Bad Girls Finish First (28 page)

“Dr. Laverne, do you want to have sex with me?”

“Mrs. Joseph.” He said her name quietly. Dr. Laverne couldn't think straight. His mind was racing through all the freaky stories Dudley had told him about Raven. David didn't give him the details of his intimate encounters with Raven, but to make a white-woman-loving man like him fall in love? Well, Raven had to be something else.

“I know my name, Doctor. That's not what I asked you. Do you want to have sex? Yes or no will do.”

Dr. Laverne didn't need to be asked again. “Yes.”

“And afterward you'll let me have a copy of Dudley's file.”

“Yes.” Dr. Laverne nearly choked on his answer. Raven swung her legs onto the sofa that Dudley loved so much. “Okay, come on.”

 

 

Dr. Laverne kept his word. He sat quietly while Raven flipped through Dudley's file, speaking only when spoken to.

“So, good old Dudley is gay,” she said. “And he hates himself for it.”

Dr. Laverne spoke in what he hoped was a scholarly tone. “We'd have to create a new word to describe how much Dudley detests himself for being gay. First off, he won't admit that he is. All his life Dudley has wanted to be thought of as a powerful man. It's what he lives for. But not only is he gay, he enjoys being the passive partner. What he craves sexually is at odds with his idea of what makes a real man. He despises himself for who he is and lives in constant fear that he'll be exposed.”

“A depraved brownie queen, huh,” Raven said as she continued to flip through his file. “If I were a gay man, I sure wouldn't want to have anything to do with his big wide ass.”

“Evidently he's good at all submissive roles,” Dr. Laverne added helpfully. “His street name is Bugle Boy. He hates the name. He'd die if he knew I told you.”

Raven gave the doctor a charming smile. She shook her head and frowned as she read page after page about how much Dudley resented her. “Slimy slug,” she said when she got to the end of the file. Raven looked at Dr. Laverne. “I underestimated him.”

“And based on what he told me about you, I'm surprised that you did.” Dr. Laverne averted his eyes after he said this.

Raven smiled at the doctor's shyness. After what they'd just done, why be shy? She sort of liked him, wouldn't mind stopping by from time to time, just to talk.

“How did what you were told about me compare to the real thing?” Raven asked the question just to make conversation. She walked to the doctor's copier, fully expecting him to entertain her by singing her praises while she copied Dudley's file.

“It was okay.”

Raven spun around. “What did you say?”

“I said it was okay. Good—I should have used the word, good. It was good.” Dr. Laverne looked a little frightened. “Really.”

“Don't get all bent out of shape,” Raven said as she walked toward him. “I just want to know what was lacking.”

Dr. Laverne had never felt so naked. He stuttered and stammered so much that Raven lost interest in him and started back toward the copier. The doctor finally spit it out.

“Dudley tells me you can really hurt a man, when you put your mind to it.”

“It's true, I can. But Doctor, I'm in love with David; I can't go around having sex with other men just for the fun of it. Especially not that kind of sex. There has to be something in it for me, and you've already given me all I need.” She resumed her copying.

“I've got things you need, and you don't even know it,” he said.

“How's that?” Still bored with him. Still copying

“Jeff Sweeney's my patient too. Talk about a man with problems.”

“Well, then,” Raven dropped her papers and strode over to Dr. Laverne. She grabbed a handful of his perfectly coifed hair, and put her knee in his groin. “In that case, let's get this party started.”

25

“W
ell, well, you're the last person I expected to see at my doorstep,” Jerry Minshew said. “Since when does a lousy fuck rate a home visit?”

“Just let me in,” Raven said.

“Why should I?”

“Because I'm about to make you a very happy man.”

Minshew tried to look cool, but his neck turned red. “It's a little late for that, isn't it? I've been asking you to make me happy for weeks. If you'd returned my calls, maybe I wouldn't have had to take back the paper's endorsement. Maybe you and your husband wouldn't be about to get trampled a few days from now.”

Minshew had intended to end his speech by closing the door in Raven's face. But he didn't; he just stood there like a horny idiot.

“Think about it, Jerry. If it were too late for you to help me, I wouldn't be here, would I?” Raven gave him a winning smile and stepped very close to him. “And you know if I say I can make you happy, then I can. Let me in.”

Raven sat on the pleather sofa and Minshew sat next to her, so close that his sweaty blubber pressed into her side. After their “romantic interlude,” as Minshew called it in the messages he left on Raven's cell phone, she'd tried hard to forget about his pale, jiggly stomach, but it was the sort of grotesque sight (not to mention feel) that stays with a person. Twenty-four hours earlier, she would have cringed at the thought of being this close to Minshew. But after her encounter with Dr. Laverne, Raven wouldn't ever again call any man nasty. Dr. Laverne set a new low.

Raven turned and looked Minshew in the eyes. “What do you want more than anything?”

Now Minshew's whole face was flushed. “You mean what kind of... uh . . . I don't know.” Gone was the eloquent newspaper editor, replaced by a stammering boy. “Whatever you want.” He scooted over, away from Raven.

“I'm talking no limits, Jerry.”

Minshew's face went from red to white. “No limits?” He was struck dumb by the very idea.

Let me quit before he dies of anticipation,
Raven thought. She took the envelope from her handbag.

“How about a Pulitzer?”

 

 

Grace combed her hair just so, and then studied her reflection. She fluffed her hair so that a few strands hung seductively over her left eyebrow, changed her mind and pushed the strands behind her ear. “Ugh!” she said in frustration. She picked up her comb and started over again.

“Stop it,” she said aloud and tossed the comb aside. She leaned close to the mirror to make sure her makeup was perfect. “You look fine.”

Michael was on his way over. She hadn't seen him since he almost seduced her on her living-room sofa. Michael had begged to come back, but Grace put him off, so he began seducing her in a different way. He remembered everything about her, like which florist she preferred and the type of jewelry she liked. Michael played those memories for all they were worth by showering Grace with flowers and gifts.

Michael also called Grace every day. His conversation was always the same. “Believe me, Grace, I'm serious about us being together. Believe me.”

At first Grace didn't want to believe, because the idea of her and Michael getting back together was, by definition,
un
believable. She knew that God answered prayers, but once she emerged from her shell, Grace had stopped praying for Michael to come back. She was scared to death that now that she'd finally gotten herself together, Michael was going to come into her life like a twister, tearing up her insides and leaving as quickly as he came.

But Michael Joseph was one persistent ex-husband. He chipped away at Grace's doubts about his sincerity. And although it had taken him years to truly break Grace's heart, he put it back together and took up room inside it in an amazingly short time.

“There's still a lot to talk about,” Grace assured herself as she looked around the room to make sure everything was perfect. Grace was a wine drinker, but she had stocked her bar with Michael's favorite scotch and cognac. She'd carefully selected the music for her CD—The Whispers, Luther, Phyllis Hyman—it was the music they made their babies to.

How will the boys take the news?
Grace wondered as she checked on her leg of lamb. Michael loved leg of lamb. “We'll have to talk about how to tell the boys,” Grace said aloud as she lit the candles on the dining room table. She felt butterflies as she looked around the room one last time. No matter what Grace said, the ambience in her condo did not lend itself to conversation.

When the doorbell rang, Grace took a moment to look at herself one last time. Her Tahari pantsuit perfectly complemented her figure.
You're beautiful.
She was finally able to acknowledge what John Reese and Christopher had been telling her all along.
You're beautiful, inside and out.

 

 

“This is the best date I've ever had,” Michael said as he sipped cognac after dinner.

“I know,” Grace admitted. She had never enjoyed Michael's company more, not even when they were on their honeymoon. Since the moment he arrived, Michael had been thoughtful, witty, and unabashedly romantic.

They were in Grace's living room, seated across from each other. Michael put down his glass and went over and sat next to Grace. He kissed and caressed Grace until telltale blushing rose in her face.

Michael took her hand. He glanced toward the back of the condo, where Grace's bedroom was, then back at her. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“I am.” Grace kissed Michael on the side of his mouth. “But I have some things on my mind, Michael.”

He sat back, still holding her hand. “Okay, shoot.”

“Well, for one thing, it's going to come as quite a shock to the public that we're back together. How are you planning to handle that?”

A strange looked passed across Michael's face. “The public?” He chose his words carefully. “I don't think we need to let the public know anything right away, Grace. This is between us.”

Grace thought for a moment, and then asked. “What about our friends?”

“Honey, they're part of the public. If we let them know, our relationship will be common knowledge in no time.”

“Okay then, what about Chris and Evan?”

Michael let go of Grace's hand. “Grace, don't you think you're moving a little too fast?”

Grace felt a heavy thump in her chest. “What do you mean?”

Michael looked cornered. “It's like you just said, Grace, the public wouldn't understand if we got back together right away. Even though you'd have to be patient—”

“Be patient? Michael, I've been patient for years. Through your marriage to Raven and through all your other affairs before her. What else is there to wait on?”

“I've got to figure out what's going on in my marriage, for one thing.”

Grace was struck speechless.

Then Michael had the nerve to say, “We're talking about my marriage, Grace. Raven and I haven't even talked about our problems. I owe it to her to have a conversation before I up and leave.”

Grace knew her mouth was hanging open, but she couldn't help herself. She was furious. “I agree, Michael, if a husband's going to walk out on his wife, he ought to at least talk to her first. Maybe they can work it out. I only wish you'd cherished your marriage to me half as much as you cherish your marriage to Raven.”

Michael had never seen Grace so angry and he wasn't sure how to react. “I did, honey, I cherished what we had, but I was also a fool, messing around with all those women. I didn't expect to fall in love.”

No. He. Didn't.
She edged further away from him and said, “Excuse me?”

“I didn't expect to fall in love with Raven, but I did.” When he saw the outraged look on Grace's face Michael added, “But believe me, Grace, everything I've been telling you is true. I never stopped loving you. I always loved you, and I still do.”

“You've got some fucking nerve,” was all Grace could say.

“Honey, don't say that,” he said in a quiet voice. “Believe me, if I could turn back time, I would. But you know how crazy Raven is—if I tried to leave her right now . . . but eventually I'll be able to . . . uh . . . figure something out.”

“So basically, you're offering me the position of babies' mama, ex-wife, tramp on the side to the almost governor. How's this for an answer!” Mild-mannered Grace reached over and slapped the hell out of Michael.

He grabbed his scarlet cheek with one hand and reached out to her with the other. “Grace, no! You make it sound so ugly.”

“Only because it is.” She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the wall. Something about her was different. Grace's face was flushed with desire and anger, but the mirror reflected something else, an inner quality—a strength beaming off her like sunlight.

Grace took a good, long look at Michael. “Michael, I'll always love you, and not just because you're the father of my sons.” Michael looked hopeful but not confident. He could see that he was talking to a new Grace, and it would be her, not him, who set the rules.

“I've forgiven you, and myself, for the things that went wrong in our marriage. We're intertwined for life. But I refuse to be your back-door lover. And after the way you've played with my feelings, I don't want to be your friend. When you need a shoulder to cry on, mine is not available. Understand?” She got up and walked out of the room.

Michael sat by himself, for how long he didn't know. He was losing the race, maybe his wife, and he had stupidly alienated the one woman who'd always been on his side.

He rose from the sofa and went into the kitchen, where Grace sat. “I'm sorry, Grace. It was foolish and selfish of me to expect more from you, when I never gave you what you deserved in the first place. I disrespected you, and I apologize for that.” Michael kneeled before Grace, and she thought about how many times she'd prayed for that moment. He took her hands in his own. “I know we'll see each other, because of the children. But aside from that, may I call you once in a blue moon, just to see how you're doing?”

“I don't know. You'll just have to wait and see.”

Grace let Michael out. She took the baby-making music out of the CD player and put on Angie Stone. She moved the lighted candles from the living room to the bathroom and prepared herself a hot bath.

Grace thought she would cry, but she didn't. “I'm free,” she said aloud. She blew at the bubbles beneath her chin and laid her head back. “I'm free.”

 

 

“Why don't you try the next paragraph, son,” John Reese suggested.

The boy read slowly but clearly. He stumbled a bit, but since the summer his confidence and his ability to read had improved dramatically.

“Excellent, Waleed,” a woman's voice said.

The boys and John Reese looked up and found Grace standing at the door.

“John,” Grace nodded to him in greeting, then she went around the room, calling names—Waleed, Trey, James, Aaron—and dispensing hugs.

“I missed you guys. I apologize for not being more concerned about you the first time around, but I'd like another chance.”

“I don't know,” Trey said. “We need more than a simple apology.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the other boys chimed in, and John did, too.

Grace held up her hands to stop the commotion. “How about I start tomorrow and bring brownies as a peace offering?”

Mr. Reese stood and extended his hand toward his seat. “You don't have to wait, Grace, you can start right now.”

“Can't,” she said as she walked toward the door. “I've got to catch a flight to Austin. Evan's singing with the all-city choir tonight. I promised him I'd be front and center.” She threw the boys a megawatt smile and said, “Nuts in the brownies, right? I'll see you tomorrow.”