Avenging Alex (6 page)

“Please, you have to help me. There's a man in there who wants to kill me.”

“What?”

Alex instantly realized how insane she sounded. The brawny bouncer moved her aside and looked through the throng of people passing into the club. Alex's hands shook as she rifled through her bag to find the parking ticket for her car to give to the valet.

“Are you sure there's somebody after you?” the bouncer asked. “You're not high on somethin' are you?”

“No, I'm not high dammit. I know what I saw,” Alex responded. “Please. I just need to get out of here.”

The valet ran to get her car while she waited, cowering behind a man as thick as a linebacker. When the valet finally pulled up Alex jumped in and sped off without offering a tip.

It felt like she couldn't breathe from the time she left North Hollywood until she pulled up at her house in Monrovia. No one had followed her. It was just after nine-thirty and the street was quiet. She exited the car and bolted into the house. Neither Jamilah nor the baby was there. She looked across the street to see that the lights were on at the Hudson house and surmised that Jamilah must still be there playing cards. She called her up to be sure, calming herself before she spoke.

“Hi, Mama . . . No . . . No . . . I just got home. I had a headache and the club was just too loud. Is everything okay over there? Cerena is sleeping. Good. No. Take your time. Have fun.” After speaking to Jamilah she instinctively dialed John but hung up before it rang. She took a deep breath and lay back on the sofa. “It wasn't Rivera. It couldn't have been him.”

Dresses lay crumpled on the dressing room floor of Lorraine Chase's large walk-in closet. Shoes were scattered haphazardly. She felt as nervous as she did the first time John asked her out. She needed for everything to fall into place tonight if she planned on seducing him back into their bed. It was silly, she thought, trying to capitalize on her daughter's moment. After all, how romantic could the sight of twelve five-year-old girls prancing around on stage in tulle and crinoline be? She had to find the right look that wouldn't make her appear too eager. Her seduction should be pointed, but subtle. John was no fool. After changing more times than a runway model she tried on a form-hugging skirt and blouse with a plunging neckline, but it was going to take more than revealing cleavage to win him over. The only real weapons in her arsenal were their children. He would do anything for them; that much she was sure of.

Chloe stood excitedly at the window, waiting to see her father's truck. “Mommy, come on,” she squealed.

John pulled into the driveway and Chloe dashed out to meet him. He hoisted her in his arms and kissed her. “You guys ready?”

He looked up and saw Lorraine at the door. She'd settled on a less obvious skirt and a lightweight knit sweater that accentuated the blue in her eyes.

“Did you get the camcorder?”

She held it up. “I got it right here.”

“Where's John Michael?”

“I'm coming,” the boy shouted as he bounded down the steps with little thought to his broken arm.

“Slow down, John Michael,” Lorraine cautioned him. She handed the camcorder to John and turned to lock up the house. “Do you want to take the Jag?”

“I wanna ride in Dad's truck,” John Michael insisted.

“Me too,” Chloe chimed in.

“There's room,” John said. “Why don't we all ride together?”

Lorraine nodded agreeably. As far as she was concerned, as long as they were in the same space they could have taken public transportation to the school.

Once they made it to the auditorium Chloe found her teacher and the other girls and dashed off to get ready. Lorraine carried her head a little bit higher as she and John strolled inside. She smiled and waved at the other mothers she was sure had been cattily discussing the state of her union behind her back. If she could have reached out to take John's arm to show their solidarity she would have.

Barbara Mitchell, John's mother, was already seated when she noticed him and John Michael. Her youthful countenance and shapely figure gave little away of her fifty-plus years. Her eyes lit up and she waved, signaling that she'd saved seats for them. They exchanged hugs before settling in. Barbara glanced over at Lorraine, nodded, and smiled disdainfully. It was the kind of interaction that only a mother would give to the woman who had hurt her son.

The conversational chatter in the auditorium hushed twenty minutes later when the lights dimmed. The overture rose from the orchestra pit and Lorraine settled back, basking in her small triumph as the curtain went up. Chloe may have been the lead of Becket Academy's presentation of
Swan Lake,
but it was Lorraine's performance that would win the day . . . with everyone except her disapproving mother-in-law.

 

 

After the show John took them all out for ice cream; his mother chose not to go. Despite that, he and Lorraine found common ground as they raved about Chloe's dancing. By the end of the night Chloe had worn herself out and fell asleep on the way home. John carried her up to bed while Lorraine saw to John Michael. When John came back downstairs Lorraine had taken the liberty of fixing him a drink.

“I should be going.”

“It's only a little after nine,” Lorraine said. “Can't you at least have one drink with me?”

John scratched his forehead and took the glass.

“To our prima ballerina,” Lorraine toasted.

“All those dancing lessons paid off.” John laughed. “At least she knows stage right from stage left, which is more than I can say for the Thompsons' kid.”

They both laughed. Lorraine casually poured more brandy into John's glass. He didn't object. “Thank you for recording tonight. Mom and Dad would really be upset if they didn't get a chance to see Chloe's debut.”

“Are they still in Belize?”

“They should be back tomorrow.”

John nodded and tossed back the brandy. Lorraine seized the opportunity to make a move. Her fingers delicately traced his brow and down the side of his face and she kissed him. His reaction wasn't immediate. It wasn't until she tugged at the buttons of his shirt that he moved away.

He shook his head. “Lorraine, don't.”

“You still want me. I know you do.” She stepped back in front of him and stared into his eyes. The room was still and thick with tension. The light was dim. There were yet unresolved emotions that had not been dealt with and they both felt it. Her fingers caressed his lips and he yielded to her, promptly pulling her sweater up over her head and kissing her neck and lips and face. She threw her head back in ecstasy and nimbly undid the buckle of his belt. His breathing grew more intense as she massaged his erect penis. She slowly sank to her knees and took its fullness into her mouth. He gasped and quivered. After a few seconds, as if snapping out of a trance, he pushed her away.

“Stop,” he insisted.

“You don't want me to. I know you don't.” Ignoring his protest she skillfully sucked his erection back into her mouth.

“Mommy, my stomach hurts.”

John and Lorraine jumped in tandem. He pulled away and stumbled backward as he yanked his pants back up and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.

Lorraine stood, grabbed her sweater, and wiped the corners of her mouth with her index finger and thumb. “Chloe, sweetie, don't come downstairs; Mommy's coming up.”

John cleared his throat. “I should go.”

“No, wait. Just give me a minute.”

“We can't do this, Lorraine.”

“Mommy.”

Lorraine's look implored him to stay.

He nodded toward the staircase. “Go ahead, Chloe needs you.” He grabbed his keys from the bar and swiftly left the house.

“Mommy.”

Lorraine smiled and teared up simultaneously. There was the tiniest crack in the façade. His body responded and she felt, if given the time, she would have had his heart again as well. “I'm coming, baby.”

John sat in his truck, thinking about what just happened. He looked down at his flaccid penis and shook his head. “Boy, you need to calm that shit down. You were about to get me into some serious trouble.” He glanced back up toward the house before driving off, and exhaled.

 

John woke up the next morning beating himself up for allowing things to get so out of hand with Lorraine the previous night. He sat up on the side of his bed and contemplated calling Alex but guilt changed his mind. He pulled at his boxers and went to the bathroom to relieve himself. He then plodded barefoot into the kitchen, scratching his chest as he slipped into a T-shirt. He looked into the refrigerator for something to eat and started a pot of coffee. As the coffee brewed he checked his brother's room to see if he was asleep, and discovered that he wasn't there. A knock drew his attention to the door.

“Hank, what are you doin' here?”

“Good mornin' to you too.”

“Sorry, it's early. Come on in.”

“I was on my way to the pier to do some fishin' and your mother wanted me to stop by and bring this extra lasagna she made. She was sure you and your brother were up here livin' off In-N-Out Burger and Pizza Hut.”

“You detoured up here from Inglewood on your way to the pier to bring me lasagna?”

“You know your mother.”

“She was tryin' to be slick.” John took the lasagna into the kitchen, dug a spoonful out, and shoved it into his mouth. “She just wanted to know if I was home and if I was alone.”

“You figured that out, did you?”

“It didn't take a whole lot of effort after last night.”

Hank laughed. “You know your mother told me that Lorraine was actin' all cozy with you.”

“Yep, that's the reason for the lasagna and the unannounced visit, right?”

“Sorry I didn't get to make it last night. Your mother showed me all the pictures though.”

“Yeah, Chloe did her thing.”

Hank glanced around the unkempt bachelor's lair. “Is that fresh coffee I smell?”

“Yeah.Want some?”

“Sure, just as long as the cup's clean.”

“Huh?” John looked through the portal separating the kitchen from the living room to see his stepfather pushing aside a pile of clothes from one end of the sofa in order to sit. “Sorry about the mess. I've been meaning to straighten up, just haven't had the time. You want cream and sugar?”

“No, just black.”

“When did you start drinking black coffee?”

“When your mother decided that I needed to cut back. It's an acquired taste.”

John chuckled as he grabbed two mismatched mugs from the cupboard and filled them. He went back into the living room, gave his imposing and distinguished stepfather one, and sat in a chair facing him.

“Where's Anthony?”

“I don't know. He wasn't here when I came in last night and he wasn't here when I got up this morning. Probably spent the night with some woman.”

“Speaking of women, what's goin' on with you and Lorraine?”

“Nothin', but that hasn't stopped her from wanting to get back together.”

“I take it you don't want to?”

“It's complicated.”

Hank scratched at the grayed temples of his faded haircut and took a sip of his coffee. “Complicated, huh? Sounds like there's another woman.”

“What would make you say that?”

“Look, I'm almost sixty-three years old, and if I ain't learned nothin' else in all this time I know that nothin' can complicate a situation between a man and a woman more than another woman.” Hank's dark brow furrowed. “Unless it's another man.”

John caught his meaning. “Hell, no. Not up in here.” He pressed his lips together and stared off. “To be honest with you there is this woman.”

“Is she married?”

John exhaled. “No. She's uh . . . she's in the program.”

“Aw, hell. You gotta be kiddin' me.”

“I didn't plan on it. I didn't expect it. It just sort of happened.”

“Johnny . . .” Hank scratched his head again and planted his face in his large, calloused hand.

“I know what you're gonna say, Hank. Believe me it's nothing I haven't said to myself over and over again.”

“You have feelings for this woman?”

John put his cup down on the table in front of him and vigorously rubbed his face. “Yeah . . . God help me I do.”

“Walk away, son,” Hank admonished. “Maybe you should concentrate on some of your other cases. No good can come of the situation with this woman.”

“I have to finish the job I started. She's counting on me.”

“Johnny, I can't tell you how to feel. You've always been as stubborn as your mother. And you always did like the rush of livin' on the edge. But, are you sure this woman is worth you puttin' everything on the line you've worked so hard for? Have you thought about passin' this one off on somebody else?”

“Yeah, I thought about it.”

“But you're not doin' anything to change it? This must be one helluva woman.”

John retreated to his bedroom, and when he reemerged he passed Hank a picture of Alex.

Hank removed his eyeglasses from the inside pocket of his skiff jacket and slid them up his nose. “Is this her?”

“Yeah.”

“Don't tell me you sleep with this under your pillow.”

John snatched the picture back. “Not funny, man.”

“She's good-lookin', that's for sure. I can see why you might be tempted.”

“And that's not even a good picture of her. Man, this woman is somethin' else. There's just something . . . I can't really explain how I feel when I'm around her.”

“So, it's more than sex then?”

“I haven't slept with her.”

“Are you going to?”

John shook his head. “I don't know what I'm gonna do.”

“Is it the danger of being with this woman that appeals to you?”

John shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe.”

“You need to figure it out, son, and soon. I think what you need is to step away for a minute and get a fresh perspective. How about a drive to Santa Monica? We can do some fishin' and you can do some thinkin'?”

“I can't today.”

Hank stood up and his six foot four inch frame towered over John, making him feel like that hapless fourteen-year-old again. “All right. Watch your step. I don't want your mother throwin' another fit because of another woman she thinks you're ruining your life over.”

“You can't say anything to her about this, Hank.”

“Don't worry, I won't. But if this thing with this woman blows up, your mother and her prayer group are gonna be draggin' your tail to the altar and drowning you in holy oil.”

Even though he laughed John knew Hank was right. As much as Barbara Mitchell resented Lorraine for what she'd done she tolerated her for the sake of the grandchildren. His involvement with Alex would carry no such amnesty.