The Joneses (27 page)

I'd been neglecting doing some household duties. I got dressed and drove a couple blocks over to the grocery store. When I returned home, Lovie's car was sitting in the driveway.

He got out when he saw me park.

“Perfect timing. You can help me take these bags inside.”

“I take it you've heard,” he said.

“Yes, Lisa called and told me about the fire.”

We talked about the situation, as he helped me take the bags into the kitchen.

“According to the news, the police haven't determined if any foul play was involved.”

“We both know that there was,” I said.

“Exactly. I just wanted to come over to talk to you in person. Some conversations shouldn't be had over the phone.”

“Lovie, how's Dad taking all of this?”

“He's bugging. He keeps telling me to remain calm, but he's the one tripping.”

“Calm down. You seem a little hyped over this yourself.”

“I'm thinking whoever killed Jason is the same person who set the fire.”

“Who do you think did it?”

“I have my suspicions, but I'm not stupid enough to ask around about it.”

“Really? Who?”

“Jason's stolen from other people, so it could be any of them.”

“As long as it wasn't one of us, I'm fine with it.” I continued to put up groceries.

“Get this. Jason's sister wants us to handle his funeral.”

“Is Dad going to do it?” I asked.

“He has no choice. She's waiting on them to release the body. The coroner's doing an autopsy first.”

“I bet you Mom is stressing out.”

“Maybe one of you can go check on her. I'm going back to the funeral home. I just wanted to stop by and tell you what was going on.”

I hugged Lovie. “Before I forget, Lisa asked about you.”

“Tell your girl I said hello. If she hadn't upped and married that joker, she would have been my wifey.”

“Whatever. Lisa don't want you.”

“She's always had a crush on me. I just never acted on it.”

“She's happily married now, so too late.”

“My loss.” Lovie teased.

I locked the front door after Lovie left.

I was halfway back toward the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Lovie must have forgotten something. I opened the door and there stood Officer Underwood.

“Ms. Jones, it's not safe to open the door without finding out who's on the other side.”

“Officer Underwood, what are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood. Decided to drop by to see how you were doing.”

“Do you always make house calls?”

“When I have questions, I do.”

“I thought I answered all of your questions.”

“Can we continue this conversation inside?”

I allowed him in.

“We can talk right here, if you like.”

“No. I was about to make a sandwich. Do you want one?” I asked.

“I am kind of hungry.”

“Follow me.”

I don't know what got into me. I swayed my hips more than usual. Officer Underwood followed me into the kitchen. He took a seat at the table. I fixed two sandwiches and then sat across from him.

In between bites, he said, “This is good. I've never had a sandwich this good.”

“Flattery doesn't work on me, Mister Officer.”

“Please call me Omar.”

“Omar, I'm surprised to see you not in your uniform.”

“That's because I'm off duty. I shouldn't be here, but I couldn't get you off my mind.”

His comment caught me a little off guard. I didn't expect him to be so forward. “I am unforgettable.”

“That you are. How are your mom and dad doing?” he asked, shifting the conversation away.

Was this a trick of his? I would have to tread lightly. Just because he was a police officer, it didn't mean he could be trusted.

“They're doing fine under the circumstances.”

“Odd you would say that. I heard about your uncle.”

“He's not really my uncle,” I responded.

“But still, I'm sure that you're hurting.”

I stood up and turned my back toward Omar. I blinked my eyes several times. I squeezed them real tight. There, finally, a tear. I sniffed a few times. My voice quivered. “I'm trying to hold it together.”

A few seconds later, I felt Omar's arms around me. “I'm here if you need me.”

I leaned my head on his chest and sobbed. These tears weren't fake. These were not tears of grief for Jason. They were tears of relief—the relief from knowing that Jason couldn't hurt Hope, my mom, or my dad ever again.

What had I walked in on? Who was this man with his arm wrapped around Charity?

I cleared my throat. Charity and the man turned around. I recognized him as Officer Underwood.

Charity said, “Hope, this is Omar.”

“I remember him.”

He walked up to me and extended his hand out. “I just stopped by to see how you ladies were doing.”

“Looks like you two have gotten to know each other a lot better.”

Charity grabbed my hand. “Omar, we'll be right back. Have a seat.”

Charity led me out into the hallway.

“What are you doing with him?” I whispered.

“He was comforting me.”

“I can see that. But you know we don't need him asking a lot of questions.”

“Let me deal with Omar. You just act normal.”

We returned to the kitchen. He was drinking a glass of orange juice. “I hope you don't mind. I was thirsty.”

“No. Help yourself,” Charity responded.

I left Charity and Omar in the kitchen. She may have been all right with having him here, but I wasn't. It just dawned on me that he wasn't wearing his uniform. I hoped Charity knew what she was doing.

I stayed in my room until I heard his car pull off. I stood in the doorway and waited for Charity to walk down the hall. I leaned on the wall with my arms crossed.

Charity walked right past me. I followed her to her room. “Oh, no. You're not getting off so easy. What's with you and Omar?”

“Nothing. He's a concerned officer.”

“When I walked in the kitchen earlier, his arms were around you, and you were all on his broad chest.”

“He is fine, isn't he?” Charity sat behind her desk. She turned on her laptop.

“I've sworn off men.”

“So you're swinging the other way now?” Charity looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“No, Sis. I'm still strictly dickly, but I'm taking a vacation from all men. I think it's about time that I find out what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

“Besides being a spoiled brat.”

I rolled my neck. “Takes one to know one.”

Charity chuckled. “You got that right. We are spoiled.”

I shook my head in agreement. “The job you offered me. Can I still have it?”

“What? This is a new day.” She hummed the Alicia Keys' song, “It's a New Day.”

“Stop playing. I'm serious.”

“I'll email you a list of things I need done.”

“How much are you going to pay me?”

“Umm.” Charity reached for her desk calculator and started typing in figures. I saw the machine move. “I can either pay you a percentage per job, or ten dollars an hour with you committing to at least twenty hours a week.”

I extended my hand. “Deal.”

We shook hands. It was official. This time I would take working with Charity seriously.

“Lovie dropped by earlier. Someone tried to burn up Jason's house.”

“It's always something,” I responded.

Charity repeated the things Lovie shared with her. I thought about what she said as I headed to the bathroom to run a bath. I eased my body in the hot water filled with bubbles. Every muscle in my body screamed with joy.

I leaned back on the tub and closed my eyes.

“You'll always be mine,” I heard Tyler say.

I jerked my head. I'd dozed off. Spooked a little, I hurried up and got out of the tub.

I dressed and started a new journey in my life. Who would have thought that my first real job would be as an assistant to my sister?

I would be her best-dressed employee, and Charity didn't know this, but soon she would be moving me into another role. I would take the assistant position for now, but a girl couldn't afford to wear designer wear on ten dollars an hour. If I was going to be Ms. Independent, I needed a higher salary.

I
stopped by the Bottoms Up club. It was where I got all of my news about what was happening on the streets. I greeted the regular patrons. Slim sat in his usual spot. He held his hand up to get my attention. I waved at him. He motioned for me to come over.

I hugged some of the young ladies surrounding him. He used his hands to shoo them away. They moved along, leaving us at the table by ourselves.

“What's up, fam?” Slim asked.

We gave each other a fist pound.

“Just trying to maintain,” I responded.

“Too bad what happened to your unc.”

“Life is short,” I responded.

“I got you on the first round,” Slim said.

“No, man, I'm good. I just came through to holla at my boys. I'm about to head out.”

“If you need something, I got your back.”

“I know I can always count on you.”

Slim leaned forward. “I'm serious. I always got your back.”

Our eyes locked. No other words needed to be said. I patted him on the shoulder and left the table.

I reached the front door and turned. Slim's eyes were still on me. He held his drink up and tilted it in my direction. I nodded my head and continued out the door.

I turned the volume up on my radio and drove home. I was in my zone and didn't realize the police were behind me until I heard the sirens.

I checked my speedometer. I hit the steering wheel. I was speeding. I slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. I reached for my license and registration.

I rolled my window down and looked in my rearview mirror. The officer walked beside my car with his weapon drawn.

“I need you to exit the car with your hands up in the air.”

I did as instructed.

Another police car pulled up behind his. The officer got out.

“What you got here, Bill?”

“He was going twenty miles over.”

“Name?” the officer who pulled me over asked.

“Lovie. Lovie Jones. My wallet is on the front seat.”

The other officer went to my car. He shined his flashlight on my wallet. He got on his walkie talkie and gave my driver's license information to the dispatcher.

“Where were you going in such a hurry?” one of them asked.

“Home. I was listening to music. Not paying any attention.”

“You been drinking?”

“No,” I responded.

The officer went to his car and came back with a breathalyzer machine. I took the test and passed.

One officer whispered to the other. I couldn't hear what they were saying. Another car pulled up. A plain-clothes officer jumped out of the car with a German Shepherd.

I tried to remain calm. I sat down on the ground while they searched my car for drugs. My cell phone rang, but I didn't dare reach for it because I didn't want to give them any reason to shoot me.

“You look familiar,” one of the officers said.

“You probably saw me on TV. My father owns RJ Jones Funeral Home.”

“Why didn't you say something? You got us out here wasting time.”

The officer went up to his comrades. “Man, we can end this. He's clean.”

The officer who stopped me handed me a ticket. “Sir, you've been cleared to leave. I suggest you slow it down.”

No apology. Nothing. I didn't argue. I put the ticket in my pocket and hopped in my car. I checked my rearview mirror and eased back onto the highway. I sighed with relief. I normally rode around with my Glock, but I'd left it in my bedroom nightstand and forgotten to take it with me.

I called my dad and told him what had just occurred. “They didn't harm you, did they?” he asked.

“No, Pops. Soon as they realized I was your son, they let me go.”

The cops had me spooked. I pulled up in my driveway. I looked over my shoulder and down the street to make sure I hadn't been followed.

I
viewed my reflection in the mirror. The big, brimmed, black and white hat fit perfectly on the top of my freshly done hair. It matched the black and white dress I wore.

“Are you ready?” Royce walked down the stairs and asked me.

“I'm ready to put on the performance of my life.”

I got in the back of the limousine with Royce. We held each other's hands but didn't say anything as the driver drove us to the church where Jason's funeral was being held.

“We don't have to do this,” I told Royce.

“Jason's sister is counting on us to be there.”

I was able to avoid Jason's wake the night before. I didn't want to go to his funeral, but we had to keep up appearances. No one could know that none of the Joneses could stand Jason. I put on my big, black shades to cover my eyes.

“You look like Joan Collins with those big shades on,” Royce said.

“Can you see my eyes?”

“Nope.”

“Perfect.”

The limousine driver opened the door. Royce exited first. I got out next. The church parking lot was filled with people coming to pay their last respects. I spoke to everyone as we made our way into the church.

Royce whispered, “The casket is closed, but we should walk by as if we're saying good-bye.”

“Royce…Lexi. We want you to walk in with the family.” Sheryl, Jason's older sister, walked up to us. She was thin and pale. She looked like she hadn't eaten anything in days.