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Authors: Susan Andersen

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BOOK: Present Danger
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It was important to her, however, that she look her best today. She twisted around, peering over her shoulder to check the drape of the cherry red, thin wool skirt in the full-length mirror. She turned back and adjusted the fringe of her scarf over the neckline of her silk blouse. She was meeting James’s and Otis’s families, and she was more than a little nervous.

Would they resent her presence? It was Thanksgiving, after all, a day for families. She had been dreading its arrival all month as she’d listened to different classmates discussing their plans. It was painful to hear other people’s planned festivities when she knew she’d be all alone. Then last week Lola had cornered her and insisted she spend the holiday with them.

Aunie hadn’t admitted it to a soul, but her self-confidence had been at an all-time low ever since Wesley’s attack. She was very unsure of her welcome anywhere; and in the presence of strangers—which included most of the population of Seattle—her old shyness had a tendency to reemerge with a vengeance.

She almost blushed when she thought of the way she had spouted off to both James and Lola about having an affair. Talk about a lot of hot air. She hadn’t even managed to exchange more than a few words with most of her classmates. She was friendly with those who approached her first but hesitant to initiate contact herself. So when Lola extended the invitation, she was leery of intruding on a family gathering and had tried to demur. Lola and Otis, and even James in his own way, had been wonderful to her. But this was a day for celebrating with one’s loved ones, and she wouldn’t feel right horning in on their plans.

Lola, however, wouldn’t accept no for an answer. “You have other plans, woo-mon?” she’d demanded, hands on her shapely hips as she’d regarded Aunie through narrowed eyes.

“No, but…”

“Then you come. And bring some vegetables wid you. Not Brussels sprouts, though. Otis, he hate Brussels sprouts.”

“But, his family …”

“They aren’t so crazy ‘bout Brussels sprouts, either.”

“That’s not what I meant, Lola Jackson, and you know it. Ah shouldn’t be intrudin’ on his time with his family.”

Lola, who had wised up to Aunie’s habit of unconsciously intensifying her Southern accent when she was feeling unnerved, grinned and gave her a little bump with her hip. “You kiddin’, girl? Intrudin’s ‘bout the last thing you’ll be doin’. Otis, he say: Get her down here. He’s hopin’ your presence will inhibit his brother Leon from offerin’ stud service once again. Then Otis won’t have to squash him like a bug, which would really put a damper on the festivities. ‘Sides, James and his brothers will be there, too.”

That information did nothing to reassure Aunie. If anything, it reinforced her idea that Thanksgiving was a time for family. “Oh, Lola, I don’t know.”

“Well, I do. Otis, he say for such a dainty little thing, you got attitude. Don’t go makin’ a liar outta my mon by turnin’ all chicken-hearted on me now. Be there, two-thirty
P.M.
And don’t forget the vegetables.”

And then she’d left.

Aunie dabbed a meager application of her favorite perfume on her pulse points. She took a deep breath, gathered key, purse, two containers of vegetables, and
a potted chrysanthemum, and juggling them carefully, let herself out of her apartment.

Downstairs, she hesitated outside the Jacksons’ apartment. On the other side of the door she could hear the raised voices of a large group of people all conversing at once, and she drew a deep breath to calm her nerves. She’d worn her highest-heeled boots—the ones that made her feel almost tall and gave her confidence. Using the toe of one, she tapped it against the door.

It was swung open by a man who bore a startling resemblance to James. He had the same rawboned, Scandinavian sort of looks, with his blond hair, big-boned wrists, and large hands. This man’s hair was short and styled, however, and he appeared younger and perhaps just a bit more polished, a bit less fit and tough-looking than James.

“Well, hel-lo, pretty lady,” he drawled. “Welcome. You must be the Aunie everyone’s been talking about.” He stood back to let her enter, flashing her a practiced smile. “They didn’t begin to do you justice, beautiful.”

Aunie returned his smile, but hers was just the tiniest bit reserved. She’d recognize his type blindfolded on a moonless night. He was a womanizer like her Uncle Beau.

Inside, the air was redolent with turkey and baked goods. As James’s brother herded her to the living room entrance, she was overwhelmed by the faces and the cacophony of voices.

People sat or sprawled on every available piece of furniture and upon the floor. Everyone seemed to be talking simultaneously as a football game blared from the television, and children were in perpetual motion, rolling over or skipping around obstacles.
Aunie hesitated at the entrance, balancing her flowers, purse, and the dishes containing her vegetables. She looked at all the unknown faces and smiled uncertainly.

“Will!” an authoritarian voice suddenly said. “What are you doing just standin’ there when that chile’s holding all that stuff? Give the young woman a hand.”

All conversation ceased and every eye in the room focused on Aunie. In the sudden silence, she felt her cheeks heat until she feared they must rival the color of her skirt. Oh Gawd, she knew it. She should have stayed home.

“Hey, hey, Aunie,” Otis rumbled as he dislodged the child he’d been bouncing on his stomach and surged to his feet. “Didn’t see y’ come in. Lola!” he bellowed. “Aunie’s here.”

James materialized next from another room, and Aunie suddenly felt like a sports car caught between a convoy of big rigs as he, his brother, and Otis hemmed her in. “Well, look at you, Magnolia Blossom,” James said, inserting a long, rough-tipped finger into a soft, shiny brown ringlet and stretching it out. “Curly hair.” He let it go, watching it bounce back into place.

Aunie would have reached up self-consciously to touch her hairdo but her hands were full. Did it look stupid? She’d thought it looked pretty good before she’d left her own apartment, but now she wasn’t so sure and James had obviously said all he’d had to say on the subject. “Here,” he said, reaching for her precariously balanced dishes, “let me take some of this stuff for you.” He relieved her of the vegetables.

Lola appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. “Hi, Aunie.” She looked at the vegetables
in James’s hands. “Well, don’t just stand there lettin’ them cool down, you fool mon. Put ‘em on the warmin’ tray in the kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured before he raised an eyebrow at Aunie and left to do Lola’s bidding. Aunie slid her purse onto the bookcase. “These are for you,” she said, handing the flowers to her friend.

Lola’s face lighted with pleasure. “For me? Oh, my, I can’t remember the last time I received flowers.” She stroked several petals reverently, then looked up with a blindingly white smile. “They’re beautiful, Aunie. Thank you.” Tucking the flowers into the bend of one elbow, she guided Aunie with her free hand. “Come. I’ll introduce you to the mob.”

The blonde who had opened the door for her turned out to be Will, James’s youngest brother. The woman with the air of command was Otis’s mother, Muriel Jackson, and in short order Aunie was also introduced to two of Otis’s sisters, their husbands and children, Otis’s brother and his wife and children, and one unmarried brother. James’s brother Bob she had already met, and his other brother Paul had not yet arrived. She tried to fix all the names to the correct faces in her mind, but she was afraid she wasn’t doing a sterling job of it.

James’s brother Will flirted outrageously; his brother Bob was totally friendly; but everyone else acted stiff around her, and Aunie feared she had been correct in assuming they would resent her presence. In reality, except for Muriel, who was intimidated by no one, they were a bit awed by her. She didn’t comprehend the effect she had on them, with her beautiful manners, cultured Southern voice, expensive clothing, and exquisite appearance. All she knew was that Otis’s sisters quit joking and laughing
when she accompanied Lola to the kitchen; the children watched her with big eyes and fell silent when she returned to the living room, and the men avoided eye contact whenever possible. She felt she was ruining everyone’s good time, and it made her miserable.

More than anything she desired to slink away, but she gave herself a stern lecture and stayed put. Dammit, she wasn’t the useless decoration she used to be. She was learning to stand on her own two feet, and part of being an independent adult meant proving to herself that Wesley hadn’t irreparably damaged her self-esteem. She could remain a shy, pampered child, stick close to Lola and Otis all day, and then escape at the earliest opportunity. Or, she could test her maturity by setting aside her discomfort and trying her best to fit in.

She sat down on the floor next to Muriel Jackson’s feet and initiated a conversation. She found the woman’s air of competent authority fascinating and soon became absorbed in their exchange. She didn’t realize anyone else was paying attention, but those around the two women listened in and discovered that Aunie was interested in the same everyday subjects that interested them. Once they understood that they wouldn’t be expected to converse about opera or the arts or be asked to fetch her a mint julep, as they had half feared, they too joined in. Then the children, seeing their parents chatting so easily with the princesslike lady in the flowing red skirt, followed suit.

Before she knew what was happening, Aunie was having a marvelous time.

James watched her from across the room but kept his distance. He had never seen her all dolled up as she was today. She looked good.

Hell, the truth was, she always looked good, but
this afternoon she looked
real
fine
.
That thing she’d done with her hair was … oh, shit, it was sexy. No two ways about it.

He was unaware of Will’s presence until he nudged him on the arm. “Sweet lookin’ babe,” Will said, following his eyes.
“Real
sweet. She as good in the sack as she looks?”

The depth of anger that surged through James took him by surprise, but he turned neutral eyes on his brother. “I wouldn’t know,” he said flatly. “Aunie and I are barely acquainted.” Why did people keep assuming otherwise?

“Good; then it won’t make any difference to you if I take my best shot at her myself.” It wasn’t a question, and yet it was.

“Knock yourself out,” James retorted through his teeth. His fool brother wasn’t very bright if he couldn’t see he didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell with a woman like Aunie.

Will shifted his weight from one foot to another for a moment. “Uh, listen, Jimmy,” he finally said. “I was, uh, like wonderin’ if I could borrow a few bucks. I’ve got a job interview Monday and I need a couple a things. Gotta look my best.”

“What happened to your job at that nightclub?”

“Well, see, there was this hostess workin’ there and an absolute babe she was, too. Legs that reached to heaven, tits out to here. Well, hell, Jimmy, how was I s’posed to know she was the owner’s daughter? Anyway …”

“Never mind,” James said wearily. “I think I’ve heard this story before.” He fished his wallet out of his back pocket. “How much?”

“Well, uh, the rent’s almost due and …”

James swore beneath his breath and replaced his
wallet. “C’mon. We’ll go up to my place and I’ll write you a check.”

When they returned a short while later, Paul had arrived. He was standing by the bookcase, fingering Aunie’s purse. His hand dropped to his side when James approached him. “Hiya, kid,” he said, eyes darting uneasily, never alighting long on any one object.

“Hi yourself, Paul.” James nudged the purse his brother had been fondling further back on the bookshelf. “This belongs to Aunie,” he said in a low voice, watching his own thumb rub back and forth over the smooth leather. “She’s a guest in this house.”

Then his head whipped up and he impaled his brother with furious, moss green eyes. “You rip her off and I’ll wring your junkie neck, Paul. You understand me?”

“Sure, Jimmy, sure.” Paul thrust his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “I wasn’t gonna open it; I was just feeling it. It’s real leather, real soft.”

“Yeah, right,” James agreed cynically. “And if I’d walked in two minutes later, Aunie’s cash would be history. Her purse too, probably, if you’ve managed to locate yourself a new fence.”

He ignored his brother’s protestations of innocence. Not too long ago James had hit the streets, contacting all the receivers of stolen goods whom he knew Paul to be currently using. By threatening them with every manner of mayhem and violence his fertile mind could conjure up if they continued to deal with his brother, he had temporarily shut off Paul’s sources. Scum like that proliferated on the meaner city streets like rabbits in a hutch, however, and it was more than likely that his brother had already
found someone new to replace those James had managed to scare away.

It was a never-ending battle that James felt he was steadily losing.

His brother had turned into a thief to support his cocaine habit and James didn’t know what to do about it. He hated to give him too much cash, for then he felt he was enabling Paul in his addiction. Yet if he kept him in short funds, his brother stole. God, he was so tired of it all.

When Bob approached him a short while later, he braced himself for more bad news. It had rapidly been turning into that kind of day.

To his surprise, however, he was not asked for money. In fact, Bob was feeling pretty ebullient. “I can’t pay you back yet, Jimmy,” he said, thumping him on the back with a beefy hand. “But I wanted you to know that Satin Doll Limos is doin’ pretty well. It started out a little slow, but business has been pickin’ up lately and we’ve already got us several bookings for the Christmas season.” His face split into a wide gun.

James felt the mellow mood with which he’d begun
the
day starting to seep back into his system, and he grinned, too. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day, Bobby.”

“Yeah. And I wanted to tell ya that the artwork you did for the ad was good stuff. A couple customers mentioned it when they called in.” He laughed, shaking his head in wonder. “I’m finally makin’ something work out for myself and I gotta tell you, Jimmy, it feels good. It feels damn good.”

BOOK: Present Danger
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ads

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