, old man?"

Edgar raised his gla.s.s and smiled. "Not yet, son. But I'm working on it."

"Don't you think it's a little early?"

Edgar flagged the lovely Marci back over to the table.

She smiled at him and it warmed him all the way down to his toes. "Another one?" she asked, resting her hand on his shoulder.

Edgar fell in love just like that. "Please," he said, smiling back at her. When she left, he looked at Jordan. "If she asks me for my credit card, please remind me to give it to her."

Jordan laughed. "I don't think you're her type, Edgar." He motioned his head across the room at a much more handsome, younger man sitting at the bar. "He's a running back for Dallas, and the two of them have been locked on to each other since I sat down." And then he laughed. "Stick with Bridgette. At least you already know that she loves you for your money."

If Edgar had had any qualms before about the conversation he had wanted to have with Jordan, he didn't have them anymore. Jordan's careless and sloppy a.s.s had no business doling out advice about women.

"Do you know why I told you about Dominga, Jordan?"

At the mention of her name, Jordan suddenly sat up, looked around the room in case someone heard Edgar say her name out loud, and leaned closer to Edgar. "Let's talk about this somewhere else," he suggested covertly.

Edgar found it amusing. "Let's not."

Jordan stared cautiously at him.

"It was a lesson on being thorough," Edgar continued coolly. "Maybe it's the lawyer in me, or maybe it's the reason I turned out to be a d.a.m.n good lawyer, but there is no greater a.s.set, in my experience, than being thorough. Nothing as pertinent as crossing all your T's and dotting every last I with finality. With Dominga I did those things."

Jordan looked mortified. How dare he.

"You failed to cross your T's and dot your I's where Miss Adebayo was concerned," he said, deadpan. "Which is why I'm here."

"You're here to hit on that young hostess and to drink too much, Edgar."

"I'm here to tell you a story, Jordan. The same one I told her." He took a deep breath before starting. "Julian Gatewood loved nothing more than dipping his d.i.c.k into the sea that was Ida Green. It was a fascination I never understood because Ida Green was absolutely the most unremarkable, commonly sweet woman I have ever met." She was a woman Edgar had made a conscious effort to forget, much in the way he'd tried to forget Dominga.

The expression on Jordan's face told Edgar that the boy had no idea that Edgar had known Ida. Edgar found himself suddenly relishing the fact that he was about to tell Jordan something that would surely make him fall off out of that chair he sat in.

"I sat at her table and on many occasions ate food she prepared, and laughed and had a good time with my best friend, Julian, and for all intents and purposes, his family. It seemed that the only time he was ever really happy was when he was with Ida, and Julian was just a man, like any man, free of the stresses and obligations of being one of the richest men in the state of Texas."

"You know Desi," Jordan stated resentfully.

"I have always known her, son. I was there when she was born in the hospital, pacing the floors right alongside her daddy."

There were no words to explain the expression that crossed Jordan's face. But Edgar could imagine the bomb exploding inside him.

"Lonnie Adebayo found out all she needed to about my Dominga, Jordan," he said unemotionally. "And I'm too d.a.m.ned old to spend even a night in prison."

"You've spoken to Lonnie?" Jordan asked, stunned. Edgar sat silent. "What did you tell her, Edgar?

"What do you think?"

"You told Lonnie that Julian was Desi's father?" he asked, clenching his teeth. "Is it true?"

"Every bit the truth, son. Just like it's true that he's not your father. I'm the only reason the world doesn't know either of those truths. Julian would've hated me if he knew what I'd done, but I did it for his own good and the good of Gatewood Industries and its name. I did it because he was a stupid fool, just like you."

Jordan reminded Edgar of a bullet loaded into a gun. He looked about ready to shoot out of his chair, aimed right at Edgar.

"You've underestimated that woman. She wanted you looking the other way so that she could do what she really came here to do, which is to set you up."

"How?" he asked angrily.

"I have no idea how. But if I was a betting man, I'd put every dime I had on her," Edgar burst out laughing.

If I Had No Greed Too Big "Keep your mouth shut," Frank's new lawyer told him. Alex Richards was his name, a slippery white dude with oil-slick black hair, dark eyes, and a nose that reminded Frank of a hawk. "Stick close to home, and make sure you have your phone on at all times in case I need to contact you."

Frank was no fool. This cat cost money, big money that Frank sure as h.e.l.l didn't have. "Who hired you?" he asked, as the man pulled his car up in front of a run-down motel off Cotton's main drag.

"They'll be watching you," he continued coolly. "I wouldn't put it past them to put a wire tap on your phone. Your ex-partner is still in their custody, and they'll no doubt use her to try to get to you. If she calls, and she will, just know that they're listening, so hang up, and then call me. Understood?"

Frank nodded.

The man handed Frank a room key with the number 322 on the tag. "I'll be in touch." That was his signal to get out of that man's Lexus.

He stood there and watched the smoke gray car pull out of the parking lot and turn the corner. Frank didn't know if he should jump up and down for joy or run off into the woods somewhere and hope to G.o.d n.o.body, especially that dude, ever found him.

After he showered, Frank finally had a chance to look at his cell phone. He had at least twenty calls on that d.a.m.n thing, some from Colette before he was arrested, but most were from Lonnie. Maybe she was the one who got him this high-priced lawyer. The last week had been a whirlwind for Frank, and he really didn't feel like talking to anybody, but if she'd done this for him, then he at least owed her a thank-you.

"Are you alright?" she asked, as soon as she answered the phone.

He rubbed the burn from his eyes, and sighed. "I take it you saw what went down on the news?"

"No. It's not being broadcast at the state level, but I did see it on the Internet. Where are you?"

"At a motel in town."

"Cotton?"

"Yeah. I'm out on bail but I can't leave the city."

"So, you did manage to get bailed out?"

If she hired that lawyer, then she had to have been the one to bail him out too.

"I don't know how you did it, Lonnie, but I appreciate it."

"It wasn't a problem, Frank."

"And that lawyer- That dude's scary, girl. Where'd you find him?"

"A friend of mine owed me a favor," she explained. "He's one of the best."

"No doubt. So, what next?"

Lonnie hesitated like she was thinking about something. "Did you really kill those cops, Frank?"

Just that quick, Frank's brain jumped back into ex-cop mode, and he put on a suit of armor. "Would you have bailed me out if you believed that I did?"

Lonnie sighed. "No. No, I guess not."

"Sorry I couldn't come through for you, Lonnie," he said, disappointed. She'd stepped up her game to get him a chance at getting off with this thing, and he had fallen short on her quest to put some heat on Gatewood. "I should've trusted you from the beginning. Maybe if I had..."

"No worries, Frank. It is what it is. You hang in there. I'll be in touch."

Frank didn't remember falling asleep. The sun had gone down when he finally did wake up, still wearing that towel he'd wrapped around his waist after he got out of the shower. He was starving, and because he knew that he didn't have anything in that place to eat, Frank put on his clothes, and headed out to find something. Fortunately, that motel was right off the highway, so there were a lot of places to eat within a few blocks of the place. Frank found a diner on the corner.

"I'll have the steak with mashed potatoes, gravy, and the vegetables."

"To drink?"

"A beer."

A few minutes into his meal, Frank got company: Lawrence Brooks and Quincy Simpson, both esteemed members of the Cotton Police Department.

Larry squeezed in right next to Frank. He'd been the one on the phone, trying to get Frank to confess before he was arrested.

"f.u.c.k the formalities, brotha. How the h.e.l.l did your broke a.s.s manage to get that kind of money to get bailed out?" Larry asked unapologetically.

Quincy just sat there, drilling holes into him with those big-a.s.s bulging eyes of his.

"That lawyer didn't come cheap either," he chimed in. "What kind of friends you got?"

Had they been following him? Maybe the two of them had been staked outside his motel room. How else would either of them have known he was here?

Frank took his lawyer's advice and said nothing. He carved off a huge slice of steak and shoved it into his mouth.

"You really going to let Colette take the rap for this herself?" Larry asked menacingly. "Colette don't have the connections you do, man. That fancy dude you got might just be able to convince a jury that you ain't guilty, but you saw what she was working with. You gonna let her go down like that?"

"You and Colette were more than partners," Quincy added. "That's what I heard. Heard she was your girl, your real girl."

Frank flagged the waitress. "Another beer, please."

She asked the other two if they wanted anything, but both declined.

"Ed and Jake were no saints, Frank," Larry continued. "You and Colette weren't the only ones they were trying to shake down. Neither was Reggie."

Frank swallowed what was left of his beer and stared at Larry. Like, what did his dumb a.s.s expect for Frank to say? "Really man? Aw, then that's good, so yeah. Yeah, we shot 'em. We blew holes in both their a.s.ses!"

This wasn't a game. Frank was fighting for his life, and he'd take whatever help he could get to get him off. Colette had dug her own d.a.m.n grave. Drug addiction had left her off-balance and impulsive. If she hadn't shot Reggie, maybe neither one of them would be in this d.a.m.n situation right now. And maybe, Frank could've gotten his hands on a way out of Texas, and even the country, if he'd played his cards right. Larry had asked him if he was really willing to let Colette take the fall for this herself, and the answer was simple. Now that he was free, at least temporarily, and had one of the best lawyers that money could buy, even if it wasn't his money, Frank had a chance. So yes. She could take this one on the chin her d.a.m.n self.

Frank had suddenly found himself a little bit of hope. More than he'd had in weeks. It still wasn't too late. Yeah, Gatewood had shown his a.s.s a few weeks ago with Frank. He'd kicked Frank's a.s.s and showed him just how far he was willing to go if Frank didn't back down, but what about now?

Maybe Gatewood had no idea what was happening to Frank now. But even if he did, especially if he did, would he really want the truth coming out now, when Frank was looking at murder charges? Would he really want his name, his reputation tied to this s.h.i.t? Frank seriously doubted that Jordan Gatewood would want anything to do with Frank's a.s.s now, but maybe that was the motivation the man needed.

It's the Best That I've Had Lately "Why do you have this thing about waking me up in the middle of the night?"

Phillip had awakened her like Prince Charming, with a kiss. He was such an ugly, s.e.xy man and the fact that his voice was about twelve octaves deeper when the sun set didn't hurt his case either. He stood up, undressed, and crawled into bed next to her, spooning behind her. Phillip's erection swelled the longer he stayed pressed up against her.

"You should let me make love to you," he whispered in her ear.

Lonnie cringed. "And you should stop asking me to let you make love to me. You know I don't want to."

"Are you afraid I'll hurt you? Are you afraid that you won't enjoy it? Because I can make certain you do."

Lonnie didn't know what she was afraid of. She couldn't even bring it upon herself to get off on her own anymore because even the fantasy of s.e.x was unappealing to her now.

"Close your eyes," he told her.

Lonnie looked over her shoulder at him. "Why?" She suddenly felt panicked. "What are you going to do?"

He softly kissed her lips. "Just close them. Trust me and close them."

He was Phillip Durham, the man who had come for her whenever she needed him to. He was always there for her, and Phillip had never lied to Lonnie.

"I won't hurt you, Lonnie. I never would and you know this."

The warmth of his breath washing over the side of her face was soothing. Phillip's heart beat slow and deep against her back. It was comforting and made her feel secure and safe. He pulled her so close to him that their two bodies nearly felt like one. Lonnie wanted to fall back to sleep. With one hand, Phillip lightly began to stroke her belly with his thumb. The rhythmic pattern of his breathing began to lull her into a calm and peaceful place, the kind of place Lonnie couldn't get to without taking an Ambien. His touch was relaxed and careful.

"You are so beautiful to me," he whispered. "Do you understand that? Do you understand how lovely you are to me?"

Lonnie felt herself smiling. Phillip raised his hand from her stomach and brushed his fingers against the side of her neck. He nuzzled his nose against her, inhaled, and released a low, l.u.s.tful moan. "Lovely," he whispered again.

Lonnie didn't realize that his hips were grinding against her, or that her body had begun to open up to accept his advances. She gradually thrust her pelvis against his. Phillip's thumb grazed against one of her nipples that had aroused to become erect. She gasped at how sensitive it was. Lonnie almost opened her eyes.

"It's alright," he said, breathlessly, over and over again, like a chant.

He had slipped his fingers between her panties and her skin. Lonnie's body reacted instinctively at first, but the kisses he planted on her neck relaxed her even more. With one long, slender finger, Phillip tenderly began to stroke the lips of her p.u.s.s.y. Soon, he began to part them, and dip his finger slightly between them, grazing it gently across her c.l.i.t.

Lonnie gasped and began to spread her thighs even more to accommodate him. She felt the wetness in her build at the excitement of being touched. She wanted this so much. Lonnie wanted to savor every second of his stroke, she thrust her hips against his palm, hungry for him to push deeper inside her. She hadn't felt like this in so long-s.e.xy, desirable, feminine.

No one knew how to make her c.u.m the way Jordan did. No one's d.i.c.k felt as good inside her as his. Lonnie's knees were drawn toward her chest, her thighs wide open, as she held him by the back of his neck, watching every delicious stroke of him as he drove deep inside her, and pulled himself out to the tip, until the head of his beautiful c.o.c.k kissed the moist opening of her p.u.s.s.y.

He had her. Lonnie's eyes locked on to Jordan's and she knew that despite her best efforts to resist him, and to make him believe that she could take him or leave him-he had her.

Lonnie abruptly grabbed hold of Phillip's hand, pulled it from inside her underwear, crawled out of bed, and disappeared inside the bathroom, where she slammed the door shut behind her.

"I-I'm sorry, Lonnie..." Phillip's voice trailed off. "I thought you were enjoying it," he finished dismally.