After All

by Emery, Lynn

  Bridges began breathing heavily as his eyes traveled down her soft curves. “Sure, babe. You and me. Just let me freshen up.” He looked down at his shirt in embarrassment. “I've been sweating like a pig for three hours afraid you wouldn't come.”

  “Okay, but don't make me wait for my man too long. I've missed the way you touch me.” Charlotte puckered her lips at him. At the sound of the shower behind the closed bathroom door, she turned to smile at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips curved up in a satisfied sneer. “Girl, you've got it going on.”

  **

  Anthony let himself into Ike's large two story house with his key. The only vehicle in the driveway was Ike's fancy pick-up truck. Even so, Anthony called out. When there was no answer, he went upstairs. He opened the door to a large bedroom dominated by a queen sized black lacquer bed. Moving quickly, he searched through drawers then started going through the large walk-in closet. A top shelf was piled with miscellaneous junk including a collection of adult magazines. Anthony pushed it aside and noticed an old gym bag stuffed way back into a corner. Using a small step stool, he was just able to reach it. The bag contained a small hand gun, a plastic sandwich bag of marijuana, and a purple folder.

  “Well, well.”Marcus leaned against the door frame of the closet.”Nice of you to drop by, cuz. You lost something in my bedroom?”

  Anthony held up the folder. “Is this what I think it is?”

  Marcus eyed the folder uneasily, yet still put on a face of false bravado. “Gee, if you think it’s a folder then you win a prize.”

  “Oh, it's more than just a folder. It’s the folder you stole from Michelle's desk at Channel Twelve.” Anthony opened it and flipped through several pages.

  “Who me? Get serious. I've never been near that station.”

  “You or one of your scuzzy little friends. Same species of rodents.” Anthony grunted with disgust.

  “You've been asking for an ass whipping a long time,” Marcus said through clenched teeth.

  “I knew you'd be too arrogant or scheming to destroy it.” Anthony scanned the papers. “Planning a little blackmail I'd bet.”

  Marcus pulled a small gun from his belt “Drop it right back in the bag. Now,” he growled. “This may be your last time getting in my damn way.”

  Anthony did as he was told. “The cops are closing in, Marcus. Those invoices are the least of your worries.”

  “Don't count on it. Move.” Marcus waved him out of the closet with the gun. “Go on, down the stairs.”

  “You're going to kill me like you killed Troy Quarles?” Anthony walked ahead of him into Ike's office.

  “Oh, I didn't kill Troy. You did, remember?” Marcus jeered.

  “Pretty pleased with yourself for setting me up, huh?” Anthony heard the click of the back door. Marcus's expression didn't change and Anthony realized he had not heard the sound. “Who helped you do it?”

  Ike walked through the door.” Marcus, put that thing down,” he bellowed. “Somebody tell me what the hell is going on in here.”

  Marcus lowered the gun. “I caught him burglarizing the place. Probably looking for evidence to rat you out or plant a bug for the cops.” His eyes were hostile slits.

  Ike turned on Anthony. “What is he talking about?”

  Anthony stared at Marcus. “I found Michelle's notes on the Housing Authority story in his room. Marcus talked about her missing purple note book when I was here three weeks ago. I figured there was only one way he could know exactly what it looked like.”

  “Fool! What did you keep the damn thing for?” Ike snarled at Marcus.

  Anthony gazed at his uncle with distaste. “You knew he had it?”

  “Hell no. If I had, it would be a pile of ashes.” Ike shot his son a venomous look. “Get rid of it today.” He turned to Anthony. “And you.. go on home. Go on,” he said in a voice heavy with regret.

  ***

  Michelle and Earl stood amidst the pack of reporters surrounding Ike and his attorney. Questions were being thrown at them from all sides.

  A reporter from the New Orleans Times Picayune called out. “Mr. Batiste, was it a shock to learn that your long-time friend and business associate, James Bridges, agreed to testify against you and Charlotte Kinchen for the US Attorney?”

  “My client is confident that he will be cleared of all charges. Mr. Bridges is lying to save his own skin.” The attorney spoke in a monotone.

  “So you plan to enter a not guilty plea?” Earl yelled.

  “My client emphatically denies all charges made against him.”

  Michelle stepped forward. “Does that include involvement in alleged drug dealing and murder? What about your son's connection to Lonnie Mason and the Park Avenue Posse? Sources say a gang member will testify that your son arranged major drug shipments; that he helped Mason murder Troy Quarles when they suspected him of stealing some of the cocaine.”

  Ike's face twisted with rage when he turned to look at her. He opened his mouth but was cut off by his lawyer.

  “Mr. Batiste has never been involved in any criminal activity. He has been a hard working member of this community for over twenty years. There is not one shred of evidence to prove otherwise. That's all,” the lawyer spoke curtly. He grabbed Ike's arm and led him away walking at a fast pace. A steel gray Mercedes Benz pulled up to curb just as they went through the double glass doors of the court building. Ike shoved several reporters as they plowed through them to reach it.

  “Here come the others,” a voice called out.

  The reporters turned as one like a pack of wolves scenting fresh meat. Charlotte Kinchen stared around her with reddened glazed eyes. Her attorney guided her gently with a hand on her back. James Bridges emerged from another hallway surrounded by federal marshals. Charlotte's eyes burned with fury at the sight of him. She lunged forward knocking her attorney aside. Somehow she managed to claw her way past the marshals who were taken by surprise at her attack. Bridges howled when her long nails raked his face.

  “You filthy no good bastard!” She struggled to get at him again, but three marshals pinned her arms behind her.

  Bridges was hustled to a waiting elevator while reporters clamored to get footage of a screaming, cursing Charlotte being dragged away.

  “Oo-wee, is she mad.” Earl let out a long whistle. “That lady came close to taking him out.”

  “Yeah, Bridges did a job on everybody. He pointed the feds to all the skeletons in Ike's closet and got the goods on Charlotte.” Michelle shook her head in wonder at the turn of events.

  “Miss Cutie-Pie thought she had the old boy wrapped around her little finger. And all the time he's wearing a wire. Those tapes are kinda hard to explain away.” Earl let out a sharp laugh.

  “Can you believe she tried to sell that tale about conducting her own secret investigation? And that her affair with Lonnie Mason and Ike was part of it?” Michelle tucked her note pad into her purse and followed Earl outside.

  “Gotta give her credit for coming up with a creative story.” Earl glanced at his watch. “Wow, I better get moving. This is going to be the lead story on the five and six o'clock shows. See ya, kiddo.” He dashed for the Channel Twelve car where Bob was already waiting.

  Michelle waved goodbye to them then turned to gaze back at the courthouse. For years she had hoped for the day when Ike Batiste would be held to account for his actions. Now she felt sadness instead at the lives destroyed. She walked away thinking of how she could comfort Anthony.

  ***

  A warm breeze rippled through the leaves causing a soft rustle that seemed to be nature's way of murmuring contentment. Anthony and Michelle strolled the paved path through the gardens on Avery Island. White and pink azaleas bloomed. The delicate lavender petals of wisteria swept the ground. Michelle breathed in deeply as they passed fragrant gardenias in full bloom. They both savored the pastoral peace after the uproar of the past few weeks. Finding a stone bench, they sat down.

  Michelle rested her head on
Anthony's shoulder as they gazed at the little bayou that snaked through the island. The water made a soothing sound as it lapped against the embankment. “It's been a wonderful three days. I hate to go home.”

  Anthony kissed her forehead. “I know what you mean. But the real honeymoon is only a couple of months away.”

  “Wasn't it wonderful of Mama and Daddy to give us a Caribbean cruise as a wedding present? They've both been great these past few weeks.”

  “Both of them are special people. She and Mama did a fantastic job on the wedding and the reception. And your Dad had a ball showing off his dancing skills. They really seem to care about each other.” Anthony smiled.

  “Yes, I think they do.”

  Michelle thought of the subtle change in her parent. Gone was the brooding tension between them that often exploded into animosity. It was touching to watch them treat each other with tender consideration. Michelle no longer doubted that marriage could be a beautiful part of life. She gazed down at her wedding ring and the matching band of gold on Anthony's finger. They seemed to glow with a magical sparkle.

  “Aruba, Barbados and St. Maarten. Especially the French side of St. Maarten with those nude beaches.” He winked at her.

  Michelle giggled. “No thanks. I plan to keep my clothes on, sir.”At least in public,” she breathed, stroking his chest.

  Anthony laughed deep in his throat. “Umm-mm, I'll settle for that.”

  Michelle sighed. “It'll be good to be far away in another world for a while.” Though she didn't mention the trials or Ike, Anthony seemed to be reading her mind.

  “I've never seen Uncle Ike looked defeated before.” Anthony's eyes clouded with sorrow. “It hurts to see him suffering in spite of all the wrong he's done. I feel like I've lost two fathers.”

  Michelle held him a tighter. “I'm sorry it had to end the way it did.”

  Anthony searched her eyes and found only sincere sadness. “You really mean that.”

  Michelle caressed the dark, tight curls of hair at his temples. “Losing someone you love is horrible. What hurts you hurts me.”

  The sorrow melted away, replaced by a soft, loving smile. “Having you means I can face anything. Nothing and no one will ever come between us again. Lady, you're stuck with me,” he teased.

  Michelle felt a quiet joy. The future opened before her like a beautiful flower, a future shared with this magnificent man. She lifted her mouth to his.”I wouldn't have it any other way,” she murmured.

  Read More of the Louisiana Love Series: Vol. 1

  Love with a Spicy Southern Flavor!

  ~ AFTER ALL ~

  Neva Ross returns to her small hometown of Solitude, Louisiana; a fitting name for the life she’s decided to live. She’s convinced herself that love is not worth the pain that comes with it, especially after the death of her husband. But when she meets handsome Chandler Macklin their mutual attraction is undeniable.

  Chandler Macklin has gone through a nasty divorce, and has decided to take a break from romantic entanglements. He is determined to concentrate of being a good father to his son and his career. Then he meets lovely Neva Ross, the desire to be near her is intense. When Chandler’s ex-wife wants to reconcile he’s torn between providing a stable home life for his son, and the growing passion he feels for Neva. Faced with a difficult choice, Neva and Chandler must decide if they will turn away from each other or hold on to love.

  ~ ONE LOVE ~

  Lanessa Thomas is proud of her life. She recovered from addiction, and started her own successful business. She wants to repair the damage she did to those who loved her most, especially Alexander St. Romaine. They shared a love that Lanessa managed to destroy, but at least Alex found happiness.

  Alex has moved on, or so he thinks. Until he looks into her eyes, hears her voice, and feels the same heat from the old days.

  When Lanessa uncovers possible criminal wrongdoing, the ruthless businessmen set out to destroy her reputation. Alex and Lanessa have to overcome distrust from the past to hold on to the one love neither got over.

  ~~ About the Author ~~

  Mix knowledge of voodoo, Louisiana politics and forensic social work with the dedication to write fiction while working each day as a clinical social worker, and you get a snapshot of author Lynn Emery. Lynn has been a contributing consultant to the magazine Today’s Black Woman for three articles about contemporary relationships between black men and women. For more information visit:

  Visit me on the web at:

  www. lynnemery. com

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  Twitter: www. twitter. com/LEmeryWriter