Mama's Boy (20 page)

45

T
he sight on her TV was making Gloria sick. Rev. Clayborn was bellowing something about “racism and justice.” The news was covering a rowdy protest held by the Black Justice Coalition last night in Jasper, which had ended with four people being taken to the hospital and eight people arrested.

All in the name of justice for Jamal.

Gloria couldn't help it. She snatched up her phone and swiped Elton's name.

“Gloria?” he said, answering on the first ring.

She wasn't even going to beat around the bush with any formalities. “Can you please get them to stop? All of this protesting and anger. This is not helping our son.”

Elton paused. “I can't keep them from doing what they do.”

“That Reverend Clayborn said he had our support! He's telling the news reporters that we're supporting this foolishness,” Gloria exclaimed. Just watching him on TV right now made Gloria want to toss her shoe at the set.

“It actually isn't as bad as it seems.”

“Four people had to go to the hospital, Elton!”

“Well, they think if you and I would just come out, it would give a calming voice,” he said.

“They're selling T-shirts with my son's face on them!” she yelled. “What part of ‘I want no part of that' do you not understand?” She lowered her voice, trying to regain her composure and not bring her mother out of her room. “I don't support this, Elton. You might be okay with them using you, but I'm not supporting that and you need to make them stop.”

“I don't have any control over what they're doing,” Elton repeated.

Gloria was seething. “Fine,” she said. “I'll just go to the media and tell them we don't support these people. I'll speak out against them since you're more concerned with lining the church's coffer.”

“Don't do this, Gloria.”

“Elton, this should've been done a long time ago. If you won't handle it, I will.” She slammed the phone down on him and turned to see her mother standing over her.

“Now, that's what I'm talking about.” Erma chuckled. She was dressed in a leopard skin blouse with some skinny jeans and black low-heeled boots.

Gloria was not in the mood for her mother. She loved Erma Hurley dearly, but at a time like this, she couldn't take her mother's two cents, which her mother never failed to offer.

“What, Mama?” Gloria asked.

“Just glad to see you finally standing up to that man.”

Gloria pulled the afghan up over her head. “Mama, don't . . .”

Not to be dismayed, her mother walked over to the sofa, pulled
the afghan back down, and said, “I'm just trying to figure out where I went wrong with you.”

Gloria sighed as she sat up. “What are you talking about?”

“You've been in here just boo-hooing, crying yourself into oblivion. You sure got your daddy's soft ways.” Erma shook her head in pity.

Gloria often wondered how her parents ended up together. Her mother, a former Black Panther, had been the strong militant type, protesting any and every thing. Her father, on the other hand, had been a typical, Southern “yes” man, trying to ruffle as few feathers as possible. And while her mother had long settled down from her militant ways, she still had that rebellious spunk, and right about now Gloria guessed she was once again trying to figure out why her daughter didn't have it.

“I'm just going through a lot right now.” She hadn't told her mother details of her split with Elton but decided to tell her now. “I left Elton,” Gloria said.

Erma didn't seem fazed. “Good. You should've done that a long time ago!”

“Mama, this is serious,” Gloria said.

“I know it is. You don't need any man that makes you lose yourself. You've made excuses for him since the day you married him. You can't help anyone face their demons, when you're helping justify their actions.”

“I know, Mama.” Gloria sighed. “But right now, I can't deal with it.”

“Okay.” Erma threw her hands up like she was leaving it alone. “I'm going out on a date.”

“You're almost eighty years old. When are you gonna get somewhere and sit down?”

She grabbed her purse, a leopard skin number that matched her blouse. “When they put me in the ground.”

“Okay, fine, whatever.” Gloria lay back down.

“I know it's fine, because you're just going to lie here on the sofa and weep. You need to come with me. Benji got a friend he can hook you up with.”

“Yeah, I have no interest in hanging out with an old man named Benji and his old buddies.”

“Who said anything about him being old?”

“Ugh. Good-bye, Mother.”

Erma chuckled as she left. For a fleeting moment, Gloria wished that she had her mother's spunk. Despite being total opposites, her father hadn't been able to change her mother. He'd tamed her, but he hadn't changed her. And he'd loved her just the same. Until the day he died, she was his everything.

Thinking about her parents' love had Gloria reflecting on her own marriage. She was sad about leaving Elton, but she wasn't heartbroken. Why wasn't she heartbroken? Did that mean they were really over?

Gloria's heart screamed a resounding
yes
.

46

K
ay didn't know exactly what a ride-or-die chick was, but if she had to guess, she would definitely say it was the woman sitting in the passenger seat of her Mercedes-Benz.

“Let's go. What are you waiting for?” Camille said as she motioned for Kay to pull out of Camille's driveway.

“I'm just trying to figure out where you're going in all black with a skullcap.” Kay chuckled.

“Umm. I'm prepared,” Camille said.

“We're just going to talk to Valerie, not beat her up.” When Kay had called Camille to tell her about the deposit slip, Camille had gone directly to work. She put on her tracking skills and found out Valerie made a deposit the day before Marty approached Kay in the parking garage. The deposit was a check from RJS Holdings, which Camille had discovered was a manufacturing company owned by Rosalyn Simon, Marty's wife.

Of course, Camille had been ready to roll right after that.

“A good Girl Scout is always prepared.” Camille pulled a gigantic tube of Vaseline from her purse and said, “Here.”

“What in the world is that for?” Kay said.

“Look, we might have to revert to some old collegiate ways and stomp this chick.”

Kay pushed the tube away. “First of all, I have never stomped anyone, collegiate or otherwise. Second, I'm a law enforcement official.”

“Yeah, so that means you got a legal right to stomp somebody.”

Kay shook her head as she backed out. “Girl, we're grown women. We're not about to go and stomp anybody. We're going to question her.”

“Exactly, and if we don't get the answers that we want, we're stomping her.”

Kay could only laugh at her friend. They made their way across town to Valerie's Galleria area apartment and pulled into a parking space in front of her building.

“So, you said she's normally home from the gym about this time?” Camille asked.

“Yes. She takes a Pilates class from seven to eight that she's always trying to get me to attend. I know she comes straight home after that. I probably should have gone and talked with her alone. But I want a witness,” Kay said.

“No, you did the right thing,” Camille said, “because we're going to get to the bottom of this. I promise you that. Now, what I can't figure out is how she found out. But Bailey's Bail Bonds ain't been around this long for nothing. We got a knack for getting information out of reluctant folks.”

“Girl, will you calm down? We're just going to talk,” Kay reminded her.

Camille shook her head, undeterred. “Nah, this chick is consorting with the enemy and she's supposed to be working for you? She doesn't get a pass on that.”

They pulled up to Valerie's townhouse. Kay looked around and didn't see Valerie's Honda Accord.

Kay glanced at the clock on her dashboard. “Well, we're still early. It's ten minutes till eight.”

Camille pulled down the rearview mirror and gave herself the once-over before popping the cap on the Vaseline. She looked over at Kay. “Do you know where this goes?”

“I don't know,” Kay replied.

“Oh, well.” Camille shrugged and then took a glob of the petroleum jelly and rubbed it under each eye.

“There she is,” Kay said, as she noticed Valerie in her gym clothes, making her way up the stairs. She hadn't even noticed Valerie pull in.

“Valerie,” Kay called after she jumped out of the car and raced over to her. “Valerie!”

Valerie looked shocked as she stopped. “Mrs. Christiansen?” she said.

She looked even more confused when she saw Camille appear on the side of Kay.

“Uhhh, is something wrong?”

“You better believe it is . . .” Camille began.

Kay held up her hand to stop her friend. “I got this.”

“Hmph,” Camille said, but she did step back.

“What's going on?” Valerie asked.

“Can we come and talk for a minute?” Kay was going to give her a chance to explain. She hoped that Valerie had an explanation. She hated to think that the girl had betrayed her like this.

Valerie looked around. “Uhh, uhh.”

“That was a rhetorical question,” Camille said, moving toward the door.

If the situation wasn
't so unbelievable, it would actually be quite funny,
Kay thought. Camille was acting like she was one of the Sopranos.

Valerie unlocked her front door and then led the way in.

“Where's your daughter?” Kay asked.

“W-with my mom,” Valerie stuttered. She dropped her gym bag and then turned to Kay. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Kay said as Camille locked the door, then stood in front of it as if she was guarding it. “Valerie, how long have you worked for me?”

Valerie hesitated. “A little over six years.”

Kay walked around, taking in the modest apartment. It was sparsely decorated with lots of pictures of her daughter, Daisy. “Have I been good to you?”

“Oh, yes, ma'am,” Valerie said. “I love working for you.”

Kay spun around. “That's what I thought and that's why I'm trying to understand why you would betray me.”

Valerie was quiet for a moment, then she said, “B-betray you? I d-don't understand.”

“B-but is there an echo in here?” Camille snapped.

“Camille,” Kay said.

“Hmph.” Camille stepped back again, but Kay could tell her input was far from over.

“Valerie, do you know Marty Simon?”

Although she tried to play dumb, her expression answered for her. “Marty Simon?”

“Yeah, you know, my opponent.”

“Uh, other than, you know, the stuff when you're running against him, no, I don't know him.”

Kay decided she was tired of beating around the bush. “Have you ever had any contact with Marty Simon?”

Valerie opened her mouth, but Kay stopped her. “Before you say anything, let me remind you, I'm a prosecutor. It's my job to get to the truth.”

Valerie let out a sigh, but didn't respond.

“It's also my job to prosecute those who break the law.”

“I . . . I didn't break any laws,” Valerie said, her eyes growing wide with fear.

“But you did do something, right?” Camille stepped forward.

“Who is she?” Valerie said, taking a step back as she cowered from Camille's towering presence.

“Who I am is not important,” Camille hissed.

“She's a friend,” Kay said. “Look, I'm not here in an official capacity. I'm here because I just want to know why.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Valerie said.

“Stop lying,” Camille said, slamming her palm on the door over Valerie's head. It made Valerie jump and she started to tremble.

“So, what did Marty do? Offer you money to spy on me?”

Valerie was quiet for a minute, then looked at Camille, who glared at her. Finally, Valerie slowly nodded her head. “Yes, he approached me and he made an offer I couldn't refuse if I could just get some dirt on you,” she confessed.

“Wow.” Kay was hurt. Valerie never crossed her mind as the one who could've given Marty the information.

“I am so sorry,” Valerie cried. “You know I adore and respect you, but the money and my daughter and I was thinking about her future and—”

“Just trifling,” Camille interjected.

By this point tears had filled Valerie's eyes. It tugged Kay's heart, but Camille wasn't moved. She rolled her eyes, clicked her teeth, and mumbled, “Don't fall for that bull,” before taking her post back by the door.

“How did you find out?”

Valerie just kept trembling.

“You'd better tell her because if I have to come up off this door one mo' time,” Camille threatened.

Valerie lowered her eyes. “When you had the meeting with Mrs. Jones in the conference room. You were so nervous when she kept calling and I thought something was up with that. So, I-I set up a recorder. I heard everything.”

“And you sold it to the highest bidder.” Kay couldn't believe that she'd let herself be played so easily. Valerie had pushed for her to meet with Gloria and even arranged the meeting in the conference room. And Kay had never suspected a thing.

“I'm so sorry. Please don't hate me,” Valerie pled.

Kay shook her head in disbelief. “Well, thank you for admitting it.” She headed toward the door. “I suspect you won't be at work tomorrow.”

“So, I'm fired?” Valerie asked.

Kay just looked at her, but it was Camille who spoke. “Really? You gotta ask that? Go work for Marty Simon. And you're lucky
she's the nice one because if it were me, I'd put that cute little chickadee”—she picked up a picture of Daisy—“in a foster home because her mom would be in the morgue.”

Kay was already out the door. At another time, she'd have a hearty laugh over Camille's Tony Soprano act. But right now, all Kay wanted to do was cry.