In Firm Pursuit (18 page)

J
efferson pulled his Toyota Tundra into the parking lot of the Residence Inn, squeezed into a space intended for a compact and turned off the engine. He hung his head and massaged the back of his neck. He was not happy about this impromptu visit from his wife and her busybody of a friend. He was already under enough stress with the project behind schedule.

The next couple of days would be all about playing it cool, he told himself. He just had to make sure Vernetta and Special headed back to L.A. without having another face-to-face with LaKeesha.

After their talk at the Thai Palace, LaKeesha hadn't tripped, but the female species was unpredictable. The girl could easily flip out and say something crazy to his wife. He could tell she had been just as uncomfortable in Vernetta's presence as he had been. He gathered that from her refusal to make eye contact with him and the fact that she left two hours before her quitting time. He was just glad LaKeesha had had the good sense to leave.

Jefferson climbed out of the truck and made his way toward the stairwell leading to the second floor. As he lethargically mounted the stairs, his feet felt heavier with
each step. After Special's attempted inquisition, he knew he could expect more of the same from Vernetta. Unlike Special, Vernetta was not one to immediately move in for the kill. She liked to let things percolate, then pounce on him just when he thought everything was cool.

In retrospect, it had been a pretty stupid idea to call Vernetta in the middle of the night and quiz her about sexual harassment law. His wife was a lawyer. Of course his questions would send her suspicious mind spinning. For her to tear down here the very next day meant she definitely suspected that something was up between him and LaKeesha.

Jefferson paused at the top of the second-floor landing. The armpits of his T-shirt were soaked with perspiration. It was a few minutes after eight and almost sixty degrees, yet he was sweating as if he had just walked out of a sauna. He had to get it together before facing Vernetta.

He had already decided that he would admit to nothing and pray his wife did not see through him. Like his mother, Vernetta was a human lie detector machine where he was concerned. Both women could look him in the eye and tell when he was lying before the words even escaped his lips. But not this time. There was simply too much at stake.

The closer Jefferson got to his room the shorter his steps became. He did not like the idea of lying to Vernetta, at least not about anything important. But there was no way he could explain what had gone down with LaKeesha and expect Vernetta to be reasonable about it. Vernetta saw the world in very precise terms. Black and white. Good and bad. Right and wrong. What he had done would be nothing short of adultery in her eyes.

But from Jefferson's vantage point, he had just gotten a blow job. An unsolicited one at that. It was a minor infraction, not a felony. He did not deserve the death penalty and he planned to do everything in his power to keep from being dragged off to the electric chair.

He opened the door and spotted Vernetta asleep on the couch, wrapped in a thick blue bathrobe, curled up like a Siamese kitten. He liked watching her sleep. There was no question that he loved his wife. He could still remember the first time he'd made love to her. He had felt this strange emotion that he'd never experienced with another woman. The last time he could remember feeling anything even close was when Cynthia Hebron, the cutest girl in the whole fifth grade, had left a Valentine's card on his desk. A reappearance of that same inexplicable flutter in his heart was the primary reason he was a married man today.

Jefferson walked across the room, gripped the back of the couch with both hands and kissed his wife on the forehead.

Vernetta stirred, then her eyes blinked open.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he whispered.

Vernetta reached up to hug him, then kissed him on the lips.

Jefferson slumped down on the couch next to her.

“What time is it?” Vernetta asked.

“Just after eight,” he said. “You eat yet?”

“Nope. I wanted to wait for you. Special told me you didn't feel like going out so I picked up some barbecue.” Vernetta took Jefferson's right hand in hers and rubbed the calluses on his palm with her index finger. “You work this late every night?”

“Afraid so,” Jefferson said. “I think I could use a beer.” He got up, walked into the kitchenette and flipped on the light. He grabbed a Miller Genuine Draft from the refrigerator, popped it open and took a long swig.

“Special told me about you siccing Stan on her,” Vernetta said, smiling. “She's going to be gunning for you in the morning.”

Jefferson grinned despite the uncomfortable tension that saturated the room. He knew Vernetta was looking for the right entry point to commence her attack. He remained in the kitchenette, leaning against the counter.

“Are things going any better with your project?” Vernetta asked.

“Somewhat. At least we finally figured out where the problem is.” He took a big gulp of beer.

More silence.

“LaKeesha certainly is a sight for sore eyes,” Vernetta said. She yawned and retied her robe.

Jefferson inhaled and said nothing.
Here it comes.

“Does she always dress like that?”

Jefferson took another swallow of his beer before responding. “Frankly, I'm usually too busy working to even notice how she's dressed.”

“Is that right?”

Jefferson wished he could cut the conversation short. Or at least direct it to the left or right, rather than allow it to continue spiraling down the short, disastrous road on which it was headed. He knew his wife all too well. When something bothered her, she had to get it off her chest. And he would let her do that. He was the one who
had messed up, so he owed her that much. But he wasn't confessing to shit.

“All your questions about sexual harassment last night got me a little worried,” Vernetta said. “I started wondering whether you were asking me that stuff because you had gotten yourself into some trouble.”

“I told you why I was asking.” Jefferson stared off into space, afraid that if he looked over at his wife, his eyes might give him away.

“I know what you told me.” Vernetta got up from the couch and joined him in the kitchenette. She rested her body against the opposite counter, facing him. Only a few feet separated them.

“The way that girl dresses, I'd say she was a sexual harassment case waiting to happen.” Vernetta stopped to tighten the belt of her robe.

Jefferson shrugged. “Stan hired her. Not me.”

“You certainly looked awful nervous when you walked in and saw Special and me standing there.”

Jefferson turned away and set the beer can on the counter behind him, thankful to have a reason to break away from Vernetta's penetrating gaze. “You know what, babe? I'm tired as hell. And you standing here jamming me up like this ain't exactly what I need after working my ass off all day.”

“If something's bothering me, I should be able to discuss it with you, shouldn't I?”

He chuckled in a way that he hoped conveyed how much this conversation irritated him. “Exactly what're you saying, Vernetta? You think I'm fuckin' that little girl? Is that what you wanna ask me?”

Vernetta stared back at him, sulking with her eyes. “I didn't say that. You just looked really nervous, that's all. That, combined with the fact that you called me in the middle of the night to tell me you'll always love me, no matter what. Just sounded to me like you had something to feel guilty about.”

Jefferson chuckled again and reached behind him for his beer. “You know what? The next time I get the urge to tell you how much I love you—day or night—remind me to keep it to my damn self.” He drained the beer can, then opened the refrigerator and grabbed a second one.

Vernetta buried her hands in the pockets of her robe.

“I hope you didn't come all the way down here just to jam me up over something that's totally in your head,” Jefferson continued. “I thought you knew me better than that. I don't want that girl and she don't want my old ass. You're my wife and I love you. And the fact that you're standing here telling me you don't trust me is pretty messed up.”

Vernetta seemed to be studying his face and Jefferson let her. Staring right back, remaining as expressionless as humanly possible. Vernetta finally grunted and stormed over to the couch.

Jefferson silently exhaled and took another sip of beer.

“You ready for me to heat up the barbecue?” Vernetta asked.

That was a good sign. At least she was still talking to him. He hated it when she gave him the silent treatment. “Let me take a shower first.” Jefferson put the open beer can back inside the refrigerator, pulled off his T-shirt and headed for the bathroom.

Snatching back the shower curtain, he turned on the shower full force. He had just won round one. Vernetta was probably feeling guilty now for not trusting him. He hated turning the tables on her like that, but he had no other choice. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower. He closed his eyes and relaxed as the warm water pelted his face.

When Jefferson reached for the soap, he flinched. Vernetta had slipped into the shower and was standing behind him.

“I didn't mean to accuse you like that,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, motioning for him to turn around. “I'm sorry.”

When he did turn around, he welcomed the sight of his wife's beautiful brown body, wearing nothing but a ridiculous-looking, polka-dot shower cap. She pulled him to her, a move that filled him with relief. Their conversation would be forgotten—for now. Jefferson fully expected that Vernetta would throw her suspicions about LaKeesha in his face for several days, maybe even weeks or months. He would have no problem dealing with his wife's snide comments about the girl. That was a punishment that fit the crime and he would happily do his time.

Jefferson pressed Vernetta even closer, enjoying the feel of her naked body against his. He was tired as hell, but the feeling of arousal rising up in him promised to wipe away all evidence of his exhaustion.

As his wife's soft lips brushed his chest with kisses, he thought about the incredible make-up sex they were about to have. And that made him smile.

W
hatever doubts I'd had about my husband's fidelity, or lack thereof, Jefferson had all but erased them. We had talked frankly about my concerns long into the night, and in the end, I had decided to heed Special's advice. I didn't need to go looking for trouble.

Friday morning, Jefferson and I ate breakfast at IHOP, while Special slept in. When Jefferson headed off to work, I made a few business calls, then worked out in the Residence Inn gym. Later in the day, Special and I strolled through the San Diego Zoo, had lunch at the Cheesecake Factory and caught two movies.

That evening, Jefferson took us to dinner at a seafood restaurant in the Gaslamp Quarter. Special had threatened to drive back home without me if Jefferson invited Stan along.

When I began packing on Saturday morning, I hadn't realized how hard it would be to leave. Jefferson walked out of the shower wrapped in a towel and lay down across the bed, watching me as I stuffed clothes and toiletries into my bag.

“I'm glad you came down,” he said.

“Me, too. I wish we could stay longer, but Special has plans tonight.”

Jefferson grinned. “Whoever the dude is, I feel sorry for him. Dating her has to be damn hard work.”

I picked up a pillow and hit him with it. “Don't talk about my friend.”

He slipped into his clothes while I wrestled with the zipper on my bag.

“I'll never understand why you women have to pack so much crap when you travel,” Jefferson teased. “You were only here two days, but there's enough stuff in there for a three-week cruise.”

“A woman likes to have choices,” I said.

Jefferson grabbed my bag and I followed him out the door, toward Special's room. I knocked but got no answer. I knocked again, then glanced at my watch. We had agreed to leave at eleven o'clock and it was ten minutes after.

Jefferson turned around and peered over the railing two stories down. “Didn't Special park over there last night?” He pointed at an empty space in the left corner of the lot below.

I started to panic as I stared down at the spot where Special's car should have been. I pulled out my BlackBerry and dialed her number.

“I'm on my way,” Special said before I could say a word.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“Had to make a quick run over to Jefferson's office. I lost an earring. But luckily I found it underneath his desk.”

“Special, what were you really doing at Jefferson's office? Please tell me you didn't go over there to start anything with LaKeesha.”

Jefferson opened his mouth to say something, but I held up my hand, cutting him off.

“I just told you,” Special said. “I had to look for my earring. I was scared to death that I was going to run into that fat ass Stan. But thank God I didn't. I'm pulling in the driveway right now. Bye.”

At that exact moment, Special's car zoomed into the parking lot below.

“Special went over to the worksite?” Jefferson asked as we headed downstairs. “For what?”

“She said she lost an earring and went over there to look for it.”

“She didn't go over there to look for no earring,” he said. “She probably went over there to finish her little beef with LaKeesha. But she doesn't work on Saturdays.”

Jefferson had that same stressed-out look on his face that I had seen when I surprised him in the trailer. Once again, my stomach churned with doubt.

Special met us before we got to the bottom of the stairs.

“So, Special,” Jefferson said, “why did you really go back to—”

She brushed past us, ignoring him. “Here,” she said, stopping to toss her car keys to me. “Go ahead and put your stuff in the car. I'm already packed. I just have to grab my bag.”

She continued up the stairs two at a time, then stopped at the top and called back to Jefferson. “Hey, brother-in-law, you need better security at your office. They just let anybody walk in. I could've stole something, but wasn't nothing in there worth stealing.”

Jefferson started to respond, but I tugged at his arm. “Just let it go. If she was up to something, you'll find out soon enough.”

When we got to the car, Jefferson tossed my bag into the backseat, then leaned against the passenger door and pulled me to him.

“Maybe this visit wasn't such a good idea after all,” Jefferson said, holding me tight. “Now I'm going to miss you even more.”

“Then I guess it
was
a good thing,” I said.

Special jogged down the stairs and dropped her bag next to mine. “Okay, you two, break it up. You've got five seconds for one last kiss for the road. And please, no tongues.”

Jefferson laughed, then promptly took me by the chin and gave me a long, wet kiss. “Call to let me know you made it back, okay?” he said, opening the car door so I could climb in. “And, Special, drive safely. You're carrying some very precious cargo.”

“Ain't nobody more precious to me than me,” she said. “I know what I'm doing behind this wheel.” She started up the engine and slowly backed out of the parking space. Jefferson jogged alongside the car for a few feet, then waved goodbye.

As the Porsche sped northbound along the San Diego Freeway, I enjoyed feeling the fresh air grazing my face. Maybe I would buy myself a convertible when I made partner. Scratch that.
If
I made partner.

Special nudged my arm. “Girl, when did you become hard of hearing?”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “Did you say something?”

“I was asking you if everything was okay between you and Jefferson.”

“I guess so. I had a really good time. I'm glad we made this trip. Thanks for driving.”

“So you're not worried that anything's going on with LaKeesha?”

“I don't know.” I turned away. “I've never had a reason not to trust Jefferson. He's not the player type. Frankly, I have too much other stuff to think about right now to be worrying about him screwing around. For the time being, I'm just going to forget about it.”

“I think that's a good idea,” Special said. “So what do you think about Ms. LaKeesha?”

“I think she reminds me a lot of you. Except she's about two cup sizes bigger.”

“Please! Can you believe a child with boobs that big has the nerve to walk around braless? I'm sending her ass a bra as soon as we get back.”

“Special, you better not.”

“She won't know it's from me.”

“Special, don't!” I warned.

“Okay, fine,” she hissed.

I turned off the radio and slipped in a John Legend CD.

“Let's hear it,” I said, giving my friend a skeptical look. “Why'd you really go back to Jefferson's office?”

“I already told you. To look for my earring.”

“Sure you did.”

She smiled sheepishly. “And by the way, you owe me big-time for going out to dinner with that asshole, Stan. At least I had me some lobster. I couldn't believe he
actually thought I was going to invite him into my room. That brother's delusional.”

“I'm just glad Stan backed up Jefferson's story about his cousin being accused of sexual harassment,” I said.

“But I guess it really doesn't mean much. I'm sure Stan would certainly lie for Jefferson.”

“I'm sure he would,” Special said.

I sighed. “Like I said, I really don't want to think about this stuff anymore.”

“Don't worry,” Special said. “I got a feeling you'll find out soon enough whether anything went down.” She looked over at me and smiled.

“Okay, Special, what do you know that I don't?”

“Nothing yet,” she said with a smug expression, her eyes glued to the road. “But you never know what I
might
find out.”