Larger Than Lyfe

by Cynthia Diane Thornton

  “Objection! Objection, Your Honor!” Larry Steinberg stood up and erupted angrily. “Mr. Cooley’s statements are inflammatory and entirely conjectural!”

  “This is an opening statement by the prosecution, Mr. Steinberg,” Judge Bartholomew admonished, “and you are well aware of this. Please retain your rebuttals for the argument. Please continue, Mr. Steinberg.”

  “Cocaine and a substantial amount of money were found in Phinnaeus Bernard’s car trunk,” Steve Cooley said. “To most, it would appear to have been a drug deal gone bad. All evidence indicates that Phinnaeus Bernard III’s murder was the result of a professional hit. The People and the State of California have every reason to believe that Richard Lawrence Tresvant personally orchestrated and committed the murder of Phinnaeus Bernard III. We have substantial evidence to support this, including Richard Tresvant’s fingerprints all over the murder weapon. We ask that the jury bring forth a unanimous guilty verdict following the presentation of the evidence in this trial and convict Richard Tresvant for first-degree murder.”

  Spectators glanced over at Ricky at the defense table. He didn’t so much as flinch at the prosecutor’s words.

  Spectators filed back into the courtroom after lunch and quickly claimed a seat. Live news coverage of the scene outside the courthouse and highlights of what was transpiring inside had been taking place all morning. Legal commentators had begun to discuss the murder case on CNN and truTV. Opening statements by the defense were set to begin immediately.

  Larry Steinberg’s courtroom theatrics were legendary. It was like getting front row tickets to the Rolling Stones’ farewell concert to get to see Larry Steinberg in action that day. He launched into his opening statement of the case with his usual flair. It was not just what he said to the juries he faced, nor the way in which he presented his very provocative arguments. It was the amazing charisma that accompanied his obvious legal genius. It had been a very strategic move on Ricky’s part to put Larry Steinberg on retainer to represent him.

  “This is an open and shut case,” Larry Steinberg stated calmly to the jurors. “As much press coverage as my client and this case are now receiving, as much as the prosecution will valiantly attempt to make you all believe that they have their man and that Richard Tresvant is this ruthless, ego-driven ‘gangster’…some ‘high-ranking drug trafficker’ who gets away with committing ‘numerous’ heinous crimes, this is an open and shut case and I intend to prove to you, without a lot of smoke and mirrors and other skillfully crafted distraction techniques, that you have the wrong man in front of you. Richard Tresvant did NOT murder Phinnaeus Bernard III.

  “There are three significant elements…prerequisites…that must be met in order to indict and convict in any criminal case. They are MOTIVE…TIMELINE and OPPORTUNITY…and EVIDENCE. Of all three of these prerequisites, I, and the other attorneys comprising Richard Tresvant’s legal defense team, intend to show you that the prosecution failed to satisfactorily meet a single one of the prerequisites required to indict and convict. Number One…there exists no motive for Richard Tresvant to have murdered Phinnaeus Bernard III, other than a molehill made into mountain of circumstantial evidence and the flimsy concoction of the prosecution’s mind.

  “Number Two…Richard Tresvant has witnesses who shall come forth over the course of the trial…prominent, upstanding, law-abiding citizens…who will testify to Richard Tresvant’s whereabouts on March 11, 2005, during the time window of the murder of Phinnaeus Bernard III, and Richard Tresvant was nowhere near the crime scene.

  “Number Three…the defense has evidence, including two passed polygraph tests, one from a polygraphist hired by the defense and a second administered by a State-appointed polygraphist, as well as testimony from nationally renowned forensic and legal experts to prove Richard Tresvant’s innocence, along with the very real possibility that this man has been very masterfully set up…framed…for the murder of Phinnaeus Bernard III.

  “After full presentation of the facts and evidence of this case, I ask that you, the jury, bring back a unanimous verdict of ‘not guilty’ for my client.”

  “Have you been following the trial?” Marcus asked, joining Keshari in the solarium at her Palos Verdes home.

  “Of course, I have,” Keshari responded. “I cancelled my schedule and have been glued to this television all day. Ricky and his trial both are getting heavy coverage. truTV has been discussing him all day. None of this looks good.”

  “I agree,” Marcus said. “The feds are on this now. Rick remains confident, though, that the matter is under control.”

  “Rick cannot buy all of federal law enforcement. Can you now understand why I am so adamant that it’s time to get out of this?”

  “We don’t have time to keep going there, Keshari. We’ve got new people in our client base, which presents an increased demand for product, and we’ve severed ties with our exclusive supplier. We’ve got a business to run and, clearly, more pressing issues to deal with here than your personal desire to go straight.”

  “My intentions are serious, Marcus. I am separating myself from The Consortium. If, after all that I’ve done for this organization, the organization’s decision is to place an order or a price on my head for that decision…I’m at a place in my life now where it’s a risk that I am fully willing to take. I’m getting out of this business.”

  “You know why I’m here, Keshari,” Marcus said. “We must locate a new supplier and, because of Rick’s current situation with this trial, the matter is yours to handle. Where are you with that?”

  “I’ve narrowed the list down to a few, very solid prospects. However, transport is a major and very expensive factor with all of them. That was the reason that we negotiated a deal with Machaca in the first place. You know that. Our best bet right now is with the Jamaicans, or the Colombians out of Miami. I have meetings scheduled with heads of both organizations prior to launch of auditions for my record label’s nationwide talent search project in another week and a half.”

  “Good,” Marcus said. “I’ll let Rick know. Do you need me to accompany you?”

  “I’ve already let Rick know,” Keshari said, staring at Marcus pointedly, “and, no, I’ll manage these meetings on my own.”

  For a moment, the two grew dangerously silent.

  “Marcus, following completion of negotiations with our new supplier, I am stepping down from any role that I currently play with The Consortium. If, at that point, you want my position in this organization, you will certainly get no contention from me about it. Until then, I am second in command in this organization and you need to remember and respect that at all times. Do we have an understanding?”

  Marcus didn’t respond. He stared at Keshari ominously and Keshari glared right back at him, clearly challenging him to make another mistake of forgetting who she was and how she had come to be second in command in The Consortium in the first place.

  “Are we clear here?” she repeated. “It’s non-negotiable and non-debatable.”

  “Yeah,” Marcus responded.

  They were silent again, both of them seeming to contemplate the next steps in their increasingly uneasy alliance.

  “Does Rick know of your plans to separate from the organization after securing the new supplier?” Marcus asked.

  Keshari didn’t answer.

  “I didn’t think so,” Marcus said.

  “On your most ideal second date, where would you go? What would you do?” Mars asked.

  After two weeks of phone calls from New York and D.C. to Los Angeles, more bouquets of flowers delivered to Keshari’s home and office, and numerous exchanges of e-mail and cute, little text messages, Mars arrived at Keshari’s Century City offices, looking gorgeous in a crisp, white linen shirt and black linen trousers, fresh off a plane from New York.

  “I don’t know,” Keshari said, thinking it over. “Maybe a drive up the coast with the top down and a good bottle of wine, some jazz on the CD changer, watch the sunset.”

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nbsp; “That sounds really, really nice, but I’ve got something better in mind than that.”

  “Oh, really?” Keshari asked, amused. “Like what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Mars held her hand as the two of them rode the elevator down to ground level of the upscale office building on Century Park East. He held open the door of the chauffeured Lincoln for her and she slid inside.

  “Straight to LAX,” he told the driver.

  Keshari looked over at Mars, confused.

  “LAX? I can’t think of a single good restaurant in the airport area. I’ve got a meeting in a couple of hours, so we’ll have to wrap this up pretty quickly. I’ll be able to give you my undivided time and attention on the weekend.”

  “Just chill,” Mars reassured her. “I don’t want you to spoil the surprise.”

  “I don’t really like surprises, Mars.”

  “You’ll like this one. I promise.”

  Mars looked over at her. Keshari was very quiet and the look on her face was very serious. She really didn’t like surprises and the fact that she was suddenly riding off into the unknown without a clue was taking no time at all to render her fit to be tied.

  For a moment, he was hesitant about telling her what he had planned.

  “Negril,” he said, kissing her hand. “We’re going to Negril.”

  He had such a mischievous twinkle in his eyes after divulging that tidbit of information that Keshari couldn’t be sure if he was making a joke or not.

  “‘Negril’ better be the name of some new and trendy, Caribbean restaurant,” she said. “I know very well that you better not have composed the very foolish notion in your head that you are gonna kidnap me away to Jamaica.”

  Mars smiled and said nothing. Keshari knew then that “Negril” was not the name of a Caribbean restaurant.

  “Are you out of your mind?! Mars Buchanan, you take me back to my office right now!”

  “Uh-uh. No can do. I told you that we were going to do something completely spontaneous when I got back into town and to clear your schedule in preparation for it. I also told you that I did not want any argument from you about it.”

  “Mars Buchanan, I have a twenty million-dollar nationwide talent search in the works as we speak. The Los Angeles auditions launch in exactly one week! We are crunched for time as it is and there are still venues that need to be finalized, expenses that still require my review and approval. I have a four o’clock meeting with my attorney to complete a funds transfer that only my signature and voice authentication can authorize. Goddammit, I have a company to run!”

  Mars smiled.

  “Your assistant sent your laptop. NetMeeting is an excellent tool. We’ve got a state-of-the-art webcam, fax machine, laser printer, copier, phones, supplies, everything you need. You can issue orders as if you are right there at your record label. Any contracts or other documents that you need can be faxed or overnighted to you at our hotel. You have complete control over this entire situation and you don’t have to be in your office all day and half the night to exercise that control.”

  Keshari put her head back and closed her eyes. For many months, she’d been coveting what she liked to call a “normal” life. Was this “normal”? she asked herself.

  “This is so ridiculous. I don’t have any clothes with me…nothing. I don’t even have my passport.” She sighed. “I cannot believe that you would arrange for me to fly off with you to the Caribbean like I’m some rap star groupie without consulting me first! This is our second date! Why couldn’t you just take me to lunch?!”

  “First off,” Mars said calmly, “of course, I’m not treating you like a rap star groupie…because I am not a rap star. Second, I asked Terrence if it would be too much of a problem to secretly put together the things that you would need for this trip. He told me that it would be no problem at all. He was actually excited about getting involved in the surprise. He coordinated with your housekeeper to get you packed. He cancelled your schedule. He also took care of providing me with your passport. He and my assistant were absolutely instrumental in putting all of this together.”

  “Terrence is going to find himself in search of new employment if he continues to show such readiness to appease the requests of someone who does not pay his salary,” Keshari glowered.

  Mars chuckled and squeezed her hand.

  “You’ll thank Terrence when you get back.”

  The two had first-class accommodations all the way. An attendant met them at curbside as soon as their chauffeured car pulled up to check their baggage and secure their boarding passes for them while the two of them sat and had lattes and sandwiches in one of the VIP lounges. Then the attendant escorted the two of them through security checkpoints and to their gate to board their plane.

  Just before the flight lifted off, Keshari took out her cell phone and called her best friend, Misha Tierney.

  “Where the hell are you?” Keshari asked.

  “I’m at Manolo Blahnik in Manhattan, trying on shoes.”

  “What are you doing in New York?”

  “Networking…shopping…taking care of me. Chris is meeting with a new sports management company. He asked me to come out and kick it with him for a couple of days.”

  Keshari laughed. “Girl, you are becoming a little NBA whore.”

  “Excuse you. I date a couple of NBA players and now I get classified as a groupie. Forget you! What’s up with you, anyway?”

  “I just thought that I’d call to tell you that I’m taking a couple of days off work to relax and get my bearings in preparation for the launch of this talent search. My flight is about to take off for Negril right now.”

  “Negril? You haven’t taken a vacation since…well, shit, since…NEVER. What brought this on?”

  Keshari lowered her voice to a whisper. “Well, you know how you’ve been so strongly demanding that I go and get myself laid? Maybe I’ll just do that.”

  Mars overheard what Keshari said and chuckled. A woman across the aisle from them heard what Keshari said and chuckled, too.

  “OH…MY…GOD!” Misha squealed. “Somebody’s been keeping secrets. Who is he? Who is he? I’m sure that he’s in the industry…because all you ever do is work. I want to know all the details…blow by blow.”

  “After I get back,” Keshari promised. “Tell that brotha with the NBA’s most gorgeous smile that I said hi.”

  Mars’s secretary had taken care of all of the arrangements per Mars’s very detailed instructions and had booked Keshari and Mars into an enormous River Suite right on the water at Sandals Negril. The hotel was amazing with a staff at the ready to fill their every need and a personal butler assigned to their suite to provide them with around-the-clock, personalized service.

  When they arrived at their plush and tropical hotel suite, vases of pink, red and purple tulips, Keshari’s favorite flowers, were all over the living room as well as in Keshari’s bedroom. There was a bottle of Cristal on ice. There were also bottles of Keshari’s favorite pinot grigio and white zinfandel stocked at the bar as well as in the suite’s refrigerator. There were fresh strawberries and decadent, European chocolates on the cocktail table. Mars had even managed to acquire a box of Keshari’s favorite Cuban cigars after finding out that she indulged in them from time to time. A corner of the expansive living room had been converted into a fully equipped office for Mars’s and especially Keshari’s use. A rented Jeep was at hand for them to drive and explore every corner of the beautiful island during their stay. Mars had thought of everything and he had clearly spared no expense where their elaborate “second date” was concerned.

  Even though, technically, this was her second date with Mars Buchanan, this was the first time that Keshari could remember having taken anything resembling a real vacation in her life. She’d traveled with Ricky on many, many occasions to exotic cities on practically every corner of the globe, but the trips had always been connected in some way or another to the business affairs of The Consortium, and,
since Larger Than Lyfe Entertainment’s inception, Keshari had thrown herself completely into her work, building the success of her record label, without ever even considering taking a break. She’d been to exotic locales for artists’ video shoots and had enjoyed Presidential Suites at luxury hotels, VIP treatment, and nights out with rap stars and their entourages and video crews at the hottest nightclubs in the area while entertainment media swooped in out of nowhere and lapped it all up with their cameras, depicting to the public the beautiful record label mogul living and loving the “glamorous life,” but Keshari hadn’t been so far as San Francisco simply to get away from it all and have some much-needed time to herself. This excursion was specifically intended for her enjoyment and she had no idea where to begin, particularly since it wasn’t something that she had orchestrated herself.

  “Why don’t you go and get settled, maybe take a relaxing bath?” Mars suggested. “The masseuse will be here in a little while.”