Can't Get Enough

by Connie Briscoe

  Veronique raised a brow. “What exactly did he tell you?”

  “He told me that you asked him to meet you at the Hilton that night when you knew I would be there with Noah.”

  Veronique squared her shoulders, and her warm eyes hardened like steel.

  “How could you, Veronique?” Barbara said. “I don’t understand. Bradford doesn’t either, really.”

  “Hmm. I’m surprised Bradford didn’t figure it all out, as smart as he is.”

  “He thinks you’re getting revenge for his calling in a loan he made to your husband five years ago.”

  “I see.” Veronique gestured toward a chair in the salon. “Sit down, Barbara. There’s more to what happened back then than Bradford is admitting.”

  As uneasy feeling came over Barbara, but she sat down in an armchair anyway as the baroness sat on a couch across from her.

  Veronique smiled thinly. “I suspect that Bradford left out a few important details about that whole sorry episode.”

  Barbara said nothing. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to like what was coming.

  Veronique let out a deep breath. “Where should I begin? Bradford loaned Guy a large sum of money to expand his business, and we used the software company as collateral. Then the bottom fell out of the technology sector. When Guy realized that he wouldn’t be able to pay it back on time, he went to Bradford and asked for more time, not much, a few months if I remember correctly. But Bradford insisted that he be paid promptly.”

  “He told me that.”

  “Just a minute,” Veronique said firmly. “I’m sure he didn’t tell you this, nor did he expect that I would tell you, probably. There was a time when I was too ashamed to talk about it to anyone, and he knows that. But my bitterness over the years has slowly replaced my shame.”

  Barbara squirmed.

  “When it began to look like we were going to lose the company to Bradford, I went to his hotel suite and begged him to reconsider. I offered to do anything if he would give us just a little more time. Bradford had always flirted with me but nothing more than that, until that day.”

  Veronique paused and Barbara caught her breath. Oh, God. She knew where this was going and she didn’t like it. She stood abruptly.

  Veronique jumped up and glared at Barbara. “Wait,” she shouted. “Don’t you want to hear the rest? We made love right there in his room. Bradford got what he wanted all along—me.”

  Veronique paused to regain control of her voice. It was the first time Barbara had ever heard her raise it.

  “And then . . . then he double-crossed me,” Veronique said, her hands clenched into fists at her side. “He still insisted that we pay the loan back on time. I begged, Barbara, but he wouldn’t listen. He practically threw me out of his room. When Guy found out what I had done—”

  “How did Guy find out?” Barbara asked, interrupting.

  “To this day I don’t know. I certainly didn’t tell him. But it was the end of our marriage, and I blame Bradford for that. I’ll never forget that as long as I live.”

  Barbara backed away at the venom she heard in Veronique’s tone. If this was true, Bradford had behaved horribly. Barbara knew Bradford, and it probably was true. A part of her wanted to apologize to Veronique, but another part of her blamed the baroness. It was a stupid thing she had done.

  “So to pay Bradford back, you decided to try to ruin our marriage. You had this planned from the beginning, didn’t you? That’s why you moved to Silver Lake.”

  Veronique shook her head. “Not exactly. I’ll admit that one of the reasons I came back to the States and moved here was to see what had happened to Bradford. But I had no idea you had this huge crush on Noah when I arrived. I just waited and watched and seized the opportunity when it came along. You have no idea how good I felt as I watched the drama unfold between you and Bradford at the Hilton that night.”

  “You saw it? Where were you?”

  “In a rented sedan parked across the street. You looked right through the window when you drove by, but I managed to duck before you saw me.”

  Barbara swallowed. “How did . . . ?” She paused. “How did you get Noah involved?”

  Veronique frowned deeply. “What do you mean? Noah wasn’t involved.”

  Barbara stared at Veronique with wide eyes. “You mean Noah had no idea you were there that night or that . . .” Barbara paused to catch her breath.

  “No, he had nothing to do with it.”

  Barbara closed her eyes. Thank God, she had been totally wrong about that. She opened them again. “I still don’t understand you, though, Veronique. You have everything. Money, palatial houses, jewels, and a new husband who you say loves you dearly. All that couldn’t make you forget something that happened years ago?”

  “Those things are nice, no question. But they don’t make up for losing your dignity.”

  WHEN NOAH ANSWERED his door late that evening, he was holding Barbara’s note in his hand. He stepped aside quietly to let her pass. She entered and turned to face him as he shut the door behind her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, speaking barely above a whisper. “I . . . I acted rashly. I—”

  “What the hell does all this mean?” he asked, his voice filled with bitterness as he interrupted her. He held the note up and began to read from it. “ ‘You have really hurt me with what you’ve done. I thought I could trust you. I thought you cared about me. Now I’m not so sure.’ ”

  Noah looked up at her, his brown face filled with pain and confusion and more than a little anger.

  Barbara glanced away and swallowed hard. “This morning I learned that Veronique set us up at the Hilton. She told Bradford we would be there and that was why he showed up. I thought you were involved. I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

  A deep frown spread across Noah’s face. “Jesus. Why would Veronique do that?”

  “It’s a long story. She was getting revenge for something Bradford did years ago.”

  “And you thought I was in on it with her? I can’t believe you thought I’d do something as despicable as that. Isn’t it obvious how I feel about you?”

  Barbara touched her forehead. “I thought so, but this is all so confusing. I didn’t know what to think until Veronique told me you had nothing to do with it.”

  He shook his head sadly. “I thought you trusted me.”

  “I do, but . . .”

  “No, obviously you don’t.”

  Barbara sighed deeply. “That’s more a reflection of me than you. I have a hard time trusting men. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  “Don’t keep apologizing.”

  “OK, OK. I should go. I just wanted to stop by and clear things up about the note.”

  “You also took your things.”

  “I need some time to think, Noah.”

  “I thought we had something special.” He shook his head. “How wrong I was.”

  “It was special, Noah. But right now, I’m confused.”

  “Are you going back to him?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that we moved so fast, you and I. Too fast for me.”

  “Given how little trust you have in me, I can’t argue with that.”

  Barbara placed her hand on the doorknob and looked back at him. “You meant a lot to me, Noah. You still do. You helped me regain confidence in myself as a woman.” She touched his arm. “I’ll never forget that.”

  He smiled weakly and gently brushed her cheek. “Whatever it is you’re looking for, Barbara, I hope you find it. I mean that.”

  Barbara left the house and walked slowly to her Benz. What was she looking for? she wondered as she climbed into the driver’s seat. Bradford showered her with expensive gifts. They lived in a beautiful home with every creature comfort imaginable. They were admired and respected in the community, largely because of Bradford. He was unable or unwilling to fulfill her needs emotionally, but for the longest time, Barbara had let herself believe that what she had with Bradford was all she needed.<
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  Then she met Noah, and he had made her feel loved and desired. In a way, Noah reminded Barbara of Bradford when they were first married, before all of his success went to his head. Now she realized that all the things she had with Bradford simply weren’t enough.

  JOLENE PACED THE floor of her lawyer’s office and listened to the end of the tape recording of her last conversation with Brian Watson.

  “If you had followed my instructions instead of doing it yourself and screwing up, we wouldn’t be in this jam. But someone might have seen you, and it’s too risky for us to have contact now. Maybe in a few more months if nothing—”

  “A few more months shit. And fuck your fucking instructions. It got done, didn’t it? Pay me now or I’m calling the cops on your ass.”

  “Well, that would be pretty damn smart, since you’re the one who broke in and and tried to rob Pearl’s place.”

  “Rob? It wasn’t no robbery and you know it. You asked me to bust it up and I did. Now I want my money or I’m going to the cops.”

  “Go ahead then, stupid asshole. I’ll tell them I had nothing to do with it. It was a botched robbery for all I know. Who do you think they’re going to believe? An ex-con or me?”

  Slam!

  Brian was obviously not as dumb as he looked. Jolene couldn’t believe he had recorded their last phone conversations and that when the police closed in and arrested him he had handed over the tape.

  “Bastard,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Excuse me?” her lawyer said as he shut off the recorder.

  Jolene stopped pacing and cleared her throat. “What does all of this mean, Monte?”

  He cleared his throat and ran his hands through his gray hair. “It means they’ve got a pretty strong case against you, Jolene—what with this tape, the fact that Pearl Jackson is involved with Patrick, and that Brian once worked in your office. Not to mention that several people saw Brian run away from the salon and drive off.”

  Jolene sighed and sat down in front of Monte. “Let me make sure I understand this. You want me to accept a plea bargain?” Jolene didn’t like the idea of admitting she was guilty. But the tapes were devastating. There was no way she could explain them away. “What will that mean in terms of a sentence? Will I have to go to jail?”

  He shook his head. “Since this is your first offense, they’re offering a PBJ with restitution and—”

  “What the hell is that, Monte?”

  “Probation with payment of Pearl Jackson’s business losses. About three-quarters of a million.”

  Jolene shot back up out of her seat. “That’s not acceptable. I am not giving that woman one dime of my money. I just won it! I would have to go back to work. Hell, no. You’re going to have to come up with something better than that.”

  “Didn’t you win five million in the lottery last spring?”

  “I had to pay taxes. And bills. I only have about a million and a half left.”

  Monte’s eyes widened. “So you spent, like, a million dollars in less than a year?”

  “It’s my damn money. I’ll do whatever the hell I want with it.”

  He held his hands out. “All right, calm down, Jolene. Considering the evidence, I’d advise you to take the deal. This case is not winnable and you could end up doing time in jail. With the plea bargain, you’ll only have to do a hundred hours of community service, and maybe find a job after you pay Pearl.”

  Jolene stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I’m afraid this is the best I can do, Jolene. The evidence against you is—”

  “Don’t keep saying that! What the hell am I paying you for?”

  “I’m an attorney, Jolene, not a miracle worker.”

  Jolene touched her forehead. “What are the charges again?”

  “Destruction of property, vandalism, conspiracy, and accessory to a crime.”

  Dammit. As horrible as this stinking plea bargain sounded, a trial could be a hundred times worse. It would drag things out and she might even be sentenced to prison. How would she ever face Juliette or her mother or anyone else for that matter? She slumped down. “I’ll take the plea bargain.”

  PEARL PUT DOWN the Washington Post. The article about Jolene Brown’s involvement in the break-in was unbelievable. She would never have thought that Jolene would do something so vicious.

  She looked across the table at Patrick as he sipped his morning coffee. He seemed to be taking this harder than she was. His ex-wife, the mother of his daughter, had ordered the vandalism of Pearl’s salon. Patrick looked lost.

  She reached across the table, took his hand and squeezed.

  “What will I tell Juliette?” he said, his voice cracking.

  Pearl shook her head. “I honestly don’t know what to tell you.”

  He stood and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. Juliette had been living with Patrick ever since Jolene was taken to police head-quarters for questioning a month earlier. Patrick and Jolene had agreed that would be best while Jolene was going through all of this.

  But Jolene had insisted that she was innocent and that she was being framed by Brian in an act of revenge. As soon as she was cleared of the charges, she said she wanted Juliette back home with her. Patrick had wanted desperately to believe Jolene, but yesterday they learned that she had accepted a plea bargain and now it was in the newspaper.

  “I have to tell Juliette the truth,” he said sadly. “With it in the papers, she’s going to hear about it from somewhere. I’d rather she get it from me.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Pearl said.

  Patrick banged his fist on the countertop. “Dammit! What is wrong with that woman? I knew she was jealous of you, but this? What the hell was she thinking?”

  “I don’t get it,” Pearl said incredulously. “She won the lottery and even before that she had more than I ever did.”

  “If you’re talking about material things, yes. But not when it comes to character. She’s not getting Juliette back. I don’t want that woman raising my daughter. If she fights me on it, I’ll take her to court and sue for custody.”

  Pearl nodded in agreement. She had no doubt that Jolene would fight to get her daughter back, and going up against her was obviously not something to be taken lightly. But Patrick was right. He had to do what was best for Juliette.

  Pearl stood up, walked to the cabinets, removed a frying pan, and placed it on the stove. “The girls will be up soon. I’m going to fix us all a big breakfast—bacon and sausage, eggs, pancakes.” Food always soothed the soul, and they could all use a little comfort now.

  Patrick came up behind her and turned her to face him. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. She rested her head on his shoulder and they stood there silently for a moment.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about your salon,” he said. “Somehow I feel responsible now.”

  She looked up at him. “Don’t be silly. I’m sorry that it turned out to be Jolene who hired that thug to break into my salon, but now that we know who did it, I feel at ease. Not knowing was the worst. A huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Does that seem weird?”

  “Not at all.” He chuckled and released her.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “I was just tying to imagine Jolene doing community service.”

  Pearl had to smile at that thought, too. “It’ll be good for her.”

  “Yeah, if she doesn’t get out of it.”

  “Do you think she’ll try?”

  “I know she will.”

  “I’ll be hoping she can’t. Well, let me start on breakfast. Why don’t you get the girls up?” She turned him around and shooed him out of the kitchen, then she went to the refrigerator, removed a half dozen eggs, and began to crack them open into a bowl.

  Pearl’s lawyer had informed her yesterday that the judge had ordered Jolene to pay her a large sum of money. Pearl hated the idea of taking money from Jolene but she needed it de
sperately. Insurance wouldn’t cover all the costs to fix the salon exactly the way she wanted it, and she needed income until she could get back to work.

  Pearl shook her head as she whipped the eggs. Jolene Brown jealous of her? Jolene had won five million dollars in the lottery, she lived in a house that was probably five times the size of Pearl’s town house, she drove a nice car, and she had a beautiful daughter.

  It just went to show that some people were never satisfied.

  THE MORNING SUN streaked through the drapes in Jolene’s bedroom, and she yanked the sheet up over her head. She hadn’t been able to get a wink of sleep all night. Reporters from the Washington Post and Baltimore Sun had called repeatedly the previous afternoon. They had said that articles about the break-in at Pearl’s salon were going to run the following morning and they wanted to ask her some questions. Jolene slammed the phone down on both reporters.

  The last thing she needed were articles in the Post and the Sun about all of this crap. She had already been humiliated enough. Patrick was furious about how it would affect their daughter. Her parents weren’t speaking to her. Her neighbors, including Veronique, all looked at her as if she was from another planet. And her party plans had been shattered.

  Her alarm clock went off.

  “Shit!” she screamed aloud as she sat up and shut it off. It was seven-thirty on a Saturday morning and she had to get up and drive all the way into D.C. to a women’s homeless shelter to start her hundred hours of community service.

  She moaned, fell back down on the bed, and pulled the covers over her head. She hated getting up early on Saturday mornings for any reason, and she damn sure didn’t want to get up early for this. But the worst of it was that she would have to give part of her lottery winnings to that bitch Pearl. What a nightmare. She had been on top of the world and look at her now. Her only consolation was that Brian was back in prison, right where his ass belonged.

  The thought of having to spend thirty days or more in jail popped into Jolene’s thoughts—it was a very real possibility if she failed to show up at the shelter, as her lawyer had reminded her when she asked him how she could get out of performing community service. She threw the covers off.