A Little Bit of Karma

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  “What?” he said, looking confused before it dawned on him what I was saying. He released me from his grip and stepped back. “Shannon, come on,” he pleaded. “I’m not going to hurt you. You know I didn’t hurt Vonda.”

  I stared at him, everything inside me wanting to believe him. But I had also believed that he loved me and wouldn’t cheat on me, and look how that had turned out.

  “Shannon, you’ve got to believe me,” Jay cried. “I found her like that. I just got there right before you did, and I found her on the floor like that.”

  I backed up again, shaking my head as if I could fling the image of Vonda’s lifeless body away. “I don’t have to believe anything—only what my eyes tell me.” I glanced toward the room and swallowed the lump in my throat. “And they tell me your mistress is dead.”

  He exhaled in frustration, then looked at me and said, “How do I know you didn’t kill her, then come back here to make sure she was dead?”

  “What?” I said.

  His eyes were pleading. “That’s my point. I know better. Just like you should know better.”

  I paused. I was furious with my husband. But I couldn’t believe he was a killer.

  “Well, if you didn’t kill her, then who did?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” He sighed and began pacing in front of me in the stairwell. “I swear, the door was cracked and I walked in. I saw her lying there, checked her pulse, saw that she wasn’t breathing, then I was about to get the hell out of there. That’s when I bumped into you.”

  He sounded so convincing. Still, I eyed him skeptically.

  “Babe, you’ve got to believe me.”

  “I don’t have to believe anything,” I shot back, suddenly remembering the events of the past few days. “You left me for her, remember?”

  “I keep telling you, you wanted the divorce, not me. I didn’t want to be with Vonda.” I had never seen Jay so… desperate for me to believe him. He looked me straight in the eyes and his voice was sincere as he continued. “Yes, I had an affair with her. It was stupid and wrong, but I did. I may have even led her on, because it was the easy way out—or so I thought. But I swear I didn’t invite her here. I had no idea she was coming. And I came here tonight to give her a piece of my mind about the stunt she pulled today and I found her like that.”

  Everything inside me told me that Jay was telling the truth, but still, I didn’t know what to believe. What he said, or what she said.

  No. I shook my head. No matter what we had been through, my heart knew the truth: Jay was a lover, not a killer. He barely raised his voice to me, no matter how much I pushed his buttons. He couldn’t be capable of murder.

  “We need to call the police, then,” I finally said.

  “And say what?” he asked. “We’ll be thrust into the middle of a murder investigation. The whole sordid affair will come to light.”

  Suddenly, any sympathy I’d had for him dissipated. “So that’s what you’re worried about? People knowing the truth—that you cheated on me? I’m sure they’ve already figured it out, the way she’s been traipsing around the island.”

  He groaned and rubbed his head. He was definitely rattled as he paced the small corridor. “No, Shannon. I mean, of course that wouldn’t be good for our careers. Everything that we worked for will be destroyed. But that’s not what I’m focused on. We just don’t need this, and remember, several people heard you threaten to kill Vonda earlier as well. This could get ugly for both of us.”

  “Me?” I stared at him in disbelief. “You know I didn’t do this.”

  “I know that, and you can probably eventually convince the police of that. But are you ready to be questioned? Are you ready to be carted off to this backwoods police department while they figure it all out?”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with this,” I repeated, my voice quivering.

  “Where were you at the time of the murder?” he asked.

  My glare was piercing. “I was in my room, packing to get out of here.”

  “Who was with you?”

  “I was by myself.”

  “That’s my point,” he said. He was pleading with me. “Yes, you can tell the police about that, and they may believe you. But what if they don’t? They’ll interview everyone who was at the party. What if they say you were so mad about the fight that you followed her back here and killed her? The publicity of our arrest could bring a lot of attention to the police department, and what if they want to make some kind of example? Are you really willing to take that chance?”

  Tears started flowing as the reality of what he was saying set in. “So what are we supposed to do, just walk away? Act like we were never here?”

  “We don’t know for sure that she’s dead,” he said. Even as the words left his mouth, I could tell he didn’t believe them. “Maybe she’s just unconscious.”

  “Didn’t you say you checked for a pulse?”

  “Yes, but I’m not a doctor. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Which is even more reason to call for help.”

  I took a step toward my husband. I had to reason with him. I couldn’t stand Vonda, but we couldn’t just run off and leave her.

  “Jay, think about this, what if someone saw you?”

  “Nobody saw me.”

  “You don’t know that. And what if your fingerprints are in the room? Because I’m sure you’ve been there.” I couldn’t help getting a dig in.

  He released an exasperated sigh and I immediately regretted the comment. Now wasn’t the time for cutting remarks. We were in a serious situation.

  “No, I haven’t been in her room,” he protested. “I told you she’s crazy. This was my first visit. And I didn’t touch anything.”

  “Did you push the door open?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you touched something,” I said, as it suddenly dawned on me that I’d pushed the door as well. “So we’ll call for help. We don’t have any other choice,” I added.

  Jay released a dejected moan. “You’re right. We can’t just leave her.”

  “Come on.” I had just turned and was about to head out of the stairwell when I bumped right into a man who could’ve played linebacker for an NFL team. He was about six-foot-four, with broad shoulders, eyebrows that met at the top of his nose, and long, cinnamon-colored dreadlocks. He shot us a menacing glare.

  “Excuse me,” I said, trying to go around him. The man stepped to the side with me to keep me from passing. “I said, excuse me,” I repeated. The man just glared at me, refusing to move. Before I could say anything else, the man growled as he eyeballed Jay. “You’re Jay Lovejoy,” he said. I couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement.

  “Who wants to know?” Jay asked, eyeing the man right back. He was trying to sound cocky, but I could feel the fear.

  A tight smile spread across the man’s face. It made me uneasy.

  “Yeah, I’ll let you guys handle whatever this is,” I said, motioning between the two of them as I tried to step around him again.

  “Nah, I think you need to stay with my man here,” the man coolly said, moving over to block my path again.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, trying to go around him. “I have a plane to catch in a few hours.” Now, more than ever, I couldn’t wait to get off this island.

  Aggravated, the man pushed me so hard I fell back against the wall. “Little lady, you’re hardheaded. I said, you’re not going anywhere.”

  “Hey! Get your hands off my wife!” Jay jumped toward the man, who quickly pulled out a black pistol and pointed it right at Jay’s forehead.

  “Are we feeling heroic today?” he asked with a sneer.

  Jay froze, and I instinctively stepped behind him. Were we actually about to be robbed on top of everything else?

  “Man, we don’t want any problems,” Jay said, holding up his hands.

  “Yeah, neither do I. I’ve had my killing quota for the day and I’d really like not to have to add anoth
er body to my list.”

  At the mention of bodies, I stiffened.

  “Wh-what do you want with us?” Jay stammered. The way he tensed up, I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was—that this man had murdered Vonda and we were next.

  “I want you”—he waved the gun at Jay, then leaned over and pointed it at me as I cowered behind Jay—“and you to come with me.”

  “Why?” Jay asked.

  “You sure got a lot of questions,” the man said. “Because I said so, that’s why. Now, let’s move. And no funny stuff or you’ll be reunited with your girlfriend real fast.”

  I felt my stomach sink. This could not be happening. My husband’s mistress had been murdered and now we were being kidnapped by the person who’d probably done it.

  “Listen, mister,” I began, stepping from behind Jay, “it’s like you said. This is about Jay”—I glanced sideways at him—“and his girlfriend. This has nothing to do with me.” I felt a twinge of guilt over throwing Jay to the wolves, but I quickly shook off the feeling. If he’d gotten into some kind of trouble with that trick he was messing with, then he’d have to deal with it on his own. I wasn’t down for dying for anyone. And I definitely wasn’t dying for my philandering husband.

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” the goon said. “Number one, I know you’re wifey, so like it or not, you’re involved and you might have some info as well.”

  “Info about what?” both Jay and I said at the same time.

  “And number two,” he continued, ignoring our question, “I don’t leave witnesses.”

  Witnesses? I thought in horror. What did that mean? And if he didn’t “leave witnesses,” did that mean he was going to kill us whether we went with him or not?

  “Let’s move!” He nudged my head with the gun. “And don’t try to be no hero,” he warned both of us. “My trigger finger is jumpy.”

  Fear engulfed me as I led the way down the stairs. I looked for an escape route, all while trying to contain the rage brewing inside of me. When we got to the second floor, I debated darting off and into the hallway, but I knew the gun was pressed firmly in Jay’s back, and as much as I hated him right now, I’d never forgive myself if he got shot because I tried to make a run for it.

  We reached an exit door at the bottom of the stairwell. Jay’s eyes were apologetic. I looked away. His affair was the reason we were in this boat. So, no, I might not have wanted this thug to shoot my husband, but as soon as I got away, I was going to figure out a way to kill Jay myself.

  fifteen

  This could not possibly be happening. The dreadlocked man had moved over to me and now had the pistol positioned squarely in the middle of my back. He had once again warned us that if either of us made a move, he would plant a bullet right in the middle of my spine.

  “And if it doesn’t kill you, it would leave you paralyzed for the rest of your life,” he added. “So unless you want that, move your pretty little tail.” He pushed me with the gun out into an alley on the side of the hotel. I prayed that one of our fans, a bellhop, anybody would see us. But we’d barely stepped outside when a beat-up Ford Explorer sped toward us. The driver stopped, got out, and looked at his partner with confusion.

  “Hey, Will, what’s going on?” he asked in a thick West Indian accent.

  The thug looked at his partner in disbelief, probably because the driver had just used his name.

  The driver looked like he was about to apologize, but Will held up a hand and stopped him. “We got company.” Will threw the front door open.

  The driver didn’t say another word as he ducked back in the vehicle.

  “You. In the front seat. Shut up and ride,” Will said, pointing the gun at Jay. “Me and the pretty lady are going to sit here in the back.” He opened the back door and pushed me inside. This felt like something out of a bad movie. “And let me remind you, any quick movements”—he looked at Jay but raised the gun to my temple, causing me to cower in fear—“and I might just get trigger happy.”

  “Please,” I cried, squinting my eyes as the cold steel touched my skin, “this has nothing to do with me.”

  “Shut up,” Will barked.

  “She’s right,” Jay said, turning around in the front seat. “Just let her go. She doesn’t have anything to do with any of this.”

  Will took the butt of the gun and hit Jay across the back of the head. Jay screamed in agony and held his head, which had immediately started bleeding. I stifled my scream for fear that I would be next.

  “I told you to shut up. Let’s go,” Will snapped to the driver.

  “Here.” The driver threw an old, dirty towel at Jay. “You’re bleeding all over my seat.”

  Jay grimaced as he placed the towel to his head to stop the flow of blood.

  “Where are you taking us?” I asked after a few minutes of riding in silence.

  “You talk too much. Now sit over there and shut up before I stop being nice.”

  I leaned back and pursed my lips, my eyes on the gun now resting in his lap, its barrel pointing directly at me. I didn’t want to push him to the point of snapping, but I desperately wanted to know where we were going, what they were planning, and why in the world they thought I knew anything about whatever it was that had led them to commit murder and kidnapping.

  Jay kept glancing back at me, desperately trying to make sure I was all right. I wanted to scream at him, ask him what the hell he and his side chick were into and tell him to do something, anything, to get us out of this mess.

  After a few more minutes, we pulled into the parking lot of the Red Star Ferry. My heart started to race at the sight of the large vessel sitting in the water, ready to set sail. If we left Saint Thomas, there was no telling what these thugs would do to me and Jay.

  “You got your piece?” Will asked the driver.

  “You know I do,” he replied, patting his hip.

  “Good. Your contact is working?”

  The driver nodded. “We’re all set.”

  “Then let’s roll,” Will said, opening the door and dragging me out behind him.

  My heart felt like I’d done cardio, run a marathon, and danced all night, the way it was beating so fast.

  “When we get on the ferry, you go up front with lover boy and I’ll stay here with the little lady,” he told the driver. “That way, if either of them makes a move, we can blow the other one away.”

  Will leaned into me. “Don’t even think about screaming,” he said, as he wrapped his arm around me like we were two lovers going to enjoy a scenic view of the Caribbean, “or I promise you, you will regret it. Not only will I shoot you”—he paused and motioned toward a little girl in front of us with long, bushy pigtails, playing innocently with a doll—“but I’ll plant a bullet in that sweet little thang’s head as well.”

  I quivered in fear. I felt a sliver of hope as I saw a security guard patting down people as they walked onto the ferry. Surely he would see the gun, feel my terror, something. But when we approached the guard, he made eye contact with Will, then stepped aside and let us pass.

  As if Will knew I was preparing to scream or take off, he squeezed my arm tighter and pushed the gun farther into my side. We boarded the ferry and I felt my heart drop as the driver led Jay to the other end of the boat. Will and I sat down behind the little girl with the pigtails.

  “Please, will you tell me what’s going on?” I said once the ferry backed up and was on its way.

  “The only thing I’m going to tell you is to shut your trap. And that’s the last time I’m going to tell you that.”

  I quietly sat back and tried desperately to keep from crying while Will whipped out a cell phone and tapped a name on the screen.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice low, “we’re on our way…. Yeah, we got him. But we got company…. The missus was with him, so she’ll be joining us…. Cool. We’ll be there in a minute.”

  He hit the screen, dropped the phone in his pocket, then cut his eyes at me as I
sat sniffling and struggling not to cry. “Here, put these on,” he demanded, giving me a pair of men’s sunglasses he’d pulled out of his pocket.

  I took the glasses and slid them on. The few people on the ferry were oblivious to me anyway, so my being teary-eyed wouldn’t have done anything but make Will mad.

  We rode across the water and although it seemed like it took forever, according to my watch, it had actually only been just over two hours. Signs welcomed us to Saint Croix. When we docked, Will led me off the boat, the gun once again positioned at my side to remind me to do as I was told. Jay and the driver were close behind us. I glanced back at Jay. I could tell his mind was racing, probably trying to think of ways to get away. I was now torn as to whether he should try anything, because these guys seemed ruthless.

  Another beat-up Explorer, this one dark gray with rusting doors, was waiting, with another driver inside. Will pushed me inside the vehicle, then pushed Jay in next to me. Jay instinctively grabbed my hand. And though my mind wanted to react, my body welcomed his comforting touch and I squeezed his hand back. Will climbed in next to Jay and the first driver climbed into the front seat as we took off.

  The driver of this Explorer didn’t say a word as he pulled away. He looked like he couldn’t be any more than seventeen, and the way Jay was eyeing him, I could tell my husband was assessing whether he could take him out. I squeezed Jay’s hand tighter and shook my head. Will would shoot him in the back before he even made contact with the young driver.

  We all rode in silence for ten minutes before pulling up to what looked like a run-down abandoned building. This was definitely not the part of the Virgin Islands they feature in the travel brochures.

  “Will someone tell us what’s going on?” Jay demanded as we were pulled out of the SUV. Of course, no one said anything as they pushed us toward the door.

  “This is ridiculous, we don’t know anything,” Jay protested. “Why are you kidnapping us?”

  The men continued to ignore us as we were led inside the building and up several flights of stairs, then thrown into a dingy room with dirt-covered walls and a tattered rug. The stench greeted us at the door. The place looked like some sort of warehouse that hadn’t been used in decades. There were weeds coming in through the loose frame around the lone window near the corner. Empty water bottles and other trash were strewn all over the room. An old mattress sat on the floor in one corner, and four metal chairs occupied the middle of the room. The room was void of anything else.