by Roy Glenn
“Excuse me, Mr. Douglas,” Connie Talbert, Ferguson's assistant said bringing Marcus out of his trance.
“Hello, Connie.”
“Mr. Ferguson would like to see you in his study, when you get a chance. And by the way,” Connie extended her hand. “Congratulations. We're all very pleased with the work you've done for us.”
“Thank you, Connie. I appreciate that,” Marcus said as he finished his drink. “Where can I find his study?”
“It's right over there,” Connie said and pointed to a door on the other side of the room. “But if you'll follow me, I'll take you to him.” Connie extended her arm.
“Well, thank you, ma’am. It would be an honor to be escorted by a beautiful lady,” Marcus said, as he locked his arm in hers. They weaved through the crowd, stopping several times to make small talk with the other guests. Once they reached the study, Connie knocked twice, opened the door, and showed Marcus in, closing the door behind her. Roland was on the phone, but waved Marcus on and gestured for him to have a seat.
“You were saying, Ms. Dent,” Roland said smiling a very satisfied smile as he continued his conversation.
Marcus sat down thinking, Listen to him. His wife is dead and he's moved on with his life. He wondered why he couldn’t do the same. Move on with my life. Maybe once the divorce was over it would be easier. But now, with almost daily reminders, with their lawyers going back and forth, the pain of his separation still ate at him like a fresh wound. He thought about Randa and how they were together. They did just about everything together. People called them the poster children for the perfect relationship. Randa was a wonderful woman. She was beautiful, intelligent and had so much energy. She was always doing something to help somebody. She volunteered at a retirement home a couple days a week and had a teenage girl she was mentoring. They were very happy together. Marcus considered Randa to be his best friend. They had so much in common and would spend hours together just talking. That's the hardest part of dealing with this. Sure he loved her, but they were so close that Marcus felt like he had lost the best part of himself. But she wasn't right. He saw so much in her, but he only saw what he wanted to see. Marcus had put her on a very high pedestal. So high that she was bound to fall off.
The day started out like any other. The alarm went off, and they made love to each other, just like they did every morning. They showered together and then Randa cooked breakfast while Marcus got ready to go to the office. Randa mentioned that she might go shopping with her girlfriend. They ate breakfast and he left for the office, just like they did every morning. Marcus had been working at home the night before, getting ready for a meeting with a client that he had that afternoon and he left the papers at home. He called Randa to see if she could bring him the papers and they could have lunch together. But there was no answer. Marcus needed those papers, so he went home to get them. When he got home her Benz was in the driveway, so Marcus simply figured that her girlfriend came and picked her up and they had gone shopping. He went inside and called her name a few times, but she didn't answer. He went in the den to get his papers, but couldn't find them. Marcus turned on the computer so he could print them. Once they had printed he picked up the papers, then he thought he heard a noise. Marcus stood still for a second, but didn't hear anything. He turned off the computer and headed for the door. He was out of the house and was just about to close the door when he heard the noise again. He turned around and walked up the steps straight to the bedroom and opened the door. There she was, in bed with another man. Marcus stood there, watching. He couldn't move. He walked outside and sat down on the steps. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there when he heard the door open and close and open again. When he looked up Randa was standing in front of him.
She asked him if he had been in the house. Marcus just looked at her, unable to speak. Once Randa got tired of Marcus staring at her not saying anything, she went back in the house. The two of them came out got in the Benz he paid for, and left.
While Randa was gone Marcus thought about all the things he would say to her.
How could you?
Who is he?
How long has this been going on?
But when she came back he couldn't say anything. She tried to explain that this was the first time. She told him how sorry she was, and she promised Marcus that if he forgave her it would never happen again. Still, he couldn't say a word. He had thought of a hundred things to say but he was so mad, the words just wouldn't come out. After a while he just got up and left.
“Well, Paula, we'll just have to see that you get one of those.” Roland laughed. “I have to go now, my lawyer is here. - - - No, no, there's no trouble, Paula. Just some things we need to go over. - - - We'll get together soon, Ms. Dent.” Roland hung up the phone and turned his attention to Marcus. “Sorry, Marcus,” Roland said, coming around his desk to shake his hand.
“No need to apologize, Mr. Ferguson.”
“Roland, please, call me Roland. I thought it best to maintain a certain level of professionalism during the trial. You understand. No need to be so formal now.” Ferguson starting walking toward the bar in the corner of his study. “Drink?”
“Hennessy neat.”
“I thought we might have a glass of champagne together,” he said as Marcus followed him to the bar.
“That'll be fine, sir.”
Roland uncorked the bottle, filled two glasses, and handed one to Marcus. “Here's to you, Marcus. Congratulations on a job well done.”
“Thank you. And congratulations to you.”
“Me? I didn't do anything. I just sat there and tried to look innocent. You did all the work. I like the way you handle things. It made me mad at first, I thought about firing you a numbers of times. But see that you knew what you were doing. I might be interested in your firm doing some more work for me.”
“Thank you,” Marcus said, somewhat surprised. He knew that Roland had a team of lawyers working for him. “I'm sure my staff can handle any of your needs.”
“If they have the same dedication that you do, I'm sure they will. You know that was one of the first things that impressed me about you, Marcus.”
“What's that?”
“That you own your law firm and you still practice law. I know many people who own law firms and none of them have cracked a law book a years,” Roland said, draining his glass. “But we'll talk about all that some other time. Right now, there's a party going on and you're the guest of honor. So enjoy the party.”
Marcus finished his champagne and followed Roland out of the study to rejoin his guests. Once again the room erupted in applause.
For the next two hours, Marcus made his way around the room. He heard the word congratulations so many times he felt like slapping the next one who said it. But that would be bad for business. So, he talked about the high points of the case and his law firm. There were even a few ladies who inquired about his marital status. A conversation he had little interest in having. The first chance he got, Marcus headed for the door.
HOME
Carmen Taylor parked her rental car in the driveway and turned off the lights. This would be the first time she had been home since Desireé's funeral. She missed her sister, missed her more than she ever let on. It had been more than a year since the murder. Carmen had been shooting a layout in Tokyo when she got her father's call. She knew something was wrong when she hadn't heard from Desireé in two days. The news of her sister’s death was devastating to her. She spent the better part of the next two days traveling. From Tokyo, to Hawaii, to San Francisco, to Chicago, to Atlanta and arrived the night before the funeral. After the funeral Carmen went back to Tokyo, and went back to work. She didn't want to give herself any time to dwell on Desireé's death. So Carmen did what she always did when things became stressful. She worked; print ads, shows, commercials, anything to keep busy.
From the moment her father, Carlton, snapped that first picture, everybody knew, Carmen Taylor was going to be a model. Her
mother Dominique had planned it all out for her. Her every waking moment was dedicated to accomplishing that goal. As young girls, Carmen and Desireé were taught to walk a certain way, talk a certain way. Dominique saw to it that they even looked a certain way. Dominique controlled everything. Dominique always had control of everything.
She sat quietly outside of the house she’d grown up in, and thought. Thought about what she was about to do. First she had to decide if she was going to do it at all. Was she going to walk up to that door and ring the bell? If she did, Carmen knew that her mother would answer the door and she would have to talk to her. And she didn't want to. Carmen got out of the car and walked toward the door. She rang the bell and as she expected her mother answered.
“Hello, Mother. Can I come in?”
“Carmen?” Dominique said, not believing her eyes or ears as she stood blocking the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?” Carmen asked again, staring impatiently at her mother. Dominique stared back, only her look was not one of impatience, it was more shock than anything else. It had been four years since she'd seen her daughter and these were the first words they'd exchanged in seven years. Finally, Dominique took a step to the side, but just enough for Carmen to pass.
“Thank you, Mother. How are you?” Carmen asked as she walked through the foyer into the living room.
“I'm fine, Carmen.”
For Carmen it was like stepping into a time machine. Nothing had changed in all the years since she had set foot in the place she'd called home for nineteen years. She could almost see herself and Desireé as kids running around the room. Playing in front of the Christmas tree. She'd been around the world. Lived and worked in New York, Los Angeles, London, Paris, Madrid, and Tokyo but there was no feeling like this in the world. In her mind’s eye, this was still home to her. She took a deep breath and could smell the scent of her father’s cigar in the air.
“Where’s Daddy?” she asked, as she continued to wander around the living room.
“He's downstairs.” Carmen started to walk away, heading for the basement door, but Dominique grabbed Carmen by the arm. “You still haven't answered my question, Carmen. What are you doing here?”
Carmen jerked her arm back. “I came to see daddy. - - - And you.”
“You couldn't come to pay your respects to your sister, but you can show up now. You’ve got some nerve.”
“What are you talking about? I was at Desireé's funeral.”
Dominique looked at her daughter. She didn't see her at the funeral and would have sworn she wasn't there.
“You were there? You were there and you couldn't come and say something to me and your father?”
“I talked to daddy.”
“When?”
“At the funeral, Mother.”
“I didn't see you there.”
“I saw you,” Carmen said, apparently frustrated by her mother’s questions. She slid into her father's chair. “My sister had died, Mother. I knew that I couldn't stay for long and I didn't want to spend that time arguing with you.”
“We wouldn't have argued, Carmen.”
“Of course we would, Mother. That's all we ever do.”
“We're not arguing now,” Dominique sat down on the couch.
“No, not yet. But we will before I leave this room. I know it. I know you, Mother. You can't help yourself.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nevermind, Mother,” Carmen said as she stood up and once again headed for the basement door. “You know exactly what I'm talking about because we've had that argument, too. And my answering that question will just lead us into that same argument and I'm really not with it, Mother, not tonight. So, if it's all right with you, I'm going to go downstairs and say hi to daddy.”
“That's it? Just like that? You walk in here after all these years and this is all you have to say to me, Carmen. I'm your mother and this is all you have to say.”
“What do you want from me, Mother?”
“A conversation maybe, yes, that's it, a conversation.”
“Okay, a conversation. It's always got to be your way. All right then. Hi, Mommy,” Carmen said posting a fake smile. “How are you?”
“Go. If that's the best you can do, and then go,” Dominique said, as a tear rolled down her cheek.
Carmen rolled her eyes at the sight of that single tear and started once again for the basement door. Then she stopped and looked back at her mother.
“I'm sorry, Mother.” Carmen walked back into the living room and faced her mother. “Look, Mother, I'm tired. I flew into New York from London and then I caught a flight here. I promised daddy that I would come and say hi to him and then I wanna get some rest.”
“I really think we need to talk, Carmen.”
“I promise, Mother, we'll talk tomorrow.”
“You know, I love you, Carmen,” Dominique said tearfully, reaching out for her daughter's hand. “You're all I have now.”
“Mother, please.” Once again Carmen started for the basement door, knowing that Dominique was right. They were all each other had, and they did need to talk. “We'll talk tomorrow.” There was a lot that she needed to get off her chest. She had carried the burden around with her long enough.
“You're welcome to stay here. Please stay.”
“I've got a suite at the Marriott, Mother, I'll be fine.”
“I know you'll be fine, Carmen. That's not the point. This is your home. I know, why don't I get your old room—”
“Mother, please. I just wanna say hi to daddy and get to my suite so I can get some rest. I have a big day tomorrow,” Carmen said, finally turning the knob and closing the door behind her before Dominique could say anything else.
Carmen stood at the top of the steps as her eyes filled with tears. Her ears filled with the sounds of jazz music. It was her fathers' passion. She walked slowly down the steps and once again her thoughts turned to Desireé. She thought about the many hours she and Desireé spent in that basement with their father. Sitting and listening to the likes of Thelonious Monk, Charlie Parker, and John Coltrane. But her fathers' favorite was Miles. “Picked up another Miles Davis CD, huh.”
“Carmen.” Carlton Taylor could hardly believe his ears. He jumped out of his chair. “Come here, girl, don't just stand there, show your daddy some love.”
Carmen walked across the room, looking at the pictures on the walls. Once again she began to cry, looking at the pictures of her and Desireé. Looking at those walls was like looking at a pictorial biography of their life. This was actually the first time that she allowed herself to feel. The tears came harder and she rushed to her father’s embrace.
“Let it out baby girl.”
“I'm all right, Daddy. Seeing these pictures. — I just never thought that—”
“Its okay, Carmen. You don't have to say anything. Just let it out.” Carlton stood quietly, holding his daughter while she cried.
After a while, Carmen asked if they could go outside. “I just can't stay in here looking at those pictures.”
“Sure, Carmen, we can sit out by the pool and talk.”
The change in location did little to change her mood. Carmen couldn't stop herself from thinking about Desireé. They sat outside for hours, reminiscing about the good times they'd spent together. A few times, Carmen began to cry. Carlton could see that maybe it was time to change the subject.
“Where are you staying, Carmen?” Carlton asked.
“I've got a suite reserved at the Marriott.”
“Which one?”
“By the airport.”
“You know that you're welcome to stay here. You know we'd love to have you.”
“Mother already invited me.”
“And?”
“And I said no. I have to get up early and go see Roland's lawyer. It would just be easier if you stayed in the suite.”
“Easier on who?”
“Daddy.”
“Okay
, Carmen, but you can't blame a man for trying. Or a woman, for that matter. Did you talk to your mother when you came in?”
“I spoke. It would have been hard not to, Daddy, she answered the door.”
“You know that's not what I meant.” Carlton moved his chair closer to his daughter. He put his arm around her and said, “Nobody knows better than I do, how your mother is. And I know she was hard on you girls, but we all suffered a great loss. Don't you think it's time you put that aside, and make peace with your mother?”
“I know I should, Daddy. I know she's trying to reach out to me. She said I was all she had left.”
“I'll try not to take that personally. But, raisin' you girls was her life.”
“I told her that we would talk. And before I leave, I promise, Daddy, I will. It's just hard for me to let it go. But I will.”
“How long are you going to be in town this time?”
“I guess that depends on the lawyer.”
“What you going to see Roland's lawyer about?”
“His office contacted me some time ago about testifying at his trial. They said that since I talked to Dez every day, that I may be able to testify about her state of mind. I told them that I wasn't opposed to it. I have an appointment to see him tomorrow at two to give my deposition.”
“Nobody told you?”
“Told me what?”
“Jury found Roland not guilty this morning.”
“What?”
“They're having a party at his house right now. Celebrating. Trial took less time than they thought it would. He had a good lawyer. Douglas had the jury eating out of his hand.”
“So what happens now?”
“The police say the case will be reopened.”
“Are there any other suspects?”
“I don't know, Carmen. The police detective, Benjamin said I could come down and talk to him about it, but I don't hold out much hope.”
