The Eternal Engagement

by Mary B. Morrison

  Looking out his driver’s side window, Lincoln suggested, “Why don’t you stay at your mother’s house until we go back to Seattle after the New Year?”

  Bam! Bam! Bam! Mona stumped on the dashboard.

  “Pull over to the side of the road,” Mona said, grabbing the steering wheel.

  “Let go!” he yelled, breaking her grip. “You’re crazy!”

  “No, you’re crazy! What the hell is wrong with you! Are you saying we’re not keeping the New Year’s Eve plans I made to take you to New York? I just spent a thousand dollars on airline reservations.”

  The argument wasn’t worth it. He’d survived more serious situations. Breathing deeply, he fought to hold back the anxiety attack brewing inside him.

  “Like it or not, you are going,” she yelled.

  Nobody told her to buy those tickets to New York. She was the one who raved about how much fun she had there one summer and how they’d have fun watching the ball drop in Times Square. Maybe if she’d asked him, he would’ve gone. But the plan was all hers.

  “Answer me!” Slap! Her hand landed against the side of his face.

  His foot pressed the pedal to the floor. The car accelerated from sixty, to seventy, to eighty, to ninety, to a hundred, to a hundred and twenty. He swerved between cars on U.S. 80. Gaining on a eighteen-wheeler, he cut to the left at the last moment.

  “Ahh! Stop it, Lincoln, you’re going to kill us!” Mona’s eyeballs protruded from the sockets as she gripped the sides of the seat. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She constantly apologized.

  Determined to get away from her, he slowed down enough to safely exit and drove straight to his grandparents’ house. He held on to the car keys and confronted Mona. “You want to control everything about me. I’m not a child. I have a child I need to see. And when the fuck were you going to tell me,” he shouted, “that your ass is already fucking married?”

  Mona’s jaw dropped. “I, I, I—”

  “Save it, Mona! Katherine told me and I didn’t want to believe her, but I can see she’s the one who told me the truth. Not you!”

  He released the trunk, got out of the car, slammed the car door. Mona got out of the car too.

  “Let’s talk about this,” she pleaded.

  Lincoln removed his duffel bag from the trunk, slammed the trunk, then threw the car keys at Mona. The keys hit where he’d aimed, in her chest. He wanted to throw them in her face but didn’t want to be responsible for taking her to the hospital if he put her eye out.

  “Oh, my God,” his grandfather cried out. “Honey, you’re not going to believe this.”

  His grandfather ran to him. Lincoln was prepared to apologize for his treatment of Mona until his grandfather wrapped his arms around him and started crying. “Grandson, it’s so good to see you. Your grandmother is really going to think she’s died and gone to heaven. Let me take your bag.”

  “I got it, Grandfather.”

  “What you think, an old man like me can’t carry a heavy load? Boy, give me that bag,” he insisted.

  Lincoln glanced over his shoulder at Mona. If that was his last time seeing her, it would be all right with him. She sped across the driveway, across the lawn, and onto the street.

  His grandfather stopped. Turned around. “Who in the world is that?”

  “Nobody important. Just someone who gave me a ride.”

  Entering the house, Lincoln’s grandfather dropped his bag by the door.

  Lincoln had one more of Mona’s checks in his bag, and this time he’d write it for enough to cover his expenses for six months. Since she wanted to make him financially dependent, she’d support him his way, not hers.

  CHAPTER 61

  Mona

  December 2010

  “Excuse me. Run that by me again?”

  “Miss, your debit card transaction wasn’t approved,” the cashier said.

  On her way from Lincoln’s grandparents’ house yesterday, she’d stopped at the gas station/convenience store across the street from her hotel in Prattville. She was pissed that she’d had to spend the night alone, so she’d downgraded from the Presidential Cottage to a standard room with a king-sized bed. The two bottles of merlot she’d bought last night were empty.

  She placed the bottles outside her room, near the door, then made her way back to the convenience store for the cashier to tell her what? She wasn’t up for his foolishness. She needed two more this morning and she needed them now!

  Had to numb the pain in her heart. After all she’d done for him? Now she understood how desperately wanting someone who didn’t want you caused people like her husband to drown their sorrows with alcohol.

  Lincoln’s fast driving made her accept responsibility for pushing him too far. Christmas was five days away. She had to get back with Lincoln before he got with Katherine and his son.

  “Run it again,” Mona insisted, watching him scan both bottles of wine. She swiped her card, entered her PIN number.

  He shook his head. “It’s not approved, miss.”

  Mona handed him a fifty to show she could afford her purchase. She grabbed her bag, got in her car, and drove straight to her main bank branch in Selma.

  Not signing in or waiting for an invite, she approached the banker, sat at his desk. She plopped down her Bakersfield driver’s license and her debit card. “What the fuck is happening with my account? Why couldn’t I”—she placed the two bottles of wine and the receipt on his desk—“pay for this with my card? Why! When I have over two million dollars at this bank.”

  He stared at her. “Calm down. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “Calm down! Don’t tell me to calm the fuck down! It ain’t your money, but if you don’t figure this out it sure as hell is going to be your problem.”

  He glanced at her ID. “Hey, your husband was in here about a week and a half ago.”

  “And?”

  “Steven Cunningham, right?”

  “And? What does that have to do with my—” Mona froze. Damn!

  She quieted herself. “Now I really need to know what’s happening with my money.” After scribbling her account number on a piece of paper, she watched him tap on his computer keys.

  He frowned. Tapped on a few more keys. “Damn,” he mouthed. “This can’t be right.”

  “What can’t be right?” she asked, sitting on the edge of her seat.

  He went to the printer, handed her five sheets of paper. “Did you approve these?”

  The first check was payable and paid to William Lincoln, sixty grand. The second, to Steven, sixty thousand. The third, to Steven for a hundred grand. The fourth to Steven for two hundred fifty thousand. And the fifth, yesterday for a hundred thousand payable and paid today to William Lincoln, had overdrawn her checking account.

  “Is this correct?” the banker asked. “Your husband reordered checks on your account.”

  Mona countered, “He’s not on my account. Did you approve that?”

  “He’s not? Are you sure?” The banker’s eyes stretched wide. “Um, I can explain. Because he was only reordering checks, I thought it was okay.”

  She pounded her fist on his desk. “You’d best start looking for another job, mister. Close that account and give me ten thousand dollars cash from one of my CDs. I’ll decide by tomorrow where I’m transferring my other investments, but I will not be a customer here and this bank will give me back my money and I don’t care if they have to take it out of your check or your ass, you hear me!” Shoving the copies of the checks and the cash in her purse, Mona left the bottles of wine and exited the bank without saying another word.

  Sitting in her rental car, Mona dialed Lincoln’s cell. No answer. She called again, again, again, and again, but he didn’t answer. “That’s okay. You can’t hide from me forever,” she said, driving off.

  Mona drove in front of the Morning to You, America television studio. “What is this? Fuck with Mona Lisa Day?” Her mouth hung open. She made a U-turn, parked across the street. S
he could’ve made a scene that would’ve prompted any witness to dial 9-1-1. Instead, she sat in her rental outside the studio and watched them.

  Steven’s car was parked in front of the building. Mona slumped in her seat, watched him. Katherine danced out the door, got into Steven’s car. “Aw, hell, no.” Mona made another U-turn, followed them. Careful to stay several cars behind, she trailed them all the way to . . . the hotel where she was staying?

  She wanted to jump out of her car and commence whipping Steven’s ass like she was a guest on an episode of Cheaters. Her legs began to shake uncontrollably. She rubbed her thighs. She didn’t follow them. If they were checking in, she could find out by calling and asking for Steven’s or Katherine’s room, but that wouldn’t confirm what room they were in. Maybe she could pretend she was Katherine’s assistant, say Katherine left her laptop and she had to deliver it to her. That’s stupid, Mona. They’ll know you’re lying.

  She thought for a moment, then said, “Yeah, that’ll work.” A smile crept across her face. Mona had the hotel’s number stored in her phone from when she’d made her and Lincoln’s reservation. Mona retrieved the number, called the front desk.

  The receptionist said, “Thank you for—”

  Mona cut her off and began speaking really fast. “Yes, this is Detective”—she made up a name—“Casey from the Selma Police Department. We’ve been advised a Katherine Clinton, news reporter, just entered your establishment with a Steven Cunningham. We have a warrant for Mr. Cunningham’s arrest, and we want to make sure Ms. Clinton is not harmed. It’s urgent for Ms. Clinton’s safety that we know what room they are in.” Mona tried to sound official like when she worked for the police department.

  “We’ve never had anything like this happen before. I—”

  “Now, miss, now! While you’re trying to make a decision, a woman could be murdered in your hotel and you could be charged with obstruction. What room are they in?”

  The receptionist blurted, “He’s in room ten twenty-nine. That’s the Presidential Cottage on the top floor. What else should I do?”

  “Nothing. Don’t tell anyone. You may have just saved a woman’s life. Let us handle this. Don’t make any calls or everything could backfire and your guests could be endangered.”

  “But—”

  Mona cut her off again by ending the call. She went directly to the top floor. Used the guest phone in the hallway. Disguising her voice, Mona called their room. “Yes, Mr. Cunningham. Sorry to disturb you, but there seems to be a problem with your SUV.”

  “A problem? What kind of problem?”

  “We’re not sure. Please come down to valet immediately.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Baby, something’s up with my car. Get her ready for me. I’ll be right back.”

  Baby? Mona hid near the elevators, behind the ice machine. She saw Steven pass by. She heard the elevator ding. Soon as she heard the elevator doors close, she hurried to his room, knocked on the door.

  When Katherine opened the door, it was like déjà vu. Her ass was naked. This time Mona Lisa didn’t outstay her unexpected visit.

  “Go tell this, bitch!” She punched Katherine in the face, dragged her naked ass along the carpet, into the hallway, then closed the door. “And while you’re at it, tell Lincoln you’re fucking my husband.” Mona was so angry she kicked Katherine in the ass.

  “If you think that hurts, just know that I’m not done with your trifling behind yet,” Mona said, walking away. She got on the elevator, went straight to the lobby, got in her car, and drove to Steven’s car.

  She lowered her window. “You wanna play bitch swap or dick swap? I’ve got something for your ass too. Keep that bitch. But you’re giving me back my money. All of it! By the time I’m done with you, you’ll need a new set of balls.”

  Shit was about to get real ugly really fast.

  Mona had to make her way to the gun shop, but first she had to confront Lincoln about her money.

  CHAPTER 62

  Steven

  December 2010

  Mona Lisa was no match for him. She should know that.

  Their brief confrontation was his first time seeing her in almost a month. Seeing her convinced him he’d done the right thing by moving on. He’d upgraded from an immature girl. Now he had himself a real sexy, fun, career woman who made him happy in and out of bed.

  Mona acted like she was bad, as though she could make him pay for her pain and suffering. She didn’t know what it felt like to take a person’s life. He doubted she could aim a gun at him, then pull the trigger, even if her life depended on it. In order to shoot someone in the head and then watch them die meant Mona would have to be fearless. She was undoubtedly afraid of being on the receiving end of a bullet. He wasn’t.

  Mona was the reason he’d killed Davis. Depending on Lincoln’s intentions with Katherine, Katherine would become more of a motivation to kill Lincoln than Mona. Once Katherine let him into the sacred space between her legs and that special spot in her heart, she had become more significant to him than Mona Lisa.

  Steven hurried to his floor. Walking toward his room, he saw Katherine was crying and curled in the fetal position in front of the door. He ran to her, opened the door, scooped her into his arms, then carried her inside.

  “What the hell is wrong with her?” Katherine cried, holding her face. “Crazy bitch.”

  The only time he’d heard Katherine curse was when she referred to Mona. Moving her hand, he said, “Damn! Aw, damn. Baby, I’m so sorry,” then kissed her cheek. Her left eye was purple and slightly closed.

  “She’s going to pay for this,” Katherine vowed.

  “I got this. Baby, you stay here. I know what I have to do.”

  “I will not. What if she comes back? What if this gets to the media? Take me home right now, Steven,” Katherine said, getting dressed. She grabbed her purse, then stomped out the door.

  Katherine stared out her passenger window. She was quiet on the thirty-minute drive to her house. There was no point in explaining anything to her until she said, “Steven, I’ve really enjoyed our time together.”

  Interrupting, he turned off his engine. “But.”

  Softly she sighed. “I can’t do this anymore. I mean, I have a son to raise. A public image to uphold. Look at my face,” she said, crying. “I have to doctor on this all night and cover the bruise with makeup tomorrow. If my eye doesn’t open all the way, I’ll have to take tomorrow off. All because of you and her. It’s just a matter of time before Mona shows up at my job. I can’t afford to get fired. This has gotten out of control. You can’t even stop her. I like you, Steven. But I love myself, my son, and my mother more. My family is all I’ve got.”

  What kind of female liberation bullshit was that? She wasn’t so liberated and in love with herself when she accepted his gifts.

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  Actually he had no idea what he’d do to her if she abandoned him. He’d give her a day or two to make the right decision. If she chose wrong, he’d bury her six feet deep in the same grave with Mona.

  “You can have back the car. I’ll give you back the money I have left in my account, and I promise to repay you for Jeremiah’s tuition.”

  He shook his head. “I suggest you keep it. Keep your mouth shut. And keep doing what we’re doing.” He yelled, “You take me for a fool!”

  Katherine jumped in her seat, unfastened her seat belt.

  He grabbed her arm, tightened his grip. “You think I’m stupid! You want him! You want Lincoln! You want to marry him and be one happy family, don’t you?”

  Frantically, Katherine shook her head, opened the door. “That’s not true. You can’t sit there and tell me you don’t understand why I don’t want to be involved with you.”

  Refusing to let go of her arm until he’d made his point, he said, “No, what you don’t understand is I didn’t buy you that car or give you that money.”

  She frowned. “But you gave all that to me.�
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  He shook his head. “No, I didn’t. Mona did. Mona’s money paid for all of that, including Jeremiah’s tuition.”

  “You’re lying. She’d never do that.”

  “She doesn’t know. But I have a feeling that her attack on you says she knows something. So see, you need me to protect you from her.” A cynical smile spread ear to ear. He released his grip.

  Katherine got out of his SUV, slammed the door so hard his windows rattled. That was okay. He had her right where he wanted her. She was an emotional train about to wreck, and he was the only person that could put on the brakes. If he did nothing, Mona would hurt Katherine again and again.

  Driving off, he realized Katherine, Mona, and Lincoln were within his grasp. He could destroy each of them in one day. But he’d wait. He headed to his parents’ house, let himself in. They were in the living room watching television.

  “Hey, Buttercup. I’ve been worried about you,” his mother said.

  “I told you that boy was all right,” his dad commented. “Hey, son.”

  He kissed his mom, hugged his dad, then sat on the sofa beside his mom. “What you over here worrying about?”

  She patted his knee. “Remember the time when you were five years old? And you were outside playing in the front yard. And I told you to come inside.”

  “Yeah, Mom, I remember the story.”

  “Well, you didn’t want to listen to me so I had to come outside and get you.”

  He finished the story. “And if you hadn’t come to get me I’d be dead because a drunk driver lost control of his car and ran into the yard where I was playing.”

  “Buttercup, that man drove over your bike. You could’ve been on that bike.”

  “What does that have to do with now, Ma?”

  “I got that bad feeling again today. All I can say is, stay here with your dad and me.”

  “Dad, tell Mom I’ll be fine. I’ll be by tomorrow,” he said, kissing her cheek. He hugged his mom. She held onto him longer than usual.

  “Let the boy go,” his dad said. “Bye, son. Regina, we’ll see him tomorrow.”