Remember Me

by Rainwater, Priscilla Poole

  Still holding the sniffling Cynne' in his arms, he looked down at her. “It's ok, that little snake was just as scared as you.” he whispered in a soothing voice as he took a tissue from his pocket. Gently, he titled her face upwards with one large hand, and began wiping her tears away with the other. “Are you alright now?”

  She looked up at him, lips still trembling, and nodded. “I feel so stupid, I know I shouldn't react that way, but snakes, oh man, I'm terrified of them.”

  He gave her a gentle squeeze. “No need to be embarrassed, we all have fears. Heck, I see a spider and I'm screaming like a girl.” he lied, trying to make her feel better. “If it was up to me, I would give that Howdy Doody looking little monster an atomic wedge, with a purple tittie twister for good measure.” he growled.

  She giggled, wishing she could do the same. Stepping out of his embrace reluctantly, she took a deep breath. “Well, let's get this show on the road. I have to let the sisters know you're joining us.”

  ************************************************

  Grace sat, miffed at the fact she had been made to wait, even though the posh waiting area of the Johnson Law Firm was extremely comfortable. Glancing at Alex Caldwell, who was seated next to her, she thought, Useless fool. Then, with a smooth smile that betrayed nothing of her annoyance, she touched his arm and purred, “Alex, be a dear, go and fetch me some coffee, will you? And when you return, see what the hold up is here.”

  Like a groveling servant, he scurried away to do her bidding.

  He had been gone only a moment when she spotted a short, African American woman, dressed smartly in a black designer suit, marching into the waiting area with a handsome white man following close behind. The two were in the middle of some heated discussion.

  “Damn it! You're purposely helping that scum you call a client, and I know for a fact you're keeping him from us just so we can't interview him. I want to talk to him, and I mean like FIVE MINUTES ago!” the man demanded.

  The tiny woman whirled around, craning her neck to look up at the man, who towered over her. “Listen, Lamont, either charge my client with something, or you back the hell off!” she replied in a belligerent voice as she poked a finger in the man's chest. “You may be the police department's new golden boy, but you're wayyyyy out of your league when it comes to me. I don't frighten easily! I'm not one of those bubble-headed, cutie-pie meter maids who are always swooning and hanging on to your every word!”

  Although the two looked like they were ready to do battle, Grace could almost feel the untapped energy flowing between the two. If they aren't lovers, they will be, someday... she thought.

  The man, Lamont, grabbed the woman's arm as she turned to leave, and she looked back at him with hellfire and brimstone in her eyes. “Hey, why all the hostility? A little testy today, are we? You know what I think you need?” he grinned, then leaned down, getting in her personal space. “I think you need a good, loooong.....”

  His voice was cut off with a howl of pain as the woman slammed her four inch Prada's on top of his foot. Hard. “You overconfident, Don Juan pretty boy! Touch me again and you'll be picking your spleen up off the floor.” the woman growled, but it was apparent to Grace's trained eye that the woman had been deeply affected by the man's words.

  Shaking his wounded foot, the man gave her a rakish smile that would excite any woman. “You may be used to bullying men, having them falling in line for you, but peanut, now you're dealing with a determined man, a REAL man. When I finally nail that rich-boy freak you call a client, I'll be back, to nail YOU. In a completely different fashion, I might add.” he finished with a smirk and a wink. Then, laughing at the stunned look on the woman's face, he spun on his heels and walked out, adjusting his tie.

  “I see Detective Lemont has thrown down the gauntlet. No doubt you'll pick it up and beat him over the head with it.” the receptionist, a newly hired, attractive, young African American woman smiled as the tiny woman approached her desk.

  “He just don't know who he's messing with! He thought I made his job hard before, it's going to be impossible now!” Trying to shake off the effect Brian Lamont had had on her, she got back to business. “Lacey, could you get me William Pullman's file? Give him a call, and tell him I want him here asap. No, scratch that.” she said as she held a hand up and thought for a moment. “Just tell him I'll meet him at his condo. Also, I have a hearing with Judge Rivers, I'll need to see the files before I see him.”

  Nodding, Lacey turned and hurried off to do as she was asked.

  At that moment Alex returned, placed a cup of coffee on the table in front of Grace, then approached the tiny woman as if afraid she would physically attack him. “Ms. Johnson, I'm Alex Caldwell. I retained you at the request of Granger Mortensen?” he said as he offered his hand.

  Satin shook his hand, but said nothing, waiting for him to state his business.

  Motioning to Grace, he beckoned for her to join them, which she did immediately.

  “Grace, this is Satin Johnson.” Alex muttered.

  “I need to speak with you.” Grace demanded in a tight voice, ignoring the introduction.

  This ought to be good... Satin thought sarcastically as she looked pointedly at her watch, then back up at the woman. “You'll have to make this quick, I have clients that I need to see. Next time call for an appointment, I don't like messing up my schedule.”

  Grace couldn't believe she was being spoken to in such a rude manner, by some little worker bee. “Do you know who I AM?”

  Satin looked at her from head to toe, clearly not impressed. “Yes, I do. You're the person who's wasting my time.” Turning, she stalked towards her office, thinking she really needed to work on her people skills. As her brother Storm had said time and time again, she would never win a contest for Miss Congeniality.

  Flustered, Grace followed, with Alex following close behind.

  Flopping down into her chair behind the massive desk, Satin began picking through her messages, only looking up when she heard her door close.

  Grace looked around the office. Decorated in dark brown tones, the place seemed it would be more suited for a man than a woman. There was African and Native American works of art, and pictures and statues were all around the room. On the far wall a bookcase, which covered the entire wall, was loaded down with books, all except for the middle shelf, which held three framed photographs. Two older African Americans, a man and woman (who surely had to be Satin Johnson's parents), and a young, handsome man of obviously mixed heritage. Turning her attention back to Satin, she thought the young woman looked like a child behind her desk, and the illusion made her think she had the upper hand. After all, this girl was probably fresh out of school, and trying to prove herself.

  “Have a seat, and tell me what you need.” Satin motioned towards two chairs, her eyes never leaving the woman's obviously nervous lawyer.

  Once they were seated, Alex hesitated for a moment, then forged ahead. He knew he was skating on thin ice, but his memories of the previous night's pleasure spurred him on. The thought of having his way once again with Grace's firm, lithe body made him both delirious and bold. It had been a dream come true for him. “Mrs. Mortensen, Grace, here, is concerned about her son Granger, and she would appreciate you filling her in on any progress you've made.”

  Impatiently, Satin tapped one of her long, red nails on the top of the desk as she sized them up like a predator would prey. They don't know dick. This is nothing more than a transparent, weak fishing expedition…she thought. “Mr. Caldwell, you're a lawyer yourself, and you know good and well that would be a breach of client confidentiality, and it could get me disbarred. The answer is, absolutely not. Period. I will not disclose or even discuss anything concerning my client. And to be perfectly frank, I plan on informing Mr. Mortensen about this little visit.”

  Flustered yet again, Grace found herself out of her element. She was used to people bending over backwards to give her what she wanted. “Don't be a fool, dear.
I know the Lieutenant Governor, personally, and I could cause this little firm problems, if I want to. I understand lawyers like you tend to help drug dealers and like-minded riff-raff, and if I told my friends of your unprofessional behavior, you could lose that little affirmative action law degree of yours in the blink of an eye.” she stammered angrily as she glared at her.

  Satin's dark eyes seemed to turn into angry molten pools, and she stood slowly. Although she was short in height and slight in stature, she commanded respect by all who knew her, met her, or crossed her. “I don't give a good God Damn who you know.” she shot back. “You could be the Pope's long lost cousin, for all I care. So you know the Lieutenant Governor, big deal! As far as your hotshot friends go, when it comes down to it, when their asses are facing being someone's bitch in prison, they don't give a damn about you, they come to me. So take your petty threats and stick them where the sun don't shine. And Alex, you may want to begin considering a new career.” she finished as she marched around the desk, went to the door, and snatched it open. “Now, get your stuck up ass out of my office, before I kick your ass out, GRACE.”

  Dumbfounded and cowed by the little woman's fire, they both left quickly and quietly.

  Closing the door behind them, Satin made her way back to her desk, muttering, “Bitch don't know who she's dealing with. Country club barfly! Assholes! You can't swing a dead cat around here without hitting an asshole!” Snatching her phone from the desk, she punched one of her speed-dial numbers and waited.

  “Mortenson.” Granger's voice answered after the fourth ring.

  “Satin Johnson here.” she said, already in a foul mood and not bothering with the niceties. “Your mother and Mr. Caldwell just paid me an unscheduled visit.”

  “What?” he growled.

  “They wanted to know why you retained me. I told them nothing, of course. My advice would be for you to hire another lawyer to handle your business matters, Mr. Mortensen. The guy's a snake.”

  “Consider it done.” he answered grimly. “Have you found anything yet?”

  “I'm going to talk to your late father's former lady friend later today. I'll call you if or when I have something.”

  “Very well.” he replied, then hung up.

  Sitting back down behind the huge desk, she thought out loud, “So, mother Mortensen has a secret she doesn't want me to find out about, does she?”

  ***********************************************

  Brett held his aching side, and his face contorted with agony. Moaning as he shifted his weight gingerly in his king-size bed, he finally managed to make himself semi-comfortable. His anxiety had grown progressively worse as the hours ticked away, as he hadn't heard a peep from Cassandra. She hasn't came by see about my welfare! She hasn't even called! He thought forlornly, then ground his teeth together furiously. After all I did for her, this is how she repays my love and kindness? Suddenly, he looked up to see Martina standing in the doorway, looking incurably sad as she gazed at him.

  Stepping inside the bedroom with a tray containing a steaming bowl of chicken soup and a tall glass of ice water, she cooed softly, “Brett, how are you feeling, love?” Seeing him in such pain made her want to cry all over again, but she knew it would only upset him. “You poor, sweet, wonderful man.” she said woefully as she placed the tray on the bedside stand and reached down to caress his cheek lovingly.

  He cursed as his body convulsed with pain yet again, making her flinch. When it finally subsided, he slowly and carefully propped himself up against a pile of fluffy pillows she had arranged for him. “The police didn't even arrest him, Martina. Can you believe it?” he whined, much like a child who didn't get what he wanted for Christmas. “The maladroit handling of my complaint was pitiful! No wonder crime is out of control, the incompetence is rampant! The Keystone Cops actually threatened to arrest me for filing a false report!” he whined again in a persecuted voice. “If I hadn't remembered that Granger look-alike you were screw......playing with here at the house, I would have fell into Mortensen's trap, the bastard!”

  “I know! You poor baby!” she nodded in sympathy.

  Leaning back and wincing, he closed his eyes for a moment and thought back to the moment the police had informed him Granger had not been arrested. When the two detectives had came to confront him with the proof that Granger had indeed not attacked him, he had suddenly remembered the young male prostitute. Demanding that the house be dusted for prints, trace evidence and DNA was collected, from the rooms he knew the young man had been in with his cousin. When the prints led back to the young man, whose real name was Danny Brooks, he was arrested immediately, since he already had a record for prostitution, and assault. Of course, because the unfortunate man bore a strong resemblance to Granger, it led the police to believe that it had, in fact, been a simple case of mistaken identity. The only bright spot in the entire mess, he thought, was that his own reputation and credibility had remained intact. And it certainly didn't hurt matters that the same judge (his female patient) who had issued the arrest warrant for Granger, had issued another arrest warrant for the unlucky male prostitute. Glancing at Martina with his good eye, he gave her a hang-dog look. “I'm sorry, sugar-boo.”

  “Sorry for what, sweetie-kins?” she smiled as she sat on the edge of the bed carefully and began spoon-feeding the chicken soup to him slowly, as if feeding a helpless toddler.

  Swallowing the delicious broth, he replied, “I'm sorry I had to tell the police about your Granger look-alike boy-toy. But it was either him or me, tea rose.”

  Leaning over, she placed a tender, lingering kiss on his forehead. “Oh, pooh, don't you fret about him. He was of no importance to me, just something to kill time. As a matter of fact, I'm still impressed with your brilliance. That was some quick thinking on your feet! I mean, under pressure, remembering that he not only looked like Granger, but that his fingerprints would be all over the bedroom and living room! If it had been me, I would have panicked. You're so clever, dear! Darn it! I would have loved to have seen the look on those cop's faces when they had to apologize to you.” she said as she ran one hand through his tousled hair.

  Closing his eyes, he settled back deeper in the pillows, taking comfort in the attention his cousin was showering on him. He sighed contentedly as he felt her hands caressing his face softly, and the feel of her fingers running through his hair. He tried to forget about the unsettling fact that he had miscalculated, and that Cassandra was now lost to him forever. Something clicked in his mind at that moment, and he made his decision. Clear as a bell, his grandmother's words came back to him: If you cannot possess the person you most desire, make sure no one else can, either. Never let anyone else best you, dear. Especially not a rival for romance...The advice she given him had been when he was a young teenager, and he had been smitten with a lovely young black girl who was practically their next-door neighbor. But when his own feelings had not been reciprocated, he had felt the sting of humiliation, and finally rage, after she began flaunting the fact she was seeing another young man. He knew she had been deliberately tormenting him, and probably bragging to her friends about it, and laughing at him behind his back. But she had paid the price for daring to reject him, oh yes! He smiled softly as he recalled the way she had wheezed and begged, struggling for breath, as he slowly strangled her, draining the life from her body. Slowly. Now he would have to teach yet another woman what it meant to refuse him. It seemed to never end!

  “Come here, pumpkin, Martina's gonna' make it alllll better, you'll see.” she murmured as she reached out and pulled him to her bosom, then began singing a soft lullaby as she rocked him back and forth carefully.

  Smiling even more contentedly, his eyes remained closed as he sighed and buried his face in his beloved cousin's shoulder. I'll kill Granger first, and I'll make Cassandra, that bitch, that...that TRAITOR, watch, too. Then I'll kill HER, slowly. Very, very slowly. After I have my way with her, of course... he thought, then chuckled softly.

  *******
*******************************************

  Cassandra looked up from her newspaper, watching as Granger ended his phone call, and noticed he seemed distracted. She knew it wasn't because of Brett's false accusations, because the Sheriff had returned hours later, practically tripping over himself in his haste to apologize, clearing him of any wrong doing. She didn't think the call he had just received was from someone in his employ either. No, it was something else altogether that was bothering him she thought, but decided to wait for him to tell her in his own time.

  “Cassandra?” he called as he turned to look at her with a grave expression on his face. “I need to show you something, and I know it will be upsetting.” Opening his briefcase, he retrieved the paper work Raidon Bishop had given him, and handed the plain brown envelope to her tentatively. “I was going to wait and let the doctor tell you about this, I'm sure he could better explain everything for you, but after last night, well, I think you should take a look at this immediately.” Shoving his hands in his pants pockets, he waited for her to read the information.