Sometimes she still found it hard to believe that she’d lucked up and met Jim when she was nearing forty and that they were married within a year. Everyone thought she was nuts to marry him so soon and that it would never last. But they had made it for a year now, and still counting.
She smiled at him. “Haven’t you been in there long enough? Something has come up with Ashley, and I need to talk to you about it.”
He nodded. “I’ll be there in a sec, babe.”
He closed the door, and she turned toward the bedroom. That’s what she loved about Jim. She could always count on him. He was so … She heard the shower door sliding open and turned just as he reached out and grabbed her. Before she knew what was happening, she was standing under the shower nozzle with him.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream as she cupped her hand and wiped away the water streaming down her face. “Have you lost your mind? My robe is getting soaked.”
“I’ll fix that.” He reached for the belt.
She grabbed his hands between fits of giggles. “Wait a minute, Jim. Down, boy. We’ll be late for the wedding. And I—”
He wrapped his arms around her and planted wet kisses down her neck, and all the tension drained from her body. What the hell. She opened the belt to her robe and let it drop to the tile floor.
Chapter 5
The blast from the gun scared her so bad, she could have eaten her heart for lunch. But he scared her so much more, coming after her with those big, foul hands.
Lee lowered the gun and pointed it at him as he crawled across the floor. She squeezed the trigger again. And again.
Take that, she whispered between clenched teeth. Take that, punk-ass. Always messing with her. She could hardly walk for days whenever he came after her. He was the nastiest man in all of P.G. County.
You won’t do that no more now, will you, Uncle Clive? Will you, huh?
She stood across the living room floor with both hands wrapped around the gun and watched until he stopped moving. She inched closer, looked down and cocked her head to the side to listen. He was still breathing, his breath coming fast and heavy, when suddenly one of his hands reached out for her foot. She shot him again.
His body went limp.
She gasped. Oh shit. She stood there and stared at him as he lay in a heap, and her shoulders began to shake. What did she do now? Call her mama? The police?
No. No fucking police. She didn’t want to end up in juvie. She was only fifteen. Run. She had to run.
She dropped the gun on the couch and ran into the kitchen. She grabbed the black shoulder bag sitting on the table next to her history book and threw her things out, one by one. Lipstick, hairbrush, mirror, tissue. She finally found her wallet and fished through it, practically pulling it apart in her haste. Damn. She had two lousy dollars and some change. That wouldn’t get her very far. She needed more.
She ran back into the living room and stared at his body. The punk. Even now, lying there lifeless, he made her sick to her stomach. But he always had lots of cash on him.
She sucked in a deep gust of air, then crept up to the pool of blood surrounding him. She thought she heard a sound come from him but couldn’t be sure. So she kicked one of his legs lightly, then jumped back and eyed his hands closely. Knowing him, he could be trying to fake her out, waiting for her to get close enough so he could pounce. But he didn’t move.
She covered her mouth with her fist. Oh shit. He was really dead. See what you’ve done, Lee, you fool. You killed him. She didn’t mean to kill him. She just wanted him to leave her alone. To stop doing those nasty things to her.
She swallowed her tears and gritted her teeth. There was no time to feel sorry for him now. She had to get her ass out of there before Mama came home.
She reached down and touched his back jeans pocket. She felt something hard, so she held her breath, stuck her fingers in and grabbed the wallet. Inside were several ten-dollar bills and some singles, about a hundred bucks. She took it all and shoved it into the pocket of her blue jeans.
She was about to turn and flee when she thought about the keys to his car. She had her learner’s permit, and Mama had taken her out to practice driving a few times. That would be way better than the bus.
She glanced at his hands to make sure they had no more life in them. Then she dug around in his front pocket until she came up with a ring of keys. She remembered the gun on the couch and decided to take that, too.
She grabbed her bag off the kitchen table and ran out the front door and down to the corner. Uncle Clive’s old BMW was parked at the curb, just as usual. She jumped in, started the engine and pulled away.
She had no idea where she was going. But she had just wasted her mama’s man. She had to get the hell out of P.G. County.
Chapter 6
Barbara stepped back and smiled at her daughter. Rebecca looked regal in her beaded ivory satin gown, and for a moment Barbara forgot the utter chaos on the lawn. She forgot about the tent being decorated with flowers, the tables and chairs being arranged, the band, the buffet, the bar.
Rebecca stood in front of the mirror above her dresser and picked at her upswept do. “Does it need more hair spray, Mama?”
Barbara glanced at Pearl.
“No indeed,” Pearl replied as she reached up and fussed with a tiny stray hair on Rebecca’s forehead.
From all that Barbara could see, Rebecca’s hair looked absolutely smashing. Pearl had done a fantastic job, as always.
“Another drop of spray and it will be sitting up there looking like a rock, child,” Pearl continued. “Your hair looks beautiful just the way it is.”
“I’ve never seen you look prettier, sweetheart.” Barbara kissed her daughter gently on the forehead, being careful not to muss her makeup, then she turned to Pearl. “Let’s get the veil on her now. It’s already twelve-fifteen, and the photographers are due at twelve-thirty.”
Pearl reached for the floor-length veil sprawled across the bed as Barbara took a quick glimpse out the bedroom window onto the lawn. The wedding planner, a petite black woman named Darlene Dunn, was leading the florist around the grounds as they placed brightly colored centerpieces and other doodads on the tables inside and outside of a large white tent. The caterer and his staff were running back and forth between the four-car garage, where they had set up a temporary kitchen with food warmers, and the buffet being set up under the tent.
Despite the busy atmosphere, everything seemed to be falling into place, Barbara thought thankfully. Well, almost everything. The only exception was that husband of hers. She checked her watch. The photographers would arrive soon to take pictures and video before the family left for the church, and the father of the bride was still out banging his mistress. Unbelievable.
She needed a cigarette badly. But she had promised Rebecca that she wouldn’t smoke on this day. She sighed and turned to help Pearl lift the veil just as something outdoors caught her eye. She looked out the window to see a black car turning onto their driveway. Now who on earth could that be? Rebecca’s godmother had offered to come by and ride to the church with them so she would be there to supervise the procession of the wedding party and Barbara could take her place in the front pew and relax. But Marilyn drove a tan Lexus.
Barbara frowned with disapproval as the car approached the house. Anyone arriving at this early hour was either extremely rude or just plain ignorant. Her frown deepened as the sporty little car ran right up over the edge of the asphalt onto the freshly mowed lawn.
What the devil? Barbara blinked hard. Her eyes must be playing a horrible trick on her. She had been awfully busy planning this wedding lately and sometimes she didn’t know if she was coming or going. It was entirely possible that her eyes were giving out.
Barbara blinked again as the little black sports car kept coming across the lawn. This was no illusion. Some idiot had lost control and now the car was plowing straight toward the reception tent.
“Oh my God!” she screamed
just as the car smashed headlong into the tent frame. Pearl dropped the veil on the bed and followed Rebecca to the window. Barbara could have sworn the whole tent would come crashing down, but mercifully it didn’t. The car, which by now Barbara realized was a small late-model BMW being driven by a woman, backed up. Thank goodness. What an idiot.
But before Barbara could catch her breath, the engine revved and the car jerked forward. Barbara gasped as it picked up speed and rammed into the tent frame. This time the tent sagged on one end.
This woman wasn’t drunk. She was doing this deliberately. Barbara covered her open mouth with her hand as Darlene, the florist, the caterer, and the waiters all ran to and fro. It looked like a fire had broken out under a circus tent.
“Lord have mercy,” Pearl whispered, clutching her breasts.
Rebecca shrieked. “Who is that?”
“I have no idea,” Barbara said, turning toward the bedroom door. “But I’d better get down there.”
“That woman is crazy,” Pearl said.
“Mama!” Rebecca cried. “Daddy just pulled up.”
Barbara turned back to the window to see Bradford’s silver Jaguar convertible come to a screeching halt. He jumped out, ran toward the BMW and yanked the driver’s-side door open.
Slowly it dawned on Barbara that she recognized the little black car. It belonged to Sabrina, that hussy mistress of Bradford’s. Barbara twisted her lips with disgust. This was utterly ridiculous. She snatched her cell phone off Rebecca’s dresser.
“I’ll be right back,” Barbara said hurriedly. “Pearl, can you stay here and help Rebecca finish getting dressed? I know I’m only paying you to do her hair, but—”
Pearl put her forefinger to her lips. “Shh. Don’t worry about a thing. Of course I will.”
“Thank you so much,” Barbara said as she raced to the door.
“Mama, wait!” Rebecca shouted. “Oh my God. She’s getting out of the car and yelling and screaming and waving her fists at Daddy.” Rebecca lifted her gown and followed Barbara to the door. “I’m going down there with you.”
Barbara held her hand out. “Oh no you aren’t,” she said firmly. “Your father and I will handle this. I don’t want you getting involved.”
“But Mama, she’s—”
“No buts.”
Rebecca sighed and ran back to the window and stood next to Pearl. Barbara walked out the bedroom door so fast she nearly bumped into Robin, Rebecca’s older sister.
“What’s going on? Who is that crazy woman outside?” Robin asked. She was wearing her lavender maid-of-honor dress and fastening pearl earrings.
“I’m going down there now,” Barbara replied.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Robin asked.
“Absolutely not. Go help your sister get ready.”
Robin blinked, clearly puzzled by her mother’s harsh reaction. Barbara didn’t like the tone of her own voice. Certainly none of this was Robin’s fault. But she couldn’t help it, not when Bradford had allowed his whore to pull such hysterical antics on their daughter’s wedding day.
She took the back stairs in her satin Ferragamo pumps two at a time, threw the back door open and marched out onto the lawn. Sabrina was still in the driveway screaming at the top of her lungs as Bradford, dressed in a navy running suit, held his hands out and tried to calm her down.
Darlene Dunn and the others stood around in a small cluster nearby, listening and watching like it was the latest installment of their favorite soap opera. Barbara was so embarrassed but determined to stay calm. She had to get this mess straightened out before Marilyn arrived, not to mention the photographer and the three hundred guests expected later that afternoon.
“You bastard,” Sabrina screamed. “I can’t believe you didn’t invite me to the wedding. How could you do this to me, Bradford?”
Barbara couldn’t help but notice how young and thin Sabrina was—and how beautiful. The woman couldn’t be more than thirty and had one of those size 4 figures with forty-inch boobs. Barbara also noticed how the spaghetti straps to her black negligee kept slipping off her honey-colored shoulders. The skinny little whore hadn’t even taken the time to get dressed after her little tryst with Bradford.
“You’re going to have to calm down, Sabrina,” Bradford said in a firm tone of voice. “Look at the mess you’re making here. You’re going to ruin Rebecca’s wedding, and I won’t have that.”
“Like I give a fucking shit,” Sabrina retorted, oblivious to the black mascara streaming down her cheeks. She ran toward a cluster of tables on the lawn outside the tent and grabbed a chair by the back. She flipped it over, then ran inside the tent and knocked another chair down.
Barbara was appalled. She ought to grab that whore and throw her off their property. But she was wearing a two-thousand-dollar silk suit, and Sabrina looked downright dangerous. Barbara was not about to get into a public fight over a man, even her husband. Better to let Bradford handle it. She wished he’d hurry up and get rid of her. Marilyn would be arriving any minute, and it would be horrible for Rebecca’s godmother to see this.
She followed Bradford as he rushed inside the tent.
“After all I’ve done for you the past year, Bradford Bentley,” Sabrina wailed as she stopped in front of the buffet table. “And this is the thanks I get. A whole fucking year I wasted on you. I do everything for you. I cook for you. I listen to you talk about your problems with your wife. I give you every fucking thing you want in bed.”
Bradford stole a glance at Barbara. She glared back at him, eyes smoldering. It was about time he noticed her. And yes, she had heard it. Every word.
“Sabrina, don’t make me have to force you to leave. It’ll be better for everybody concerned if you just go and get in the car quietly.”
“Fuck you, Bradford Bentley,” Sabrina yelled. She grabbed a carving knife off the buffet table and held it out in front of her.
Bradford clenched his fists and circled Sabrina silently and cautiously just as Marilyn’s Lexus pulled into the driveway.
Damn, Barbara thought, as if all this wasn’t enough. Marilyn turned off the engine but stayed inside her car. She looked over the scene with a puzzled expression on her face and rolled down the window.
“What’s going on here, Barbara?” she called out.
Barbara waved toward the house. “Go on inside and wait for me there.”
Marilyn got out slowly, then ran to the front door and disappeared inside the house.
“Bradford, do I need to call the police?” Barbara was damned if she was going to let this woman ruin Rebecca’s wedding day. She lifted her cell phone to dial.
“No,” Bradford responded without taking his eyes off Sabrina. “Just stay back.”
“Bradford, you’d better tell that bitch to put that phone away,” Sabrina shouted. Then she swung the knife in Barbara’s direction and lunged.
Barbara screamed as Bradford grabbed Sabrina from behind just in time and they both fell to the ground. They tussled for a moment until Bradford wrestled the knife away. He stood up quickly and stared down at Sabrina with such fury that she began to crawl away in fear.
Barbara put her hand to her breast. She was huffing and puffing like she’d just run a marathon. She couldn’t believe that woman had come after her with a knife. On her own property. The woman was clearly out of her mind and needed to be locked up. She punched the buttons on her cell phone and marched toward the house.
Bradford took his eyes off Sabrina, who by now was sprawled out on the grass and crying like a baby, and looked at Barbara. “Who are you calling?” he asked gruffly.
“The police. Who else?”
“You don’t need to call the cops,” he said tersely. “I’ll take care of this.”
Barbara turned and glared at him. Take care of it? You call this taking care of it? Letting her put all your dirty business out in the street? She’d had enough embarrassment as a child to last a lifetime. Barbara the bag lady. She didn’t need this,
especially on her daughter’s wedding day.
That was what she wanted to say, but she didn’t care to argue with Bradford now. Rebecca was standing at her bedroom window watching her wedding day go down the drain. Not to mention Pearl and Marilyn.
Barbara hung up the phone. “Well, you’d better get her out of here now. We leave for the church in less than an hour and the photographers are coming. You’re not even dressed yet.”
“I said I’ll handle it,” he snapped. “The best thing you can do is go on back in the house. You’re obviously just making her angrier.”
Barbara squeezed the phone until her fingers ached. How dare he make it sound as if this were her fault. The bastard. But this was not the time to get into an argument with him, not in front of all these people. She took a deep breath and signaled for Darlene to follow her as Bradford reached down and pulled a still-sobbing Sabrina up from the ground.
“Are you all right?” Darlene asked as they stepped outside the tent.
Barbara nodded. She had to remain calm and somehow get through this. First, she had to deal with the tent. “How much damage did she do?”
Darlene shook her head anxiously. “It doesn’t look good. It’s going to need some repairs. Give me a minute and I’ll make a few calls to try to get it fixed in time.”
While Darlene made her calls, Barbara picked up the chairs that Sabrina had knocked over. Bradford was now talking to Sabrina as she sat in the car, and she looked much calmer. Sabrina finally backed out of the driveway and screeched off down the street.
Darlene covered the mouthpiece. “I’m trying to get the rental company back out here to repair it. But they’re giving me some crap about being booked all afternoon.”
Barbara threw her hands in the air as Bradford walked across the driveway and back toward the lawn. This was all his fault, but she had to stay calm in front of the help. “Bradford, they can’t get out here to fix the tent in time for the reception. What are we going to do?”
P. G. County Page 4
