Over. (This. Is. Not. Over. #2) (7 page)

             
“Me too. What about Jasmine?”

             
“She obviously hasn’t heard of the fight yet, considering she hasn’t called us in tears. We’ll call her and tell her that there’s been a change of plans, the guys got into a scuffle and we think it’s best if we don’t spend the holiday with Malcolm and his people in South Carolina. We’ll say that we’re spending the holidays in Louisiana instead … our old stomping grounds.”

             
“She didn’t want to hang out with Malcolm and his people anyways.”

             
“See, all is well. By the time we get back next week, everything will be fine. Matt, Jasmine and Marlon can meet us in Baton Rouge on Sunday instead of going to Hilton Head. I’ll tell Matt that you and I are going a day early in order to arrange housing.”

             
“Brilliant. That sounds perfectly logical. So Baton Rouge, instead of Hilton Head.”

             
“Right.”

             
“Listen, I’m going upstairs to my condo to grab my bags. If Malcolm and the Fultons don’t kill me, let’s meet at the airport. We’ll try to get on a red-eye.”

             
“No one’s going to kill you, you’re just paranoid. I’ll see you there.” I end the call with Rena as I hear the elevator door
ding
and then slide open. Malcolm is standing there looking darker, bigger, earthier, deeper and taller than he did on the plane. His face is banged up in all the right places: a bruise on his right cheek bone and a small cut near his left eyebrow. He winks at me as he walks off the elevator, takes me in his arms, bends downs and kisses me on the lips. For a brief moment, I almost forget that I’m supposed to be afraid of him. I almost forget that he’s too cavalier right now for my tastes. But when someone has full lips, wide shoulders and a devil-may-care wink, you almost forget that he’s just lied to you about everything that’s been happening for the past week. You almost forget that it’s because of him that you tried to murder the wrong person. You almost forget that he’s now trying to murder you. Almost.

“You’re almost out of chips,
” He says, “I’ll grab some on the way back.”

“So you and the Fultons have decided not to murder me?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Red, relax. I’ll fix everything, no one will find out about you and that fire. And I’m
not   familiar enough with the Fultons to collaborate a murder with them.” He smiles. “So no worries there. You’re high that’s all. Come on, let’s go upstairs so you can sleep it off.”

“You’re very convincing Malcolm.” I say as we walk onto the elevator together. “Very
convincin
g
He try llucinations, flashbacks and her to meet you somewhere and then I'111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
1
indeed.” I still don’t trust him. He smiles and shakes his head again.

“I should’
ve been recording your ass tonight.” He says with a laugh. “This shit is too funny.”

While the elevator rises, he wraps me in his arms until it stops on my floor and then walks me to my door in silence. But it’s
too
silent now. That’s when I figure it all out; there’s a two-man firing squad inside of my condo. This is the calm before the storm. Jacob and Nat are probably in there, somehow having snuck past me with the help of Nell and are now lurking in the dark shadows of my condo, waiting for me to enter. I unlock the door slowly, very slowly, giving Malcolm a chance to save me.

“Do you need me to help?” He asks.

“I most certainly do
not
.” I answer. Bastard. I whip the door open and it bangs against the hallway’s wall. Aha!

Nothing.

“Yeah, it’s probably best if you have a few chips and then head to bed.” Malcolm says as he checks the wall, making sure I didn’t leave a hole. Why? So you can kill me in my sleep and say I choked on a chip?

“I’ll do that.” I say, nodding.

We stand there for a silent moment; me nodding my head, him looking at me do it.

“I’ll hurry back.” He says before leaning in and giving me another kiss on the lips. I can see him trying to suppress a
nother smile. All fun and games huh? “Will you promise to let me handle this?”

“Of course.” Not a chance. I don’t put my life in the hands of anyone. Not even you Malcolm.

“Thank you.” He says before he turns to leave. I ease my door close and then I begin punching into my cell phone.

Me 3:35 am
: I’m not dead so I’ll be at the airport in 45 minutes.

Rena
3:35 am
: I’m already in a cab.

I then write a mass text message to everyone, including my parents, notifying them of our change of plans.

Me 3:36 am
: Know it’s late but Rena, Georgie and I think it’s best to go to Baton Rouge instead of Hilton Head … and I think you all know why (Jon I’ll deal with you later … mom and dad I’ll call you in the morning and tell you all about Jon.) So change your flights and come to Baton Rouge tomorrow. Rena and I are about to catch a red-eye flight to Baton Rouge now to find a rental home.
Au revoir
.

Jon
3:36 am:
Answer your phone I’m trying to call you.

Me
3:36 am:
I’ll deal with you in Baton Rouge.

I reach into my clutch to make sure my debit cards and license are there. Wait … where’s my license? I lean over and dump everything that’s in my clutch onto the floor. I know my license has to be in here, I never really doubted that it wasn’t. Checking for it is just a formality that everyone does when they’re about to catch a flight. My license … my license … not here. Did I leave it in a bar in New York? Now some loony will have my address. Great, now I have to move. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Good thing Jasmine married a real estate agent. I grab my cell phone.

Me 3:39 am:
Marlon when you wake up in the morning, do me a favor, find me a new home. I’ll get the keys from you in Baton Rouge.

Okay, so that’s done. I scoop the belongings of my clutch off the floor and back into it. Then I run into my bedroom, open my top dresser drawer and feel for my passport. Got it. Alright, so Baton Rouge here we come. Rena and I couldn’t have thought of a better plan. For better or for worse, together we are unstoppable.

Danielle

4:45 a.m.

“Your passport is denied.” What did the ticket agent just say? I look between Rena and Georgie who are beside me. Poor sweet and innocent Georgie, only one year old and he’s about to witness Auntie Danielle cuss somebody’s ass out. I look to Georgie as my muse; for his sake I must deal with this matter calmly. But then I notice that his hair is swooped to the side, with a part in it. He looks like an extra on the set of
Grease
. Why the hell did Rena brush his hair like that? I look back to the ticket agent.

             
“What the fuck do you mean denied?” I say.

             
“I’m sorry Miss, but I’ve been told not to allow you to travel by air.”

             
I drop my carryon bag on the ground and look around for the US Marine Corps. Because surely, they’ll be running over to tackle me and then hauling me off to the security room to water-board me. I mean, isn’t that what happens to people who aren’t allowed on planes?

             
“Whoa …” Rena says as she eases her carryon bag onto the ground. And for the first time ever, I see fear in Rena’s eyes. This isn’t good. Rena’s the only woman I know who is fear
less
. She arranged for Laura’s house to burn to the ground. (While Laura was still inside of it!) She lives on a street that has a ‘Drug Free Zone’ sign. She eats seafood at shitty ass dives. She’s not afraid of anything. “And here I was thinking you were just paranoid.”

             
“Why in the world is it denied?” I ask the agent.

             
“Well as soon as I entered your information and purchased your ticket, a message flashed saying that your passport ID was temporarily suspended.”

             
“Oh, shit!” Rena says, her eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them. “They’re coming for us.” She whispers.

             
For the second time in my life I’m speechless. (The first being the time with Father Harper and my porno pictures.)

             
“Why?” I ask the agent.

             
“Child support payments.” The agent answers. Is this bitch crazy!

             
“What! I don’t pay child support!”

             
“Sorry but that’s what it says. You’re delinquent and when you owe over $2,500, the US suspends your passport.” I … I don’t know … I’m just speechless.

             
“Oh he’s fucking with us! What are we going to do?” Rena whispers to me. Georgie has his little ass head in the mix, he wants to know too.

“I have no idea.”
I say. Rena and I look at each other for a moment, shaking our heads in unison. “I think he’s really upset about what I did to Laura.” I tell her and Georgie.

“You think
!”

“There’s no telling what he plans on doing to the three of us.”

“Damn Danielle, and you had no idea that this muthafucka was still in love with this woman when you asked me to ruin her damn life? Were you that damn blind?”

“If I thought Malcolm still loved Laura, do you think I would have
let you burn her alive?”

Rena still doesn’t know the whole story about her actually burning
Malcolm’s
house down or about Lola being my stalker.  And to tell you the truth, I’m feeling a little uncomfortable now about telling her. She’s sure to think that all of her work was for naught and she’s sure to blame me for this catastrophe. So for now, I’ll keep those little secrets to myself. Because, to be honest, Rena’s being a little rude at the moment.

             
“That son-of-a-bitch … Okay, let me think.” Rena says as she closes her eyes and drops her head back.

             
“Let’s drive.” Yep, that’s exactly what we’ll do.

             
“Drive to Baton Rouge?”

             
“Malcolm’s probably stopped me from getting on a train too and we don’t have time to go and see.”

             
“Then we’ll have to drive. I’ll rent the car. Let’s do it.”

Malcolm is a
piece
of work. This was the last straw. He’s given me the Kiss of Death and has most recently put me on the no-fly list. He has proven to me that he can’t be trusted. Now that I think about it, he probably stole my license. Oh this is laughable! Does he really think that a missing license and denied passport will stop me? Does he actually think that he has me cornered? Does he think he’s grounded me? Does he think he’s trapped me in Boston? Well he can think again. He’s not calling the shots, I call the damn shots here! My name is Danielle Rouge, and the Rouge’s have been calling shots since Queen Elizabeth was a princess. He can keep me out of a damn plane. He can keep me off of a damn train. He won’t keep me from driving a damn car. Rena, Georgie and I are driving our asses to Louisiana. I’m in control of my life, Malcolm Blair. Not you. As a matter of fact, Malcolm is starting to annoy me and he knows what happens to people who annoy me. So this is the game that he wants to play huh? Fine then, let’s play ball bitch! But remember Malcolm, football is a game of two halves.

Malcolm

4:50 a.m.

              “When I woke up, she was gone.” Cadence says as he paces in front of the window in his hotel suite while Jacob and Nat both sit on the couches nearby. I’m standing a few feet away from Cadence with my hands in my coat pockets. My hands are in my pockets so that I may remain a free man. Otherwise, I’d be breaking his fucking neck right now and then gearing up for
the chair
. “Gone.” He repeats. Do you want to know what my brother has on? Do you really want to know? He’s wearing a white tee, grey dress slacks and is barefoot. Barefoot. Shoe-less. His feet are barren. Laura is out here in Boston, roaming the streets without Lithium, a purpose or a drop of sense and Cadence is barefoot. It never dawned on him that he should be prepared to jump up and get her at a moment’s notice. It never dawned on him that he should be ready for the unexpected.

             
“Go put some clothes on.” I say with measured patience.

             
“Malcolm, listen, I tried to stay up with her but I was exhausted. You don’t know what I went through to sneak the two of us in here without anyone suspecting anything.”