“It’s been very difficult just getting up in the morning, looking at myself in the mirror, and knowing that I could have prevented my daughter’s death.”
Her husband moved to her side and clutched her arm.
Before continuing, Yvette sought strength by putting her hand over her husband’s. “ A few days before she died, Kayla asked me if she could spend the night at one of her friend’s house and I’d originally said yes. But that day I was in a dark mood. I don’t know, I felt trapped with all these kids, and I love my kids, but they were driving me crazy. It’s a lot when you feel like you’re doing it all by yourself.” Yvette burst into tears, suddenly focusing on the people in front of her. “I’m sorry, y’all.”
A collective look of sympathy showed on the faces of the journalists.
“The kids weren’t doing like I asked them to. Kayla hadn’t cleaned her room and I don’t know, I just lost it. I told her she couldn’t go to her friend’s house. ‘But, Mama, you promised,’ she said. Those were the last words my baby ever said to me.” Yvette erupted into a full wail. “I guess when I was trying to get the younger kids settled down she left. I didn’t even know she was gone.”
Kendrick could feel the tears well in his own eyes. Hearing Yvette’s story pulled at his heartstrings. He had no idea what she was going to say beyond thank you for the money, but to hear of her struggle and guilt brought forth pangs of his own guilt. He passed Brenda a look.
“Everyone said it gets better. But it doesn’t feel like it. And even if it did, I’m not sure I want it to. I don’t deserve it to.” Yvette dissolved into an unintelligible tangle of words.
Antwon stepped up to the microphone. “We’re grateful to Mr. Black for his generosity,” was his succinct answer.
Kendrick initially agreed to the press conference because there weren’t going to be any questions allowed, but at the last-minute Brenda thought better of it, arguing the press had to think they were being given something to justify their attendance.
“I like how you changed it up midstream,” Kendrick said, scoffing.
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle the questions,” she whispered in his ear. “You go ahead and walk them offstage.”
Not wanting to lie any more than he had to, and feeling he had no choice, Kendrick flashed a smile, though worry showed in his eyes. He had no idea what the press was going to ask, but he could only imagine.
“My name is Brenda Vaughn, Mr. Black’s publicist,” she said, stepping to the podium. “I will be answering questions on his behalf.”
“Why isn’t Mr. Black answering his own questions?”
“Mr. Black wanted to be a beacon of strength offstage for both Yvette and Antwon Jones.”
“Is Mr. Black related to the Joneses?”
“No.”
“Any developments in the hit-and-run investigation?”
“Actually, I reached out to the detectives working the Kayla Jones case. I’m sure they are more than willing to share their findings.”
Kendrick had a split-second to wonder what Det. Ramirez and an older white man were doing there. Watching from a monitor backstage, worry continued to bubble in his gut. He felt ambushed, unsure of Brenda’s motive for inviting the police to his press conference. He returned to the stage, joining Brenda at her side as the detectives approached the podium.
“My name is Det. Leticia Ramirez and this is my partner, Det. Blake VanDrunen. On behalf of the entire Minneapolis Police Department, we would like to extend our deepest condolences to the Jones family. We are pleased, however, to announce that there have been some developments in the case.”
The journalists stirred with interest. Many of them double checked their devices to make sure they were recording everything.
“We were able to reconstruct fragments from a headlight lens found at the crime scene. By doing so, we could ascertain the make of the vehicle from the company logo and manufacturer’s code number. As of now, we’ve compiled a list from the DMV of registered vehicles that fit the description of a 2013 black Escalade. An eyewitness’s account also corroborates this. We believe it’s just a matter of time before we find the perpetrator involved in the death of Kayla Jones. They will be brought to justice!” Ramirez said, turning to look Kendrick directly in the eyes.
Kendrick nodded enthusiastically while meeting the detective’s glance, hoping she saw how thrilled he was with the latest developments. Brenda thanked the press and stepped away from the podium to signal the end of the conference. Kendrick followed her backstage, swapping his charming smile with glaring eyes.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure,” Brenda said.
“Excuse us for a moment,” Kendrick said to the Joneses. He led Brenda off to a far corner. “What the hell was that about?”
“The police had to be here, Kendrick. Otherwise, what would’ve been the point? The press wanted answers. If no one is implicating you, don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, but you had no way of knowing what they were going to say. You took a chance and it just happened to work out for me. I might not be so lucky next time.”
“Mr. Black, can we have a word?” a voice said.
Kendrick turned to see both detectives approaching. His heart pounded. It was as he feared, the moment he saw them on stage. To spare the actor any embarrassment they waited until the very end, out of the view and earshot of the press to detain him, or worse, to arrest him. His forced smile did nothing to stop the pounding in his chest. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
“Are you okay?” Ramirez asked, eyeing him closely.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“You sure? You’re sweating a little.”
“It’s a little warm in here. And I was nervous because I hate speaking in public. I didn’t want to embarrass the Joneses or their daughter’s memory. I’m just glad the conference is over.”
VanDrunen’s eyes narrowed. “For someone who makes his living talking in front of cameras, you were nervous?”
“Yes. This is real, detective, not scripted make-believe. There’s a difference.”
“Mr. Black, we were wondering if you’ve been in contact with Sabathany Morris?” Ramirez asked, getting to the reason they stopped Kendrick.
Kendrick shook his head. “Can’t say that I have. Last I heard she was on her way back to L.A.”
Brenda jumped in. “Listen, with all due respect, Mr. Black needs to get going. He has a nice lunch set up for Mr. and Mrs. Jones, and knows how eager they are to get back to their family.”
“I completely understand,” Ramirez said. “Would you mind giving us a call when you have a free moment?” She handed Kendrick her card.
“Sure will.”
Kendrick watched the detectives until they were out of sight. Once they were, he leaned into Brenda and said, “I hope you’re satisfied.”
Javier, the doorman, had been advised to allow Diane Black into the penthouse to ensure lunch was ready by the time her son and his guests arrived. She brought with her a savory chicken stew and pineapple upside-down cake.
Kendrick sat at the head of the table. It was obvious both Antwon and Yvette would have preferred to skip the lunch, but acquiesced out of two million dollars’ worth of gratitude. Diane’s diffident attempt at small talk received polite responses from Antwon on behalf of himself and his wife.
Yvette managed to finish the bowl of stew. The check was secure in her husband’s wallet. She did what was expected—showed the public a grieving mother, eaten more than she had in a while, and was grateful. Yvette left charming the hosts to her husband, while she sat heartbroken, gazing out a window toward the stretch of gray skies.
“Sounds like the police are doing everything they can,” Diane said, wishing she could say the same about her own daughter’s case. “The good news is they’re able to figure out the vehicle. Shouldn’t be too much longer until they have a suspect.”
Kendrick felt his stomach spasm. “Maybe they should ju
st give themselves up,” he said, ignoring an annoyed look from Brenda.
Yvette shrugged. “I don’t care if they find the person today or tomorrow; it still won’t bring back my child.”
The spasm in the center of Kendrick’s belly ballooned to an audible rumbling, followed by nausea.
“Are you all right, Baby?” Diane asked.
The skin below Kendrick’s eyes twitched. “My stomach’s been acting up. I’ll be okay.”
Yvette took the moment to give her husband a look, signaling she was ready to go home. Secretly she wanted to die, and no amount of money was going to change that.
Diane cleaned up, despite Kendrick’s urging her to leave everything. Her desire to feel needed won out. Once she and the Joneses left, Kendrick found a spot on the couch. The relief he hoped would surface from forking over $2,000,000 of his money never showed up. A lesson was learned during lunch. Money had not brought happiness to either the giver or recipients. There was no peace of mind, and Kendrick doubted there ever would be.
Brenda joined Kendrick on the couch with two glasses of wine. She passed one to him. “Well, that went well, didn’t it?”
“I did what you asked me to do. I gave you your press conference. A lot of good that did now that the cops are hot on my ass. And coughing up that sizeable restitution was a complete waste of time. You know why? Because none of us feel any better.”
“Whoa, hold on a sec. I offered you a way to keep your ass out of prison. I never promised you’d feel guilt-free.”
“I keep asking myself how you as a woman can do this.”
“Do what?”
Kendrick waved his hands to underscore what was obvious to him. “You’ve had three miscarriages. Don’t you feel even a little bad that Yvette and Antwon lost their kid?”
Brenda shrugged. “I mean, what do you want me to say? I figure I wasn’t meant to have kids. Sure, sometimes I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I’d carried to full term, but that wasn’t in my deck of cards. I‘m not going to cry over what could’ve been because I choose to live in what is.”
“And as a woman, you feel not one ounce of pity for Yvette?”
“Sure, I feel for her, but I don’t see what the big deal is. She said herself she can’t handle the other children she still has.”
Kendrick no longer recognized the person sitting with him. “I can’t keep this up. I’m done.”
Brenda’s eyes flickered. “What do you mean you’re done?”
“I’m done with this whole thing. I tried it your way and it hasn’t made anything better.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m turning myself in.”
The flickering in Brenda’s eyes gave way to something dangerous. “You’re doing no such thing.”
“You’re not running things anymore. I said I’m done.”
“I’m not sure if you’re just playing dumb, or you really don’t understand how this works. I told you before that I’ve invested a lot of money in making you a star, and we’re finally starting to see a return on it. You’re not going to mess this up for me, Kendrick Black.”
“And you can live with knowing we’re keeping people from truly finding their peace?”
“You gave them two million dollars’ worth of peace. If they can’t find peace from that, too damn bad!”
“No. Peace is knowing that the person responsible for their pain is punished.”
“You’re not turning yourself in. Get that idea out of your head.”
“Or what?”
“Don’t play with me, little boy.”
“Little boy? Are you threatening me?”
Brenda sipped her wine.
“There’s nothing you can do that’s worse than what I’ve already done.”
“It was really nice meeting your mother today. It would be a shame if something were to happen to her.”
“You better not go anywhere near my family!”
“You’ll be in jail. What do you think you could possibly do about it from there?”
“I need some air,” Kendrick said before leaving the apartment. If he stayed, he knew he would have been forced to do something very bad to Brenda. Fear or no fear, he loved his mother, and did not take Brenda’s threat lightly. Later, as he walked the long city blocks of the neighborhood, he pondered Brenda’s question.
Brenda called Kendrick as he approached a convenient store to buy gum.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” Brenda said, sounding as if she were regaining consciousness.
“I don’t know, but I don’t like the direction any of this is going.”
Brenda’s voice trembled. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I didn’t mean any of what I said.”
“You’re beginning to sound like that bitch Sabathany. You two playing on the same team or what?”
“Not at all. I’m just under so much stress. And I know it’s nothing compared to what your family is going through. Please believe me, I don’t want to add to that. I meant it when I said, I’m here to help any way that I can.”
“Tomorrow we’re burying my sister. Try not to freak everybody out,” Kendrick said before hanging up the phone. With that call ended, a new call came through from a welcomed source.
“Hey there,” Kendrick said with a renewed spirit. “I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”
FORTY
When Tammy opened the bathroom door, she found Sabathany standing on the other side; an accusatory hostility simmered in her stare. “Who were you talking to?”
Tammy had seconds to eradicate the guilt from her face. “My ole man wanted to know when I was coming home. I think he’s missing me.”
Sabathany studied Tammy’s face, her eyes lowered to a tight squint. “Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? When are you going back to L.A.?”
“I told him as soon as you get situated.”
“That’s very loyal of you.”
Tammy smiled. “Hey, you know I do what I can,” she said, heading to her bags. She dug through, pulling out a pair of cut-off jean shorts and an orange and white tie-dyed t-shirt that reminded Sabathany of a melted creamsicle. “Thought I’d take advantage of that pool. I can’t use the pool at the apartment. Not after some kid took a crap in it.”
A laugh pushed through Sabathany’s distrust. “Are you serious?”
“Swear to God. Saw a turd float right past me.”
Sabathany’s laugh splintered into a maniacal cackle. Tammy laughed, too, happy to have extinguished the awkwardness. “I was thinking, instead of going somewhere for dinner, why don’t we grab something at the hotel restaurant. It looked nice. My treat.”
Sabathany did a double take. She knew Tammy rarely had two nickels to rub together; every paycheck spent before she got her hands on it. “Isn’t that a little expensive for you?” she asked.
“All the times you’ve treated me to nice meals I think I can afford to splurge this once,” Tammy said.
Sabathany looked down at what Tammy planned to wear to the pool. “You know, since you’re in a spending money mood, they sell really nice bathing suits at the boutique downstairs.
Tammy thought of the loose cellulite at her midsection. “Nah, this’ll work out just fine.”
“Suit yourself. When did you want to go down for dinner?”
“I don’t care. Whenever you want.”
“Fine. I’m going to go take a nap.” Sabathany left Tammy to change into her swimming outfit. She retreated to the bedroom and lay down, waiting until she heard the click of the closing door. Sabathany got up and went to the door, opened it a sliver to hear the ding of the elevator down the hall. Once she heard the sound she listened for, she poked her head out just in time to see the last of Tammy disappear inside the elevator.
“Good, she’s gone,” Sabathany said to herself, tiptoeing to Tammy’s purse as though Tammy were still in the room. She eyed the not very good Michael Kors knock-off, determined to find s
omething that would give reason to the uneasy feeling she had. She carefully picked through the purse. It did not take her long to find what she was looking for, and she smiled when she found it.
That night’s dinner was expectedly delicious. Both Sabathany and Tammy awaited their chocolate torte desserts. After four martinis, Tammy failed to realize that Sabathany had stopped at two. Sabathany let Tammy have her fun. After all, the good times would soon come to an end.
When the server delivered the desserts, Sabathany waited until Tammy had enjoyed two bites before she made her move.
“So, who were you really talking to on the phone earlier?”
Tammy paused, the third bite had just gone into her mouth, her lips closed around the fork. The clump of chocolate dessert slid down her throat. “I told you…my ole man.”
Tammy watched the quick dissolve of Sabathany’s cordiality as hate filled her eyes.
“You’re sticking to that story, huh?”
Putting her fork down, she looked at Sabathany stupidly, looking guiltier than she intended to. To avoid Sabathany’s hardened eyes, she looked at the partially eaten dessert, which suddenly had become unappetizing. She wished she had just dropped Sabathany off out front of the hotel. She now regretted the food, the road trip and the $20,000 Kendrick Black had given her, especially when Sabathany slid the phone number in front of her. Swallowing audibly, she said, “I know what it looks like.”
“So do I. But I’m not one to jump to conclusions. Why don’t you explain it to me?”
Tammy looked up, trying to dial back her resentment. “He just wants to keep an eye on you. I don’t know what the hell you said or did to that man, but he doesn’t trust you.”
“How many times have you been in contact with Kendrick?”
Tammy averted her eyes again. “I haven’t.”
Sabathany kicked Tammy under the table, causing the table to shake. Tammy lurched forward, surprised and embarrassed as her right shin throbbed in pain.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?”
Tammy nodded. Tears spilled from her eyes; the throbbing became a burning pain.
“If you don’t tell me what I want to know I’ll do it again, and I don’t care who sees it.”
The Best Possible Angle Page 22
