Authors: Zuri Day
Lovin' Blue (25 page)
54
“Renee Newton!”
“Eden Anderson!”
Eden turned out the lamp next to her bed and crawled beneath the covers. She hadn't talked to Renee in months, and even though she'd reached her goal of lights out and in bed by nine, she knew that actually going to sleep might be a while. “How are you? DC? Life? Oh, my gosh, girl, we've got so much to talk about!”
Renee chuckled. “Eden, it is so good to hear your voice. Where do I begin?”
“Most people would say at the beginning, but, heck, I say plunge right into the middle and spread out from there!”
“Ha! That sounds like a plan. Wait, hold on, let me grab my hot chocolate.” There was a rustling sound as Renee pulled her large mug closer to where she was huddled under a throw to ward off October's east-coast chill. “Okay, first off, are you sitting down?”
“Lying down, to be exact. And just to show you how much you rate, I put my place off limits to my boyfriend so I could get to sleep early, and here I am talking to you.”
“I'll make it worth your while, Eden. There was a pregnant pause before Renee added, “I'm engaged!”
Eden squealed, sitting straight up as she did so. “Shut up!”
“Is this news enough for you?”
“Stop it!”
“Hmph, it's a little too late for that, thank God. My June wedding will be in the Bahamas, so update your passport, and if you're slacking, start exercising. I want all my bridesmaids to look fabulous!”
“Oh. My. God, Renee! You could have told me anything but this.” Renee Newton was that friend who put the
P
in
picky
and whose long list of “must haves” put the
P
in
perfect.
Among the absolute deal breakers were if a man did not have an MBA, made less than six figures, was under six feet tall, had a criminal record of any kind, rented instead of owned, or had a less than seven hundred credit rating. Her husbandâshe'd insisted many timesâwould have all these attributes plus a few more, just to surprise her. “I am so happy for you, girl. Okay, details, tell me everything!”
P
in
picky
and whose long list of “must haves” put the
P
in
perfect.
Among the absolute deal breakers were if a man did not have an MBA, made less than six figures, was under six feet tall, had a criminal record of any kind, rented instead of owned, or had a less than seven hundred credit rating. Her husbandâshe'd insisted many timesâwould have all these attributes plus a few more, just to surprise her. “I am so happy for you, girl. Okay, details, tell me everything!”
“For starters, his name is Lance Whorton; he's from New Orleans, Louisiana; and I met him when he was here on business.”
“A Southern man, huh? I've heard they grow 'em good down there.”
“You heard correctly!”
“So, what does he do?”
How much does he make? How many degrees and from what Ivy League school?
How much does he make? How many degrees and from what Ivy League school?
For the first time since saying hello, there was a brief pause in the conversation. “He's, uh, into physical fitness.”
“Sounds like a perfect fit for someone who likes to work out herself four to five times a week. So are you saying he owns a training center of some sort, maybe for professional athletes?”
“Not exactly.”
No matter how grand, unless it was a Bally or 24 Hour Fitness chain, Eden couldn't imagine him making enough money to give Renee the type of life she demanded. “Okay, girl, I know a stall when I hear one. Break it down for me.”
Renee sighed. “Okay, but I've already heard enough âI told you so's,' so spare me.”
“Okaaaaay,” Eden answered, drawing out the word.
“He's a personal trainer.”
“Girl! What's wrong with that? Some of those guys make tons of money. Remember that guy who trained Oprah and then went on to write books and all kinds of stuff? That's nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Trust and believe, he's no Bob Greene. He didn't graduate from college, rents an apartment in a modest neighborhood, and lived at a Louisiana correctional facility for four yearsâfrom seventeen to twenty-one.”
Eden was stunned into paralysis. She held the phone away from her head, stared at the picture of Renee she'd programmed into it, and wondered who this was on the line with her good friend's voice and manner but incredulous conversation!
“You're shocked. I know. It's not what I planned.”
Eden finally recovered her voice. “That's putting it mildly.” A moment of silence passed, and then, “How tall is he?”
Pause. “Six-foot four, two-twenty. Solid muscle, massive strength. Think LL Cool J with even more swagger. Yet the kindest, most thoughtful human being you'd ever want to meet.”
At least you checked one item off your list,
Eden thought. “Wow,” she said.
Eden thought. “Wow,” she said.
“He was in DC accompanying a client on an extended stay. I met him at the gym.”
“You've gone to that gym for years, seen tons of fine men. What was it about . . .”
“Lance.”
“Yes, what was it about Lance that was different?”
“Everything. It's hard to explain, but there was this presence about him that went beyond physical, though that, too, was pretty awesome. But he was focused and methodical; he wasn't checking out every woman who walked byâjust took care of business and left. The third time I saw him there, I went up and introduced myself.”
Eden had forgotten Renee's rule about the man having to make the first move. “You stepped to him?”
Renee laughed. “I know. All I can say is God has a wicked sense of humor. Lance is almost everything I said I'd never settle for. But now that I'm in the situation, I realize it's all about perspective. In throwing out that crazy list of expectations, I've found a man who exceeds my wildest dreams of happiness, who makes me feel whole and complete, protected and loved.”
Eden laid back down. “I know what you mean.”
“He makes me . . . Whatâyou do?”
“Yes.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like it's time for somebody else to spill some beans.”
The smile came through in Eden's voice. “Well, for starters his name is Jansen McKnight. He's my brother's best friend who I've known most of my life. He moved back to LA almost four years ago after his divorce.” Eden paused and waited for Renee's response. There was none. “Renee?”
“Uh, I'm here, Eden. What did you say his name was?
“Jansen McKnight.”
“And you say he moved back to California?”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“Chicago. Renee, why all of these questions?”
Pause. Major pause. Five seconds, ten, thirty . . .
“Renee, you're starting to worry me. What's going on?”
“Is he a police officer?” Renee's voice, which moments ago had been jubilant and animated, was now low and dull.
“Yes,” Eden responded, her heart beating faster, Jansen was a consummate ladies man. Is it possible that he and Renee dated? That they . . .
Renee interrupted Eden's uncomfortable thoughts.
“Around thirty-eight, thirty-nine years old?”
“Yes. Renee, do you know Jansen?”
“I've never met him, but I know of him.”
“How?”
“Jansen McKnight is the cop who killed my brother.”
55
Five minutes had passed since Eden hung up the phone, and still she didn't move. She simply sat there, staring into space, replaying the last part of her good friend and former colleague's conversation in her head.
“Jansen McKnight is the cop who killed my brother.”
“Are you sure?”
“I'd bet my engagement ring on it. There were five officers placed on administrative leave following . . . Steven's murder. Jansen McKnight was one of the names listed. I remember all their names.”
“But if five men were suspended, how do you know Jansen was the . . . reason your brother died?”
“If five men fired five guns, does it matter which bullet pierced Steven's heart?”
Eden sat the phone on the bed and placed her head in her hands. Her mind reeled, unable to process what she'd been told. Scenes from her whirlwind romance with Jansen played in her mind like a slideshow: their first real kiss in Michael's guest bathroom, the subsequent first date and unforgettable night. Intimate dinners, unforgettable nights, walks by the beach, unforgettable mornings, watching old movies, reminiscing, and unforgettable afternoons.
Then a different set of scenes began to play: her place and seeing Jansen's gun before he deftly tried to hide it under his clothes. His place and the gun on his bedroom dresser, and in the office, and a drawer in the kitchen, and in the well-stocked cabinet. Michael's house and the weapon that was never far from him. And the most distressing scene of allâat Michael's. Big man. In deep shadow. With a gun pointed at her chest.
Eden shuddered as she swallowed a gasp. “Jansen,” she whispered, her hands going to her mouth, tears forming at the tips of her eyes. “Oh, baby, what have you done?”
The cell phone rang. Eden looked at the caller ID. Jansen, just as she'd figured. Now the tears fell, one by one, a stream of sadness down her face, pooling into a glob of abject despair. She silently implored,
Why this? And why now?
Now, when everything seemed perfect, and she'd decided to “allow,” per Ariel's suggestion, and coexist peacefully with Jansen, his weapons, and his career choice. Now, when Jansen had opened more fully to her world, often joining in her yoga sessions and eating less meat. Thoughts of the coming weekend entered the equation. One of the biggest hurdles yet was about to be jumped as Jansen had agreed to join Alex and Christina on his boat. Both of their families knew and approved of the union. “It was perfect!” Eden ground out between gritted teeth. “Almost too good to be true,” she whispered. She threw one pillow against the wall, and then another, and then all of the half a dozen that dotted her bed. Too keyed up to sleep, she paced and cried, and not wanting to risk even seeing his name right now, turned off her cell phone.
Why this? And why now?
Now, when everything seemed perfect, and she'd decided to “allow,” per Ariel's suggestion, and coexist peacefully with Jansen, his weapons, and his career choice. Now, when Jansen had opened more fully to her world, often joining in her yoga sessions and eating less meat. Thoughts of the coming weekend entered the equation. One of the biggest hurdles yet was about to be jumped as Jansen had agreed to join Alex and Christina on his boat. Both of their families knew and approved of the union. “It was perfect!” Eden ground out between gritted teeth. “Almost too good to be true,” she whispered. She threw one pillow against the wall, and then another, and then all of the half a dozen that dotted her bed. Too keyed up to sleep, she paced and cried, and not wanting to risk even seeing his name right now, turned off her cell phone.
Jansen laid back, idling rubbing his manhood while waiting for Eden to pick up the phone. When the call went to voice mail, Jansen looked at the clock: 9:48. He waited for the beep and then left a message. “Hey, sleeping beauty. I see you got your wish and are probably already in dreamland. Enjoy it, baby, because this weekend I'm going to make it up to you. Check this, I traded Saturdays with a guy who needs next Sunday off. So he's going to work my Saturday this week, and I'll work his Sunday. That means we can hang out a little later on Friday, you know, at this kumbaya meeting at your boy's house. Only for you, little garden, would I go through these changes. Any other time, that brothah would have become well acquainted with my fist . . . a few times. Guess you're making me a better man. I miss you, baby. I want you with me all the time. I love you more than anything. Call me.”
56
“Eden, it's him.
Again.
” Ariel's voice was compassionate yet firm. “I don't know what's going on, but . . . don't you think you should take his call?”
Again.
” Ariel's voice was compassionate yet firm. “I don't know what's going on, but . . . don't you think you should take his call?”
“Still in a meeting, Ariel,” Eden curtly replied into the phone intercom. “For the rest of the morning I do not wish to be disturbed by anyone.”
Eden tried to refocus on the report in front of her but soon dropped it on the desk, stood, and walked to the window. This October morning was cool and overcast, with California's habitual “sunny and seventy” having gone the way of her idyllic romance. She'd done nothing but think about what Renee had said and knew no more of what to make of it this morning than last night. Sleep had not come easy. She'd managed just a couple hours, giving in to slumber amid a lone bird's dawn lullaby. The shrill of the alarm had awakened her, and for a few glorious seconds she was free of thought and memoryâit was just another day. Then she'd stretched and remembered. After showering and dressing, she'd turned on her phone, noting missed calls from her mother and more from Jansen. She had also seen that there were messages. She hadn't yet the strength to listen to them.
Eden returned to her desk, determined to work. An inner-office instant message popped up on her computer.
Alex.
Ariel says you are not to be disturbed. Is everything okay?
Alex.
Ariel says you are not to be disturbed. Is everything okay?
Eden's hand hovered over the keyboard as she formulated an answer. Busy, focusing. What do you need?
It can wait. Lunch?
Just the thought of food caused Eden's stomach to flip-flop. Thanks, but no. I'll order in.
Somehow Eden managed to get through the morning, actually return a few phone calls, answer some e-mails, and respond to the report she'd been sent. When Christina phoned, Eden was glad Ariel had ignored her mandate and put the call through. She accepted the invitation for lunch, and for a little over an hour she was able to take her mind off the Jansen/murder madness. She and Christina discussed the health fair, its successes and failures, and began setting up the foundation for an even bigger one next year. The miso soup had been comforting and healing, and Christina's effervescent personality had been beneficial as well. When she walked back into the center and saw Ariel sitting at the front desk, she actually smiled. The upturn was short-lived.
“Jansen called.”
“How many times?”
“I've lost count. But the last one was five minutes ago. He said if he didn't hear from you within the hour, he was coming down. It sounded like he meant it.” Ariel's eyes bore into Eden. They were full of questions and compassion. “It's not my businessâ”
“No, it isn'tâ”
“But.” Ariel visibly swallowed. “A heavy heart is a sign that something needs to be gotten off one's chest.” Her voice was low, gentle. “I'm here, Eden.”
“Let me call Jansen,” Eden replied. “And then maybe I'll talk about it.”
Eden bypassed her office and walked to the end of the hall.
“She lives!” Alex said once she'd tapped on his office door. “Did you make a dent in it?”
“In what?”
“The workload.”
“Oh, that. Actually, yes.”
“And you held out for a better invitation, I see.”
Eden smiled. “You spoke to Christina.”
“I called her just as she was leaving the restaurant. She said you'd met her.”
“Yes, decided I needed the break after all and some fresh air. Was there something you wanted to discuss?”
Alex peered at Eden, noted the slight puffiness around her eyes, the eyes that did not twinkle as they usually did when she smiled. He took in the slight redness around her nose and the tightness of her mouth that silently negated the asking of questions. “It can wait,” he finally said, turning to retrieve a file behind him and then facing her once again. “Maybe we can discuss it over lunch tomorrow. By then I'll have better organized my thoughts.”
“Sounds good.”
Eden walked to her office and shut the door. Once again her stomach was in knots. She dreaded making this phone call but feared Jansen coming to visit even more. Eden had no doubt that Ariel was right. Jansen had meant what he'd said about coming down. There was one thing for sure about himâhe didn't make threats, but promises.
Please let me get voice mail. I'll just leave a message and . . .
“Baby, finally! I was about to put out an APB on you, girl.” Jansen nodded at Alberto, signaling that he'd meet him by the patrol car. He had a couple minutes of break time left and walked to the side of the coffee shop. “That was a long meeting, lasted all morning. Is everything okay?”
Eden took a deep breath. “I wasn't in a meeting, Jansen. I was busy trying to gather my thoughts and make sense of some things.”
Silence.
The brooder.
Eden could imagine the slight furrowing of eyebrows, could see his eyes narrowing and the slight puckering of those talented lips. She closed her eyes against his image.
Eden could imagine the slight furrowing of eyebrows, could see his eyes narrowing and the slight puckering of those talented lips. She closed her eyes against his image.
“What's the matter, Eden?” Jansen said at last.
“Something I can't get into over the phone. Would you like to meet, say, around six in Culver City? That's halfway between you and me. There's a restaurant on Sepulveda atâ”
“Whoa, baby, what the hell is this meeting-halfway nonsense? We've never met halfway a day in our lives. It's either your place or my place, and I don't mind driving.”
“Jansen, please. I'll explain everything when I see you and . . . you'll understand.”
“Fine, Eden, but I'm telling you now. This doesn't feel good.”
“No, it doesn't.” Eden gave Jansen the name of the restaurant. “I'll see you there.”
It was the only workday Eden could remember in which she wanted time to slow down. By the time she reached her car, her nerves were frayed and, once again, her stomach roiled. When she got to the restaurant, she pulled into the parking lot, walked in, and immediately saw Jansen at the bar nursing a beer. He looked as gorgeous as she'd ever seen himâhis buffed chest filling out a stark white muscle shirt that was tucked into black jeans, emphasizing a narrow waist and thick thighs. Her step faltered, but with resignation she pressed on. His eyes bore into hers as she approached him. He did not smile.
“Hey,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the mouth.
“Hey.”
“Let's get a booth.”
“Do you want something to drink?”
“No, I'm good.” She walked to the last booth, the one farthest from either the door or other patrons, facing away from the room so she couldn't be seen.
She'd hoped Jansen would sit down on the other side, but instead he slid in beside her, took her in his arms, and seared her with a mouthwatering kiss. “That's better,” he said when he finally released her. “I don't know what that little peck up front was about.”
You can do this, Eden. You've got to do this!
She scooted away from him and leaned her back against the wall. “I talked to a friend of mine last night. Renee Newton?” She wondered if the name would ring a bell.
She scooted away from him and leaned her back against the wall. “I talked to a friend of mine last night. Renee Newton?” She wondered if the name would ring a bell.
Jansen shrugged. “And?”
“She knows you.”
“Renee Newton?” Jansen scowled, took a swig of beer, and then shook his head. “The name is not familiar. Where does she know me from?”
“Chicago.”
“Chicago? Renee Newton . . .” Jansen's voice trailed off as he pondered the name, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Baby, I'm drawing a blank. Where did she say we met in Chicago?”
“Actually, it's more like she knows
of
you. It's her brother with whom you . . . had the encounter.”
of
you. It's her brother with whom you . . . had the encounter.”
“Oh, okay. What's his name?”
“Steven. Steven Newton.”
Jansen raised the bottle to his lips but just before it reached them, realization dawned. He slowly lowered the bottle to the table and turned his body toward Eden. His feelings were in his eyes: fear, judgment, regret. “What did she tell you?”
Eden looked at Jansen a long momentâwilled away the tears that threatened to fall. “Is it true?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“What exactly are you asking me, Eden?”
Her lips began to tremble with the effort it took for her to remain calm. “Did you kill her brother?”
Jansen let out an audible sigh, rested his forearms on the table, and hung his head.
“Well . . . did you?”
“It's not cut-and-dry, Edenâ”
“Isn't it?” Eden pushed the question through clenched teeth. “It's either yes or no.”
“There's more to it than that.”
“Jansen, I've got to know. Did you do it?” A single tear ran down her face, the only part of her body that moved.
“My gun was fired along with others, yes.”
Eden felt a gush of air leave her lungs. She became light-headed and for a moment couldn't breathe.
“It was a no-win situation, Eden, and the only way out. Other lives were at stake andâ”
“Whose lives? Yours? The other officers?” Anger slowly built at the core of Eden's being and spread outward. “Was his life any less valuable because he wasn't in uniform?”
“Eden, you don't know all the facts.”
“And I don't want to know them! Here's what I do know. Steven was someone's son, brother, two children's father. I don't care what he did, Jansen. He didn't deserve to die.”
“So that's your verdict, huh? I'm guilty without even a chance for rebuttal? You obviously listened to your friend's side of the story. But you don't want to listen to mine?”
“No, because nothing you say can justify taking a life or can bring his back. Now please move. I've got to get out of here.”
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