Over. (This. Is. Not. Over. #2) (13 page)

Danielle

6 a.m
.

Mississippi

             
Ah … the open road, my Starbucks coffee in hand and the car heater blowing on my toes. I. Am. Loving. This. Regrettably, Rena is nearly destroying my mood with her shenanigans. She keeps checking her rearview mirror, looking around and sighing loudly … all while I’m trying to read James Patterson’s
The Mistress
on my Kindle. It’s about a woman who’s missing. Gone. Dead. Out of here. Oh well, such is life.

             
I make the mistake of giggling at a funny part.

             
“Oh really?” Rena says.

             
“Sorry, it’s a witty read.”             

             
“Well, we made it to Mississippi in one piece.” She gives a sigh of relief. Why, oh, why did I call Rena and ask her to skip town with me? First I had her try to murder the wrong person and now I have her believing Malcolm is chasing after us. How can I gently tell her that every thought that entered my mind and every word that I uttered from my mouth was wrong, without destroying my credibility?

             
“Rena, let me just call Malcolm.”

             
“Don’t you touch that damn phone.”

             
“Maybe he isn’t trying to kill me after all.”

             
“Oh please, you’re as good as gone.”

             
“Wait, why do you say that?”

             
“A black girl tries to murder a white girl who happens to be a popular Senator’s daughter? They’re giving you the chair.”

             
“You’ve got a point there.” Now she has me thinking. “Rena, do
you
see why I wanted Laura to die?” I’m trying to see what a jury of my peers would say.

“
I
can see why but the question is what everyone else thinks about it.”

             
“Damn those hypocrites!” Now Rena’s getting me worked up. I swear misery loves company. “My defense would be that I didn’t know Laura Rossi from Adam and Eve, then one day,
boom!,
she tries to murder me.”

“Leave it up to a Rossi to leave a bad first impression. No offense to Lola of course. Maybe Lola can be your character witness.” Okay, I can’t take this anymore; I have to tell Rena the whole truth. I close my eyes, inhale, exhale deeply, and then open my eyes.

“Speaking of the Rossi family, I have something to tell you.” I bookmark my Kindle page and place it on my lap.

“What?”

“I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you but, you were worried that we would get arrested in Alabama so I didn’t want to upset you any further.”

“What happened?”

“The, uh, pictures to my priest, the freezing of my accounts and all that other stuff …”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t Laura.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Malcolm told me, after I talked to you, that it was Lola.”

“What!”

“I know, can you believe it? Malcolm said Lola was using me to get back at Laura. It appears that they’ve had issues for as long as he can remember.”

“So she tricked
your dumbass!”

“Well, I wouldn’t have put it quite
like that but–”

“Danielle; you, me, Georgie, all three of our black asses are
driving across the damn country because of Laura and her ass wasn’t even the one who was harassing you?”

“I’m just as shocked as you.”

“How
dare
you ask me what people will say about all of this! What do you think they’re going to say?”

“I wasn’t too sure that’s why I asked you.”

“It’s one thing if we did this to Laura out of duress, but Laura didn’t do anything! No wonder Malcolm is trying to kill our asses!”

“Listen, I know that I’ve put us in a sticky situation–”

“Danielle, don’t talk to me.”

“Rena–”

“No. Don’t talk to me.”

“See why I didn’t want to tell you?”

“Shit, I’ve got to hurry to Baton Rouge and unfreeze Laura’s accounts.” She floors the gas pedal and I throw one hand to the passenger door handle and the other to my seatbelt.

I’m glad that Rena now sees the importance of unfreezing Laura’s accounts but something is telling me that she’s waited too long. I just have that feeling.

Danielle

9 a.m.

Baton Rouge

             
“
Shit, finally here.”

             
“What’s the roadblock all about?” I ask as I roll down my window and strain my head out of it. I know it’s supposed to be warm here right now, but there’s a sharp chill in the morning air. “Goodness, it has to be about forty degrees out here right now.”

             
“I think there was a fender bender near the border.” Rena says, beating on the steering wheel like it’s a bongo drum.

“Ah, the Mississippi/Louisiana border! It’s been so long since I’ve been to Creole Country!”

              “I know, I miss this place. The first place I’m going, after I head to the hotel’s business center and then take my ass to sleep, is to The Chimes.”

             
“Oh hell yeah!”

             
“Remember that!”

             
“Of course!”

             
“We’d drive all the way up from New Orleans for their po’ boys.”

             
“Yeah, we’re definitely going there … I’m glad you’re talking to me again Rena. Like Maya Angelou says–”

             
“Shut the hell up. Looks like we’re about to move.”

             
“Good. Georgie’s probably pissed back there.”

             
“Twenty-four hours in a car? I’d say he’s pissed.”

“Well I took him out and let him stretch his skinny little legs.”

              “I know, he needs some meat on him.”

             
“Are you still feeding him rice in his milk because–”

             
“Good Morning …” We both hear a man’s voice say before we hear a knock on Rena’s window.

“Shit!” Rena says. We’re on the run, exhausted and jumpy, the last thing we need is a knock on our window from a random security officer. Why the hell is he knocking our window anyways?

“What the hell?” I ask as Rena rolls her window down. And then I see that it’s not a security officer, it’s a cop.

Oh. Shit. Malcolm
is
out to get us. Rena was right!

“Officer?” Rena says.

“Rena Beauvais and Danielle Rouge?” He asks as he bends down, looking into the window.

Damn, we’re going to die in Louisiana, the one state Rena
didn’t
bank on dying in. Life sure does have a way of surprising you.

“Yes.” Rena chokes out.

“Right here.” The cop says as he turns his head and looks over his shoulder.

The cop moves out of the way. And there, in the distance, dressed properly in a wool trench and gingham scarf with his hands his pockets and a smirk on his face is … Jacob.

“Ladies,” Jacob says as he strolls towards us, “I thought we all agreed on Hilton Head.”

Malcolm

Noon

Angie and Wynston Blair, my mother and father (or Queen and King Blair as they’ve always hoped to be called), ceremoniously flew into Boston late last night.
After Lola burned your home down, with Cadence inside of it, I figured I’d come see what the fuss is about,
my mother said this morning as she was accompanying me to a courier office to express a package to Red.
You’re a comforting presence mom,
I said to her in an imperceptible mocking tone,
I’m sure you can help resolve this.
She gave me a polite smile.
Why thank you, my love
, she responded. That was one hour ago. And now …

“Shut the
fuck
up!” She screams over Lola and Cadence, who are sitting next to each other on a sofa, arguing. Dad, Rossi, Eva, and I are seated nearby on some chairs and couches, scared to death.

Ladies and gentlemen, introducing Angie and Wynston Blair. Let me just give you some background on these two and then allow you to make your own assumptions.
When my mother and father are in town, they demand that their home be addressed as Blair House. My mother and father are the type of people who think that naming a home is a symbol of royalty and prestige: White House, Windsor Castle, Blair House. This is perfectly logical to them. I’m sitting with everyone in the living room. But when my mother and father are in town, we must refer to it as The Royal Ivory Room. Let me explain, because this all makes sense, trust me. All of my mother’s favorite comfort foods are created in shades of white or ivory. Therefore, the entire room is decorated in ivory because my mother considers herself ‘unique minded’ (as opposed to simple-minded) and decorating a room in a shade of all of her favorite comfort foods proves just how unique minded she is. She’s certain that no one else has thought of doing such a thing. If you’re wondering, her comfort foods that are created in shades of white are: eggs, chocolate, sugar, milk, mushrooms, pudding, rice, bread, and ice cream. Funny, some of those foods are among my favorites too, but in my mind they always appear in shades of brown. (I’m flirting with you, ladies. I know it’s the wrong time to flirt. I can hear you all right now:
Not now Malcolm, focus!
Sorry, let’s get back to the matter at hand.) Everyone’s head is following my mother as she walks around The Royal Ivory Room, looking at three flat screen TVs attached to the surrounding walls.

“What’s arguing going to do, huh?” My mother asks Lola and Cadence. “Look at this.” She points to the three televisions that have Boston News 4, Boston News 5 or Boston News 8 on them. Though News 8’s broadcast is the only TV that’s turned up for us to hear, the same thing is showing on all stations. Laura’s picture is plastered over all of them with the captions reading:
Fiancé turned mistress burnt out of home owned by former lover, Attorney Malcolm Blair.
Please don’t ask me what I think about this; I don’t think I even need to say anything. I believe it’s pretty clear that, after operating off of five hours of sleep within two days, I didn’t want to wake up to this shit.
“Unbelievable.” My mother says as she stops pacing and glares at Cadence and Lola, who are currently shutting the fuck up.

“… Attorney Blair and Laura Rossi were presumably a happy and so called
‘it’ couple in Boston,”
the newscaster on News 8 says,
“before they had a fairly private breakup and he met Danielle Rouge, a leading Boston feminist.”
Images of Laura and me, smiling and attending balls and galas with her dressed in silk gowns and me in tuxedos and cufflinks, flash on the screen. But that’s not what I’m focused on. I’m focused on the fact that they’re mentioning Danielle … they’re leading up to something.
I can feel it.

My phone buzzes.

Jacob
12:02 pm
: Just landed in Hilton Head with Danielle and Rena.

Me
12:02 pm
: Make them both happy.

Jacob
12:02 pm
: I got you bro

Jacob’s my right hand, there’s nothing like having a brother.

“Mom I’m sorry I got us into this.” Then we’ve got
this
muthafucka. “It’s just that a man’s heart–”

“Oh Cadence, give it a break!” Lola screams over him, turning to look at him face to face. “So it’s your
heart
that makes you fuck my sister? My
sister
Cadence! I go to New York for one weekend to get away and relax and you run to Boston to screw my sister?”

“Well did you have to
go and burn her house down because of it?”

“That
was
quite silly, dear.” Eva says. “You don’t see me running around burning down Cynthia’s home.”

“Here we go.” Rossi says.