“Of course not, Angel. But wow . . . your life is more fantastic than praying over biscuits and fried chicken on Sunday mornings.”
“It’s a bit rich, I guess . . .” I rolled my eyes.
We laughed until I remembered what and who was waiting for me at home: Whitney and the kids, with Mom on the way. “Maybe we can go through the Krispy Kreme drive-thru and get something for the house. That’ll calm everyone down a bit.” Yeah, right, I thought.
We stopped at the 24-hour Krispy Kreme in Lawrenceville before we reached Sugar Hill. I bought a box filled with chocolate éclairs for Big Tiger, too. I didn’t feel comfortable sharing that information with Justus. He clearly didn’t understand my relationship with Big Tiger, and I wasn’t in the mood to be defending an old friend against a new one. I needed them both right now.
15
Friday, 8:45 AM
It was a quarter ’til nine by the time we returned to my home, which meant I had about one minute to sleep before the kids realized they needed something only I or Ava could give them, two minutes before Mom broke down my door, and no time to prepare for Big Faith’s media fallout. No justice. No sleep. I smoothed my ponytail with my hand, searched for my garage door opener that I kept in my purse, and pressed it.
As we pulled into my garage, I noticed Justus’s truck. It was parked in front of my yard under the brightest lit street lamp on the street. I imagine my nosy neighbors watched his truck all night and came up with some very messy conclusions about it.
I eyed him out of my periphery. He had a smirk on his face.
“Don’t worry. No one noticed my truck in your yard.”
“And you know this because . . . ?” I turned off the ignition.
“I haven’t received one call from my meddling members.” Justus slid out of the car and walked around to my side.
He opened my door for me.
I turned my head toward him, then toward the warm doughnut box resting on the backseat. The gooey sweet smell lulled me to recline on the head rest. “Can I just sleep right here?” I asked him.
He leaned down and looked at me. “No, gotta get you and these hotties inside.”
“I can’t go in there.”
“You have to. You have family obligations and so do I. I need to check on Trish, Kelly, and the boys.”
I saw Vicki Mehnert’s porch light turn off through the rearview window. I know she’s been watching my house all night.
“Back up.” I pushed him back.
I tried to see if she was peeking out to spy on us. Vicki didn’t care for me. Rumor around church was that she wasn’t too hip to our new hot-chocolate preacher either. If she saw us together, he’d be pink-slipped by tomorrow.
I grabbed the doughnuts, scrambled out of the car, then crouched beside it. “You’d better leave now.”
He leaned over. “What are you doing?”
I hit my garage door pad. “Keeping you out of trouble.” I didn’t get up until the garage doors closed us in.
He shook his head and folded his arms. “The coast is clear. Now please explain why you’re acting like a sixteen-year-old skipping curfew.”
I leaned on my car and whispered, “If the church knew that I got you involved with a murder investigation, almost got you arrested, mind you—and let’s not talk about you rescuing me after my escapade at Night Candy, ha!—they’d push you to hell in a handbasket. I couldn’t live with adding more scandal to this week. But I haven’t figured out how to get you out of here without anyone knowing about it.”
“Too late. My truck has been parked outside your place all night. Remember?”
“Right. All night . . .”
He nodded.
I laid my head on my hood and groaned. “Not good.”
“It’s fine.” He grinned. “Let’s go inside.”
It took Whitney a millisecond to get down the stairs.
“What took y’all so long?” she asked. “I’ve been itching to turn on the television. What happened?” She looked from me to Justus.
“Devon’s dead,” Justus said softly.
Whitney gasped so loudly I was sure the neighbors heard her. She looked at me and then at Justus again. “Where’s Ava?”
“Ava’s been arrested and charged with Devon’s murder. I wanted to call you, but—”
Whitney grabbed me. Her face began to fall apart. She laid her head in my chest and cried. I brushed her hair with my hands and mouthed to Justus, “Help me.”
Clouds from the southwest rolled in for a morning shower to cool Atlanta off. Ava was still in jail, and the bad news looming over my house would not let me rest. The children would be up jumping on my bed soon, and of course, the reporters and my mom never slept. Thank God she didn’t fly.
I sat on my bed without a clue of where to start. How would I tell my niece and nephew what happened to their parents? And why—for all that is holy in this world—couldn’t I stop thinking about my night with Justus?
He’d stayed a few minutes after I went upstairs to get a few winks. Whitney needed some counseling from him. We all would need some.
Someone tapped on my door. I prayed it wasn’t the kids. “Can I have a few more minutes, sweeties?”
“No, it’s me, Whitney, but I’m still your sweetie.”
“Come in.” I pulled my pillow from behind me and hugged it over my chest.
Whitney slid between the door, hopped under the covers with me, and laid her head on one of my free pillows. Before Bella was born, she was my cuddle buddy, but then she grew up and couldn’t stand me. Now everything had changed again.
I patted her head. “I want you to go to school and take your final exams. Devon would have insisted, and Mom will have a fit if you don’t. I’ll handle the kids, but you need to leave now before the vultures arrive.”
She whispered, “They already came and left.”
I peeled my top sheet off her face. “What do you mean ‘came and left’?”
“Your old work buddies showed up at the door a few minutes ago. That’s what woke me up, but don’t worry.” She opened one eye. “Your boyfriend/pastor took care of them.”
“My boyfriend/pastor?” My chest tightened. “Justus? When? Where?”
She pointed at the floor. “He’s downstairs. Ask him yourself. I’m starving.”
I stood up and snatched the covers off my bed. “Get up. Go to school. Mom will be here in about an hour.”
“Nope.” Whitney pulled the sheets back up on the bed. “Justus is making pancakes and I’m hungry. We can’t get through anything today on an empty stomach. Did you say Mom was coming here?”
“Did you say Justus was making pancakes?”
She nodded. “And they smell good, too. Better than yours.”
I sniffed sweet butter and apples. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“But they do. No offense,” she said, as I jumped up and reached for my robe.
I couldn’t stick my arm through it. I circled around myself two more times before I realized the robe was inside out.
I huffed and plopped back on the bed. “Why’s he still here?”
Whitney patted my back. “I think he likes you.”
I scratched my head. I think I like him, too, and that’s a problem.
“Seriously . . .” I slapped her leg. “Why is Justus still here? Didn’t you see him out this morning?”
“I told him to stay.”
“You did?”
“You were tired after dragging me up the stairs.” She mumbled underneath the covers. “You were very sad, too. We both were—are. I thought he could help us until Mom or Ava comes home. I mean, this is too much for us to handle on our own and he is our pastor.”
Unbelievable. I sighed. Not only had I lost my focus, but my natural-born mind. Maybe it was the extra hormones I inherited from the Mother Angel after Bella was born or the fact that my twin was sitting in the pen, mourning her husband and being charged for his murder. Lord, did she kill him?
; I peeled the sheet from Whitney’s head again. “Our family is spinning and I might be hor-motional right now, but we’re going to stay on course. We don’t need a man to help us do that. So get up and go to school. I need you to be the only right thing today.”
Whitney sat up. Her hair was all over her face. “That’s sweet, but I don’t have to go. Justus called the dean of the college this morning and told him everything. I can reschedule my exams before next semester starts. Now I can help you. Isn’t that sweet?”
I slid on my slippers. My chest beat faster now. I could barely see my shoes. My eyes hadn’t gotten in complete focus. “It’s not sweet; it’s ridiculous.”
Whitney lay back down. “Tell that to your boyfriend/pastor. I’m sure he agrees with me.”
“Yeah, right.” I walked out of my room.
“Did you say Mom was coming?” She yelled after me.
I reached the banister and smelled apple pancakes. My stomach growled. I looked around. What happened to all those doughnuts? Then I heard Bella, Lil’ D, and Taylor downstairs. Awake. My head throbbed. I sat down on the top step. I wasn’t ready. My chest ached. Couldn’t breathe. Something was wrong.
I heard a thud on my front door. I stood up. From my location on the stairs, I saw a few moving shadows hovering on the porch.
“Reporters.” I ran down the stairs.
Before I yanked the door, Justus slid in front of me and smiled. His smile was brighter than the sun.
“Good morning.” He carried a cup of coffee in his hand.
He looked phenomenal, even though his shirt was more than likely standing on its own now. Yet, I didn’t feel comfortable. I was angry that he was here. I didn’t want to be, but I was. I’ve never had a man stay in this house. I’ve never had a strange man around my daughter. I knew it wasn’t his fault, but he’s a minister. Shouldn’t his super godly sense have told him that?
I looked down at the coffee mug, then looked away. “What are you still doing here?”
“You didn’t ask . . .” His voice fell. “I thought you wanted me to stay.”
I could smell myself making a stupid mistake. “I asked you to help me, not sleep in my house.”
He placed the mug on the foyer table and took his dear time returning back to our conversation. He stood in front of me. No, he towered over me. Even though I still hadn’t looked at him, his body language told me that he was looking straight through me.
“I didn’t sleep. I’ve been watching over your house as you slept.”
I looked up at him. The sun was gone, but his words and those bloodshot eyes almost melted me. Almost.
I looked over his shoulders toward the door. The shadows still lurked. “How many are out there?”
“I don’t know.” He turned toward the door. “But the kids are eating. Your breakfast is on the table. I’ll remove the trespassers from the house. Call me after you wash the egg off your face.”
He opened the door. The shadows had familiar faces. Justus walked out into the rain. He also left his mug.
I lifted the coffee cup and spoke to it. “I’m sorry.”
“I guess this is, like, the worst first date you’ve ever had, huh?” Whitney asked between sausage chewing.
The kids were dancing to Hip-Hop Jack, a Saturday morning children’s television show, in the family room while Whitney and I convened in the kitchen. Stress made me ravenous. I could eat everything in this house.
“No, more like a confirmation that I’m going to hell.”
“Girl, you’re crazy.”
“No, I’m not. I’ve crossed the line . . . again. Now I don’t know when Justus is doing his ministerial duties or trying to be my man.” I threw my hands in the air. “Lord, forgive me. I’m going down a shame spiral.”
“What’s wrong with dating Justus? I like him and he’s stupid sexy.”
“I don’t date the man. He’s my pastor. Why are we talking about this anyway? I have tons of things to do today, and don’t say sexy and pastor in the same sentence. That’s a no-no.”
Whitney leaned forward. “But you want a date with him, right?”
“Whitney, cut it out. So will you watch the kids while I handle things for Ava?”
“I will if you answer one question for me.”
I sighed. “As long as it isn’t about Justus.”
She nodded. “It isn’t.”
“Okay, go.”
“So why were you at Night Candy the night you got hurt? You know Lark works there.”
Lark Samuels was her best friend, who wasn’t old enough to drink, but could DJ in every bar in Buckhead. The girl knew too much.
“If nosy Lark was there, then you know why.”
“Big Tiger was late.”
I nodded.
“But Justus showed up on time. Right?” Whitney snickered.
I bowed my head. “Okay, I’ll apologize to the man.”
She hopped off her stool. “Good. Now count that as your one good thing for today.” She kissed my forehead and went in after the kids. “I got the kids. You got Mom.”
“Nope, Miss No Finals Today. You have her. I’m going to get dressed to meet Elvis Bloom, and hopefully pick Ava up from jail.”
“Elvis who?”
“Devon’s assistant.” I coughed, then shivered. Please tell me that I’m not catching a cold.
I walked into the family room. The kids were having so much fun. Bella beamed. She hadn’t spent this kind of time with her cousins in a long while. The kids, however, I could see were watching the door. They expected the people outside to be Ava and Devon. The thought angered me. They can’t be here. Those children can’t hear that their father was dead. I wanted those reporters gone now.
Bella ran up to me. “Morning, Mommy.”
I knelt down and hugged her. “Morning. I love you, baby.”
She looked right through me, then pursed her lips. “Why are D and Taylor here? I haven’t seen them all my life.”
When a child talks to your soul, you can’t help but tell the truth. I shook my head. “Your aunt and uncle had plans that didn’t involve them.”
“Okay.” She nodded, then ran back to them. I’m always baffled over the innocence of children. What happened to adults to make us so cynical?
I stood up and walked over to Whitney, then steered her toward the window. I peeled back the curtain. We both glanced outside. Five white Gwinnett County Police sedans lined the street in front of my home. Television station vans began to move away, while a black Crown Vic pulled up in the drive. A man stepped out of the caddie. He walked toward my front door and skipped up the porch steps. Salvador.
I clutched the blinds. “Not now.”
If the kids saw him and his entourage, they would know something was very wrong.
I nudged Whitney. “Take the kids upstairs to get dressed. I’ll take care of them.”
She nodded. “Hey, kids, let’s go upstairs and get dressed.”
The doorbell rang. I cringed, then peeked into where the kids were. They were still bopping around to Hip-Hop Jack, putting up their toys. I sighed. There must be TV in heaven. I waited until Whitney and the kids were upstairs and then answered my door.
“Good morning, Salvador.”
16
Friday, 11:00 AM
“Morning, Angel. May I speak to you for a moment?” Salvador smiled.
Today he wore another pinstriped suit, navy with tan stripes. In the daylight, on my doorstep, in my eyes, he was Antonio Banderas. Mom would have a hot fit, if the circumstances weren’t so bad and she wasn’t a newlywed.
I shook my head. “Can you call your guard dogs off?”
He looked behind us and shrugged. “They aren’t mine. I thought they were yours.”
Justus. I cringed. He was a man of his word; I was a buffoon.
“Well, since you all are brothers in blue, can you ask them to leave? The neighborhood is going to wonder.”
He smirked. “I’m sure they already know what has h
appened because your brother-in-law’s murder is already breaking news.”
He pulled a copy of the Atlanta Sentinel from behind him and held it up in front of me. Front and center sat a large photo of a wild-eyed Ava wearing that peach robe splattered with Devon’s blood on it. Ouch. I winced.
Salvador handed the paper to me. “Have you changed your mind about that talk now?”
“I still don’t have time.”
I took it from his hands, folded it under my arm, and stepped outside. I was about two minutes from crying again. I gestured for him to follow me toward my rocking chairs on the front porch. I sat down and didn’t say anything until he sat beside me. I wasn’t going to let him tear me down in my own home.
His PDA buzzed. He didn’t look at it. He looked at the yard. “When I go home after a day and night of observing scum, I garden.”
I didn’t say a word.
“You can find me at eleven o’clock at night in my yard tending to rose bushes.” He chuckled. “I don’t go to sleep until I get my hands dirty.”
“Well, that explains it.” I wrapped my robe tighter around my waist. “Look, Salvador. I don’t have time for metaphors. I don’t have time to wash my hair, so whatever it is you came by to say, you need to get on with it. Or do I need to have an attorney present?”
“No, else I would have called before I came.”
“And why did you drive out of your jurisdiction to see me?”
“I need to ask you a few more questions about last night.”
“And you think coming over here, where my niece and nephew are, will make me want to say anything to you?”
“I need to see your last case file.”
I stopped rocking. “What are you talking about?”
“The one implicating Greater Atlanta for tax fraud.”
“What would that mess possibly have to do with Devon’s murder?” I asked.
Salvador shook his head. “Hopefully nothing, but in cases like this, we have to cross all our T’s.”
“More like, point crosshairs at my sister.”
“You dug that ditch back when you wrote that story.”
A Good Excuse To Be Bad Page 13
