Beautiful, Dirty, Rich

by J. D. Mason

  Desi looked at the photocopy of the photograph. “Is this Olivia Gatewood?” she asked, referring to the woman.

  “And the man next to her is Joel Tunsen. Can you see the resemblance?”

  The pain in Desi’s eyes was undeniable. Lonnie had expected to be able to gloat over this revelation. She’d expected to feel like she’d won the lottery when she gave Desi this news. But no matter how hard she looked, Lonnie could find no victory in this.

  “Does he know?”

  Lonnie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Desi had to sit back and let it all sink in. “My God, Lonnie,” her voice cracked. “Just when I think there can’t be anything else…”

  “I know, Des,” Lonnie said, sadly. “I know.”

  “This whole time—this whole goddamned. How did you get these? And don’t tell me you got them from a source.”

  “That’s exactly where I got them, Desi, and the source is Olivia Gatewood’s private nurse.”

  Tears started to flow fast and furious down Desi’s cheeks. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Damn, Lonnie!”

  Lonnie came over to Desi and hugged her. Instead of this being the big finale she’d hoped for, all it had really done was break Desi’s heart. And it had broken Lonnie’s in a way she hadn’t expected. It was one thing to catch the bad guys, like Billings and Fleming. But this was different.

  Contrary to what she had been trying to tell herself, Lonnie did care about Jordan, and she doubted seriously that Jordan knew that Julian wasn’t his father. But when he found out the truth, and he would, she knew that he’d be no better off than Desi was now. Every now and then, Lonnie came across a secret that should stay hidden where it is. This was one of those times, because despite what she thought would happen, nobody won here.

  “I’m sorry, Des.”

  * * *

  The kid was young enough to be Jordan’s son. Tall, gangly, with an Adam’s apple the size of a fist and a full-blown Afro, he wasn’t what Jordan had expected to find on the other end of his search. He was good. Jordan had to give him that. But he wasn’t the best. Jordan had the best working for him, and he traced those e-mails Jordan had been receiving back to this guy.

  He wore cool like most young men do at that age. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-four, twenty-five, but he’d impressed Jordan’s IT guru, Frank.

  That apartment of his, if you could call it that, was no wider than Jordan’s arm span. The place was little more than a closet with a bathroom. A bookcase, filled with text books, magazines, DVDs lined one wall. The other wall was filled with computer laptops, monitors, and game consoles. The place was a dump.

  “Cole Masters,” Jordan said as he stood over the young man sitting slumped on that dirty couch. “Is that your real name?”

  Cole shrugged. “For now.”

  Jordan nearly smiled. The kid had swagger. It was hard not to admire swagger, even if it was young, dumb, and misplaced.

  “Do you know who I am, Cole?”

  The young man shrugged again, and looked bored by the question.

  “You’ve been sending me e-mails, texts messages, and music files. Real cryptic shit. My guy had a hard time tracking it back to you. He was impressed by your skills. Since I’m not an IT guy I’m not sure what he found so impressive, but if he says you’re good, that counts for something.”

  “So, whassup?” the kid asked, nonchalantly.

  “Who put you up to sending me that shit?” Jordan asked, point-blank.

  “I don’t know whatcha talkin’ ’bout, man.”

  Swagger was good in small doses, but this kid was starting to wear on his nerves.

  “Think about it. Think hard.”

  “Man.” He rolled his eyes in frustration. “I don’t know, man.”

  Jordan circled around behind and grabbed a handful of that ’fro of his. “Motha fucka, I am not in the mood to be pissing around your sorry ass,” he said menacingly. “You tell me who put your narrow ass up to sending me that shit, or I’ll have that driver take your ass somewhere and lose you.”

  The kid looked like he didn’t believe Jordan at first, so he made good on his threat, and in a motion too quick for that kid to prepare for, raised a fist over his head and brought it down hard on his bony chest.

  “Man! Fuck!” The kid coughed and gasped for air. Jordan caught him by the shoulder, and forced him back down in his seat.

  Jordan dug his fingers into that kid’s shoulder.

  “I’m going to ask one more time,” he threatened. “Who put you up to this shit?”

  The kid grimaced at the pain shooting down his arm and up his neck.

  “Let me go, dammit!”

  “You answer my question, or I’ll pull meat right out of this shoulder.”

  “Lonnie! Her name is Lonnie! That’s all I know!”

  Lonnie. Not Desi.

  He’s No Saint

  She hadn’t seen him since the day Claire showed up at the park, but they’d spoken on the phone and he’d told her that Claire had left him. Lonnie wasn’t the kind of woman to jump to conclusions. Claire’s leaving was exactly what it was and nothing more. It didn’t make room for Lonnie and Jordan to be together. If he thought that, then he was wrong.

  She’d reluctantly agreed to let him pick her up. Dinner he said. When she got into the car, they didn’t even kiss.

  “It’s good to see you,” he said, forcing a smile.

  “You too,” she nodded.

  “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Famished.”

  * * *

  “Not cool, Jordan,” Lonnie said, shakily. “Not cool!”

  He’d brought her to a small bungalow he owned in the middle of nowhere. “What’s not cool is you setting me up, Lonnie.”

  She was afraid of him. Jordan stalked her through each room, tossing furniture aside like the Hulk, trying to back her into a corner.

  “I didn’t set you up!”

  Jordan’s eyes bore holes into her. “You tried to make a fool out of me.”

  “What? You’re crazy!”

  “I am now, yeah. Why don’t you tell me the truth, for once?”

  “About what?” She made the mistake of not paying attention and backing up into a corner.

  He pushed against her. “About Desi Green?” He blocked her in, bracing both arms around her.

  Lonnie was speechless.

  “What? The two of you met in prison?”

  “No,” she whispered, caught off guard that he’d figured out that the two of them knew each other.

  “You set me up, Lonnie.”

  Lonnie felt herself tremble. “That’s not how it was, Jordan,” she said, trying not to sound as afraid as she was. Big, bad Lonnie wasn’t feeling so big and bad now. Jordan was a bull and he was pissed.

  “How was it, Lonnie?” He tapped her in the face with the flat of his hand.

  “Don’t you dare hit me!” she said, pointing her finger in his face.

  He slapped it away. “You set me up? You got something on me?”

  The wild look in his eyes was frightening.

  “No!”

  “You sending me texts and e-mails, Lonnie. Got your little friend, what’s his name, Cole something-or-other, sending shit to my personal number.”

  How did he find out about …

  “I am not the idiot you thought I was, bitch.”

  Lonnie tried to get away from him. Jordan grabbed her, and shoved her back against the wall.

  “You like it rough, don’t you, baby?” He grabbed her by the back of the neck, forced her across the room and over to the dining table.

  “Stop it!”

  Jordan forced her facedown onto the table, bending her over it. “Let’s play, Lonnie. We got the place all to our self, and we got all night, baby girl!”

  Lonnie fought him. She screamed and cried out for help until the truth finally hit her that nobody could hear her.

  * * *

  The sun was starting to come up. Jord
an stepped outside, took a deep breath, and made a phone call. “I need you to come out to the Bankfield house and clean up something for me.” He hung up.

  He noticed blood on the hem of his shirt. Jordan peeled out of it, opened the door, and tossed it inside. Men like him didn’t get their hands dirty on shit like this, but it was personal this time. Even more personal than Desi Green. He’d never said anything he didn’t mean. He’d told the woman he’d loved her and he had loved her. Lonnie was one of a kind. She was the yin to his yang.

  “Too bad,” he said, clearing his throat. Too bad things between them didn’t turn out the way he’d hoped it would.

  Blue Prelude

  Not many pretty young girls walked up to him purposefully anymore. This one was fine, could’ve been thicker, but nice. She walked over to him, watching him watering his garden. He figured that maybe she was lost, and needed directions. He knew Texas like the back of his hand, so he’d help her if he could.

  “Mr. Tunson?” the young woman asked, wearily.

  He stared at her and nodded. “That’s me,” he said, suspiciously. “Who you?”

  “My name’s Desi Green.”

  Nice enough name. It suited her. “You here to see that boy of mine?”

  Now, he knew what the boy’s problem was. And why he slept all the damn time, and stayed out all night. This pretty thing right here, was taking his mind off the things it should’ve been on, like getting to work on time, saving his money, and settling down.

  “No, sir,” she said, softly. “I came to see you.”

  Joel nearly shit his pants when she said that. She looked like she wore most of her money on her back. Joel quickly sized her up and determined that she was a bill collector of some sort, or maybe she was selling insurance.

  “Whatever you selling, I ain’t interested,” he said, gruffly.

  “I’m not selling anything,” she assured him. “But I would like to ask you a few questions, if you have time.”

  Her voice sounded as sweet as bells. He looked into those pretty brown eyes, and fell in love just that quick. If he were a younger man, this one here would be in trouble. But since he was old now, she had nothing to worry about. He turned off his hose, and led her over to the front porch of his house.

  “You from around here?” he asked, as they were sitting down.

  “No, sir, well—I’m from Blink, which is close enough, I guess.”

  “I know Blink,” he said, unemotionally. “Got a few cousins up that way. What’s your last name again?” he asked, eyeing her. Maybe she was related.

  “Green,” she said.

  Joel thought long and hard. “Naw. Don’t know no Greens. So, what is it you wanna ask me?”

  Desi reached into her purse and pulled out the photograph Lonnie had given her. “Is that you in this picture?”

  He adjusted his glasses on his nose, and then pulled them off altogether, stretched out his arm, stared at it, and started to grin. “That sho’ is me.” He laughed. “Me and Olivia Franklin,” he boasted. “And my old Buick. Damn! I loved that car.” He looked at Desi. “Where’d you get this?”

  “A friend of mine gave it to me.”

  He studied Desi. “Where’d they get it?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “So, why you showing it to me?”

  She didn’t look like Joel but that didn’t mean she wasn’t one of his. Back when he was young, he was wild, sticking his thing in places it didn’t belong, so there was no doubt in his mind that he could’ve had kids coming out of the corners like roaches.

  “You remember Olivia Franklin?” she probed carefully.

  He looked at Desi like she was crazy. “What man in his right mind would ever forget Olivia Franklin? She was the finest thing on two legs for damn near five counties. So, yes. I remember Olivia Franklin.”

  “How well did you know her?”

  He frowned. “Whatchu mean how well? I knew her well enough.”

  “Well enough to have a baby by her?”

  All that spit and fire disappeared from him, and Joel Tunson felt like he was about to be sick.

  “Who are you and why you asking me all these questions?”

  “I think I know your son,” she said cautiously.

  He turned his head and stared out into the yard. Joel had sons. He had four of them, one living up the road, the other one married and living in Jacksonville, Florida. One asleep in the back room and one, well, he wasn’t sure where that last one was.

  “Jordan Gatewood?” she continued, cautiously. “Does that name ring a bell?”

  Of course it did. That name made him want to spit, and cuss, and throw his fist into something hard.

  “Who sent you here?” he asked, defiantly.

  “No one.” She swallowed. “I came because I need to know if you really are Jordan’s father.”

  “Why are you here, and not him?” He was angry. That boy should’ve been down here asking these questions. Not her. Not anybody else. Just him.

  “Because I don’t think he wants to know,” she admitted.

  Joel’s feelings were hurt. But if it was the truth, he appreciated it being the truth.

  “Olivia was too pretty for any man, except a rich one,” he began to explain. “Her daddy never did think much of me, ’cause I work with my hands and my back. I couldn’t even pick her up at her house. She’d meet me at the five-and-dime, I’d pick her up in my car, even taught her how to drive, and we’d roll off someplace and just have a good time.”

  “How old was she?”

  “Twenty, twenty-one. Somewhere in there.”

  “She had to sneak around at twenty-one?”

  “That’s how it was, girl. I didn’t mind so much until she told me about the baby.” He looked briefly at Desi. “I wanted to be a father, and since she was carrying my child, I knew I needed to marry her. So, I went to her door, knocked on it, and asked to speak to her father.”

  “Was she there?”

  “Yeah,” he said, dismally. “She was there.”

  “Told him I wanted to ask for his permission to marry her. He was disgusted with her for being pregnant in the first place, said that he would’ve handed her over to the circus if they’d have asked for her.”

  “Did the two of you get married?”

  He nodded. “I married her. Stayed married to her until after the baby came.”

  “Jordan?”

  He shot an angry look at her. “Theodore,” he corrected her.

  Theodore?

  “Named after my daddy, Theodore Jordan Tunson,” he said proudly. “Olivia never liked Theodore. Changed it soon as she could.”

  “So, you were divorced shortly after he was born?”

  “She went back home to her momma and daddy. By then, they’d forgiven her, and welcomed her home like a wayward son. Wouldn’t even let me come by to see my baby. My own flesh and blood,” he said, angrily. “Next thing I know, her daddy got the marriage annulled, and I got papers in the mail telling me that she was no longer my wife. I didn’t have a problem with that because Olivia was one sorry-ass excuse for a wife,” he fussed. “But to me, that didn’t mean that my boy was no longer my boy.”

  “Did you ever see him again?”

  He huffed. “Hell naw! Three months after she left me, she turned around and married that rich bastard, Gatewood. And they tried to act like my boy was his. Don’t know what kind of trickery they used to pull that one over folks’s eyes, but whatever they did it worked. He packed them both up, and took them on outta here, and I never saw either one of them again.” His voice trailed off.

  “Other than your word, Mr. Tunson,” Desi chose her words carefully, “do you have any way of proving that Jordan—Theodore is your son?”

  He looked at her, then got up and went inside the house without saying a word. A few minutes later, he came out of the house and handed her a folded-up piece of paper.

  “I figure if she could take off with my son like that, then I had
every right to this birth certificate. I asked the hospital for a copy right after she left me, so that I could have proof to myself that he was mine, and that I didn’t make this up. I can never have him, but at least I got something.”

  Desi’s smile lit up like it was Christmas. “Mr. Tunson, would you mind if I got a copy of this?”

  “Can’t nobody take that from me,” he snapped.

  “I don’t want to take it. I just want to make a copy. You can ride with me to the library and watch me, and I’ll hand it back to you as soon as I’m done.”

  “Whatchu need a copy for?”

  “For Theodore.”

  Shout, Sistah! Shout!

  Desi had called and left several messages for Lonnie. She’d even stopped by her place, but she didn’t answer. She wanted to tell her about Tunsen, and show her the copy of the original birth certificate she’d gotten from him. Lonnie had kept both of her copies and filed them away for “safekeeping” she’d told Desi. Desi just figured that Lonnie had been called away on an assignment or something but found it strange that she hasn’t even responded to email. Lonnie always answered emails.

  “Where are you?” she asked Solomon over the phone.

  “The office.”

  “Can I come by?”

  “Of course you can.”

  “I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Standing in his office, Desi was absolutely giddy.

  * * *

  Solomon was floored by the document he held in his hand. “Is this real?” he asked Desi, sitting on the other side of his desk in his office.

  She nodded and grinned. “Got the certified seal and everything. I saw it with my own two eyes. He wouldn’t part with the original, though, and damn near held me at gunpoint while I copied it, but I think it was worth it. Don’t you?”

  Solomon looked up at her. “What do you plan on doing with it, Desi?”

  She smiled. “I plan on getting Theodore off my back.”

  He looked skeptical.

  “You know he’s not going to stop, Solomon. And when this book comes out, it’s only going to get worse, unless I do something now.”