Pretty Dangerous (13 page)

MiMi darted to him, deftly snatched the phone
away and stepped out of his reach. “Hold it slick. We’re going to
talk first.”

“But you don’t understand...”

“You got me into even more trouble, so yeah I
kinda understand for damn sure. Sit your ass down and explain,”
MiMi fired back.

“Don’t pull the outraged act. You were
tracking down funny money. Yeah, my lawyer told me. Sounds like you
had an agenda. Hell, you suggested the DR.” Roderick snapped his
fingers and then pointed at her accusingly. “Yeah, you did.”

She hissed at him. “Which doesn’t change the
fact that--”

“Our company has goals to go global. The FBI
is being overzealous because one of our partners has a past.”
Roderick pulled a hand down his whole face as if trying to wake
from a bad dream.

“Agent Morrison said they’re investigating
your business deals. She didn’t mention anything about a business
associate with a criminal record.”

“Agent Morrison. What’s her first name?”
Roderick reached for his phone. “C’mon now, quit playing around.
This is serious.”

“You think I’m playing? They want to take my
house. I have a child to raise, Roderick.” MiMi glared at him. She
swung back as though ready to throw the phone against the wall.

“No, no, wait. Calm down, baby. Let’s just
take this slow, talk things out. They want us at each other’s
throats. You know, divide and conquer.” Roderick’s words tumbled
over each other as he reached toward her.

“Well it worked. Give me the truth and then
get out of my house,” MiMi replied.

Roderick’s long-legged stride took him across
the floor in a few steps. He grabbed the cordless phone before MiMi
realized it. Long fingers tapped the keypad. “Dad, it’s me. Yeah,
yeah, but listen.”

MiMi considered rushing him to pull the phone
away, but knew she couldn’t win such a tussle. Instead she slapped
his expensive phone down on the counter. She had to settle for
shooting daggers at him. Roderick started out speaking normally.
After a few moments, his voice dropped too low for her to hear. He
glanced over at her when she took a few steps toward him.

Roderick met her halfway, the phone extended.
“Here, Dad wants to talk to you.”

MiMi blinked at the phone for a few seconds
before she took it. She stared at Roderick as she put it to her
ear. “Good evening, Mr. Jefferson.”

Gentry Jefferson’s commanding voice came
through the phone. For the next five minutes he made the case that
MiMi was overreacting. In fact, his explanation sounded plausible.
At the end he pointed out that Jack Crown had unwittingly gotten
involved with the wrong business partners.

“I’m sure a competitor is behind this FBI
nonsense. Turner Industries is angry we’ve outbid and out classed
them three times. Don’t jump to conclusions without talking to your
father,” Mr. Jefferson’s sonorous voice boomed through the handset
like a lawyer ending his closing argument.

“Yes, sir. Thank you,” was all she could
think to say. She handed the phone to Roderick and sat down.

“Of course MiMi understands. Yes, when I
leave here. Bye.” Roderick placed the phone down on its base. He
strolled over and sat on the stool next to MiMi. “I’ll take some of
the crawfish fettuccini now.”

“You want to eat? You must be out of your
mind.”

“Dad and our lawyers will be on it before
noon tomorrow. So yeah, my appetite is still good.” Roderick
shrugged, the picture of a privileged young man used to his father
wielding power.

“You have a lot of confidence considering the
FBI is dogging your footsteps,” MiMi retorted.

Roderick laughed. “You’d be surprised at what
Black business people have to face. We’re under scrutiny more than
our white counterparts. Not to say some don’t break the law, or
make missteps. We’re not one of those companies though.”

MiMi raised an eyebrow at him. “But you’re
calling in a team of lawyers.”

“Which is a smart business move.” Roderick
pulled her to him. “What’s more important is that you believe me. I
know how it must look.”

“No kidding.” MiMi resisted his hug.

“First the DR, and now the FBI. I told Dad
about the FBI saying they’ll take your house, too. He says proving
the money was earned from a criminal enterprise will be tough. The
FBI will try to scare you into talking. Dad says they probably have
little or nothing in the way of evidence.”

“You didn’t tell me your business was being
investigated, Roddy.” MiMi pointed a finger at the end of his
nose.

“You didn’t tell me about Jack’s money
stashed in the DR.” Roderick gazed at her steadily. “Did I hold it
against you?”

“Well... I don’t know for sure it’s there.”
MiMi searched for a hole in his logic and found none. She relaxed a
bit in his arms.

Roderick continued to embrace her. He brushed
his face against hers. “I’ll be sure you get the best lawyer
around.”

“Wonderful, exactly what I need from a
boyfriend. Flowers and the name of a good lawyer.” MiMi frowned at
him.

“I did tell you I’d take care of you in every
way,” Roderick whispered.

MiMi looked into his eyes. She couldn’t deny
that her past was far from squeaky clean. The fact that she had
kind of used Roderick as an excuse to look for Jack’s money...
well, she didn’t exactly have the moral high ground. Besides, he
looked and smelled really good. Dinner waited for a couple of
hours.

****

The next two days at work went smoothly
enough. Tyler was too busy to bother MiMi, and she was too focused
on doing her job to worry about him. She also didn’t have time to
dwell on Elle’s scheme. And Elle played it cool. She stayed away
from MiMi’s office. Yet she gave MiMi a conspiratorial wink when
they passed each other in a hallway. MiMi was bone tired by the
time she quit at around six that evening. She picked up Sage from
her sister’s house and headed to Willa’s house. They arranged it so
that Sage could spend time with her big brother and sister. MiMi
didn’t have to cook at least one night a week, a huge bonus. When
Willa wasn’t being a tough business woman, she enjoyed playing
homemaker. More and more Jazz showed up, too. Family nights became
a tradition during the week as well as on Sundays.

Willa stood at the stove stirring a pot of
her famous pasta sauce. She brought the large spoon to her mouth,
tasted and frowned slightly. She took a bottle from the spice rack
nearby and sprinkled something. “That ought to do it. Bring me the
meatballs.”

MiMi groaned as she pulled herself from the
chair at the large kitchen table. “I knew you’d put me to
work.”

“Handing me the pan doesn’t count as work,”
Willa retorted as she accepted it from MiMi. She put the large
spoon in the sink and carefully put the meatballs in the sauce.
“Don’t panic. I think I can handle the pasta on my own.”

“You don’t know the days I’m having.” MiMi
was about to go on when Anthony strolled in.

“Hey, Aunt MiMi.” The six foot tall teen
kissed her on the cheek.

“Hello, big guy. How’s school?” MiMi laughed.
“I sound like the typical adult these days. Sorry about that.”

“Yeah you do,” he said with a grin. Then he
grimaced. “School is a beast. At least the courses I don’t
like.”

“Required core courses will come in handy
more than you know,” Willa lectured without turning from her
cooking motions.

“Yes, ma’am.”Anthony looked at the ceiling
and mouthed the words as she spoke.

“As a future business owner good English and
writing skills will be essential, and stop imitating me.” Willa put
the sauce on simmer, still without facing him.

“You’re the best, ma.” Anthony playfully
tried to hug Willa.

She just as playfully brushed him off. “Go
on, I’m trying to finish dinner. Get outta here before I forget
you’re taller than me and you get a spanking.”

“You can’t catch me,” Anthony wisecracked. He
did a little dance before dashing off.

“Don’t be so sure,” Willa yelled after him
and laughed. Girlish squeals floated from the direction of the
bedrooms. “Go check on those young’uns. I must have been crazy
letting Mikayla’s little friends come over on a school night.”

MiMi went down the long hallway to the
bedrooms. She peeked through the door to Mikayla’s room. Sage sat
in the playpen Willa had bought just for her visits. She happily
divided her attention between playing with her toys and watching
the big girls. MiMi returned to the kitchen moments later.

“All is well. They’re just having fun.” MiMi
sank down onto the comfy chair again.

“Yeah well, they’re supposed to be studying.
They have to present their project tomorrow,” Willa replied.

“Ten and eleven year olds have study groups?
Are they teaching them, nuclear physics or something? I didn’t do
study groups until my junior year in high school.”

Willa took out a tray of French bread slices
covered in garlic butter. “I don’t complain. The public schools are
making big strides. And yeah, they’re pretty close to studying
nuclear physics.”

MiMi’s stomach rumbled at the delicious
smells filling the air. When the kitchen doorbell chimed she stood.
“Hurry up. I’m hungrier than I thought.”

“I don’t need the pressure,” Willa
quipped.

Jazz came in. She was dressed in a red tunic
and black leggings. Long thick braids hung from beneath a knit
Rasta hat. “Hey, when’s the food ready?”

Willa faced them with one hand on her right
hip. “You know, y’all are spoiled. One day you or you will be the
hostess.”

“Anytime you say,” MiMi replied. “You can
cook at my house just as well as here.”

“Ha, ha.” Willa went back to tossing the
salad.

Soon everyone was around the table talking
about everything, yet nothing too important. Sage sat on a booster
seat between her siblings. Mikayla and Sage shared a father, the
late Jack Crown. Anthony had been Jack’s stepson. Still Anthony
treated Sage like his baby sister. A strange crew indeed. Jack
would be amazed that his ex-wife and mistress had become friends.
In an odd way, his murder three years before had brought them all
together.

An hour and half later, the dishwasher hummed
and the kids had gone back to their rooms. The adults sat around
for serious talk not suitable for little ears. Jazz savored sour
cream pound cake from Mama Ruby’s oven. She licked the lemon glaze
from a slice and sighed. Willa sipped a cup of coffee.

“I love family night.” MiMi basked in the
glow of acceptance. The sound of kids’ voices added to her feeling
of security.

“Your sister has been pretty supportive.
She’s keeping Sage a lot,” Willa said.

“Yeah, I guess,” MiMi said. Adrienne’s
behavior didn’t inspire even a little spark. She couldn’t put her
finger on why though.

“This is all sweet and stuff, but let’s get
to the real reason for this pow-wow. What did the lawyer say?” As
usual Jazz shied away from touchy-feely moments of
sentimentality.

“Edselle Underwood is one of the best in
Brad’s practice, and that’s saying something,” Willa said to
reassure MiMi. Brad Craft was Willa’s former boss. He had a huge
law practice with three offices, including one in Houston.

“He didn’t bat an eye at the mention of the
FBI when we met Monday. He’s solid and calm, just what my jacked up
nerves needed.” MiMi sighed. “He says the US Marshals office has to
follow a strict protocol. Judges don’t make decisions about
confiscation lightly.”

“I told you,” Willa said, slipping into her
former paralegal tone. “They have to have solid evidence linking
the money used to buy your house with a crime.”

“Edselle says the FBI may know it’s a long
shot, but he didn’t want to give me false hope. He’s got the firm’s
investigator on it. I don’t know. Those agents seemed real
confident.” MiMi felt the fear creeping back up her spine.

“Of course they show up with plenty swagga.
It’s a cop thing,” Jazz said between chews.

“Has Don said anything?” MiMi got up to pour
a cup of coffee. Maybe it would help her spike of nerves talking
about bad possibilities.

Jazz shook her head. “The feds looked over
their files on Jack’s murder. They’re deep into every detail
connected to his business. Don didn’t say, but we can be sure
they’re also looking at Felipe.”

“Wait a minute. Let’s get back to Roderick
‘Smooth Talker’ Jefferson. You believed him... again?” Willa shook
her head slowly.

“Damn, he must put down some good, good stuff
in the sheets,” Jazz said quietly.

“I’m not that weak in the head or elsewhere,”
MiMi snapped.

“Let’s review. You confront him about getting
you arrested and sorta kinda trying to put the blame on you. Y’all
end up bouncing the mattress. The FBI came to your house, mention
he’s under investigation. You confront him again. Y’all end up on
the kitchen floor.” Jazz let out a long hiss.

“We weren’t on the floor. It was the sofa in
the den,” MiMi added softly and cleared her throat.

“Oh, big difference,” Jazz joked. “I guess
that makes it less slutty.”

“Don’t make me go over your love rap sheet,”
MiMi shot back.

“You’re catching up fast,” Jazz said. They
stuck out tongues at each other.

“Real grown up y’all,” Willa broke in.

“Edselle said exactly what Mr. Jefferson told
me the other night. The FBI is fishing because they need solid
evidence,” MiMi argued.

“Umm, so what? I could have come to the same
conclusion,” Willa countered.

“Jack had flaws, but he didn’t do all the
things he was accused of. I know Roderick can be selfish, a little
shallow and a jerk.” MiMi sighed.

“Oh please, get him to the altar quick before
he’s snatched up,” Willa said, her cynicism punctuated with a
snort.

“Hilarious. He feels really guilty about
getting me involved. He’s not faking it either. I can tell,” MiMi
added when Willa rolled her eyes.