Part 20 (1/2)

She was enjoying it, but for all the wrong reasons. Lonnie suddenly had tears in her eyes. ”It's not you, Phillip,” she said through the door. It's me.” She stifled a sob. ”I'm just one f.u.c.ked-up b.i.t.c.h. That's all.”

Phillip was scrambling eggs the next morning. He poured Lonnie a cup of coffee when she sat down at the kitchen island. She could scratch her own eyes out for how she'd acted with him the night before, but Phillip was a master at letting things ride. He kissed her cheek, put eggs on her plate, and asked her where the salt and pepper were as he scoured through the cabinets. If she'd have apologized to him for what happened, it would've offended him. And he didn't seem to need an apology.

”So, this Edgar character killed his wife,” he casually mentioned over what he considered breakfast.

White people could make breakfast of coffee and eggs. Lonnie was sorely missing some bacon, sausage, toast, grits.

She nodded. ”He didn't come out and say it, but I implied it, and he didn't really deny it.”

”Do you have proof?”

She shook her head. ”In cases like this, proof is overrated. Beckman's own conscience convicted him right in front of my eyes, and he never had to admit a thing, even though I had nothing and he maybe knew that I had nothing, but I had enough, and that's all I needed, because he caved,” she said in one continuous breath.

”You're good at that.” He smirked.

”Bulls.h.i.+tting people?”

”Yes.”

”I know, right. But that's because I can usually read people, and I read old Edgar like the Bible. It was almost as if he couldn't wait for someone to find out. Like he was relieved that he didn't have to know what he did and have to keep it to himself.”

”So now what?”

”Well,” she said as she scooped more eggs into her mouth. ”He gave me a name of Julian Gatewood's old secretary. Harriett Grainger. Apparently, Harriett was real protective and loyal to Julian before he died.” Lonnie took a sip of coffee. ”Beckman said he couldn't guarantee anything, but that it was rumored that Harriett left Gatewood Industries after Julian died, and took a bunch of things with her. He said that she especially didn't trust Beckman, so he suspected that she kept a close watch over everything he did.”

”Why?”

”Because she was like a mother hen to Julian. Watched over him like a hawk, to the point of being obsessive. And she was nosy.”

”Is she still alive?”

”She died fifteen years ago. But she had a daughter, living in the house she inherited from Harriett. Gloria Dawson. I don't know. I just think that there's got to be some kind of proof that Desi is Gatewood's biological child.”

”And what if there isn't?”

She shrugged. ”I don't know,” Lonnie said dismally.

”And what if there is?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

”Then we have the final answer to our last question of how do you bring down a king.”

He smiled. ”And the answer is?”

”You dethrone him.”

”Well, I have to give you a high five.” He held up his palm. ”You've masterfully turned his subjects against him.”

Lonnie slapped his palm. ”Only Edgar. There's still Claire.”

”His wife.”

”She'd drink his dirty bath water if it meant keeping him.”

He frowned. ”What?”

”It's an American a.n.a.logy,” she explained. ”It means that she'll do anything for Jordan, and she'll turn a blind eye to every bad thing he does.”

”Sounds like she's going to be harder to break than Beckman.”

”Claire's a delicate woman,” Lonnie explained introspectively. ”She fights tooth and nail to stay balanced but she's really standing on the edge of a cliff. She just needs one big push to send her over.”

The Bullets in Our Firefight ”Lonnie?” Desi couldn't believe that it was really her. She stretched out her arms. ”Oh, G.o.d! Lonnie!”

Talking to Lonnie over the phone didn't make her real. Not as real as she was now as Desi embraced her. Lonnie was heavier; her hair much, much longer. Lonnie was rigid and cold. She was wounded.

Desi pulled back from hugging her, carefully pushed her hair aside, and stared at the scar crossing her eye and disappearing into her hair line. All this time, she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that something terrible had happened to her friend, but even when she did finally get that call she'd been hoping for all those months, Desi could tell that there was something different about Lonnie, just from the sound in her voice.

The two of them stood in Desi's living room. ”What happened?” Desi asked shakily. Lonnie had never said over the phone why she'd disappeared all of a sudden. She'd never told Desi what had happened to her, but now she couldn't deny it. ”Tell me what happened, Lonnie.” Desi had tears in her eyes.

Lonnie stood at attention like some defiant soldier. ”Guess, Desi. And I'll bet you get it right the first time.”

Desi brought her hands to her face and shook her head. ”I knew it. I knew it.”

Jordan.

”Why? What- He found out that we were friends,” she said. ”He found out that you knew me?”

That's exactly what happened. She knew it even if Lonnie never did admit it herself. The way Lonnie stood there, so guarded and defensive, staring down her nose at Desi like she blamed her for what he'd done to her. And maybe she should've. Maybe what happened to her, whatever that meant, had been because of Desi.

”I'm so sorry, girl,” Desi said tearfully. She reached for Lonnie again, but Lonnie withdrew, and Desi understood why. ”I'm sorry.”

Lonnie walked past Desi, and sat down on the chair farthest across the room. Desi hesitated, but decided to sit on the sofa. The tension between them was unnatural and powerful. This woman had been as close to Desi as a sister, maybe even closer, and now it felt like they were more distant than strangers. It was almost as if they were enemies.

”Congratulations,” Lonnie said, breaking the awkward extended silence between them. ”On the success of the book. I read it, Des. It was a powerful story,” she said earnestly. ”I mean that.”

”I couldn't have done it without you, Lonnie, without your help.”

Lonnie showed no emotion. ”I think you redeemed yourself to a lot of people. And I think that it was good for you to finally tell your side of the story.”

Desi didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure how to take Lonnie. Her words said one thing, but her actions, her body language, and the expression on her face said something else entirely.

”And kudos again for your new fas.h.i.+on line.” Lonnie forced a smile. ”I checked it out online. Nice. I ordered some shoes.”

Desi smiled. ”You could've asked. I'd have given you some shoes.”

”Again, I think you've got a winner on your hands with Konvictions. And you deserve it. Success. You deserve all of your success.”

”How are you, Lonnie?” Desi asked, to change the subject. She felt uncomfortable as h.e.l.l listening to Lonnie go on and on with accolades over Desi's accomplishments when it was painfully obvious that she really didn't mean any of it. ”Are you still working?”