In Firm Pursuit (16 page)

R
ich Ferris sat in his black-on-black Lexus LS 460, as perspiration oozed from his pores. He reached for the package of tissues he kept in the car's side compartment and wiped his forehead. He wanted to at least look as if he had everything under control.

For twenty minutes now, Ferris had been sitting in a deserted area of the parking structure at the Del Amo Shopping Center off Hawthorne Boulevard. He glanced at the time on the dashboard—8:45 a.m. Cliff, a private investigator he knew only by his first name, was late. Again.

A knock on the window caused Ferris to jump so high he hit his head on the roof of the car. He pressed a button that unlocked the doors. Cliff slid into the backseat and Ferris relocked the doors.

“Do you have them?” Ferris asked without turning around. He wanted to get this over with so he could return to a normal life. He was not cut out for criminal activity.

“We've got a problem,” Cliff said.

A wary sigh left Ferris's lips. “You could've told me that over the telephone.”

Ferris glanced at Cliff in the rearview mirror. The man did not fit the image of a private eye, at least not the ones
Ferris watched on TV. He was short and lean and smelled like cigarettes. His nationality remained a mystery. Ferris surmised that he could have been anything from Iranian to Puerto Rican. As usual, he was dressed in a dark blue jogging suit. Ferris was certain Cliff had not jogged a day in his life.

“I'm going to need more money,” Cliff said. “The documents are no longer in police custody. I'll have to hire a couple of guys to help me get them back.”

Ferris fought the urge to turn around and face the man. “You told me you'd have no trouble getting them from the police!”

“Don't worry. I'll get them back,” Cliff said. “They've been removed from the property room.”

“What? By whom?”

“Some detective, I think. But I'm not sure yet. I have somebody working on that now. I'll call you with an update later today. But it's going to take some more time—and money—to get those documents back.”

Ferris was ready to blow his top. He needed this problem resolved. Now. “Exactly how much time and how much money?”

“Another five thousand should do it. But that's in addition to the fifty thou you owe me once I deliver the documents.”

Ferris inhaled. “I'll wire the money into your account. Just how much longer is this going to take?”

“I'll have a better idea of that in a couple of days.”

Ferris closed his eyes. He had hoped to be able to deliver the documents to the CFO later today. The thought of
facing him empty-handed terrified Ferris. Maybe he would call in sick.

“You need to make sure you get the originals as well as any copies,” Ferris said. “We can't risk anybody seeing those papers.”

“I got it,” Cliff snapped. Without another word, he opened the back door and disappeared.

Ferris started the Lexus and eased out of the parking stall. He tried not to think about what would happen if they did not get those documents back. No amount of PR could explain them away. Micronics would be the focus of multiple government investigations and he, along with a long line of other executives, would end up in prison.

Ferris simply could not let that happen.

B
y ten o'clock on the morning after Jefferson's late-night call, Special and I were zooming down the 405 Freeway in her 1995 Porsche Carrera, the top down, the warm air in our faces, blasting Mary J. Blige. The trip from L.A. to San Diego would take a law-abiding driver about two hours. With Special behind the wheel, we were on track to make the journey in just under ninety minutes.

“So when are you going to tell me why we're really making this trip?” Special asked, looking over at me with concern in her eyes.

I shrugged. “I just felt like seeing my husband.”

“Girl, please. You call me at the crack of dawn and beg me to give up two vacation days so we can rush down here on a Thursday morning? What's the real deal?”

I had not told Special the whole story about my conversation with Jefferson the night before. I did not want to hear the unthinkable even from my closest friend in the world. But I knew she would eventually get it out of me.

I leaned forward to turn down the music. “Jefferson called me last night and started asking a lot of questions about the Randle case,” I said.

She shrugged. “So?”

“At first, he acted like he was curious about the case, but then he started asking me some very pointed questions about sexual harassment law.”

Special glanced over at me, then back at the road. “Did you ask him why he wanted to know?”

“Yep. He gave me some lame story about Stan's cousin being involved in a sexual harassment case. It sounded like something he just made up off the top of his head. I know my husband and I know when he's lying.”

Special nodded but did not otherwise respond.

“Okay, give me your take on it,” I said. I didn't like it when Special's lips weren't moving.

She shrugged again. “I think we just need to get down there and check everything out before jumping to any conclusions.”

I chuckled anxiously. Now Special was the one holding back. “C'mon, I can take it,” I said. “Tell me what you really think.”

Special's expression darkened. “I'm thinking maybe Ms. LaKeesha filed a sexual harassment charge against Jefferson.”

“Or maybe one of his guys,” I added.

Special vigorously shook her head. “If it involved one of his guys, there would be no reason for him not to tell you about it.”

I nodded, then gazed at the sparse traffic ahead. She was absolutely right. I pulled a bag of trail mix from my purse and began nibbling, even though I wasn't hungry.

“If you found out Jefferson was messing around, would you leave him?” Special asked a few minutes later.

I continued staring at nothing, but Special waited me out. “Yeah,” I said. “I love him and I'd want to forgive him, but I don't think I could. Would you?”

“Probably,” Special said. “If it was just a fling. With a good-looking brother like Jefferson, women are probably throwing it in his face all the time. So what if he got a little weak? All it is is sex.”

“I wouldn't leave him because of the sex,” I said. “I'd leave because he violated my trust.”

“That sounds like something out of a sappy romance novel,” Special said. “Women need to be more realistic. Men are wired differently. For them, sex is sex. They can separate it from love and trust and all that other mushy crap most women find important. I know, because I can. Most women can't.”

“Well, I can't and I won't.”

“And on top of that,” Special continued, “men lose their minds when it comes to sex. How many powerful men have risked everything for the momentary pleasure of a five-second orgasm? I read somewhere that when their dicks get hard, something happens that cuts off the air supply to their brains.”

I pressed my palm to my forehead. “Special, why don't you just—”

“No, I'm serious. I swear I read that someplace.”

“Well, Jefferson better have a much better excuse than that,” I said.

“Whatever happens, just don't overreact,” Special warned.

“So you
do
think he's been screwing around,” I said.

Special gave me a sympathetic look. “I didn't say that.”

“No, but you might as well have.”

She dropped her right hand from the steering wheel and squeezed my arm. “I'm only saying the brother's human. Just don't go down there looking for trouble.”

I settled back in my seat and continued nibbling on trail mix I didn't really want. The Randle case had thrown a big wrench in my partnership chances, and now the other half of my world looked as if it might fall apart, too.

W
e pulled into the dirt driveway of Jefferson's construction site right on schedule. I could see pockets of people at work all over the place. To the far left, what looked like a convenience store was close to being finished. The rest of the lot was dotted with structures in various stages of completion. It was amazing to think that in just a few weeks, the place would be an actual strip mall, packed with people.

We climbed out of the car and began walking in the direction of a trailer with the words Jones-Parks Electrical stenciled on the side. My pace slowed when we got a few feet from the trailer door.

“You okay, girl?” Special asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I was now having second thoughts about this surprise trip. Was I about to open the door to something I didn't want to know?

“Yeah, I'm fine,” I said. I gingerly climbed the steps, then reached for the door, giving it a hard tug. When I opened it, I did not see Jefferson, but what I did see gave me pause.

The young girl standing near a table at the rear of the trailer was well built and attractive. Very attractive. A
navel-ring peeked out from underneath her braless tank top and a tight denim miniskirt hugged her ample hips. She wore silver stiletto sandals, which made her long, muscular legs look even sexier. She did not have a body like Serena Williams. Her body looked better than Serena's.

“Hi, can I help you?” the girl asked.

Special responded before I had a chance to. “We're looking for Jefferson Jones,” she said. “That's his wife.” Special whipped a finger in my direction.

The girl smiled, then walked up to me and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you. I'm LaKeesha Douglas. Jefferson talks about you all the time.”

Special was busy looking LaKeesha up and down. “I'm Special,” she said, greeting her with a lazy half wave.

LaKeesha chuckled. “Special? Is that really your name?”

Special had heard that question on a daily basis for the past thirty-plus years, but she was suddenly perturbed to hear it coming from LaKeesha. “Yeah, it is,” Special snorted. “Is that a problem for you?”

LaKeesha raised both hands. “Hey, I was just asking.” She turned back to me. “I'll call Jefferson and tell him you're here.”

I told LaKeesha we wanted to surprise Jefferson, so she picked up a walkie-talkie and asked him to come to the office for an important call.

“What exactly do you do around here?” Special asked.

Although Special had asked the question, LaKeesha directed her answer to me. “I help with the filing, return calls, run errands, keep the office clean. Whatever's needed.”

Special strolled over to the back of the trailer and ran
her index finger across the countertop. “Guess you must've been too busy with the filing to clean up this week, huh?” Special raised her finger to her lips and blew away a puff of dust.

LaKeesha put her hands on her hips and shifted her body weight from one leg to the other. “I don't know what your problem is, but you just better be glad my grandmama taught me to respect my elders—even the rude ass ones.”

Special dropped her red Prada bag to the floor. “You little heffa, I'll—”

Before I could get a word in, the trailer door squeaked open and Jefferson stepped inside. My husband looked from me to LaKeesha, then back at me again. I was certain that I saw terror in his eyes.

“Surprise!” I said, walking over and giving him a hug.

“Hey, babe,” Jefferson said, pecking me on the lips. “You may not want to get too close to me. I'm kind of funky.”

I hugged him anyway, and tried to ignore the dread that seemed to surge from his rigid body.

“What're you two doing here?” He let go of me and made a move to greet Special.

She took a step back. “Hold up, brother-in-law,” she said, before he could reach her. “I'll pass on the hug until you've had a shower.”

Jefferson grinned. “Nice to see you, too, Special.”

He returned to me and threw his arms around my shoulders.

“You sounded kind of strange on the phone last night,” I said. “So I decided a visit from me might do you some good.”

LaKeesha was clutching her book bag, inching toward the door. “I'm finished with everything,” she said to Jefferson. “I'll be in tomorrow to pay those invoices. Nice meeting you,
Vernetta.
” She gave Special a nasty glare and walked out.

Jefferson eyed Special suspiciously. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing much.” Special took a seat in a warped folding chair. “When did y'all start recruiting secretarial help from BET videos?”

Jefferson ignored her comment and gave me another kiss. “Hey, babe, I'm really swamped right now. It'll be a few hours before I can get out of here.”

“No problem,” I said. “I brought lots of work with me and I have a conference call at three. Give me your room key. We'll wait until you're done to go out for dinner.”

Jefferson fished the key out of his pocket and handed it to me. Special, meantime, roamed around the tiny trailer as if she were the head building inspector.

“Hey, brother-in-law, you need to let me hook this place up. If you added a little color and a couple of nice prints on the wall, this dump might actually look like something.”

“This is a construction site,” Jefferson replied. “It's supposed to look like a dump.”

“And while we're talking about office improvements,” Special continued, “I think y'all need to adopt a dress code for your office staff. And make sure bras are on it.”

Jefferson frowned. “Special, why don't you just mind your—”

I reached over and covered Jefferson's mouth with my hand. “We're leaving,” I said.

Jefferson kissed me for the third time, then pointed a finger at Special. “Just hurry up and get her ass out of here.”