Games Divas Play (A Diva Mystery Novel) (36 page)

CHAPTER 37

Vanessa

J
ohn spread the legal papers out on the table, explaining that while they were sure that Marcus, unlike Kareem, was a man of his word, he would need to sign a new management agreement that would allow Knight Sports Management to take 50 percent in fees so that it looked like a legal business arrangement. John would in turn then pay Mr. Quadron
the fees.

“I need to talk to my wife,” Marcus said as he jerked away from the men holding him and walked over to me. He bent down on one knee and leaned into my ear, his head resting on my shoulder. My arms strained against the ropes. I wanted to hold him
so badly.

“Baby, I’m so sorry I got us into this mess,” he said as I rested my head against his and let my lips brush across
his cheek.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I brought John into our lives, and if I hadn’t killed Laila, they wouldn’t have anything to hold
over you.”

“The only reason I’m signing these papers is because I can’t bear the thought of you going to jail. I could deal with not playing basketball again, but I can’t ever deal with not ha
ving you.”

I closed my eyes as a tear fell onto the side of Marc
us’s face.

“And I could bear the thought of going to jail, but I couldn’t ever stand by and watch someone hurt you. It would
kill me.”

As we absorbed the enormity of what was about to happen, along with the uncertainty that even if he signed the papers, Diablo Negro could still hurt us, we didn’t want to leave each other’s side. But Bruce came back over and jerked Marcus up onto his feet, then led him back over to
the table.

“If I do this, you’ll let us go?” Marcus asked as he held his hands out so that Bruce could remove the handcuffs and he could sign the documents, giving away half his fortune t
o save me.

“Of course, Mr. King. We want you to get back out on that court just as much as you do,” John said, his eyes gleaming wit
h triumph.

“And no one ever touches my wife again,” he snarled, looking directly at Pabl
o Quadron.

“As long as our arrangement stands, you have no problems, I can assure you,” Mr. Quadron said as John removed a black Montblanc pen from the breast pocket of his suit jacket and laid it on top of the
contracts.

As Marcus bent down to pick up the pen, a large explosion sounded and glass shattered all around us. I ducked my head and screamed as shards of glass rained down from the top of the glass and metal-framed roof, followed by long black ropes. Three men rappelled down the ropes, and then there was smoke in the room and gunfire, but all I heard was my own
screaming.

“Marcus! Marcus!”
I screamed as I rocked and strained against the tight ropes holding me firmly to the chair. I could see Marcus jabbing his elbow deep into Tyson’s neck through the smoke. Then he quickly turned to m
e and ran.

John flipped the table over and grabbed the briefcase and began to run with Mr. Quadron toward the plane. But their escape was cut off as three more men burst through the hangar doors, gun
s blazing.

As bullets continued to fly, Marcus made it across the room to me in five quick steps and scooped me up while I was still tied to the chair. I buried my head in his chest as he turned and ran, flanked by Terrence and another man dressed in all black who covered our escape by firing rounds from his semiautomatic weapon. I shut my eyes tight as a last image of our son smiling flashed throug
h my mind
.

I was sure we were abo
ut to die.

CHAPTER 38

Nia

I
hadn’t expected to be packing up my office twice within one year. But if I had learned anything, it was to always expect the unexpected. MJ walked into my office, carrying more boxes and a
tape gun.

“How did we accumulate so much stuff in just a year?” he asked as he folded the corrugated boxes i
nto shape.

“I don’t even know,” I said, turning around to survey the chaotic scene of half-packed boxes around the office. There would be no refuge at home, either, since my apartment was also in a half-packed state. “But I hope we can wrap this up today because I can’t stand the thought of looking at this mess an
y longer.”

“I’m going to stay late tonight and finish it up so I can focus on getting my own shit together,” he said, whipping the tape gun across to seal the top of a box full of books under the cof
fee table.

“Thanks, MJ. That would be great. I’m going to try to finish up as much as I can before I head out for m
y dinner.”

The move to DC had been a difficult decision, but Miki really hadn’t given me a choice. As the new head of both the TV and publishing division, she was eager to get her expansion plans moving. But while I appreciated her support for my ideas, which was certainly a welcome departure from DeAnna, I quickly found out that woman had only one speed: Go! Within two weeks of our conversation during which she announced that she was taking over our publishing unit, she asked me to present to her and the board my plans for the
DivaDish
brand. Within a week of my pitch, I officially got the green light to mov
e forward.

I was excited about the prospect of leading the charge to develop the
Diva
brand and had decided I needed to be in DC for at least the next six to eight months to get
DCDiva
launched. I would take the shuttle back and forth to New York as necessary to continue to oversee the magazine and DivaDish.com. It was going to be a huge challenge, but finally I had the opportunity to fully run my own business without worrying about the meddling hands of someone like DeAnna or the sneakiness of someone like Kris Kensington throwing me under the bus. Office politics had never been my thing, and I looked forward to focusing on doing my job and not having to worry about my colleagues trying to stab me in
the back.

The other exciting part of the expansion plans was my interest in covering another type of celebrity: politicians. In DC, the celebs were the members of the Congressional Black Caucus, DC’s black power brokers, society mavens, and the web of six-figure strategists and lobbyists that really made the Beltway work. And our initial research had shown that some of these folks were even more scandalous than the coked-up, philandering, tantrum-throwing stars we had been covering, so we should have a successful launch for our magazine an
d website.

And thanks to Vanessa, I was heading to DC on a high note businesswise. After she and Marcus were rescued from the warehouse last month, she had given
Diva
the one and only interview about their kidnapping by Diablo Negro. The exclusive account of their harrowing experience and glossy photos of the happy family in their new home in Alpine, New Jersey, had skyrocketed our newsstand sales for our bestselling issue ever, and the web tease resulted in tripling ou
r traffic.

And while Che had done an excellent job on the story, there was one piece of information I knew I had to get from Vaness
a herself.

The Midtown restaurant, Jezebel, was quiet, as the dinner crowd wouldn’t be arriving for at least another hour. I had requested an early reservation so that I could get back to my apartment to finish packing before my flight to DC in the morning. A slim hostess dressed in all black led me to a corner of the r
estaurant.

Seated in the roomy white leather banquette, Vanessa flipped through a copy of the new issue of the magazine featuring her cover story. She looked so happy. She was dressed in a bright berry-colored fitted dress with cap sleeves, with her hair cut into a sleek asymmetrical bob. Her face glowed with very little makeup—only a hint of gloss on her lips, some bronzer on her cheeks, and some mascara to frame her large b
rown eyes.

“Nice job, girl,” she said as she pushed the long side bang off her face. I leaned down to kiss her cheek and then slid in ne
xt to her.

“Nice job yourself. That issue is flying off the stands. Are you guys happy with the story and th
e photos?”

“Yes, everything turned out great.” She put the magazine back in her purse and gave the waiter her drink order of iced tea. I ordered a glass of merlot and perused
the menu.

“So, are you all packed and ready to go?” Vane
ssa asked.

“Just a few things to throw in the suitcases tonight and I’ll be done. MJ is packing up what we need for the office tonight and shipping that out. Hopefully it will all be set up within a few days so we can get right
to work.”

“That’s great, girl. I’m really proud of you.” Vanessa raised her glass to mine in a toast. “You’ve busted your ass, and now it’s really paying off. Cheers!” The waiter returned to the table and took o
ur orders.

“Thanks, V. You know, I can hardly believe it, but it’s really happening. You know I love New York, but I’ve also always wanted to live in DC. MJ found this fabulous real estate agent who got me this cute little town house in Georgetown to sublet and is coordinating all the elements of the move. I can’t wait for you t
o see it.”

“Well, now that I’ve got you back on the East Coast, I’m not going to let you get away that easily, so I hope your town house has a guest room so I can co
me visit.”

“Yes, it does, but you know I’ll be in New York a couple days a week
as well.”

“And is it work or pleasure that will be bringing you back to New York?” Vanessa asked coyly as she took another sip of her tea and win
ked at me.

“Whatever. You know you better come and bring my godson to DC to see me. Although I know you can’t do too much right now with your man taking his team to the championship.” Marcus had come back to the court with a vengeance, lighting up the boards and rallying his teammates to step up their games as well, and it had paid off. For the first time in ten years, the New York Gladiators were playing in the championship. But facing the New Orleans Dragons would no
t be easy.

“Isn’t it exciting? Marcus and his team are so focused right now. They are really determined to win this and bring New York a cham
pionship.”

“That’s great, Vanessa. I’m so happy for you both. How are things going between
you guys?”

“Well, you know it was hard when we had to face all the news about Kareem, Laila, John, and Diablo. I think Marcus felt betrayed by everyone and like he had been played for a fool, and it nearly cost him everything. We’ve continued to see the therapist at least once a week, which has helped, and we are both committed to making our marriage not only work, but better than it ever was.” As she continued to talk about how their weekly therapy sessions were bringing them closer together and their plans to try to have another baby after the season ended, I could see the pure happiness in her face. I hadn’t seen my girl look like that in a long time. She and Marcus seemed like they had a real fighti
ng chance.

“I’m really happy fo
r you, V.”

“But you know none of that would have been possible if you and Terrence hadn’t found us in that warehouse. I was never so happy to see Terrence in all
my life!”

“And I was never so happy to see the three of you and Marcus when you all came busting out of that warehouse. I was scared
to death.”

“You were scared? Try being carried out strapped to a chair, not knowing if bullets were going to cut you down at any moment.” Vanessa shuddered with the memory of that wild night as she dove into her entrée. “I still have ni
ghtmares.”

“I was glad you called for dinner. Now that you’re a Jersey resident, what brings you into the city this evening?” The waiter cleared our entrées, and we both passed on dessert, so Vanessa asked for
the check.

“I had a potential endorsement meeting for Marcus this afternoon, and after dinner I’m meeting him at the Habitat for Humanity event at Cartier where the Glam crew will be following us all night.” Miki had convinced Vanessa that it would be a good idea to start taping the reality show as soon as possible as they rebuilt their lives after the kidnapping and Marcus led his team to the championship. Clearly that woman had the golden gift of the gab, because normally Vanessa was such a private person that I couldn’t believe she had even agreed to allow the cameras to follow them during this intimate moment in th
eir lives.

“How is it having the cameras following you, Kim Ka
rdashian?”

“Whatever, heffa. It was hard at first, but honestly now it’s like I forget they are ev
en there.”

“OK, but don’t let me turn on the show and see your ass throwing drinks in folks’ faces and pulling out weaves and ish like those other reality shows,” I joked as she placed her American Express black card on top of
the bill.

“Never that. Alway
s classy.”

“Yes, that you are, my dear. And I have to thank you again for approaching Miki about doing the show and telling her it was my idea. What made you
do that?”

“I felt bad about deceiving you in Phoenix about the cover story on the pregnancy announcement. You put your job on the line for me, so I thought if there was a way for me to save your job, I shou
ld do it.”

“And it didn’t hurt that you killed Laila’s show in the process, right?” I looked at her underneath my lowered lashes as she smirked while signing the credit card slip f
or dinner.

“Well, I never explicitly told Miki she needed to cancel Laila’s show. I think she saw the merits on her own of signing our show and cutting Laila loose, especially after I told her that I’d hate to have to include her and the network in a suit against Laila for causing me to lose
my baby.”

“What do
you mean?”

“Remember at the gala when you were trying to pull me away from the fight and suddenly I fell back into t
he crowd?”

“Yeah . . . I always thought someone stepped on yo
ur dress.”

“I fell because something pulled me back onto the ground. At first I thought maybe someone had stepped on my dress, too, but when I replayed that image over in my mind, I remember seeing Laila skulking around on the ground and going to crawl under a table. I know that bitch pulled me down, and after I told Miki to check all of her camera footage, she seemed to see thing
s my way.”

“Wow, no wonder she was so eager to get that deal done and cut ties with Laila. A lawsuit would have been a huge black eye for the network and likely ended he
r career.”

“Exactly. And following my plan, everyb
ody wins.”

“I ain’t mad at your gangsta, girl,” I said, raising my glass to her again before taking a sip. “But, speaking of Laila, there’s one thing I’ve never been able to fi
gure out.”

“What’s that?” she asked, putting her credit card back into h
er wallet.

“What were you doing at the Four Seasons?” I said. Just as the detective had said, Kareem’s prints were the only ones found on the gun, and he told the prosecutor that it was a lover’s quarrel between the two of them, but I still had my suspicions that wasn’t the wh
ole truth.

“What do
you mean?”

“Don’t you think it’s kind of strange that Diablo’s crew happened to snatch you up in front of the same hotel where someone had just killed your husband’s former
mistress?”

As I braced myself for my best friend’s answer, Vanessa took her black Prada makeup bag out of her navy-blue Dior handbag and removed
her gold compact and lip gloss, and then touched up her lips in t
he mirror.

“No comment,” she said as she snapped the compact closed and dropped everything back in her bag, leaned over and kissed me, and then slid out of the booth and headed for the door, toward the waitin
g cameras.