by Emery, Lynn
“Let me guess. This ‘totally legit’ businessman has his office in the Dominican Republic, specifically in Santo Domingo. I suppose you being so eager to go there was a crazy coincidence.” MiMi walked up to Roderick. Luckily he jumped off the stool and started to pace, because MiMi was about to let go and slap him.
“The place is beautiful and… look at where we stayed. I mean it’s a fabulous place to party.” Roderick spoke to her as he paced. Yet clearly his mind wasn’t on rum punches on the beach.
“So the fact that we just happened to end up arrested had nothing to do with your ‘business.’ The FBI mentioning your name is another crazy coincidence. Yeah, I totally get it.” MiMi snorted to punctuate her lack of belief.
Roderick raked long fingers through his thick tight curls. Then he pulled his cell phone from the clip on the waistband of his pants. “I’m going to call dad so he can get our lawyer on the phone.”
MiMi darted to him, deftly snatched the phone away and stepped out of his reach. “Hold it slick. We’re going to talk first.”
“But you don’t understand…”
“You got me into even more trouble, so yeah I kinda understand for damn sure. Sit your ass down and explain,” MiMi fired back.
“Don’t pull the outraged act. You were tracking down funny money. Yeah, my lawyer told me. Sounds like you had an agenda. Hell, you suggested the DR.” Roderick snapped his fingers and then pointed at her accusingly. “Yeah, you did.”
She hissed at him. “Which doesn’t change the fact that—”
“Our company has goals to go global. The FBI is being overzealous because one of our partners has a past.” Roderick pulled a hand down his whole face as if trying to wake from a bad dream.
“Agent Morrison said they’re investigating your business deals. She didn’t mention anything about a business associate with a criminal record.”
“Agent Morrison. What’s her first name?” Roderick reached for his phone. “C’mon now, quit playing around. This is serious.”
“You think I’m playing? They want to take my house. I have a child to raise, Roderick.” MiMi glared at him. She swung back as though ready to throw the phone against the wall.
“No, no, wait. Calm down, baby. Let’s just take this slow, talk things out. They want us at each other’s throats. You know, divide and conquer.” Roderick’s words tumbled over each other as he reached toward her.
“Well it worked. Give me the truth and then get out of my house,” MiMi replied.
Roderick’s long-legged stride took him across the floor in a few steps. He grabbed the cordless phone before MiMi realized it. Long fingers tapped the keypad. “Dad, it’s me. Yeah, yeah, but listen.”
MiMi considered rushing him to pull the phone away, but knew she couldn’t win such a tussle. Instead she slapped his expensive phone down on the counter. She had to settle for shooting daggers at him. Roderick started out speaking normally. After a few moments, his voice dropped too low for her to hear. He glanced over at her when she took a few steps toward him.
Roderick met her halfway, the phone extended. “Here, Dad wants to talk to you.”
MiMi blinked at the phone for a few seconds before she took it. She stared at Roderick as she put it to her ear. “Good evening, Mr. Jefferson.”
Gentry Jefferson’s commanding voice came through the phone. For the next five minutes he made the case that MiMi was overreacting. In fact, his explanation sounded plausible. At the end he pointed out that Jack Crown had unwittingly gotten involved with the wrong business partners.
“I’m sure a competitor is behind this FBI nonsense. Turner Industries is angry we’ve outbid and out classed them three times. Don’t jump to conclusions without talking to your father,” Mr. Jefferson’s sonorous voice boomed through the handset like a lawyer ending his closing argument.
“Yes, sir. Thank you,” was all she could think to say. She handed the phone to Roderick and sat down.
“Of course MiMi understands. Yes, when I leave here. Bye.” Roderick placed the phone down on its base. He strolled over and sat on the stool next to MiMi. “I’ll take some of the crawfish fettuccini now.”
“You want to eat? You must be out of your mind.”
“Dad and our lawyers will be on it before noon tomorrow. So yeah, my appetite is still good.” Roderick shrugged, the picture of a privileged young man used to his father wielding power.
“You have a lot of confidence considering the FBI is dogging your footsteps,” MiMi retorted.
Roderick laughed. “You’d be surprised at what Black business people have to face. We’re under scrutiny more than our white counterparts. Not to say some don’t break the law, or make missteps. We’re not one of those companies though.”
MiMi raised an eyebrow at him. “But you’re calling in a team of lawyers.”
“Which is a smart business move.” Roderick pulled her to him. “What’s more important is that you believe me. I know how it must look.”
“No kidding.” MiMi resisted his hug.
“First the DR, and now the FBI. I told Dad about the FBI saying they’ll take your house, too. He says proving the money was earned from a criminal enterprise will be tough. The FBI will try to scare you into talking. Dad says they probably have little or nothing in the way of evidence.”
“You didn’t tell me your business was being investigated, Roddy.” MiMi pointed a finger at the end of his nose.
“You didn’t tell me about Jack’s money stashed in the DR.” Roderick gazed at her steadily. “Did I hold it against you?”
“Well… I don’t know for sure it’s there.” MiMi searched for a hole in his logic and found none. She relaxed a bit in his arms.
Roderick continued to embrace her. He brushed his face against hers. “I’ll be sure you get the best lawyer around.”
“Wonderful, exactly what I need from a boyfriend. Flowers and the name of a good lawyer.” MiMi frowned at him.
“I did tell you I’d take care of you in every way,” Roderick whispered.
MiMi looked into his eyes. She couldn’t deny that her past was far from squeaky clean. The fact that she had kind of used Roderick as an excuse to look for Jack’s money… well, she didn’t exactly have the moral high ground. Besides, he looked and smelled really good. Dinner waited for a couple of hours.
****
The next two days at work went smoothly enough. Tyler was too busy to bother MiMi, and she was too focused on doing her job to worry about him. She also didn’t have time to dwell on Elle’s scheme. And Elle played it cool. She stayed away from MiMi’s office. Yet she gave MiMi a conspiratorial wink when they passed each other in a hallway. MiMi was bone tired by the time she quit at around six that evening. She picked up Sage from her sister’s house and headed to Willa’s house. They arranged it so that Sage could spend time with her big brother and sister. MiMi didn’t have to cook at least one night a week, a huge bonus. When Willa wasn’t being a tough business woman, she enjoyed playing homemaker. More and more Jazz showed up, too. Family nights became a tradition during the week as well as on Sundays.
Willa stood at the stove stirring a pot of her famous pasta sauce. She brought the large spoon to her mouth, tasted and frowned slightly. She took a bottle from the spice rack nearby and sprinkled something. “That ought to do it. Bring me the meatballs.”
MiMi groaned as she pulled herself from the chair at the large kitchen table. “I knew you’d put me to work.”
“Handing me the pan doesn’t count as work,” Willa retorted as she accepted it from MiMi. She put the large spoon in the sink and carefully put the meatballs in the sauce. “Don’t panic. I think I can handle the pasta on my own.”
“You don’t know the days I’m having.” MiMi was about to go on when Anthony strolled in.
“Hey, Aunt MiMi.” The six foot tall teen kissed her on the cheek.
“Hello, big guy. How’s school?” MiMi laughed. “I sound like the typical adult these days. Sorry about tha
t.”
“Yeah you do,” he said with a grin. Then he grimaced. “School is a beast. At least the courses I don’t like.”
“Required core courses will come in handy more than you know,” Willa lectured without turning from her cooking motions.
“Yes, ma’am.”Anthony looked at the ceiling and mouthed the words as she spoke.
“As a future business owner good English and writing skills will be essential, and stop imitating me.” Willa put the sauce on simmer, still without facing him.
“You’re the best, ma.” Anthony playfully tried to hug Willa.
She just as playfully brushed him off. “Go on, I’m trying to finish dinner. Get outta here before I forget you’re taller than me and you get a spanking.”
“You can’t catch me,” Anthony wisecracked. He did a little dance before dashing off.
“Don’t be so sure,” Willa yelled after him and laughed. Girlish squeals floated from the direction of the bedrooms. “Go check on those young’uns. I must have been crazy letting Mikayla’s little friends come over on a school night.”
MiMi went down the long hallway to the bedrooms. She peeked through the door to Mikayla’s room. Sage sat in the playpen Willa had bought just for her visits. She happily divided her attention between playing with her toys and watching the big girls. MiMi returned to the kitchen moments later.
“All is well. They’re just having fun.” MiMi sank down onto the comfy chair again.
“Yeah well, they’re supposed to be studying. They have to present their project tomorrow,” Willa replied.
“Ten and eleven year olds have study groups? Are they teaching them, nuclear physics or something? I didn’t do study groups until my junior year in high school.”
Willa took out a tray of French bread slices covered in garlic butter. “I don’t complain. The public schools are making big strides. And yeah, they’re pretty close to studying nuclear physics.”
MiMi’s stomach rumbled at the delicious smells filling the air. When the kitchen doorbell chimed she stood. “Hurry up. I’m hungrier than I thought.”
“I don’t need the pressure,” Willa quipped.
Jazz came in. She was dressed in a red tunic and black leggings. Long thick braids hung from beneath a knit Rasta hat. “Hey, when’s the food ready?”
Willa faced them with one hand on her right hip. “You know, y’all are spoiled. One day you or you will be the hostess.”
“Anytime you say,” MiMi replied. “You can cook at my house just as well as here.”
“Ha, ha.” Willa went back to tossing the salad.
Soon everyone was around the table talking about everything, yet nothing too important. Sage sat on a booster seat between her siblings. Mikayla and Sage shared a father, the late Jack Crown. Anthony had been Jack’s stepson. Still Anthony treated Sage like his baby sister. A strange crew indeed. Jack would be amazed that his ex-wife and mistress had become friends. In an odd way, his murder three years before had brought them all together.
An hour and half later, the dishwasher hummed and the kids had gone back to their rooms. The adults sat around for serious talk not suitable for little ears. Jazz savored sour cream pound cake from Mama Ruby’s oven. She licked the lemon glaze from a slice and sighed. Willa sipped a cup of coffee.
“I love family night.” MiMi basked in the glow of acceptance. The sound of kids’ voices added to her feeling of security.
“Your sister has been pretty supportive. She’s keeping Sage a lot,” Willa said.
“Yeah, I guess,” MiMi said. Adrienne’s behavior didn’t inspire even a little spark. She couldn’t put her finger on why though.
“This is all sweet and stuff, but let’s get to the real reason for this pow-wow. What did the lawyer say?” As usual Jazz shied away from touchy-feely moments of sentimentality.
“Edselle Underwood is one of the best in Brad’s practice, and that’s saying something,” Willa said to reassure MiMi. Brad Craft was Willa’s former boss. He had a huge law practice with three offices, including one in Houston.
“He didn’t bat an eye at the mention of the FBI when we met Monday. He’s solid and calm, just what my jacked up nerves needed.” MiMi sighed. “He says the US Marshals office has to follow a strict protocol. Judges don’t make decisions about confiscation lightly.”
“I told you,” Willa said, slipping into her former paralegal tone. “They have to have solid evidence linking the money used to buy your house with a crime.”
“Edselle says the FBI may know it’s a long shot, but he didn’t want to give me false hope. He’s got the firm’s investigator on it. I don’t know. Those agents seemed real confident.” MiMi felt the fear creeping back up her spine.
“Of course they show up with plenty swagga. It’s a cop thing,” Jazz said between chews.
“Has Don said anything?” MiMi got up to pour a cup of coffee. Maybe it would help her spike of nerves talking about bad possibilities.
Jazz shook her head. “The feds looked over their files on Jack’s murder. They’re deep into every detail connected to his business. Don didn’t say, but we can be sure they’re also looking at Felipe.”
“Wait a minute. Let’s get back to Roderick ‘Smooth Talker’ Jefferson. You believed him… again?” Willa shook her head slowly.
“Damn, he must put down some good, good stuff in the sheets,” Jazz said quietly.
“I’m not that weak in the head or elsewhere,” MiMi snapped.
“Let’s review. You confront him about getting you arrested and sorta kinda trying to put the blame on you. Y’all end up bouncing the mattress. The FBI came to your house, mention he’s under investigation. You confront him again. Y’all end up on the kitchen floor.” Jazz let out a long hiss.
“We weren’t on the floor. It was the sofa in the den,” MiMi added softly and cleared her throat.
“Oh, big difference,” Jazz joked. “I guess that makes it less slutty.”
“Don’t make me go over your love rap sheet,” MiMi shot back.
“You’re catching up fast,” Jazz said. They stuck out tongues at each other.
“Real grown up y’all,” Willa broke in.
“Edselle said exactly what Mr. Jefferson told me the other night. The FBI is fishing because they need solid evidence,” MiMi argued.
“Umm, so what? I could have come to the same conclusion,” Willa countered.
“Jack had flaws, but he didn’t do all the things he was accused of. I know Roderick can be selfish, a little shallow and a jerk.” MiMi sighed.
“Oh please, get him to the altar quick before he’s snatched up,” Willa said, her cynicism punctuated with a snort.
“Hilarious. He feels really guilty about getting me involved. He’s not faking it either. I can tell,” MiMi added when Willa rolled her eyes.
“How many times did you believe Jack? What about the last boyfriend? What’s his name; the creep who led you on for months.” Willa sat back in her chair in a waiting pose.
Jazz finished the last chunk of cake, licked glaze from the fork and put it down. “Okay, now I gotta stick up for my girl. We both know being a jerk doesn’t mean he’s guilty of a crime.”
“Thank you, Jazz.” MiMi gave Willa the side-eye. “Some of us have forgotten that we’ve all been falsely accused.”
“Fine, cling to him like a he’s your last hope for a rich husband. Oh wait, he is.” Willa pretended to duck a punch.
“Keep the jokes coming. One of them will be funny eventually,” MiMi grumbled. She emptied the cup of lukewarm coffee and poured more.
“Okay, okay. That was low,” Willa said, yet still laughed. Then she grew serious. “The good news is Edselle is confident and has a plan.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t know what the FBI knows,” Jazz said.
“If they prosecute they have to share information with her lawyer.”
MiMi came back and sat down again. “You give me hope then snatch it back.”
“Edselle
has experience with federal prosecutions. The time to worry is when he tells you to.” Willa smiled.
“Thanks. I could use some good news. Hey, and even if Roderick isn’t telling the truth, he’s motivated to stand by me. We’re in this mess together. Remember his dead weed man in Santo Domingo.” MiMi looked at Willa and Jazz.
Jazz nodded slowly. “Yeah, let’s not forget murder.”
“Roderick needs me in case the DR National Police decides to arrest him. He better hope they don’t have a strong extradition treaty with the U.S.” MiMi cocked an eyebrow at her friends.
“I’ll research it,” Willa said promptly. She went to a notepad usually used for shopping list and began writing.
Jazz looked at MiMi. “Wait a minute. You were all trusting about the guy a minute ago.”
“You taught me to always have a Plan B.” MiMi wore a hard smile. “Call it a little insurance policy.”
****
A week later MiMi and Roderick went out to dinner at Galatoire’s, a perfect Saturday night date. Roderick seemed intent on courting her in style. MiMi wasn’t one to refuse being treated royally. She had to admit Roderick knew his stuff. He’d sent flowers to her office twice. His romantic text messages brightened her days. All that, plus there had been no more visits from the FBI. MiMi could almost believe the storm would pass over her.
The waiter served them grilled redfish with garlic potatoes and tender spring vegetables. MiMi had to admit, Roderick had the whole charming dinner companion down to perfection. He kept her laughing with jokes about his father, and even a few about hers. His voice changes when he imitated were dead on.
“How do you keep a straight face when they’re bumbling with computers and cell phones?” MiMi dabbed at the tears on her cheek from laughing hard.
“Your father is the worse. He won’t admit he can’t do much more than click send on an email. Mostly I just bite my tongue and pretend they’re doing okay.” Roderick shrugged with a cheeky grin. “It’s not honest, but it’s safer. Dad still signs my paychecks, and I’m still in the will.”
