Love, Lies & The D.A.

by Rohman, Rebecca

  “Jada speaking.”

  “I see you got my messages.”

  “Just so you know, I don’t take kindly to your threats.”

  “I want my money.”

  “None of the charges have been dropped, and you want your money? You can go straight to hell.”

  Jonathan is about to snatch the phone from me, but Phillip and Douglas physically hold him back. I turn my back to him in an effort not to get distracted.

  “Really. I want a million dollars by tomorrow, and if I don’t get it, that little mishap that happened in your kitchen a while ago will happen again at another one of those fancy little hotels that you own every day until I get it.”

  His comment silences me. I cannot take that risk. Putting the lives of my staff and patrons in jeopardy is not one I’m willing to take.

  “This is extortion. Give me your account information.”

  “You can call it whatever the fuck you want, but I want cash.”

  “I have no desire to meet you; either you give me your account information, or you won’t be seeing a dime from me.”

  “I want cash. You can’t afford to risk your property.”

  “And you can’t afford to lose a million dollars. Either you give me your account information, or you can kiss that money goodbye.”

  My heart is pounding, my head is throbbing, and I’m shaking like a leaf. I know this is an extremely volatile and risky proposition. If I’m going to do this, I have to get some sort of evidence or paper trail out of it.

  He hesitates, then finally gives in and calls out the number and the rest of the account info. I end the call.

  “He did this… He caused that explosion at the hotel. If I don’t pay him, he’s threatened to do it at other locations until I pay.”

  “The calls were monitored. We’ll get a trace on it, and that account information you got will be helpful,” Phillips says.

  “I don’t trust the police on my property. Can you all handle this?”

  “We can’t without them being suspicious. But we’ll see if the ATF can take a lead on the case, and we’ll send some of our guys in—undercover.”

  “Great. I’m going to have security increased at all locations. Look, I need to get ready and out of here. I need to ensure that this is handled properly.”

  I leave Jonathan in the kitchen with the men and head to my room to get ready. I can see by the look on his face that he’s not pleased about me heading out, but my staff and guests’ needs take precedence over mine. I manage to get myself ready in a record thirty minutes.

  I am pulling my purse and things together when Jonathan eventually comes in.

  “Jada, you know I don’t want you doing this, but I understand why you have to. Please be careful out there.”

  “I will. I promise,” I reply, hugging him.

  “As soon as I’m done in court, I’ll come to be with you, wherever you are.”

  “That’s not necessary, but if it will make you feel better, that’s fine.”

  “Yes. That will make me feel better. I’ll help you down. Please call me or text me any new developments.”

  “I will.”

  The kitchen is an absolute mess. This happened at my smallest property, so it’s an easier problem to remedy. The head chef is now working with the chef from my much larger bay front property that is located ten minutes away. The ATF were on the scene by the time I got there.

  It looks like my staff will be fine. However, both have undergone varying degrees of surgery and are in serious but stable condition. Allan has a broken arm and second degree burns on his arms. Patrick sustained some nasty third degree burns on his torso and had some lacerations on his arms and a broken finger. Once all is settled, I’ll head to the hospital to check on them and their families.

  For now, I hop around on my crutches, making sure the rest of my staff and guests are cared for, and the other seven properties are secure.

  Ian arranges for the money transfer to my demander.

  I have a conference call with the Chief of Security and General Managers for all the properties about the increase in security presence that is now in place, and the staff vigilance that is required.

  My PR department handles a press conference, and it is late evening when the ATF finally allow us back onto the scene.

  Half of the kitchen will need to be completely renovated, so until that can be rectified, we change our menu to simple cold cuts and organize a make shift kitchen in one of the conference rooms. We shuttle our guests to the larger Bay Front property for meals. It’s not perfect, but in this ten-room hotel, we are able to make it work for the most part.

  I am wrapping up with a staff meeting when I see Jonathan watching from a distance. Inwardly, I do backflips. I am so happy to see him. It’s great to have his support.

  As I leave the property, the maintenance department removes the damaged equipment, and the staff cleans what’s left of the space. I am exhausted and my head is exploding, but I ask Jonathan to take me to the hospital to see my two injured employees.

  Allan has worked with me for eight years. When I walk into the room, maybe six to eight of his friends and family surround him. As I walk in, Jonathan stands by the door and observes. Allan may not be in the best of health, but he’s in good spirits, still entertaining his family with his usual sense of humor and banter.

  “Miss Jada, I know you are not well. Thanks for coming to see me… you too, Mr. DA.”

  Jonathan smiles at him politely, giving him the thumbs up, but he stays silent.

  “No worries. How do you feel?”

  “My hands burn, but it could have been worse. The doctors tell me I’ll be away from work for a few weeks, though.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Just get better. Your job will be waiting for you. You and your family will be taken care off.”

  “Thank you… and thanks for the nice private digs too. The nurses have been spoiling me.” He winks with a huge smile.

  I spend a few more moments with him and his family then move on to see Patrick. The reception when I get there isn’t the same. Patrick is young. He started as a dishwasher straight out of high school. Over the last two to three years, my head chef has been training him. He smiles when he sees me, but a woman who I assume is his mother isn’t pleased by my presence.

  “Why are you here? You’re responsible for this,” she shouts in my face. Jonathan rushes to my side, but my look lets him know that I’m okay and he returns to his spot by the door.

  “Mama. No.” A woman who I suspect is probably his sister escorts her out of the room.

  “Ms. McLean, I’m sorry. Please forgive my mother. She’s afraid. I am the only one working at home. She’s scared we won’t have a place to live.”

  “Patrick, I would never let that happen. I’ll ensure you are taken care of. You don’t have to worry about your job or any of these medical expenses. I promise. Are you comfortable?”

  “I am, very much, thank you. If I weren’t in pain, I’d feel like I was being pampered at a hotel.”

  “Is there anything I can do to put your mom at ease?”

  “She’s a stubborn woman. I’ll talk to her.”

  “Please let me know if you need anything else.”

  “There is one thing,” he says hesitantly.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you think you might be able to have me moved over to a hospital closer to Tenderloin?”

  “Why? You’ll get the best care here.”

  “I’m not comfortable with my mom having to travel all this way to come see me. It’s not safe, and we can’t afford the travel costs.”

  Tenderloin is one of the toughest neighborhoods to live in San Francisco.

  “Patrick, your health is of the utmost importance. I won’t have you moved, but I’ll see to it that your mother is cared for, and she has a ride available to bring her here anytime she wants. Is that a fair compromise?”

  He smiles and nods.

  “Is
that woman with her your sister?”

  “No. She’s a kind neighbor.”

  “So you and your mother live alone?”

  “Yes. I’m the only one there to take care of her.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. She can even stay here with you while you recuperate. She’ll have everything she needs.”

  His mother walks back into the room with their friend. I can see the worry and fear in her eyes.

  “Ms. Bennoir, I don’t want you to worry about a thing. I’ll take care of both you and Patrick. If you like, you can stay here with him while he gets better. If not, I can have a driver bring you here and back home whenever you want to see him.”

  She looks at me doubtfully.

  “Trust me… I promise.”

  She eventually cracks into a slight smile then sobs, wrapping her arms around me. She was, and probably still is, scared. After I advise the hospital staff that she will be staying throughout Patrick’s stay, we give the neighbor who brought her here a ride back home.

  We drive through the streets of Tenderloin; homeless people of every race, age, and sex cover the sidewalks. Every few blocks, groups of unsavory characters peddle their drugs. There is an extremely heavy police presence. I guess that can be good or bad, depending on how you choose to look at it. I want to, in some way, pay the young woman for her time and trouble, but I don’t want to disrespect or offend her.

  “Abby. Is there some way I can compensate you for your time and trouble today?”

  “Ensuring Ms. Bennoir and Patrick are cared for is enough, thank you,” she replies politely.

  “Did you have to take time off work?”

  “I don’t work. I’ve been trying to find a stable job for the last year with no luck.”

  “What did you do? What do you enjoy?”

  “I’ll do anything. Dishes. Housekeeping… What I used to enjoy was guest relations. I used to work up till a year ago, but I lost my job after budget cuts at the hotel.”

  “Do you take drugs or abuse alcohol?”

  She gasps at my question. “No,” she continues curtly.

  I dig through my purse and write my HR department manager’s name behind the card.

  “Here,” I say, handing her the card. “See this woman sometime tomorrow, and we’ll see how we can help you.”

  “Look, Miss, I don’t want any handouts.”

  “It’s not a handout,” I retort. “It’s an opportunity. All you have to do is work hard and not abuse alcohol or drugs. Be punctual, and we should be fine.”

  “I have a daughter. I will need to find someone to take care of her. Is it okay if I see her in the afternoon?”

  “See her whatever time you like. I’ll let her know to expect you.”

  “Thank you, Miss McLean.”

  “Thank you,” I reply.

  After we drop her off, we drive the rest of the way home in silence. Today has been exhausting both physically and emotionally. I want a hot bath, a meal, and a bed. Once we’re in the penthouse, I wrap my arms around Jonathan in a warm and endearing hug.

  “Thank you for being there with me today.”

  “Thank you for letting me. You’re very good at handling situations. You work well under pressure.”

  “Thank you. My staff depends on me… I depend on them.”

  “That was a nice thing you did with Abby.”

  “I was in a position to help, so I did; that’s all.”

  He smiles at me then kisses me on my forehead.

  “It’s been a long day. Why don’t I run you a bath then get us some dinner?”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  “What do you want to eat?”

  “You choose.”

  Later that night, Jonathan rubs my feet while we lie in bed. I notice he seems somewhat distracted.

  “Is something wrong? I can tell something’s bothering you,” I ask.

  “There’s something you should know,” he murmurs.

  I feel my heart plummet to my toes.

  What now?

  “What is it?”

  “I filed a restraining order against Sophie today.”

  “Was that really necessary?”

  “She called on Sunday while you were in bed. She wanted to meet with me. When I told her no… Let’s say, she got aggressive and nasty.”

  “You’re sure she won’t get over this with time?”

  “I’m not willing to take that chance. She called me from a number I didn’t recognize, and then minutes after I hung up on her, your phone rang and she was trying to call you.”

  “How did she get my number?”

  “I don’t know. But the fact that she went through the lengths she did to get me to answer her call, then her call to you, tells me this is warranted.”

  “If you feel it is, that’s fine. But I’m not afraid of Sophie. She’s the least of my worries.”

  “I’m not afraid of her either, but she’s been calling five, six, sometimes seven times a day. I’ve been ignoring her calls, but now it’s getting out of hand. I’m not going to underestimate her the same way I did Chris Hostin, especially when it comes to you. She’s jealous of the relationship we share. At the very least, I needed to document this. If she’s going as far as taking three-and-a-half hour drives to Lake Tahoe so she can spy on us, that tells me something is off about her.”

  “Well, I hate to say this, but if you played her fiddle the way you played mine, I can understand why she’s having problems staying away,” I laugh.

  He smiles at me. “I never got that intimate with Sophie.”

  “Really?”

  “No, I wasn’t. I don’t want to be disrespectful or crass, but it was purely just a fuck. I was single. She was single. I had needs, and she was a friend who was more than happy to fulfill them. More importantly, because of my position, I didn’t want to come across as a philanderer, so when she offered, I took her up on it. That’s how it started.”

  “You didn’t find her attractive?”

  “In a physical sense, yes. Emotionally, I wasn’t sure. When I thought about getting to know her better on that level, that was when I invited her to go to Lake Tahoe with me, but I soon realized I wasn’t attracted to her in that way. Not to mention some things she did pissed me off, so I ended things.”

  “Well, I can see why she’s going crazy.”

  “I can’t. She understood and backed off once I spoke to her. It wasn’t until you came along that this shit with her started to develop.”

  “Well, I can’t explain that. Maybe she thought you would have eventually gotten together.”

  “We were never together,” he sighs. “I don’t know… All I know is I want her to stay away from you, and I want this garbage to stop.”

  I spend the rest of the week at home trying to get back to normal health. I have daily visits from a physiotherapist, and the ultrasound therapy has worked wonders on my ankle. Of course, it got worse before it got better. By Friday, I am happy to be using a walking stick instead of crutches.

  I keep in touch with Allan and Patrick. Allan was released from the hospital on Thursday. He is at home recuperating comfortably. Patrick and his mother are doing well at the hospital, but it will be some time before he is released.

  * * *

  It’s Friday. I am on my official last day of work. I wrapped up my two pending cases, one yesterday and the other this morning. I ensure that all my filing is done correctly, and I should be complete with any pending matters by the time I make my exit tonight.

  I am extremely humbled by late evening when I’m about to leave. All the staff in the department—US State Attorneys, Assistant District Attorneys, etcetera—have stayed back to bid me farewell. It’s a chapter in my life that ended sooner than planned. However, I still believe that I made the right decision.

  After impromptu drinks at a bar the lawyers in the department usually frequent, I say my final goodbyes and head home. Monday… another chapter begins.

  I stay wit
h Jada for the weekend but spend most of my time working in her office as I prepare for my new job on Monday. Maggie and Micky keep me company. I spend the entire day Sunday familiarizing myself with the cases we’re currently handling at the firm.

  Jada’s file eventually comes up. For the first time, I listen to her account and read the file from beginning to end. I start to thoroughly understand how deeply the betrayal went. Listening in her own words and voice to the details of the day she walked in on Koto and her ex was hard, even for me. Especially because it was her voice and not just a transcript of her words. It also happened in the very space I sit.

  In the time we’ve gotten to know each other, details of her case would periodically come up, but we agreed to never thoroughly discuss it while I was a DA. Now that I lead the firm that is representing her, I make it my business to know every aspect of her case. I now realize there are so many details I didn’t know.

  Once I am done with the files, I peruse through mail and correspondence sent to Dad since he died, as well as a few addressed to me. I’ve received an invitation from the Bar Association to attend their annual dinner. Dad was supposed to be their keynote speaker, but because he died, they’ve asked me to replace him. They will also be honoring him that night.

  I’d be thrilled to do this, but it also means I’d have to bring a date, and for the first time in I don’t know how long, I am nervous about asking Jada. Up until now, our relationship has been complete speculation by the media. Appearing at a high profile event with her by my side would be an announcement to the world that the rumors are true. An announcement I’m not certain that Jada is ready to make. I’m afraid that simply asking her might scare her away.

  The easy thing to do would be to simply decline their invitation, but this is the type of occasion Dad would never turn down. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had already written his speech. I think I will do this in memory of him. They’ve asked me to respond by Wednesday next week, so this gives me some time to ponder and get the guts to ask Jada.

  I’ve just slipped the invitation into a pile of correspondence when she walks in with a mug in one hand, her walking stick in the other.