Beautiful, Dirty, Rich

by J. D. Mason

  “I feel proud,” Julian said, enthusiastically. “But then, I’m proud of all of my children.”

  The rift between Jordan and his father had been thick Jordan’s whole life. When he was a kid, he had no way to articulate the distance he felt from his father, but as he grew older, and saw the bond between Julian and Jordan’s sister, he knew that he would never be able to live up to his father’s expectations, not even if he walked on water.

  At the end of the clip, a song began to play from that same file.

  Papa was a rolling stone!

  Wherever he laid his hat was his home!

  His family was brilliant at keeping secrets. Obviously, somebody had left the door open with this one. Besides Jordan, his mother, and Julian, another person knew this secret and thought to torment him with it. Maybe they were planning on trying to extort money from him, in exchange for his silence. He was head of the Gatewood family, and its fortune. What would he stand to lose if the media got ahold of this?

  Jordan paused and stared at the frozen frame of Julian’s face before finally pressing the delete key. Julian was a motherfucker. Olivia had loved him despite of it. He wondered what Julian had been to Ida. Did she love him blindly, too, or was she infatuated by the money? He’d left that woman millions, but you’d never know it from the way she lived. Ida Green didn’t run out and buy a new car or a big house. For all he knew, she never spent a dime of that money. So, if it wasn’t for his money … Women were too damn silly sometimes.

  The truth was, Jordan hadn’t inherited his father’s millions, Olivia had. But when she became ill, she signed over power of attorney to him and he’d been in charge of the part of the estate that hadn’t been willed to charities, or Ida Green. So, technically, it wasn’t his inheritance that was the issue. It was his position, his reputation, and his honor. And those things were priceless as long as he kept his last name.

  In the Deep

  In person, Desi Green was beautiful. There was no missing the uncanny resemblance to her mother, Ida, but Desi was breathtaking. At forty-four, the woman had the skin of a toddler. Sue’s natural investigative prowess identified every designer brand that the woman had on within thirty seconds of meeting her: dark wash 7 For All Mankind skinny jeans; Manolo Blahnik quilted ballerina flats; a basic, white T-shirt that probably cost more than most people paid for an entire wardrobe; and making Sue drool, dangling from Desi’s delicate wrist was a David Yurman Blue Oval Mosaic Cuff bracelet.

  Sue had agreed to meet Desi at her hotel suite at the Trump Tower, overlooking New York’s Central Park. She’d expected to meet Desi the ex-con, a brow-beaten and sullen woman, awkward with how to live in her newfound wealth, but Desi had an unexpected air of sophistication about her that caught Sue off guard, and the woman looked as if she’d had that money all her life.

  “Thank you for agreeing to come to New York,” Sue said after the two of them settled down in the main living area of Desi’s suite. “It’s good to meet face-to-face with my collaborators.” She smiled. “It helps me to get to know you better, and I hope we can do this a couple of times during the course of writing this book together.”

  Desi smiled confidently. “I’ve never been to New York. I’m glad I came.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  Desi took a deep breath. “I’m ready to do this. I need to do this.”

  “That’s what I want to hear. I know it’s not easy, but I’ve done this plenty of times, and whatever I can do to help you get through it, well … that’s what I’m here for.”

  “How much do you want to know? What are my limitations?”

  Sue shook her head. “You have none. It’s up to you. How far are you willing to go?”

  Without hesitation, Desi gave her answer. “I’m ready to tell everything, Sue. As hard as this is going to be, it’s been harder keeping it all to myself, all these years.”

  “Why have you kept it all to yourself for so long?”

  “In the beginning,” Desi’s expression turned introspective, “I was scared to open my mouth. I had everybody in my ear telling me not to say anything, from Momma to that lawyer, even Sheriff Billings told me that I had a right to be silent and if I was smart, it would be in my best interest to make good use of it.”

  “And what about later, when you were in prison and then after you were finally released?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing mattered when I was locked up. I was just trying to get through each day, and trying not to spend too much time dwelling on what got me there. When I got out, things just happened so fast. Suddenly, I was trying to find somebody in Blink, Texas to hire me, wishing I was back in prison because at least I had electricity and running water. I had three meals a day. For the first time in my life, there was nobody to take care of me, not Momma and not prison. I was on my own, and it was up to me to take care of me.”

  “And when the money came?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. It was a lot like winning the lottery, I guess. One day you’ve got nothing and the next, you’ve got more than you know what to do with. Most people can’t tell you how they’d feel or act if all of a sudden they had millions of dollars after being as broke as I was.”

  “How’d you feel?”

  “At first, I thought, good—great! I can get the lights turned on now, and maybe even buy me a car. But as soon as I realized that I was happy, I got scared. I thought somebody was playing a bad joke on me, and the next day, the Gatewoods had their lawyers put a stop on the inheritance. All of a sudden, not only was I broke again, but I was backed up against the wall by people I thought I’d never see or hear from again. I felt trapped, and like they owned me, and they could do whatever they wanted to do to me.”

  “Obviously, you don’t feel that way anymore,” Sue said, hesitantly.

  “It’s not from their lack of trying,” Desi admitted.

  “I take it they’re not happy about this book?”

  “No.”

  “Are they worried about what you’ll tell me?”

  Desi nodded. “They are worried, and they should be.”

  Sue’s heart skipped an excited beat. She’d only ever hoped that Desi would give her a firsthand account of what happened the night she shot and killed Julian Gatewood, what her life was like before, and after. Now, Desi was implying that Sue could possibly get more than she bargained for.

  “So, what happened to change your mind and tell your story? When did you accept the fact that they didn’t own you, as you put it?”

  “When Jordan Gatewood looked me in the eyes, and I saw that he was afraid.”

  Sue was speechless.

  “He’s good at hiding it, at puffing up his chest and strutting around like he’s cock of the walk. He didn’t mean for me to see it, and I didn’t let on that I did. I know what his weakness is, and he’s afraid that I’ll expose it.”

  Sue’s eyes widened. “He’s a powerful man, and powerful men can be dangerous.”

  Experience had taught her how to fish for and pull out the conflict in people, between people. Sue was using that experience to her advantage here to expose the tension between Desi and Jordan.

  Desi leaned forward, balanced her elbows on her thighs, and stared at Sue straight in the eyes. “He is because everybody thinks he is,” she explained earnestly. “I believed he was, but now I know better. Jordan’s like a scared dog backed into a corner, snarling, and growling. If you reach for him, he’ll bite you.”

  “So you think he’s afraid of you?” There was no way in hell that a man like Jordan Gatewood could ever be afraid of pretty, petite Desi Green, no matter how rich she was.

  Desi surprised Sue and smiled. “I finally do.”

  As much as she didn’t want to be, Sue was suddenly afraid for Desi. She didn’t know what Desi had over Gatewood, but whatever it was, Sue knew that she was about to embark on a journey that she hadn’t expected at all.

  “What do you mean by that?” Sue asked, intently.

  “Other women
who were locked up used to tell me to be glad that I didn’t get the death penalty, especially for killing that rich man.” Desi leaned back. A strange calm washed over her. “They should’ve given me the death penalty and gone through with it because as long as I was locked up, so was the truth. Now that I’m out, it has to come out too.”

  Sugar Wishes

  Desi finished pulling on her thigh-high leather boots, stood up, and looked herself over in the mirror.

  “I was born to wear these,” she said, admiringly.

  Lonnie came over and stood next to her. “Amen to that.”

  “You think I’m too old for these?”

  “Old is a state of mind, Desi.”

  “Twenty-year-olds wear boots like these.”

  Lonnie shook her head. “No. Twenty-year-olds can’t afford them.”

  The sales associate appeared like magic, out of nowhere.

  “I’ll take two pair,” Desi said, loving the way she looked. “A black pair and a brown pair.”

  “Do you have red?” Lonnie chimed in.

  The sales woman smiled. “No red.”

  “Size eight,” Desi said.

  “I’ll wrap them up as soon as you get them off,” the woman said.

  Desi shook her head. “No. I want to wear them.”

  Lonnie nodded her approval. “Good move, girl.”

  * * *

  After shopping, Lonnie gave the driver directions to a Cuban restaurant called Favela Cubana located in the West Village. Lonnie had braised skirt steak, bell peppers, Spanish onions, white rice, and black beans. Desi decided on half the rotisserie chicken, with Brazilian passion fruit, white rice, black beans, and Favela sauce.

  “I’d like to make a toast.” Lonnie raised her bottle of Red Stripe and waited for Desi to do the same. “Here’s to whatever it is that’s got you lit up like a Christmas tree.”

  “New York City, baby.” Desi laughed. “What took me so long to get out of Texas?”

  “Hell if I know. You should’ve left as soon as you got your inheritance. But no. You stuck to Texas like a fly to flypaper.”

  “I’m not staying stuck, though.”

  “I know an excellent Realtor. We could find you a nice little one-bedroom in the Village for next to nothing.”

  Desi frowned. “What’s next to nothing in New York City?”

  Lonnie shrugged. “Couple million.”

  “For a one-bedroom apartment?” Desi shrieked.

  Lonnie raised her beer again. “Here’s to the big apple.”

  “The big apple!”

  “And to Sue Parker’s nosey ass.”

  Desi laughed. “Sue.”

  “To them bad-ass thigh-high boots!”

  “They’re made for walking, girl.”

  Lonnie’s expression turned somber. “To Ida Green and Mr. J.”

  Desi was definitely caught off guard with that one. But in a surprisingly good way. “May they rest in peace.”

  “And to Mary Travis.” Lonnie stared intently.

  Desi paused. “May God have mercy on her soul.”

  She meant that.

  “You gonna tell me why you came all the way to New York?” Desi finally asked.

  “To watch you buy those boots.” Lonnie stuffed a piece of steak into her mouth.

  “I’m serious, Lonnie. You didn’t fly all the way up here just to see me shop.”

  “How’s the book coming along?”

  “It’s coming. Stop trying to change the subject.”

  “I’m not changing the subject. I’m leading into it.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means that I have some information that might make this book of yours even more riveting, darling!”

  Desi put down her fork. “Information on the judge?”

  Lonnie rolled her eyes. “Like he’s the only fish in the sea worth frying.” She cut into her steak again. “You know, you really need to think in broader strokes than that, Des.”

  “Okay, so what information and on who?”

  She finally put down her knife and fork and leaned closer to Desi. “Okay, so we’re a team in this, right?”

  Desi laughed. “What, like in a basketball game or something?”

  Lonnie didn’t find it funny. “I’m really putting my ass on the line for you, Desi.”

  “You keep saying that,” Desi responded, not too keen on Lonnie’s tone.

  “Because it’s true. I’m calling in a ton of favors for you, girl. Sticking my neck out in ways you can’t even imagine.”

  “I never asked you to do any of this, Lonnie.”

  She surprised Desi and smiled. “I do it because I care. Because you’re closer to me than any sister could be. I do it because I feel I have to.”

  Lonnie sent weird signals sometimes. She was cool, but then there were moments, like this one, when she wasn’t quite sure where Lonnie was coming from. She said, one thing with her mouth, but the expression in her eyes sent a whole other kind of message.

  “So, what’d you want to tell me?”

  “Tom Billings,” she blurted out.

  Desi raised her eyebrows. “Sheriff Tom Billings?”

  Lonnie smiled triumphantly. “One in the same.”

  “What about him?”

  “If I tell you, will you promise to put it in the book?”

  “What is it, Lonnie?” Desi asked, suspiciously.

  “I want you to put this in the book,” Lonnie challenged.

  “Tell me what it is, first.”

  Lonnie looked pissed. “Turns out he’s as dirty as the judge.”

  Desi’s chin dropped. “He’s a pedophile?”

  “Turns out the good sheriff is, or at least, was part of a human-trafficking ring, sneaking illegals across the border and then selling them like property.”

  Desi couldn’t believe it. It was one thing for the judge to be crooked, but the sheriff, too? That was just too much of a coincidence, and it didn’t feel right. “How do you know?”

  Lonnie obviously didn’t like being challenged. “How do I always know?”

  “Another contact?”

  “Cops traced a license plate number of the truck hauling illegals into the country to a rental car company outside your beloved Blink. The car had been rented by some dead guy, a homeless guy who died in jail. His I.D. and other belongings were supposed to have been secured in the police custody locker.”

  “It wasn’t?”

  “Billings took it.”

  “But, how do you know he took it, Lonnie. You have proof?”

  “Fuck, Desi!” Lonnie blurted out. “Don’t be dumb! Hell, yeah, I have proof. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t have proof!”

  For a minute, Desi thought Lonnie might swing at her. Desi braced herself.

  “You need to keep your damn voice down, Lonnie!” Desi warned.

  “And you need to remember who the hell I am!” Lonnie glared at her. “I don’t make this shit up, especially when I’m putting my ass.…”

  “On the line,” Desi snapped. “Yeah, I know.”

  Before Lonnie could respond, the waiter appeared at the table. “You two ladies doing okay? You need a refill on those drinks?”

  “Can you just bring us the check, please?” Desi asked.

  “Sure thing.”

  Lonnie used the time to compose herself. “I promise you, Desi. I’m not making this up. I don’t operate that way. You should know that.”

  Desi had calmed down too. “I do know that. But if I’m going to include this in the book, I need something solid to go on. Sue’s going to ask for proof.”

  Lonnie grinned. “So you do believe me?”

  Desi nodded. “I do. It’s just … I can’t believe the kind of people we’re dealing with. They call me a criminal, point the finger at me, and make me feel like dirt. Those bastards have put me under a microscope for the whole world to see. Now, I’m going to let them see how it feels.”

  The waiter brought the bill and
Lonnie grabbed it before Desi had a chance to. “Lunch is on me. You just talk to the writer. I’ll get you your proof.”

  * * *

  “You can’t prove this,” Sue said after hearing Desi’s insight into the life and times of Tom Billings. “I thought I made it clear from the beginning, Desi, that this book is about you, about your experiences. I’m not writing a tabloid. If you have information like this, then you need to take it to the police. Get even that way, but don’t use me to do it.”

  Desi couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Sue wanted a story. Desi was giving her a story. Now, she was telling Desi that she didn’t want this story? Desi was giving her just a hint of the scandal that had plagued her life. Billings wasn’t the good, upstanding representative of the law that he’d led everyone to believe he was. And yet, he’d put handcuffs on Desi.

  “You want the victim,” Desi said, finally understanding where Sue’s disapproval was coming from. “You want the soap opera that’s been Desi Green for the last twenty-six years. I thought you wanted the truth, Sue.”

  “Do you want people to take this book seriously? We put this in it, Desi, and it becomes trash. Slander and scandal. Is that what you want?”

  Desi swallowed, and stared, insulted, at Sue. “I want to expose them the way they exposed me. I want to peel back the layers of their lives, and put them on display the way they did me.”

  “So, you hire some detective to dig up dirt on Tom Billings and give him as good as he gave you?”

  Desi stared long and hard at Sue before finally responding. “Bottom line, it’s my book, Sue.”

  “My name’s on the cover too, Desi. My reputation is at stake, maybe even more than yours.”

  “And I’m not signing off on any book that I don’t approve of.” Desi stood up, walked over to the door, and held it open for Sue to leave. “Anytime you want your advance money back, you let me know.”

  Sue stopped before leaving. “Even if it is true, exposing him like this makes you no better than he is. Don’t you see that?”