Wicked Ambition (33 page)

It had been Gordon, in fact, who had introduced him to Lisa. A couple of years back Gordon had become involved in a bout of anti-firearms promo work with the NYPD…Who knew he was so dedicated to the cause?

‘Hey, Rimeaux,’ said Lisa, ‘you look well.’

Gordon shrugged. ‘Just keepin’ it real.’

‘Always.’

‘Did the others make it?’ Leon scanned the room.

‘Nah, just me.’ Gordon nicked his chin with his thumbnail. ‘Slink’s in the studio…’ He trailed off, unable to meet the younger man’s eye.

Leon didn’t bother asking about Principal 7 or the rest of the crew. Principal had made it clear since the start that he didn’t care for the foundations of the track they had laid down; only the record sales that the extra publicity might prompt. Though Leon liked him better, Slink was the same. Gordon seemed to be the only one who cared.

Trays of champagne circulated, visiting groups of jowly white men who had enjoyed a lifetime of excess and had no clue why they were here except for the faint and niggling awareness that they
ought
to be and that they ought to get photographed doing it.

‘I’ve been talking to Leon about his brother,’ said Lisa, popping a truffle
bruschetta
into her mouth. ‘We’re reopening the case.’

Gordon looked blank. ‘Oh, yeah?’

‘There are too many loose ends.’ Lisa gestured, warming to the cause. ‘It was never investigated properly at the time. Talk about a depressing example of an underprivileged black kid who never gets a fair representation.’

It had been weird when Lisa had first brought up Marlon, as though Leon were a charity case she could solve out of the goodness of her heart. But what was wrong with a goodness of heart? Though his brother’s story was way before her time in the law, its unanswered questions echoed through the ranks. Leon wasn’t with her for the help, and he hoped she wasn’t with him for the project.

‘You think you can figure it out?’ enquired Gordon. ‘I mean—’ he shifted on his feet ‘—it was such a long time ago, huh.’

‘Even more scope to get the evidence we need,’ said Lisa with confidence. ‘Every year passed is going to put the perpetrator deeper in the ring—how he’s lived, what he’s done, who he hangs with. It’s a matter of looking in the right place.’

‘And you know where to look, right?’ He grinned awkwardly at Leon, who had heard so many promises about finding his brother’s killer that he didn’t much listen to new claims.

‘Not yet,’ said Lisa. ‘But I will.’

They were called in for dinner. The ballroom was domed, the ceilings vaulted, candlelight pooling across the intricately decorated tables. There seemed an unsavoury irony in gathering in such an opulent space, drinking and eating to their hearts’ content, dressed to impress and mingling with the famous and fortunate, when the alleged reason for
it all was to benefit those whose lives had been immeasurably less lucky.

The speeches were brief, some more heartfelt than others, and when they brought a black girl to the podium to talk about growing up without a father because he’d been killed in a drugs bust, everyone looked grave and nodded, patting themselves on the backs for being here and trying to make a difference, as they sipped from goldfish-bowl glasses of wine and painted patterns in their raspberry mousse with a fork.

Leon looked across the table. Gordon met his eyes briefly before glancing away.

The first night of Robin’s New York gig was steeped in controversy. Reports cited a bomb-plant outside the arena, prompting security to ramp into overdrive and the place to be evacuated, even if on later inspection it was discovered only to be a discarded backpack.

‘That’s it, then—we’re cancelled.’

Barney was fielding a stream of calls. ‘Sorry, babe, it looks that way.’

The withdrawal was gutting but at least it meant she could get to Leon: Robin had planned to make it to the Regency when the night was over, in the hope of catching him there, but going now would be a sure-fire way of seeing him again. She didn’t know how she’d feel about it, and had to separate her emotions from the real purpose of her visit—easy to say and harder to do, especially when she had no clue what she would say to him.

I think Puff City were involved in your brother’s death…

No, that wasn’t right.

I know Puff City were involved in your brother’s death…

But he’d never even told her about his brother and somehow that stung like crazy. Then again, what had she ever told him of herself?

Robin took a car to the venue, where the guy on the door stood back to let her pass.

In the ballroom, guests were mingling. Formalities had finished. She didn’t know if he was still here, and, scouting the room, began to suspect he wasn’t. Then she laid eyes on G-Money, and in a flash remembered Slink and Principal talking about him.

G wants to fess. That means us, too…

What was he doing here? She knew what the gig was in aid of. Did G get some kick out of knowing something his company didn’t? Of pretending he backed their cause when in fact he was more implicated than he’d ever let on?

What did he have to confess to?

G-Money was chatting with a pretty brunette in a strapless dress, whom Robin guessed was his girlfriend. His face broke into a grin and he waved her over.

‘Robin! This is unexpected.’ He was wearing black-rimmed glasses and a geek-chic tartan tie beneath his suit jacket. ‘Did Leon invite you?’

The girl next to him bristled. ‘I’m Lisa,’ she cut in. ‘Did we miss you earlier?’

‘Oh, no,’ Robin replied. ‘I was meant to be doing a show at the Ring.’

‘You’re on tour,’ she stated matter-of-factly, as though Robin hadn’t known.

‘That’s right.’ There was a hiatus.

G-Money broke it. ‘Hey, brother,’ he said to someone at her back, ‘where you been at?’

She could feel his presence: the silent strength that came off him and the power he emitted. When she saw him, her tummy did a full-on somersault. Man, he could wear a suit. It hung off him smart and sharp, the angles of his shoulders and elbows and the clean line of his jaw above the collar. His aroma was deep. For a second she was speechless.

‘Hi,’ he said, coolly.

‘Hi.’

Another pause, before he put an arm round Lisa’s shoulders. The woman’s face tilted a fraction in satisfaction and Robin felt herself burn up. How could she have missed it? Lisa wasn’t with G; she was with Leon.

‘What brings you here?’ Leon asked. She didn’t like how he asked it, as if that night where they had laughed and talked like friends had been a dream. It was her fault. She had pushed him away, possibly the best person in her life, and this was the result.

All the things she had rehearsed escaped her. How could she ask for a private word without it sounding preposterous? But she’d never been a coward and wasn’t about to start.

‘Have you got a second?’

‘Sure.’

His agreement was a revelation—to save Lisa embarrassment, probably. He kissed his girlfriend on the cheek before steering Robin through the crowd and into an adjacent room. His face was stern, unreadable, as if she’d lost the part of him that had put up with her for so many weeks.

‘I can’t be long,’ he said.

‘Of course.’ Why was this so difficult? ‘I know I’ve turned up out of the blue…’

‘You could say that. Look, Robin, if this is about us, don’t waste your breath.’

His candour stalled her.

‘Actually, it isn’t.’ It came out hard, too easy to relapse, and even as she said it she saw the conflict in his eyes. Seeing Leon with another woman had rocked her. She couldn’t bear for him to think she had come to discuss their relationship: it was too humiliating.

‘As a matter of fact this is far more important,’ she retorted.

His face was inscrutable. ‘For a while back there I kinda thought you and me were important.’

‘Were we?’

‘Weren’t we?’

‘You tell me.’

‘I’ve tried.’ He folded his arms. The movement prompted a scent of aftershave to wash over her, the same he’d been wearing on the night they’d spent together. ‘So you throw it back in my face and still I’m supposed to try harder?’

‘I never asked you to try.’

‘You never ask anyone. You just keep going on your own because it’s easier not to let people in, and I don’t know if that’s because you’re afraid—you know what, I thought it was, but maybe that was giving you the benefit of the doubt—or maybe it’s because you just don’t need that in your life. Thing is, everyone needs it, Robin, that’s what I’m trying to say. I’ve been there, and it’s
not
easier—not in the long term. One day you’ll wake up and realise everyone’s stopped caring, because if you don’t care, why should they?’

‘You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what I’ve been through.’

He pulled back so he could regard her directly. ‘Good excuse.’

‘What?’

‘That’s the one you use, right? Keep peddling out the same line and eventually you might get left alone. That’d be a happier life, wouldn’t it?’

She was shaking. ‘How dare you distil it to something so trivial?’

Leon relaxed the knot on his tie with a quick tug. ‘Wake up, Robin: you’re not the only one who’s had it rough. Look around you. Except instead of accepting it these people use what strength they have left to make something good. I
saw
that in you, right from when we met, and you chose to ignore it. That’s the difference between us, and I don’t know, perhaps I was kidding myself for thinking it was surmountable and the result would be worth it. Because it takes two people to want that, not just one.’

‘This is exactly the reason I don’t get into shit like this.’

‘Why, because you can’t handle what it brings out in you? If you faced that instead of hanging out with some loser with a jail sentence then you might meet the problem head-on and learn how to solve it for once in your life.’

She was stunned into momentary silence. ‘You’re telling me I’ve got problems?’

‘Go figure.’

Leon shouting at her was worse than anything. She realised in a horrid mix of anger and self-doubt that she wanted his approval, his protection, his shelter; she
needed
it.

‘So Lisa’s the answer, is she?’

‘Compared with you, yeah, damn right she is. You’re nobody’s answer, Robin, you’re just one big question I’ve given up trying to solve.’

His words hit her with the force of a slap. It was like being punched in the stomach.

You’re nobody’s answer
.

Leon swallowed. He looked about to speak but she cut him off.

‘I guess that’s it, then. Good luck.’

He grabbed her wrist. ‘What was it you wanted to say?’

The touch of his skin burned. ‘Forget it.’ She shrugged free. ‘Just forget it.’

42

I
vy Sewell had always been a fast learner. Flipping burgers: how hard could it be?

The challenging part was putting up with the morons at the Palisades Grand’s premier fast-food joint as they sweated over grills and guffawed at each other’s jokes. It was fun to them—extra cash over the coming months and nothing more to it, maybe a few friendships to be nurtured over the years or buddies to join for a beer after hours. Ivy wasn’t interested in any of that. She was here for one reason and one reason alone.

Vengeance.

Working at Burger Delite! was an investment. Over the spring she would keep her head down, uncomplaining as she went about her tasks salting pretzels and seeding buns and dressing salads, biting her tongue whenever she was asked an inane question about herself and inventing her backstory as easily as she squirted mustard on a hot dog.

‘You wanna be manager of this place or somethin’?’ Her
supervisor grinned. He was a fat old guy called Graham who needed to pluck the hairs from his nostrils.

‘Just doing my job,’ she replied.

‘You talk too nice to be doin’ this,’ Graham commented, coming close so that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. ‘Here’s me thinkin’ you’re gonna wise up one day and not come in and then what am I gonna do?’

Ivy concentrated on not shuddering. His proximity was vile. And yet she had to abide it for the sake of the cause, because if Graham let her go she would lose it all.

She threw another patty on the grill and watched as sparks of hot fat spat and burst.

‘You’d survive,’ she countered, thinking that was the most truthful thing she’d said since arriving. If she decided to leave, if she turned her back on the plan, they’d all survive.

But Ivy had no intention of doing that.

Graham wasn’t the first man to want to get close. Her hair, tucked beneath her cap but escaping at the nape, was bright as a handkerchief in snow. Her eyes were feline and her lips were scarlet red. She knew she looked good, her similarity to Robin playing in her favour.

You know who you remind me of?
they’d say, one after the other like clockwork, thinking they had landed the hot ticket needed to get in her knickers—and then when she feigned surprise,
C’mon, you must’ve heard it before…

‘Am I gonna get any service round here?’ A guy with his teenage sons was hollering over the counter. They’d be watching the sell-out comedy gig, stopping by to get refreshments because that’s what people did: eat, shit, and get entertained.

Grudgingly Graham sloped off. ‘Yeah? What can I get
you?’ His eyes kept sliding back to his employee, scoping Ivy’s figure, her still profile and her private smile.

Ivy pressed the back of her spatula on to a new burger, enjoying how the meat popped and fizzed like flesh under a boot. Pieces of meat, that’s all they were. She thought of her mother, a sack of blood and bones by the end, waiting to die. Everyone was waiting to die. She had the power to bring that reality close, a quickening of the inevitable.

This was the place to do it.

The Palisades Grand was LA’s chief venue. Come July the arena would welcome the biggest event in the music industry calendar: the ETV Platinum Awards. Everybody who was anybody would be there, and that meant Robin Ryder. Robin would be on a high, fresh from her tour, on top of the world. And then she’d be walking straight into the scene of her assassination.