Drop Dead, Gorgeous Part 6

Frank decided to play it smart. "I never said that he was giving us anything," he said coolly.

Ed started to get angry, and his buddy behind him was getting noticeably agitated.

"You trying to play us for fools?" Ed said menacingly, taking a step too close to Frank.

Frank took one toward Ed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Reggie already did that."

"Tell the truth. How much did the two of you take in from that little wetback last month?"

Frank shook his head. "I can't believe you dragged my a.s.s all the way out here for this," he said, getting angry. Ed and Jake had nothing but the word of Reggie. They were p.i.s.sing in the wind, literally, trying to get Colette and Frank to confess to something that, for all they knew, was bulls.h.i.t. And he could see it in both of their faces that they had nothing concrete.

He turned to Colette. "Let's go," he said, motioning her back to the car.

"Where the f.u.c.k are you going?" Jake called out. "Where the f.u.c.k are they going?"

"This conversation never happened, Frank!" Ed said, sounding reluctant all of a sudden.

He'd come here with an underlying threat, accusing the two of them of being dirty, but he had no real proof. And when Frank called his bluff, all of a sudden, that dog stopped barking.

"What if they tell- Naw, man! What if they-"

The agitation in Jake's tone sent a chill up Frank's spine, and Frank looked up in time to see that fool pull out a gun and point it at him and Colette. But what he didn't see was that Colette already had her weapon drawn and aimed at Jake. She pulled the trigger before he did. Ed pulled a gun from behind him, but he was too slow. Instinct had kicked in. Instinct from being on the force for close to ten years, and always having to watch his back.

A knock on the driver's side window startled Frank back from the past.

The old man peered through the gla.s.s. "You gettin' out?"

Frank climbed out of the car and stared into the eyes of his old man. He opened his mouth to talk, but all of a sudden, he had no idea what to say.

Joel peered curiously at him. "Frank? Frank, is that you?" And then he laughed, held open his arms, and embraced Frank for the first time in nearly twenty years.

When We Seek and Hide The woman had saved Lonnie's life, but they weren't friends. They weren't even close to being friends.

"h.e.l.lo, Claire," Lonnie said, as Claire Gatewood sat down at the table across from her.

Lonnie thought that she was more prepared for this meeting, but the flood of emotions coming back to her just now were almost too overwhelming. Claire was as beautiful as Lonnie remembered, before Jordan a.s.saulted Lonnie. She'd never understood why he'd chosen Lonnie over Claire, except that maybe he was attracted to Lonnie's edge. Claire was Barbie perfect, almost too good to be true perfection. Lonnie was the polar opposite. She broke the rules and he fell in love with that part of her. She didn't fit the mold, and he adored her for it. Lonnie had been the rebel to Claire's debutante.

"Thank you for coming," Lonnie said to the woman, who was noticeably pensive and guarded.

Of course Claire didn't want to be here. Lonnie had heard the repugnance in her voice when they spoke over the phone.

Claire wouldn't even look at her. "Did I have a choice?" she asked defensively.

Lonnie didn't bother to answer that question. It was redundant. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of Claire's perfume. It hadn't changed.

"Wha-what happened to- Wh-who did this?"

Lonnie was so grateful to hear her voice. It was the voice that called her out of the darkness, that pulled her back from death.

"Who did this? Who- Can you walk? Can you get up? Can you walk?"

The woman was her angel, her savior. Yes! Yes, Lonnie would get up-if she had to. She would walk if it meant that she wouldn't die here in this place.

"How did you get my number?" Claire asked abruptly, s.n.a.t.c.hing Lonnie back to the present. This time, Claire did look at her, she glared angrily at her.

Lonnie noticed the large yellow diamond on her ring finger. Jordan must've given it to her. Lonnie studied the woman, searching her face, her demeanor, for any signs that her husband knew that it was her who helped Lonnie to leave the house that night.

"I wanted to thank you, Claire," Lonnie said calmly.

Claire Gatewood was a nervous and unstable volcano, threatening to erupt at any moment. If looks could kill- "I never asked for your thanks," Claire snapped abruptly. The drop-dead gorgeous Claire Gatewood's chest heaved, and for a moment, Lonnie truly believed the woman would burst. "I should've left you there." She dropped her gaze to the silverware on the table.

The waiter showed up in that moment. "h.e.l.lo. Can I get you-"

"No," Claire snapped, but then quickly composed herself. "Thank you." After he left, she turned her attention to Lonnie again. "Why did you ask me to come here, Lonnie? I didn't want to see you again." She clenched her teeth together. "I had hoped I'd never have to see each other again. I don't give a d.a.m.n about you, and you know that."

"But you couldn't let me die, either."

Whatever her motives, Claire hadn't left her there, lying on the floor in her own blood. She'd made it clear that she hated Lonnie, but she hadn't let her die. In this moment, just like in that one, that's all that mattered.

"Does he know?" Lonnie asked softly. Of course she knew the answer to that question already, but she needed for Claire to say it out loud. She needed for Claire Gatewood to acknowledge verbally that she knew who had beaten Lonnie, into the b.l.o.o.d.y pulp Claire had stumbled upon that night, and that he had no idea that his wife had been the reason behind Lonnie's resurrection from the dead.

Claire looked as if she were going to break down crying.

Lonnie almost felt sorry for her. But what did Phillip tell her? In this war, there would be casualties, and Lonnie was sitting across the table from one of those casualties.

"He thinks you're dead," Claire admitted shakily. "Don't be a fool, Lonnie. Let him believe that."

Claire had been the one who had convinced Lonnie not to tell the police what had happened to her that night in the hospital.

"He'll know it was you and he'll come after you."

Lonnie shook her head in disbelief. "You know what kind of man he is. You know what he's capable of," she said, disgusted, "and you are still with him?"

Claire bravely held Lonnie's gaze. "He'd never do to me what he did to you."

Lonnie couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"You pushed him, Lonnie. You had to have pushed some b.u.t.ton in Jordan that made him snap, and do that to- I know my husband. I'm safe with my husband because he cares about me."

Lonnie couldn't believe the s.h.i.t coming out of this woman's mouth. "But he didn't always care about you, did he, Claire?"

She hadn't asked Claire to come here to hurt her, only to get a feel for where her head was. She'd wanted to understand the relationship Claire had with her husband, and to see if she was still the wounded bird Lonnie so vividly remembered.

"Tell me," Lonnie said, leaning over the table. "Did he care about you when he was f.u.c.king me?"

The sting of those words showed in Claire's eyes.

"Did he care about you when he whisked me down to Cabo for a weekend, laid me out on the patio, and licked my p.u.s.s.y raw? Did he care about you when you found us in the park that day, with the blood dripping down your wrists because he had driven you to try and kill yourself?"

"You f.u.c.kin' s.l.u.t," Claire snapped bitterly.

"He was leaving you for me," Lonnie stated bluntly. "That's how much your man cared for you."

"I should've left you to die!"

"But you didn't, and if all you've ever wanted was to live happily ever after with your man, then you're right. You should've left me there."

The woman looked shocked to hear it, but Lonnie had driven that revelation home. She hadn't intended to come at her like this, not this soon, and not this hard, but Claire had forced her hand. She'd pushed the issue, and now, it was clear to Claire that by saving Lonnie, she had made the biggest mistake of her life.

"You're married to a monster, Claire. You know it as well as I do. I do thank you for saving my life, and I caution you to be careful."

Tears flooded Claire's beautiful amber eyes. "Let him think you're dead, Lonnie," she demanded. "He doesn't know ... what I did, and he'll never know. You leave Dallas, and don't ever come back."

Lonnie reached for her purse. She put ten dollars on the table, and stood up to leave. But she stopped and stood over Claire before walking out. "I'll always be grateful for what you did for me. But you pay attention, Claire. I'm not your enemy. Your husband is."

I Got a Jones It was late, but Lonnie didn't care. She dialed his number again and again until he finally relented and answered the phone.

"What is it?" he asked, sounding like he'd been asleep.

"What happened, Jordan?" Lonnie blurted out, raking her hand over her hair. She sat with her knees drawn to her chest, in the bay window of her loft, looking down at the city streets.

Lonnie had tried to sleep, but seeing Claire again had raised too many memories, and too many questions that all of a sudden she needed answers to.

"Hang up and I'll call right back," she threatened. "I'll show up at your G.o.dd.a.m.ned door!"

"What the h.e.l.l do you want?"

"I want to know why the h.e.l.l you felt you had the right to put your G.o.dd.a.m.n hands on me, Jordan! How the h.e.l.l did some s.h.i.t like that pop up in your mind?" she demanded, crying.

Lonnie was a different kind of distraught. She was losing it, finally. She'd gone crazy. Of course she'd known that Jordan and Claire were still together, long before she'd sat down with that woman. But after seeing Claire again, knowing the bulls.h.i.t mess that the woman must've seen when she found Lonnie that night in that house- How could she let a man like that put his hands on her? How could she love him so blindly, so ridiculously, even after all the s.h.i.t he'd put her through? How could she have ever forgiven him?

"I'm telling you-no, I'm warning you not to keep pushing this, Lonnie," he snapped.

"You couldn't stand her, Jordan," Lonnie yelled at him. "You were through with Claire! You told me yourself that you didn't want her!"

"Where is- Where's this coming from, Lonnie?" he said, suddenly in a hushed tone. "What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

Lonnie was drunk, but she wasn't that d.a.m.n drunk. She couldn't let him know that she'd spoken to Claire, and Lonnie trusted that Claire wouldn't tell him about their meeting either. She regretted buying that bottle of Ciroc on the way home from seeing the woman. Alcohol had a way of making the dirty s.h.i.t rise to the surface.

"You're still with Claire," she said, almost as if she couldn't believe it. Lonnie grimaced. He had blatantly disrespected that woman, and that fool still nipped playfully at his ankles like a puppy desperate for attention. "How the h.e.l.l does that happen?"

"You sound jealous," he said smugly.

She laughed. "Oh, now that's funny! Is this Richard Pryor I'm talking to or Jordan Gatewood! Funny as h.e.l.l."

"Then why the h.e.l.l are you calling me with this bulls.h.i.t?" he snapped back.

Because that b.i.t.c.h saved my life, a.s.shole! she wanted to scream into the phone. Jordan couldn't know that she was alive because of Claire. Not yet. Lonnie stood up and walked back and forth to compose herself. Think! Be smart! Think, Lonnie. She needed to get him off balance. Jordan was in control. He was always in control even when he was making you believe that you were the one holding the reins. She couldn't underestimate him. She couldn't let her guard down. And more than anything, Lonnie had to get him off balance.

"You asked me a question the last time I saw you," she said, metering her speech. "When was the last time I saw nice in you." Lonnie closed her eyes and focused on the path she needed to be on, the one she needed to stay on. Keep him distracted. Keep him guessing. Keep him unprepared. "It was in the park, Jordan," she stated with clarity. Lonnie stopped and stared out of the window. "The day was perfect. The sun was shining, a cool breeze blew, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was beautiful." Lonnie was suddenly caught up in that moment-in that day again, recalling the sounds of kids and music playing, birds singing, and of the two of them laughing. It was the fantasy of a high school girl, romantic and sweet.

"You dared me to catch the football," she said, remembering him throwing it at her. It was so unexpected, so playful, and childlike. The great mogul Jordan Gatewood, running around a city park, in jeans and sneakers, throwing a football to his girlfriend. Lonnie laughed. "Oh, G.o.d! I caught it," she said, raising her hand to her forehead and closing her eyes. "I couldn't believe I caught that d.a.m.n ball, Jordan. Do you remember?" Lonnie began to spin around slowly in a circle with her eyes closed. "We were like teenagers," she murmured, almost forgetting that he was silent on the other end of that phone. "Like kids without a care in the world. I f.u.c.kin' loved that!" she blurted out. Lonnie stopped, and a wave of heat washed over her as the revelation hit her like bricks. "I loved you..." her voice trailed off.

The sound of her own declaration suddenly snapped her out of whatever trance she'd been in. This was not the way to punish him! He was the one supposed to be off balance, not her! Lonnie caught up with her train of thought, wandering recklessly off track, and pulled it back on course. Hurt him! Remind him of the man he really is! Jordan's no teenage boy trying to impress a girl. He's a f.u.c.kin' terror!

"And then we saw Claire," she said, forcefully. Lonnie stopped spinning and remembered the image of that woman, walking over to the two of them. "Her eyes wild and glazed over, and the oversized white blood-stained shirt she wore, one of yours..." Lonnie's voice trailed off. "Claire stumbled, and blood dripped down off of her fingertips. She knew about the two of us, Jordan. And she tried to kill herself because of-"

Jordan had done that to that woman. He'd driven her to do that to herself. She waited for him to say something, but he never did. All of a sudden, the line went dead.

Can You Dig That Mess?

Olivia Gatewood was like a priceless art piece tucked away in the attic and forgotten about. After Desi Green's book was published, naming Olivia as the one who actually pulled the trigger on the gun that killed her husband, Julian, all those years ago, investigators began sniffing too close to the Gatewood compound. Jordan did what he had to to protect his mother and she'd resented him for it ever since.

Oakwood a.s.sisted Living was one of the premier and most exclusive senior communities in the country. It cost more to live there than most people made in their lifetimes, but she hated it. Jordan had had his mother, who suffered from dementia, placed under the direct care of one of the most prominent physicians in Texas. Detectives couldn't talk to her without her doctor's approval, and as far as he was concerned, Olivia Gatewood was physically and mentally not well enough for questioning.

It was the third Sunday. Edgar always visited her on the third Sunday. Some visits were better than others. Today, she knew who he was. Olivia was in her full presence of mind, and when she was, she was as sharp as a tack. Edgar watched admiringly as Olivia's long, slender fingers expertly manipulated those knitting needles and lavender-colored yarn. Well into her seventies, she was still a breathtaking-looking woman. Edgar had always marveled at how lovely she was, and he'd always been dumbfounded by Julian's indifference to this woman. She was elegant, intelligent, and she loved Julian Gatewood, literally to death.

"I warned June not to marry that fool," she said disappointedly, shaking her head, and curling her lips at the corners. "He was beneath her, and I told her as much, but her silly behind had to try and prove something," she said, glancing at Edgar. "If I told her to go left, then she went right. If I'd told her to go ahead and marry the man, she'd have dumped him like a hot potato."

Edgar nodded. "June never did like following the rules."

"She never liked following my rules," she corrected him. "Even when they're right."

June had divorced her husband and moved back to Dallas as soon as she had, and she'd moved into a position inside the family business.

"I guess she's got something to prove now." When she was in her right mind, Olivia was acutely aware of everything and everyone. "She's got another thing coming if she thinks that brother of hers will sit by idly and let her take over the business. Jordan loves his sister, but he loves his position at Gatewood Industries more."

"He'll accommodate her to a point," Edgar concluded. "As long as she doesn't overstep her boundaries..."

"Boundaries he'll no doubt set for her. My children played nicely together when they were young, Edgar. I don't believe that's the case anymore, especially since they're both after the same thing: Anton Oil."

He was surprised that she knew about the acquisition of Anton.

She seemed to know what he was thinking. "I may be crazy, Edgar, but I can still read. Anton Oil's gulf oil spill was an unfortunate accident, but they were struggling long before that happened. That oil spill was the last straw on the back of a company that could hardly support it. Jordan's been eyeing that company for years. My daughter needs a feather in her cap. She needs to prove herself, especially to him and the board. If she can land this acquisition, without the lawsuits and federal charges, she'll come out shining like a brand-new penny, and he won't be able to dismiss her so easily. That's all she wants, her brother's approval. That's all she ever wanted."

Edgar couldn't help but be impressed by her prowess. She was the matriarch of this family, and wore the t.i.tle like a crown.

"Once again, I've been talking your ears off, Edgar," she said with a smile. "How've you been? How's that lovely young wife of yours, Bridgette? Is that her name?"

He was surprised she remembered. "That is her name," he said graciously.

"What is she? Wife number three? Number four?"

There was a flippancy to her tone that he didn't approve of. Edgar challenged Olivia's gaze with his own, but of course, the woman wasn't about to back down.

"She's my third wife, Olivia," he said begrudgingly.