Suspicions (30 page)

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Authors: Sasha Campbell

BOOK: Suspicions
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DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1.
Should Tiffany have continued to hold on to her virginity until after her wedding, or do you agree with the ladies in the shop to “try before you buy?” Do you believe Tiffany would have slept with Kimbel a long time ago if she hadn't felt pressured by her mother?
2.
Did Noelle come off being too controlling and suspicious of her husband, or did she have reason not to trust him? In the beginning, did you think Grant was messing around on her?
3.
Should Chauncey have been honest about his past from the start, or was he justified in thinking he would have been judged?
4.
Was Candace too critical of men? After she found out about Chauncey, was she too quick to judge? Should Chauncey have forgiven her?
5.
If you were Candace, would you have told Tiffany the truth about Kimbel and risked your job? If you were Candace, would you have continued being friends even after you asked her not to say anything?
6.
Do you believe Kimbel really loved Tiffany? Was Tiffany wrong for stalking him? Would you have handled the situation differently?
7.
What should Noelle have done when she found the baby on the porch? Would you have gone to extremes to track down the mother, or would you have gone about things differently?
8.
Should Noelle forgive Whitney for sleeping with her son? Was Whitney a victim? Do you believe they will ever salvage their relationship?
9.
Do you feel that Chauncey's parents were wrong for the choices they made? Do you feel he'll be able to repair the relationship with his father? His mother?
10.
Do you think Baughn and Tiffany have a chance or was he strictly her rebound man?
11.
Which of the main characters do you feel still has a lot of growing up to do?
If you enjoyed
Suspicions,
don't miss
A Good Excuse to Be Bad
by Miranda Parker
Coming in July 2011 from Dafina Books
Turn the page for an excerpt from
A Good Excuse to Be Bad . . .
Wednesday, 11:00 PM Club Night Candy, Underground Atlanta, Georgia
If I weren't so screwed up, I would've sold my soul a long time ago for a handsome man who made me feel pretty or who could at least treat me to a Millionaire's Martini. Instead, I lingered over a watered-down Sparkling Apple and felt sorry about what I was about to do to the blue-eyed bartender standing in front of me. Although I shouldn't; after all, I am a bail recovery agent. It's my job to get my skip, no matter the cost. Yet, I had been wondering lately. What was this job costing me?
For the past six weeks, Dustin, the owner of Night Candy and my Judas for this case, had tended the main bar on Wednesday nights. His usual bartender was out on maternity leave. According to Big Tiger, she would return tomorrow, so I had to make my move tonight.
Yet, I wished Big Tiger would have told me how cute and how nice Dustin was. I might have changed my tactic or worn a disguise so that I could flirt with him again for a different, more pleasant outcome. See, good guys don't like to be strong-armed. It's not sexy, even if it is for a good reason. Such is life . . .
Dustin poured me another mocktail. Although I detested the drink's bittersweet taste and smell, I smiled and thanked him anyway. It was time to spark a different, darker conversation. The fact that his eyes twinkled brighter than the fake lights dangling above his station made it a little hard for me to end the good time I was having with him.
“If you need anything, let me know.” He stared at me for a while, then left to assist another person sitting at the far end of the bar.
I blushed before he walked away.
Get it together.
I shook it off and reminded myself that I was on a deadline. I wanted his help, not his hotness and definitely not another free, fizzled, sugar water. It was time to do what I was paid to do.
When he returned to my station, he wiped my area again. I caught his hand.
He looked down at my hand on his, glanced at my full glass, and grinned. “Obviously, you don't need another refill.”
I giggled. “No, I don't, but I do need something from you.”
“I was hoping you would say that.” He smiled and took my hand, then held it closer to his chest. “Because I've wanted to know more about you ever since you walked into my club.”
“Great.” I couldn't help but giggle back. “Does that mean I can ask you a personal question?”
He nodded. “Ask me anything, sweetie.”
I leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Do you have a problem with me taking someone out of here?”
“Of course not. You can take me out. My patrons don't mind, long as the tap stays open.” He chuckled.
“No, Blue Eyes. I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about dragging someone out your club. Very ladylike, of course, but I wanted to get your approval before I did it.”
He stepped back, looked around, then returned to me. “I don't think I understood you, sweetie. You want to do what in my club?”
“Take someone out.”
He contorted his grin into a weird jacked-up W. “And what does that mean?”
“It means that you have someone in the club that I want, and I'll shut this club down if I don't get who I came for. I don't want to cause a scene, so I'm asking for your cooperation.”
He scoffed. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No, it's a shakedown, Dustin Gregory Taylor, and surprisingly, you're the one who sent me. So I need you to play along with me right now. Okay? Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Sorry?” He stumbled back and let go of my hand. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”
“You're causing a scene, Dustin, and that's not good for business. Why don't you come back over here and I'll tell you . . . quietly.”
He looked around the bar. The club was jumping so hard only a few people around us noticed his confused facial expression and his almost backstroke into the glass beer mug tower that stood behind him. He ran his hand through his hair, then walked back to me.
He murmured, “Who told you about me?”
“We have a mutual friend.” I pulled out my cell phone, scrolled to a saved picture, and showed it to him. “I'm sure you know the man in this mug shot. It's your cousin Cade. Correct?”
His brow wrinkled; then he sighed. “What has he done now?”
“What he always does, Dusty, rob banks and skip bail. But do you want to know the worst thing he's done?”
Dustin just looked at me. He didn't respond.
“Well, I'll tell you anyway. He convinced your mom to put a second mortgage on the family house, in order to pay his bail the last time he got caught. Guess what? He got caught three months ago and then he missed his court date, which means—”
Dustin yanked the towel off this shoulder. “Say what?”
“Your mom's home is in jeopardy if I don't find him tonight. My boss Big Tiger Jones of BT Trusted Bail Bonds is ready to turn your childhood home into his Smyrna office, if you know what I mean.”
“Son of a . . .” He turned around in a full 360. His towel twirled with him. “This isn't fair.”
I nodded. “Life can be that way sometimes.”
“I had no clue he had gotten back into trouble. He didn't say anything to me, and my mom . . . No wonder she hasn't been sleeping well lately.” He rung the towel in his hands, then snapped it against the bar. “I don't believe this.”
“Believe me, I understand how frustrating it is to watch your family make horrible mistakes and you or someone you love pay the price for their burden.” I thought about my sister, Ava. “Dustin, I have to take Cade downtown tonight. We both know that he's here in Night Candy right now and has been sleeping in your back office since his ex-girlfriend Lola kicked him out of her house. So tell me how you want this to go down, nice or easy?”
“Neither.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You can't do this, not here. It'll ruin me.”
I sighed. “I know, ergo this conversation.”
Last year after a stream of violence and crime, the Atlanta Mayor's Office and the Atlanta Police Department issued a new ordinance against crime. Any businesses that appeared to facilitate criminal activity would be shut down. Night Candy already had two strikes against it: for a burglary gone bad that ended in the brutal murder of Atlanta socialite and real-estate heiress, Selena Turner, and then there was that cat brawl between two NFL ballers' wives that was televised on a nationally syndicated reality TV show. The club definitely didn't need a showdown between a habitual bank robber and me. I'd tear this place up and anyone who stood between me and Big Tiger's money. I'm that bad, if I need to be.
“Maybe it won't.” I touched his hand with hopes that I could calm him down. The last thing I needed was Cade to notice Dusty's agitation. “But you must do as I say.”
Dustin leaned toward me. His starry eyes now looked like the eye of a hurricane. I shuddered. Man, he was hot.
“Listen to me,” he said. “It's not you I'm concerned about. Cade has made it clear to everyone that he'll never go back to jail. He will fight. Lady, he'll burn my club down with all of us inside before he goes back in.”
I patted his shoulders. “I believe you, and that's why Big Tiger sent me. See? Look at me.”
“I've been looking at you all night.”
“Exactly. This frou frou that I have on is a disguise.”
“Didn't look like a disguise to me.”
“That's my point, Dustin. I can sweet talk Cade out the back where Big Tiger's waiting for him in the alley. No one will suspect a thing, not even the plainclothes APD dudes hanging around near the champagne fountain.”
He looked past me toward the fountain, then lowered his head. “I didn't see them there.”
“That's because your attention was on me, just like Cade's will be once he sees me.” I grinned. “All I need you to do is to introduce me to him. I'll take it from there.”
“Makes sense, but there's a problem.” He ruffled his hair again. “Cade's in the cabanas upstairs, but I can't leave the bar. I'll let Ed, the VIP security guard, know you're coming. He'll parade you around for me. What's your name?”
“Angel.”
“Angel, that name fits you.” He looked at me and then over me. His eyes danced a little; then he frowned. “You're very pretty and too sweet looking to be so hard. Are you really a bounty hunter?”
I slid off the stool, smoothed down my hair and the coral silk chiffon mini cocktail dress my little sister Whitney picked out for me, then turned in the direction of the upstairs cabanas. “Watch and find out.”
Night Candy sat in the heart of downtown—underneath it, to be more exact—on Kenny's Alley, the nightclub district inside Underground Atlanta. Real-estate moguls, music executives, and Atlanta local celebrities frequented the club whenever they were in town. They also hosted popular mainstay events there. The upscale spot had become so über trendy that, unless you were on the VIP list, getting inside was harder than finding a deadbeat dad owing child support. But getting admitted was worth the effort.
On the inside, Night Candy was its name: dark, indulgent, and smooth. Chocolate and plum colors dripped all over the lounge. Velvet and leather wrapped around the bar like cordial cherries. It even smelled like a fresh opened Russell Stover's box. Dustin looked and smelled even better. I wished we'd met under different circumstances.
The club had three levels, with VIP at the top, and the best live music I'd heard in a long time: vintage soul, reminiscent of Motown girl groups with a dose of hip-hop and go-go sprinkled on top. My hips sashayed up the stairs to the music until I stopped.
I checked my watch and huffed. In three hours, the judge could revoke Cade's bail. There was no time for errors. Cade had to go down now.
I texted Big Tiger. He had assured me he would be outside waiting for us. Trouble was Big Tiger's promises had 50-50 odds. I promised myself to hire a male tagalong next time, preferably one as big as this Ed guy standing in front of me.
Whoa
. I reached the stairs he guarded. Ed was a massive, bronzed, bald-headed giant. He had brawn and swagger. My little sister Whitney would eat him up. Dustin must have given him the green light, because by the time I reached the top of the staircase, he was smiling and holding out his hand to help me inside the VIP lounge.
As he gave me a personal tour of what I called a Godiva version of a party room, I spotted Cade and exhaled. The Taylor men definitely had great genes. I didn't have to take a second look at his Fulton County Corrections Office booking photo to know it was him. He was drop-dead handsome, bald and dark, a bad combination for me. I'm a recovering bad-boy-holic. I hoped he wouldn't give me too much trouble, but the thought of a good crawl with this guy was enough to send me to church first thing Sunday morning.
I melted into a milk chocolate lounge chair across from his cabana and waited for his jaw to drop at the sight of me. And boy, did it. He was talking to a barely clad and quite lanky teenybopper when he saw me through the sheer curtain covering the cabana. I grinned and slid my dress up too high for a woman my age to ever do without feeling like some dumb tramp. I wished I could say I was embarrassed acting that way, but I couldn't. I liked having a good excuse to be bad sometimes.
The sad thing about all of this was that the young woman holding on to Cade didn't notice him licking his lips at me. After five minutes of his gross act, she stood up and walked toward me. My chest froze. Maybe she had seen him and was now coming over to warn me to back off or to claw my eyes out.

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