nose, inhaled. Santonio…what was he like? In bed? Out of bed? I took a sip. “Umph, umm.” I bit the celery stick.
Fucked one now and then, but I’d avoided dating cops during my career. Figured we had too much in common. Would I be compatible with Santonio? What was I going to wear to dinner? My glass was half full when my order arrived. I paid the bill, left a generous tip, removed the lid from the clam chowder, crushed a sleeping pill, stirred it in, sealed the lid.
Carrying two bags out the door, I hurried to the car, pressed the button to silence the alarm. “Honey, what are you doing? I told you not to get out.”
“Look,” she said, pointing across the river. “Over there, between the trees. That looks like the car Valentino and Benito were in.”
Oh, great. Now she was hallucinating. “Honey, get in the car. You’re tired.” I put our food in the backseat.
“Just look,” she insisted.
I opened my glove compartment and got my binoculars, peered through them. “I’ll be damned. There is an SUV over there.”
“With the windshield blown out?”
“Yeah,” I whispered in disbelief. It was eerie how things were happening.
“That’s the car they used to kidnap me. I shot the windshield out before they drove off.”
“Get in,” I told Honey, then phoned the local police, reported the abandoned SUV. “Let’s eat here. Wait until they arrive.”
I gave Honey her chowder, ate my gumbo. We shared the seafood and salad. Honey told me about her day. I told her about mine, about Santonio. When the police arrived, we left. I’d call them later. Before I entered the freeway, I looked over at Honey. She was asleep—perfect. I prayed she’d stay asleep until I arrived at her condo. That way she’d have no idea she was less than six blocks from her house.
CHAPTER 15
Red Velvet
S hould a woman stay in an abusive marriage for better or for worse? Was or the operative word? Had Onyx’s husband been abusing her before she married him? There must have been warning signs. Isolation. Control. Did her husband tell her what to wear? Did he start off slapping her? My mama had told me slapping was not a sign that a man loved me. If a man slapped, he’d punch. If he punched, he’d stalk. If he stalked, he’d kill. Good thing Onyx left him or he may have killed her before she could’ve killed him. Spending each day in fear was no way for a woman to live.
Some men needed to present a note from their mother: “May cause nausea, diarrhea, vomiting, abdominal pain, migraines, weakness, heartburn, depression, low self-esteem, retardation, epilepsy, insanity, bleeding, muscle pain, thoughts of suicide, allergic reaction, bruising, rash, hives, hypertension, itching/swelling (especially of the face, tongue, and throat), dizziness, trouble breathing, heart attack, and mortality in women with high self-esteem. The risks of your marrying or dating my son are greater than the benefits. If you can survive his side effects, you are one helluva woman.”
I had lots of questions but after almost suffering whiplash when she slammed on the brakes, I wasn’t initiating a conversation with Onyx about anything. One day I’d like to marry a good man who’d love my son and me. Maybe I’d meet him in Hollywood and marry him before I achieved stardom. That way I’d know he wasn’t marrying me for my money.
“Make yourself at home, Red Velvet,” Onyx said, standing at the foot of the stairway in Honey’s mansion. “Eat, sleep, chill until it’s time to go to Stilettos. You’ve got one hour to relax. You can nap on Honey’s chaise but do not get in her bed.” Onyx trotted upstairs.
Goddamn! I tripped out big time. Touring Honey’s first floor, I was amazed at her foyer, her kitchen, her office and hallway. I could not believe the countless number of C-notes lamenated beneath the clear marbled floors. If the hundred-dollar bills were real, we could rip out the floors to pay her ransom.
“Now this is a mansion
Fucked one now and then, but I’d avoided dating cops during my career. Figured we had too much in common. Would I be compatible with Santonio? What was I going to wear to dinner? My glass was half full when my order arrived. I paid the bill, left a generous tip, removed the lid from the clam chowder, crushed a sleeping pill, stirred it in, sealed the lid.
Carrying two bags out the door, I hurried to the car, pressed the button to silence the alarm. “Honey, what are you doing? I told you not to get out.”
“Look,” she said, pointing across the river. “Over there, between the trees. That looks like the car Valentino and Benito were in.”
Oh, great. Now she was hallucinating. “Honey, get in the car. You’re tired.” I put our food in the backseat.
“Just look,” she insisted.
I opened my glove compartment and got my binoculars, peered through them. “I’ll be damned. There is an SUV over there.”
“With the windshield blown out?”
“Yeah,” I whispered in disbelief. It was eerie how things were happening.
“That’s the car they used to kidnap me. I shot the windshield out before they drove off.”
“Get in,” I told Honey, then phoned the local police, reported the abandoned SUV. “Let’s eat here. Wait until they arrive.”
I gave Honey her chowder, ate my gumbo. We shared the seafood and salad. Honey told me about her day. I told her about mine, about Santonio. When the police arrived, we left. I’d call them later. Before I entered the freeway, I looked over at Honey. She was asleep—perfect. I prayed she’d stay asleep until I arrived at her condo. That way she’d have no idea she was less than six blocks from her house.
CHAPTER 15
Red Velvet
S hould a woman stay in an abusive marriage for better or for worse? Was or the operative word? Had Onyx’s husband been abusing her before she married him? There must have been warning signs. Isolation. Control. Did her husband tell her what to wear? Did he start off slapping her? My mama had told me slapping was not a sign that a man loved me. If a man slapped, he’d punch. If he punched, he’d stalk. If he stalked, he’d kill. Good thing Onyx left him or he may have killed her before she could’ve killed him. Spending each day in fear was no way for a woman to live.
Some men needed to present a note from their mother: “May cause nausea, diarrhea, vomiting, abdominal pain, migraines, weakness, heartburn, depression, low self-esteem, retardation, epilepsy, insanity, bleeding, muscle pain, thoughts of suicide, allergic reaction, bruising, rash, hives, hypertension, itching/swelling (especially of the face, tongue, and throat), dizziness, trouble breathing, heart attack, and mortality in women with high self-esteem. The risks of your marrying or dating my son are greater than the benefits. If you can survive his side effects, you are one helluva woman.”
I had lots of questions but after almost suffering whiplash when she slammed on the brakes, I wasn’t initiating a conversation with Onyx about anything. One day I’d like to marry a good man who’d love my son and me. Maybe I’d meet him in Hollywood and marry him before I achieved stardom. That way I’d know he wasn’t marrying me for my money.
“Make yourself at home, Red Velvet,” Onyx said, standing at the foot of the stairway in Honey’s mansion. “Eat, sleep, chill until it’s time to go to Stilettos. You’ve got one hour to relax. You can nap on Honey’s chaise but do not get in her bed.” Onyx trotted upstairs.
Goddamn! I tripped out big time. Touring Honey’s first floor, I was amazed at her foyer, her kitchen, her office and hallway. I could not believe the countless number of C-notes lamenated beneath the clear marbled floors. If the hundred-dollar bills were real, we could rip out the floors to pay her ransom.
“Now this is a mansion
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