The Eternal Engagement (5 page)

CHAPTER 9

Mona

 

 

T
oday was filled with exciting things.

Mona was moving out of her mother's house, going with Steven for him to buy her wedding ring. She didn't need the whitest white gown. She wasn't marrying the man she'd planned. But she was equally thrilled that tonight she'd finally find out what Steven did to earn so much money.

“Mona Lisa, where on earth are you going?” her mother asked, standing in the doorway.

The red Samsonite suitcase was on her bed. Six boxes filled with her clothes, shoes, and favorite possessions were stacked outside her bedroom. Her dolls were neatly propped on her queen-sized bed.

“Steven is picking me up, Mama. We got married yesterday and he's taking me to get my ring today, then I'm moving in with him.” Mona paused, double-checked. The silver band Lincoln gave her was hidden in the inside zipper pocket of her purse. “I know things are somewhat out of sequence, Mother. I'll always be your daughter, but now I'm Mona Lisa Cunningham.”

Mona hugged her mom. Her mother broke their bond.

“So you just threw away our family's last name?” Her mother balled her fist, braced it on her hip, stepped her foot forward, then shook her head. “You've done a lot of dumb things, little girl, but this by far is the dumbest. You don't love him. Marriage isn't some sort of joke.”

It appeared that way to Mona. Her father did whatever he wanted, and her mother did whatever her father said. She never questioned his whereabouts. At least Mona knew how to get Steven to do whatever she wanted him to.

“I promise, Mother, I'll do better with Steven than you did with Daddy.”

Slap!
The sting burned Mona's jaw. That was the quickest her mother had moved in a long time.

Holding her cheek, Mona said, “I apologize, Mama. But I'm ready to make my own mistakes.”

“Knock! Knock!” Steven said, entering the bedroom. “Hi, Mrs. Ellington.”

“Don't you
hi
me. How dare you not ask my husband and me for Mona's hand.”

Steven's lips curved downward. His eyes widened.

“It's okay, Mama. It's done now and I'm not divorcing him. Put my boxes in the car, Steven. I'll be out in a minute,” Mona said.

Before closing her suitcase she placed her favorite doll on top. It wasn't Barbie or Ken. She picked up her Magic Genie Troll Doll, kissed it. Fingering the pink spiked hair, she straightened the tiny pink short shorts, then placed her genie in her purse for good luck.

“Steven, wait,” her mother said. “You hear me and you hear me good. You take my Mona Lisa out of our house, you pay for her every need down to the drawers on her behind. You'd better make sure she doesn't want for anything.”

“I can do that, Mrs. Ellington,” Steven said, leaving the house.

Mona's mother's approach differed from her dad's, but she knew they both had her best interest at heart. “Mama, I'll be fine. I'm not dying, I simply got—”

Slap!
Her mother hit her again.

This time Mona wanted to hit her mother back. But she didn't. Why was her mother so angry at her?

“Stop sassing me, little girl. You grown? I'm not telling him to take care of you because I care about what's on your ass! I'm telling him to take care of you because no matter what you do, you can't come back here. Ever!” Her mother walked away, left Mona standing alone.

Holding back her tears, Mona grabbed her suitcase, put it in the trunk of her new red convertible sports car, and followed Steven to his house.

Mona's only regret was that her dad wasn't around for her to kiss and tell him good-bye. She'd call him later.

As Mona parked her car in Steven's garage, it dawned on her. With her father gone weeks, sometimes months at a time, this would be the first time her mother would truly be alone.

Why should Mona choose her mother's happiness over her own?

CHAPTER 10

Katherine

 

L
ights! Camera! Almost time for action!

“Thanks for everything, Mama!” she said, kissing her mom, then her son.

Her assistant Tyler opened the door to the green room, peeped inside. “Ms. Clinton, it's time for your hair and makeup.”

“Go, baby. I'm so proud of you. Jeremiah, tell your mommy you're proud of her.”

Running toward her, Jeremiah clung to her skirt, then started crying. “I wanna go with you, Mommy.”

“Ms. Clinton, I really have to get you to hair and makeup now,” Tyler insisted.

Her mom picked up Jeremiah. “He'll be all right, baby. You go get ready for your debut.”

Following Tyler, Katherine strutted through the hallway as though it were her own private runway. She was the first in her family to earn a college degree. One of her dreams had come true, to anchor the local news in Selma, the other she'd hold on to until Lincoln came back to her.

Tyler opened the dressing room door. “Amber and Nichelle will take care of you. I'll be back in fifteen minutes to escort you to your station.”

My station. Wow!
Was every workday going to start the same?

Katherine removed her jacket, handed it to Nichelle, then sat in the black stylist chair facing the mirror. From tiaras to crowns, she was accustomed to the spotlight, but she didn't want to come across as a diva on her first day. Being a newscaster officially made her a local celebrity.

“Okay, Mz. Undercover Diva extraordinaire,” Nichelle said, “My best advice to you is to take advantage of your health benefits and get yourself a psychotherapist.”

“Excuse me,” Katherine retorted.

Amber chimed in. “Nichelle means no disrespect, girl.”

Amber continued, “We know you're all excited. Eager to be in front of the camera. And trust me, when we're done with your hair and makeup, you'll be ready for the red carpet. But by next week, after you've covered all the homicides, suicides, kidnappings, rapes, babies being abused, casualties, police shootings, gang shootings, drug wars, and how many soldiers are dying in the war each day, you won't feel like a diva.”

“But you will look like one,” Nichelle repeated. “Get yourself a damn good therapist. Because even if it's not your story to report, if you want to stay on top around here, you still have to know what's happening. Now turn around and let me make you look even more fabulous.”

Katherine slid her fingers from her eyes, up an inch to her temples, then pressed hard. She closed her eyes, exhaled, then looked at them. “That's better. I'll be fine.”

Amber held the makeup brush in front of Katherine's face. “And what's that supposed to mean?”

“My crown was a little crooked. But I've straightened it. Thanks for the advice, ladies,” Katherine said, easing out of the chair.

Tyler stepped in. “You look fantastic!”

Katherine reached for her jacket. Tyler got to it first. “Let's go,” he said, holding the door open. She followed Tyler to her station. He looked her up, down, then back up. “You'd better showcase that diva strut you had a few minutes ago. Look, the news is depressing enough, don't make me put you on that list too.”

Stopping outside the door to the newsroom, Tyler said, “Katherine, you're a fresh face, you're young, you're beautiful. Selma needs to see your face in the morning. Delivering the news is a job. Don't take it personal and don't take it home. You'll be just fine.”

“Thanks, Tyler.”

He placed his pointing fingers at the corners of his mouth, curved his lips up. “If your energy drops, this'll be my signal to you to pep up.”

Katherine entered the newsroom, sat at her station. The visual and audio technicians made sure her seating, posture, position, and voice were perfect. “Would you like me to get anything for you, Ms. Clinton?” Tyler asked in a more professional voice than when they were alone a moment ago.

Ms. Clinton sounded so formal and made her feel older than twenty-two. Wow. It hit her that she was the youngest reporter ever to have a prime morning spot. More important than her position was being in a position to financially support herself and her son. If the balance on her student loans weren't so high, she could take care of her mother.

“No, thanks. I'm good for now, Tyler. And please, call me Katherine.”

Glad she'd skipped breakfast, Katherine felt her stomach cramp with the anticipation of going live on television. Katherine was proud of what she considered a major accomplishment. With the help of her mom petitioning their community, she'd gotten overwhelming support to be hired.

I'm actually living my dream.
She screamed on the inside,
Ahhh!

Coanchoring the seven o'clock morning news; today her crown was straight. She felt Amber and Nichelle's advice was genuine, but it was too early to get comfortable with women she didn't know.

Katherine was ecstatic that her mom and Jeremiah were in the green room cheering her on. In a few minutes, all of Selma might be watching her. Katherine held a mirror in front of her face, checked her hair and makeup one last time. She took a deep breath. Her fitted sleeveless blue dress was layered with a rich lavender jacket. The neckline scooped slightly above her collarbone. She wore the pea-sized pearl earrings her mom had given her for graduation.

If she delivered the news half as good as she looked, she'd do fine. Or if she screwed up maybe no one would complain because she looked good. All she had to do was read the teleprompter without appearing as though she was reading the teleprompter. Look into the camera and connect with her viewers. Maybe she could put a little Hollywood spin on her delivery by smiling, raising her brows, and touching her hair. A few signature moves would set her apart from the others.

Katherine twisted the gold band on her ring finger, thankful that her mom had finally accepted that her engagement to Lincoln was serious. She desperately wanted them to be a family, live together, raise their child together. Their baby was now three years, seven months and had never had a hug from his father.

She prayed wearing the ring would keep viewers from judging her. Calling into the station questioning how a single mom got the job. Then there were those true Christians she'd have to worry about. During her interview, she'd told the panel, “My fiancé is stationed overseas in the military,” but she never mentioned Lincoln by name.

The studio was cold. Her counterpart, who was a ten-year veteran in the business and twice her age, sat beside her. His charcoal gray suit complemented his blue shirt and lavender tie.

Katherine smiled at Warren Golf. “We're coordinated. That's a good thing, right?”

Glancing up from his notes, Warren said, “You look nice. Relax. You'll do well.”

The cameraman said, “We're going live in five, four, three, two,” then pointed at her.

Maybe she should've reviewed her notes instead of worrying about her appearance. Katherine looked directly into the camera as she read, “Today, America, we remember nine eleven. Three years ago the World Trade Center bombing sparked a renewed and continued search to capture Osama bin Laden.”

Katherine continued reading the teleprompter as footage of U.S. troops played for the viewers.

“American troops are on the ground in Afghanistan, and Operation Enduring Freedom is stronger than ever. More American troops are being deployed in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom to find the weapons of mass destruction.”

Fading out the troops, the camera focused back on her. “I'm Katherine Clinton, and we take you live to Ground Zero where we have Serena Henry with the story. Serena.”

In that moment, while Serena was in New York reporting, Katherine had the brightest idea of her one-day career. She no longer wanted to be anchored behind a desk delivering the news. Katherine wanted the flexibility to occasionally have assignments that would allow her to travel the country and cover major breaking stories like Serena. She'd get a few years of experience before pursuing her new dream.

Maybe during her travels, she'd gather enough information to find her man.

CHAPTER 11

Mona

 

“Y
ou sure you want to go with me again tonight?”

“Ready when you are,” Mona said, slipping her firearm into her black purse. She hung her bag over her shoulder, tucked it under her arm.

To minimize the time sitting at home with Steven during the day watching the news—especially the morning news—she accepted a forty-hour-week schedule at the police department. And although he made more than enough money to let her quit her day job, her access to confidential data made his apprehensions easier.

“You know, we deserve a reality television show for what we do,” she said, watching Steven load his gun.

Working at the police station full-time during the day and going with Steven at night was exhilarating. Secretly, Mona hated watching Katherine on television. Katherine always seemed to have a bigger spotlight. Mona wasn't stupid. She saw the way Steven stared, not at the news but at Katherine, the entire time she delivered the news.

“Baby, we should leave Selma and move to LA. Get our own show for real.” Just getting out of Selma would be good enough for Mona.

“Have you ever had to shoot anyone? Have you ever killed a man?” Mona asked, closing the wooden shutters on each window.

During the day, Mona worked linking criminals to crime scenes. She could get a job doing that in California. After dark, she helped protect Steven from criminals. And he could get a job bounty hunting in California. They were two country folks from Alabama that could make a huge Hollywood splash . . . bigger and more entertaining than
The Beverly Hillbillies
!

“No,” he said. “But tonight might be a first. Can you handle that?”

Mona had proudly become her husband's sidekick, in and out of bed. The chance that she could get caught by the police helping her husband bring in fugitives gave her a rush. At times, his job excited her more than he did. She fumbled through her purse to make sure she had her flip video camera. Tonight she'd start capturing footage, save it for the right time to submit to the right person. Mona was determined to become famous.

Their reality show would top everything on TV, including the news. She wasn't afraid to shoot in self-defense if she had to. Firing rounds at the range twice a week kept her skills intact. Plus, she had a badge and a CCW license to carry a concealed weapon wherever she traveled. Each time she accompanied Steven, he'd apprehend the person. She was there to slap on the handcuffs and back him up in case something went wrong.

He'd call the bail bonds agent, take the person to the local jailhouse near the station where she worked, then collect his money. Not that he had to, but he always cashed her out twenty percent of his earnings.

Steven kissed her, then said, “I think you should stay home tonight. I don't want you to get hurt.”

She couldn't tape if she wasn't there. “I'm going and that's final. What if I don't go and I could've kept you from getting hurt?”

“Mona, sit down for a moment,” he said, sitting on the sofa.

She sat beside him, remained quiet trying not to reveal her excitement.

Their two-bedroom house was modestly furnished. The home was suitable for a bachelor, and Steven hadn't added much since she moved in. The living room had one recliner, the love seat didn't match the area rug, and the rug didn't match the recliner. He hadn't bothered to repaint the white shutters or replace the wooden wall panels with Sheetrock. He'd bought the large sofa so she'd have someplace to sit or lie when they watched television together.

Mona waited for Steven to speak. Maybe he was going to say, “I shouldn't have married you.” It was too late for an annulment. Didn't matter. Long as he bought her out, Mona was prepared to move on.

“Tonight is different. Things might get dangerous,” he warned her.

“That's more of a reason for me to be there,” she said, looking at everything except him.

Their bedroom had a queen-sized bed, two dressers, one nightstand. He'd bought the second dresser for her clothes. The kitchen had a table with two chairs. One of the cabinets was filled top to bottom with bottles of his favorite whiskey.

Before moving into his house, she had no idea he drank all the time. Ruining his liver was his mistake, not hers. If he took ill, she'd put him in rehab. He wouldn't become her burden. No man would.

Steven held her face, made her look at him. “We went to high school with this guy. You know him.”

Great. That would help boost ratings. Mona knew that look on Steven's face. He stared straight through her. He was up to something, but she had her own hidden agenda.

“Don't tell me who it is. I'm going with you. That's final.”

“Fine. Since you insist, here's what you have to do,” he said, scooting to the edge of the sofa.

He made an unusual request—that everything they wore had to be destroyed immediately afterward. Tonight's fugitive was also a neighbor.

“No matter what happens, stay behind me,” he demanded, then said, “Let's go.” The drive was only a few blocks down the road.

When they arrived, Steven walked three feet ahead of her, making it easy for her to record. He stood in front of her, then banged on Calvin's door. Calvin opened the door.

“You know why I'm here. Don't make this complicated,” Steven said.

Calvin shoved Steven. Steven stumbled backward; Mona pushed him forward into the living room. Zoomed in. Calvin ran toward the back of his house, and Steven was right behind him.

Mona held her camera in one hand, drew her gun with the other, followed them into the bedroom. Calvin opened a drawer, reached for his gun. Before he turned around,
bam!
Steven punched Calvin in the back of the head so hard, Calvin hit his temple on the sharp edge of the dresser. Steven pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, put them on, then placed Calvin's gun in Calvin's hand. He bent Calvin's elbow, positioned the barrel at Calvin's temple, then pulled the trigger.

Steven checked for a pulse, then said, “He's dead.”

The only thing Mona knew for sure that night was her marriage to Steven was her biggest mistake. Quickly she turned off the video camera and dropped it into her purse.

What had she gotten herself into? Even if she turned in the footage, how could she prove she was innocent?