Envy

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “That’s not true; you’ve done a great job building your business.”

  “But without Justus . . . without his business, without his investment, our business won’t survive. And it’s not just about me. There’s Regan and the associates, not to mention Keisha and Mattie. So many people will be affected if I close the business.”

  “Again, I didn’t say anything about closing. I think you can make it,” he said. “Move out of your Beverly Hills office; that will save a fortune. Move to . . . Culver City.”

  With my fingertips, I massaged my temples. “I have a PR firm. This is all about image.”

  “Then”—he shrugged—“I don’t have anything else for you. I just know that you have to either get rid of him or get rid of the business.”

  “It’s the same thing. Why would you ask me to do this?”

  He lowered his head and sighed.

  I eased back down onto the sofa and put my hand on his shoulder. “Mauricio, all you need to know and believe is that I love you.”

  Slowly, he raised his gaze to mine. After a couple of seconds, he uttered just two words: “Prove it.” Then he pushed himself up.

  And as he walked away, I knew he was doing more than just walking out of this room; my husband was actually walking away from me.

  38

  Keisha

  I paced the length of my bedroom with all kinds of images in my mind. I wished that Gabrielle had let me stay so I could see everything. It was already better than anything I could have planned. The melee at the festival—my God!

  I bounced down onto the bed. The press release had worked. Not that I’d had much hope, especially since I’d sent it from a fake email. I wasn’t sure that anyone would answer, and definitely not this soon.

  The creaking of the garage made me dash to the window. It was just turning dark, but there was enough light to see the Range Rover.

  Mauricio.

  I doubted that Gabrielle was with him since she’d driven her own car this morning. What should I do?

  Gabrielle and Mauricio thought I was with Regan. But the moment I got in the car with her best witch and the husband, I’d told them to bring me home. There was no way I wanted to sit in her house and watch her clean her broom. It was no surprise to me when Regan obliged me.

  But now—should I let Mauricio know I was here? Should I talk to him? Maybe console him?

  Moving to the door, I paused, then sat back down.

  No, talking to him wasn’t a good idea. What would I say?

  But then . . . there had to be something. Mauricio liked me. Jumping up, I reached for the door, but the moment my hand touched the doorknob, once again, I sat back down.

  I needed to just let this play out.

  All of the questions kept me inside my bedroom as I heard Mauricio’s footsteps on the stairs. Then there was silence when he reached the landing, and the carpet quieted his steps. But as I pressed my ear to the door, I could feel when he passed by.

  I counted the seconds that it would take for him to get to their bedroom, then I peeked out. The moment he turned on the light, I eased my bedroom door closed.

  The question was still in my mind—what should I do? But before I could think, the garage opened again. I rushed over just in time to see the Lexus roll inside.

  Now I knew for sure—I was going to stay in my room, let them think they were alone so I could see how this played out.

  Returning to the door, I pressed my ear against it and heard the same sounds: Gabrielle on the stairs, then silence, though I felt her passing by.

  “Mauricio,” she called out.

  I kicked off my shoes, then eased open my door and slipped into the hallway. Pressing my back against the wall, I edged inch by inch closer to their bedroom. My heart hurt my chest the way it pounded—I wasn’t sure if it was fear of being caught or the excitement of what I might hear.

  “What do you mean by ‘prove it’?” Gabrielle said. “What will walking away from my business prove?”

  “It will prove you decided not to walk away from your marriage.”

  I gasped and covered my mouth.

  “I don’t want to walk away from my marriage, but I want to keep my business.”

  “You can’t. Not if you want to keep me. Because I refuse to be constantly disrespected by that jackass. If his planting that story isn’t proof to you, then . . .”

  Now I pressed my hand to my chest. Mauricio thought Justus had planted the story?

  Mauricio’s voice floated once again into the hallway. “He’s trying to destroy us, and I can’t give him the room to do that.”

  There was silence, so much that I began to step back toward my bedroom.

  But then Gabrielle said, “What are you doing?” Then, “Where are you going?”

  I stopped.

  Mauricio said, “We need a little time and space.”

  “This isn’t the way, Mauricio.”

  “It’s the only thing I can do right now. I need room to think; you need room to decide.”

  “Walking away has never solved anything,” Gabrielle said with tears in her voice.

  “Well, staying here sure won’t either. Because while I don’t want to fight, what’s more hurtful is looking into your eyes and knowing this is even a choice for you.”

  I heard Gabrielle sob, and I did a quick side-step move back to my bedroom. Closing the door behind me, I stood there for a moment, just listening.

  I felt a little tinge in my heart, a soft ache. Gabrielle was crying. I hadn’t really thought about this part.

  Then their voices were in the hallway.

  “Mauricio, please.”

  There was silence in the space where his response should have been. Then I heard their footsteps on the stairs. When I was sure they had cleared the steps, I tiptoed out of my bedroom.

  “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” Mauricio’s voice came from around the corner. “Kiss Bella for me.”

  The door from the house to the garage opened, then closed. I crept halfway down the stairs, but paused when I heard Gabrielle sobbing.

  Turning back, I moved as fast as I could without making a sound, returning to my room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I’d expected to feel jubilant. With her marriage falling apart, I was one step closer to getting what I wanted. Everything was coming together, right? So why did I now suddenly feel so wrong?

  Grabbing my cell, I tiptoed across the room. Talking to Buck would help me get my mind back on track. He’d help me remember my objective, and he’d help me get to the finish line.

  Stepping inside the bathroom, I closed the door behind me.

  39

  Keisha

  I was up. I was dressed. I was ready. And it wasn’t even seven yet. I peeked into the hallway, and one of the double doors to their bedroom was open, but the house was silent.

  Closing my bedroom door, I decided to wait at least a little while longer. When I reached for my cell, I didn’t go into the bathroom. There was no need. I had a feeling Gabrielle would sleep through this whole day if I let her.

  I dialed Buck’s number, and like last night, it went straight to voice mail. This was weird. I’d expected Buck to be blowing up my phone, knowing that yesterday was Justus’s festival. But Buck hadn’t answered last night, and I didn’t bother to leave him another voice mail. Instead, I sent him a text:

  Where are you?

  Not even five seconds passed before my phone vibrated:

  Can’t talk right now, but got a ?. You got any more credit card numbers?

  Why was he asking me that right now? I shook my head. Que was probably pressing him. That was cool because in a few weeks, Buck would be out here with me and that credit card scam would be behind us.

  I texted back:

  No, call me so I can tell you what happened. Big news.

  His text came back:

  Okay.

  I waited for him to text something else, but that was it. He must have been distracted, though I didn’t kno
w what he had going on this early on a Sunday.

  Tossing the phone onto the bed, I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, but all that was on were those TV preachers. So I muted the screen, then sat, just staring, just thinking.

  I wasn’t sure which part of my plan was done—was Gabrielle’s marriage ruined or was she about to lose her business? Maybe it was both. So now what did that mean for me? I had to get in touch with Justus. I had to let him know that I could take over—and after what I’d pulled off yesterday, he’d believe me. Except for the fight, the family festival had been beyond flawless.

  The clock took its time ticking off the minutes, and after about fifteen or so, I couldn’t wait anymore.

  Stepping from my bedroom, I moved down the hallway and tapped on the door to Gabrielle’s bedroom. Then I peeked inside.

  “Gabrielle?” I whispered.

  She didn’t move, and I stepped in. Tiptoeing to her side of her bed, I stood over her. The duvet was pulled almost to her head, but I could see her eyes; she was in a deep sleep, which didn’t surprise me. When Nzuri died, sleep was all I wanted. Maybe that was how Gabrielle felt right now.

  Leaving as quietly as I came, I closed both of her bedroom doors, then stood in the hallway, not really sure what to do next. Dang, I really wished I could talk to Buck.

  I returned to my bedroom and grabbed my cell. Maybe I’d get something to eat, and by then, Buck would call. But as I got to the bottom of the stairs, the doorbell rang.

  Peeking through the side glass panel, I groaned. What was the best witch doing here? And then I remembered . . . she had Bella. Placing my cell on the table, I swung open the door, and my smile was wide as the best person in California stood in front of me.

  “Hey.” I knelt down. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, but her eyes were puffy, like she’d been crying a lot, and I pulled her into a hug.

  Finally standing up, I told Regan, “You can leave now.”

  She shook her head, stepped in, and closed the door behind her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  It wasn’t her words that made me frown; I was so used to her being rude. But there was something in her tone. More disdain than normal.

  She asked, “Where’re Gabby and Mauricio?”

  Before I answered her, I said, “Bella, can you do me a favor and go up to your room? I’ll come up in a minute, okay?”

  She nodded, then after she took a couple of steps, she turned back and hugged Regan. I wanted to snatch her away from that witch, but I stayed still and pretended to smile.

  At least Regan had enough grace not to say anything until Bella was up the stairs. Then she turned to me. “Are they in the kitchen?”

  I smirked. “If they were, don’t you think they would’ve been out here by now?” I folded my arms. “They’re not home.”

  And for the first time, Regan said out loud what she’d been saying to me with her eyes from the moment she’d met me. “You’re a liar.” Then she moved toward the stairs.

  I jumped in front of her. “Where are you going?”

  “Move out of my way, Keisha.”

  “Who’s gonna make me, boo?”

  She squinted as if she didn’t understand my English. “What?”

  I shook my head. “I told you, they’re not home, so you’re not welcome in this house.”

  She laughed right in my face. “What did you just call me? Was it boo? Let me tell you something . . . boo . . . I’m more welcome in this house than you will ever be. In fact, when I finish telling them what I know, you’ll be out, taken away in handcuffs preferably.”

  Her words distracted me—that was the only reason why she got by. But I recovered quickly and charged up the steps, nudging her out of the way. I was younger, and I wasn’t pregnant, so I made it to the top first, and this time, I blocked her path completely. “You’re not going anywhere,” I spat.

  “You think this is gonna stop me from telling Gabrielle and Mauricio that you are nothing but a dirty little liar and a thief?”

  My eyes narrowed.

  She chuckled. “You don’t have anything to say now, huh? Well, I have a lot to say. A lot to tell them about what you’ve been doing with their credit cards.”

  I swallowed.

  “And a lot to tell them about what you told Justus.”

  There was no way for me to swallow again because the lump that filled my throat came quick and was like a plug that threatened to stop me from breathing.

  “Oh, yeah, I spoke to Justus, and I’ve been speaking to the police for a couple of weeks. And, add on what I know about the National Intruder . . . It is over for you. Get out of my way.”

  It was because she pushed me that I pushed her back. That was the only way to stop her from what she was about to do, the only way to stop her from ruining my plans.

  But when I did, I pushed her with a force that was filled with every emotion Regan brought out of me. I pushed her so she would know how much I hated her.

  And then time stopped.

  That was how it felt at first when Regan’s eyes widened with shock and fear just before her arms flailed in the air.

  She fell backward.

  Then time moved, but it crept forward so slowly as Regan tumbled, tumbled, tumbled.

  Down every step.

  Hitting.

  Each.

  One.

  Hard.

  I watched, incapable of moving, not even able to do so when she landed at the bottom, headfirst.

  Still I stood and stared. Still I stood and listened to her moans. Still I stood, until . . .

  “Auntie Regan!”

  Now I moved. “Bella,” I whispered, facing her.

  “What’s wrong with Auntie Regan?” she whimpered.

  “Nothing.” I looked down the steps and said the first thing that came to my mind. “She’s asleep.”

  “No, she’s not,” Bella said and jerked her arms from my grasp. “I’m going to get Mommy.”

  She darted around me, but I was faster. Before she got to Gabrielle’s room, I grabbed her.

  “Let me go!” she screamed.

  I muffled her cries with my hand over her mouth. “Please, please, Bella. Please,” I kept saying as I tucked her under my arm, then carried her like a sack down the stairs. I kept my eyes raised, not wanting to see the sight at the bottom.

  Bella cried and kicked; it was hard to smother her screams, but I tried. All I could do was pray that Gabrielle wouldn’t hear anything. Not until I could get away.

  At the bottom, I paused. The only way I could get to the front door was if I stepped over Regan.

  “Auntie Regan,” Bella cried.

  That was when I looked down. That was when I saw . . . all the blood.

  Regan’s eyes were glassy as she held out her hand. “Help. Me,” she gasped.

  I closed my eyes; I needed to think. I needed a plan. To get away.

  “Help. Me.”

  Regan’s whimpers assaulted me more than the screams coming from Bella.

  “Help. Me.”

  I hated Regan. And if I let her, she would tell Gabrielle everything. I had no idea how she’d found out, but I knew that she knew enough.

  “Help. Me.”

  The plan began to formulate in my mind. I could take Regan’s purse; the keys to her car and her money would be in there. That would be enough until I could get in touch with Buck. That would be enough for me and Bella for now.

  Stepping over Regan, it was hard to balance myself as Bella squirmed. But I made it to the other side.

  Leaning over, I reached for Regan’s purse, which was still on her shoulder.

  But then.

  The blood.

  It was staining her dress. Between her legs.

  Regan’s baby.

  “Help. Me.”

  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. No . . . that wasn’t true. I could think, but all I could think about was the baby. And Nzuri.

  And . . . “Auntie Keisha, le
t me go.”

  Bella.

  With a sob, I lowered Bella to the floor, then grabbed my cell from the table.

  I had one final thought before I did what I had to do: Babies don’t die.

  I glanced down at Regan and called 911.

  Epilogue

  Keisha

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  The hardest part of everything was that Regan’s baby died.

  Really, that was the only thing that I cared about: Regan’s baby died, just like mine.

  From the moment I made the call that day, and then sat on the staircase and watched and waited, I knew. It was because the stain on Regan’s dress kept getting deeper and deeper. When her eyes finally closed, I was sure she was dead, too.

  Even then, I didn’t move. I stayed in place as Bella ran up the stairs and woke up Gabrielle. She’d stumbled out of her bedroom and then staggered down the stairs right as the paramedics arrived.

  It was too late, though. That was what I told all of them.

  “Her baby’s dead,” I’d said to Gabrielle and the men she’d let in the door. “Babies do die.”

  “Keisha!”

  The shout of my name took me away from my memories. From where I lay on the bottom cot, I didn’t have to turn my head much to look up at Beth.

  She said, “Today’s the day, huh?”

  I blinked, which to Beth meant I’d not only said yes, but had given her permission to continue. And she did. “You don’t have to worry,” she said as if I’d told her I was afraid. “Sentencing is nowhere near as bad as a trial.”

  Then she lowered herself onto the edge of my bunk and continued like the expert that her three sentencing hearings made her. “All you gotta do is listen to the victims’ statements, and then anyone who wants to ask for leniency on your behalf. And then the judge will say how much time you’re gonna get. Okay?”

  I blinked, and she patted my hand as if she were my lawyer. When I blinked again, she held out her fist and I bumped mine against hers just so she’d leave me alone.

  She grinned, pivoted, then strolled right out of our cell, probably headed to the rec room to watch TV, which is something I didn’t do much. I never felt like fighting over what was on. Most of the women here were older, so they liked shows like The Golden Girls and Murder, She Wrote. I passed on all of those—I preferred my TV stars alive.