In Firm Pursuit

by Pamela Samuels Young

  “Is that right?”

  Jefferson wished he could cut the conversation short. Or at least direct it to the left or right, rather than allow it to continue spiraling down the short, disastrous road on which it was headed. He knew his wife all too well. When something bothered her, she had to get it off her chest. And he would let her do that. He was the one who had messed up, so he owed her that much. But he wasn’t confessing to shit.

  “All your questions about sexual harassment last night got me a little worried,” Vernetta said. “I started wondering whether you were asking me that stuff because you had gotten yourself into some trouble.”

  “I told you why I was asking.” Jefferson stared off into space, afraid that if he looked over at his wife, his eyes might give him away.

  “I know what you told me.” Vernetta got up from the couch and joined him in the kitchenette. She rested her body against the opposite counter, facing him. Only a few feet separated them.

  “The way that girl dresses, I’d say she was a sexual harassment case waiting to happen.” Vernetta stopped to tighten the belt of her robe.

  Jefferson shrugged. “Stan hired her. Not me.”

  “You certainly looked awful nervous when you walked in and saw Special and me standing there.”

  Jefferson turned away and set the beer can on the counter behind him, thankful to have a reason to break away from Vernetta’s penetrating gaze. “You know what, babe? I’m tired as hell. And you standing here jamming me up like this ain’t exactly what I need after working my ass off all day.”

  “If something’s bothering me, I should be able to discuss it with you, shouldn’t I?”

  He chuckled in a way that he hoped conveyed how much this conversation irritated him. “Exactly what’re you saying, Vernetta? You think I’m fuckin’ that little girl? Is that what you wanna ask me?”

  Vernetta stared back at him, sulking with her eyes. “I didn’t say that. You just looked really nervous, that’s all. That, combined with the fact that you called me in the middle of the night to tell me you’ll always love me, no matter what. Just sounded to me like you had something to feel guilty about.”

  Jefferson chuckled again and reached behind him for his beer. “You know what? The next time I get the urge to tell you how much I love you—day or night—remind me to keep it to my damn self.” He drained the beer can, then opened the refrigerator and grabbed a second one.

  Vernetta buried her hands in the pockets of her robe.

  “I hope you didn’t come all the way down here just to jam me up over something that’s totally in your head,” Jefferson continued. “I thought you knew me better than that. I don’t want that girl and she don’t want my old ass. You’re my wife and I love you. And the fact that you’re standing here telling me you don’t trust me is pretty messed up.”

  Vernetta seemed to be studying his face and Jefferson let her. Staring right back, remaining as expressionless as humanly possible. Vernetta finally grunted and stormed over to the couch.

  Jefferson silently exhaled and took another sip of beer.

  “You ready for me to heat up the barbecue?” Vernetta asked.

  That was a good sign. At least she was still talking to him. He hated it when she gave him the silent treatment. “Let me take a shower first.” Jefferson put the open beer can back inside the refrigerator, pulled off his T-shirt and headed for the bathroom.

  Snatching back the shower curtain, he turned on the shower full force. He had just won round one. Vernetta was probably feeling guilty now for not trusting him. He hated turning the tables on her like that, but he had no other choice. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower. He closed his eyes and relaxed as the warm water pelted his face.

  When Jefferson reached for the soap, he flinched. Vernetta had slipped into the shower and was standing behind him.

  “I didn’t mean to accuse you like that,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, motioning for him to turn around. “I’m sorry.”

  When he did turn around, he welcomed the sight of his wife’s beautiful brown body, wearing nothing but a ridiculous-looking, polka-dot shower cap. She pulled him to her, a move that filled him with relief. Their conversation would be forgotten—for now. Jefferson fully expected that Vernetta would throw her suspicions about LaKeesha in his face for several days, maybe even weeks or months. He would have no problem dealing with his wife’s snide comments about the girl. That was a punishment that fit the crime and he would happily do his time.

  Jefferson pressed Vernetta even closer, enjoying the feel of her naked body against his. He was tired as hell, but the feeling of arousal rising up in him promised to wipe away all evidence of his exhaustion.

  As his wife’s soft lips brushed his chest with kisses, he thought about the incredible make-up sex they were about to have. And that made him smile.

  CHAPTER 45

  Whatever doubts I’d had about my husband’s fidelity, or lack thereof, Jefferson had all but erased them. We had talked frankly about my concerns long into the night, and in the end, I had decided to heed Special’s advice. I didn’t need to go looking for trouble.

  Friday morning, Jefferson and I ate breakfast at IHOP, while Special slept in. When Jefferson headed off to work, I made a few business calls, then worked out in the Residence Inn gym. Later in the day, Special and I strolled through the San Diego Zoo, had lunch at the Cheesecake Factory and caught two movies.

  That evening, Jefferson took us to dinner at a seafood restaurant in the Gaslamp Quarter. Special had threatened to drive back home without me if Jefferson invited Stan along.

  When I began packing on Saturday morning, I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to leave. Jefferson walked out of the shower wrapped in a towel and lay down across the bed, watching me as I stuffed clothes and toiletries into my bag.

  “I’m glad you came down,” he said.

  “Me, too. I wish we could stay longer, but Special has plans tonight.”

  Jefferson grinned. “Whoever the dude is, I feel sorry for him. Dating her has to be damn hard work.”

  I picked up a pillow and hit him with it. “Don’t talk about my friend.”

  He slipped into his clothes while I wrestled with the zipper on my bag.

  “I’ll never understand why you women have to pack so much crap when you travel,” Jefferson teased. “You were only here two days, but there’s enough stuff in there for a three-week cruise.”

  “A woman likes to have choices,” I said.

  Jefferson grabbed my bag and I followed him out the door, toward Special’s room. I knocked but got no answer. I knocked again, then glanced at my watch. We had agreed to leave at eleven o’clock and it was ten minutes after.

  Jefferson turned around and peered over the railing two stories down. “Didn’t Special park over there last night?” He pointed at an empty space in the left corner of the lot below.

  I started to panic as I stared down at the spot where Special’s car should have been. I pulled out my BlackBerry and dialed her number.

  “I’m on my way,” Special said before I could say a word.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “Had to make a quick run over to Jefferson’s office. I lost an earring. But luckily I found it underneath his desk.”

  “Special, what were you really doing at Jefferson’s office? Please tell me you didn’t go over there to start anything with LaKeesha.”

  Jefferson opened his mouth to say something, but I held up my hand, cutting him off.

  “I just told you,” Special said. “I had to look for my earring. I was scared to death that I was going to run into that fat ass Stan. But thank God I didn’t. I’m pulling in the driveway right now. Bye.”

  At that exact moment, Special’s car zoomed into the parking lot below.

  “Special went over to the worksite?” Jefferson asked as we headed downstairs. “For what?”

  “She said she lost an earring and went over there t
o look for it.”

  “She didn’t go over there to look for no earring,” he said. “She probably went over there to finish her little beef with LaKeesha. But she doesn’t work on Saturdays.”

  Jefferson had that same stressed-out look on his face that I had seen when I surprised him in the trailer. Once again, my stomach churned with doubt.

  Special met us before we got to the bottom of the stairs.

  “So, Special,” Jefferson said, “why did you really go back to—”

  She brushed past us, ignoring him. “Here,” she said, stopping to toss her car keys to me. “Go ahead and put your stuff in the car. I’m already packed. I just have to grab my bag.”

  She continued up the stairs two at a time, then stopped at the top and called back to Jefferson. “Hey, brother-in-law, you need better security at your office. They just let anybody walk in. I could’ve stole something, but wasn’t nothing in there worth stealing.”

  Jefferson started to respond, but I tugged at his arm. “Just let it go. If she was up to something, you’ll find out soon enough.”

  When we got to the car, Jefferson tossed my bag into the backseat, then leaned against the passenger door and pulled me to him.

  “Maybe this visit wasn’t such a good idea after all,” Jefferson said, holding me tight. “Now I’m going to miss you even more.”

  “Then I guess it was a good thing,” I said.

  Special jogged down the stairs and dropped her bag next to mine. “Okay, you two, break it up. You’ve got five seconds for one last kiss for the road. And please, no tongues.”

  Jefferson laughed, then promptly took me by the chin and gave me a long, wet kiss. “Call to let me know you made it back, okay?” he said, opening the car door so I could climb in. “And, Special, drive safely. You’re carrying some very precious cargo.”

  “Ain’t nobody more precious to me than me,” she said. “I know what I’m doing behind this wheel.” She started up the engine and slowly backed out of the parking space. Jefferson jogged alongside the car for a few feet, then waved goodbye.

  As the Porsche sped northbound along the San Diego Freeway, I enjoyed feeling the fresh air grazing my face. Maybe I would buy myself a convertible when I made partner. Scratch that. If I made partner.

  Special nudged my arm. “Girl, when did you become hard of hearing?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Did you say something?”

  “I was asking you if everything was okay between you and Jefferson.”

  “I guess so. I had a really good time. I’m glad we made this trip. Thanks for driving.”

  “So you’re not worried that anything’s going on with LaKeesha?”

  “I don’t know.” I turned away. “I’ve never had a reason not to trust Jefferson. He’s not the player type. Frankly, I have too much other stuff to think about right now to be worrying about him screwing around. For the time being, I’m just going to forget about it.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Special said. “So what do you think about Ms. LaKeesha?”

  “I think she reminds me a lot of you. Except she’s about two cup sizes bigger.”

  “Please! Can you believe a child with boobs that big has the nerve to walk around braless? I’m sending her ass a bra as soon as we get back.”

  “Special, you better not.”

  “She won’t know it’s from me.”

  “Special, don’t!” I warned.

  “Okay, fine,” she hissed.

  I turned off the radio and slipped in a John Legend CD.

  “Let’s hear it,” I said, giving my friend a skeptical look. “Why’d you really go back to Jefferson’s office?”

  “I already told you. To look for my earring.”

  “Sure you did.”

  She smiled sheepishly. “And by the way, you owe me big-time for going out to dinner with that asshole, Stan. At least I had me some lobster. I couldn’t believe he actually thought I was going to invite him into my room. That brother’s delusional.”

  “I’m just glad Stan backed up Jefferson’s story about his cousin being accused of sexual harassment,” I said.

  “But I guess it really doesn’t mean much. I’m sure Stan would certainly lie for Jefferson.”

  “I’m sure he would,” Special said.

  I sighed. “Like I said, I really don’t want to think about this stuff anymore.”

  “Don’t worry,” Special said. “I got a feeling you’ll find out soon enough whether anything went down.” She looked over at me and smiled.

  “Okay, Special, what do you know that I don’t?”

  “Nothing yet,” she said with a smug expression, her eyes glued to the road. “But you never know what I might find out.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Just after seven on Monday morning, I walked into the lobby of the O’Reilly & Finney building and spotted Haley coming out of Starbucks. I looked directly at her, but she pretended not to see me and headed in the opposite direction. I just hoped running into her this early in the morning was not an omen about how the rest of my day would go.

  When I got to my office, I had a zillion e-mail messages to read and several phone calls to return, but no major fires to put out. After responding to a few e-mails, I scanned the Internet to see if there were any new reports concerning Micronics’s GAP-7 Program and the crash of that transport plane in Iraq. But the story seemed to have run its course.

  I worked until almost eight, then headed over to 24 Hour Fitness for a late-night workout. After forty-five minutes on the treadmill and one hundred sit-ups, I retired to the dry sauna.

  I had the tiny wooden room all to myself for about twenty minutes. Then somebody invaded my space.

  “Wow, it’s really hot in here tonight,” said an unfamiliar voice.

  I was stretched out on an upper bench, lying on my stomach with my head facing the back wall. I did not appreciate the intrusion. I hoped my silence would communicate to my intruder that I was not in the mood for conversation.

  “You’re an attorney, aren’t you?”

  I did not bother to open my eyes or turn around to check out my sauna mate. I was too exhausted to care how this woman knew what I did for a living. I just wanted her to cut the small talk. I responded with a curt “Yes.”

  “And don’t you represent Micronics?”

  At that question, I perked up. Resting my upper body on my forearms, I turned to face the woman. She was African-American, probably in her late fifties, with speckles of gray throughout her short, stylish haircut. Her face looked vaguely familiar, but I could not place it. She had on a bright orange, one-piece bathing suit and was holding a paperback book. I only hoped she would start reading it.

  “Look, let me be honest,” the woman continued, apparently sensing my frustration. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a long time. My name is Norma. Norma Brown. I work in HR at Micronics. I’m an administrative assistant. I’ve seen you meeting with Rich Ferris. He’s my boss. I’ve also seen you here a couple of times and I’ve been hoping to run into you again. I was too afraid to call your office. Tonight I finally got lucky.”

  I turned over on my back and closed my eyes. I knew precisely what was coming next. The woman was having a problem at work and wanted me to do something about it.

  “I need to talk to you about the Randle case,” she said, a little less timidly now. “There’s some crazy stuff going on down there. The way they treated that man just wasn’t right.”

  My eyes popped opened. The Randle case was the last subject I wanted to talk about. The best thing about my trip to San Diego was that it allowed me some time to think about something other than Henry Randle and Karen Carruthers. “I’m not handling that case anymore,” I said.

  “I just couldn’t sit by and do nothing,” Norma continued as if she had not heard a word I said. “I thought about calling Randle’s attorney, but I’m not trying to lose my job or nothing. I figured since you work for the company, if you really knew what was going
on, you might be able to do something about it.”

  The woman opened the center of the book and pulled out some papers that were folded into quarters. “I have something I want you to take a look at.” She unfolded the papers and extended them to me.

  I did not reach for them. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a report about the Randle case prepared by one of our former attorneys. I worked with Mr. Randle for close to ten years. Ain’t no way he grabbed that woman. And this report proves that he didn’t.”

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “Somebody left it on the copy machine and I made a copy of it.”

  “I can’t look at that,” I said. “And you could get into a lot of trouble for making a copy.”

  Norma looked both shocked and hurt.

  I knew something was not kosher with the Randle case. And after Carruthers’s death and the news story about that plane crash, my doubts about the case had only grown. But for all I knew, this could be another setup. I didn’t buy Porter’s story that Micronics was only surveilling Randle and his attorneys. I wouldn’t put it past them to hire somebody like Norma to put me to the test.

  A sun-starved white woman strolled into the sauna and flopped down on the bench next to Norma and started slapping lemon-scented oil on her arms and legs. After about two minutes of heavy panting, she left.

  Norma folded the papers and placed them back inside the book. As she got up to leave, I began to feel bad about brushing her off.

  “Look, I’m not sure what’s going on,” I said, just before Norma made it to the door. “But I agree with you. Something isn’t right about that case.”

  I knew I was taking a chance, but I was dying to know once and for all whether Randle was being framed. Maybe the papers in Norma’s hand could tell me. I climbed down to the lower bench.

  “Why don’t you sit back down?” I said.

  A hopeful smile spread across Norma’s face and she eagerly took a seat next to me.