Over. (This. Is. Not. Over. #2) (15 page)

             
Funny thing is that I was feeling pretty alright with myself when we made it to Baton Rouge. I was even secretly planning on calling Malcolm once Rena hopped in the shower. But, seeing Jacob walking over to the car reminded me that Malcolm didn’t take my running lightly. He sent Jacob all the way down here and had Mississippi state troopers check each car at the Mississippi/Louisiana border, knowing that without a valid passport or ID I most likely drove there. Malcolm mapped the most logical route I had taken, had estimated how long my trip would take and then had Jacob waiting there for me. The first thing I thought when I saw Jacob was: Okay, this shit isn’t funny anymore. He means business here; when Malcolm’s ass said ‘don’t run’ that’s what he meant. I became paranoid all over again.

             
Allowing Jacob to lead us was the first time, ever, that both Rena and I willingly gave up our control. We did it out of fear of the unknown. Jacob wasn’t bullying us, he was being exceptionally nice (though Jacob is always charming) and he hadn’t mentioned Laura or the fire. All he did was talk with Georgie and check his cell phone incessantly. Rena and I didn’t know what was going on and I think we instinctively felt like there was no reason to fight Jacob off. We heard the tune now it was time for us to pay the piper. It became clear that my earlier fears of Malcolm were probably correct. Malcolm was pissed that we ordered his home to be burned down with Laura inside of it. He and the others were acting extremely cordial about it, but they had something up their sleeves. It’s a lot like a kidnapper who smiles and gives you candy before he stuffs you inside of his windowless van.

             
So Rena and I settled ourselves on the plane. Jim came in, said his hellos and then went into the cockpit. Jacob took his lap top out of his carryon bag, unlocked it with his passcode and then passed it over to Rena.

             
“I’m sure you have some work to catch up on.” He said to her with a smile. Oh shit. He was telling our asses that he knew all about Laura’s frozen accounts. Rena nodded, took the lap top, logged into her job’s portal and unfroze the accounts. All the while, Jacob continued holding and playing with Georgie. Rena and I didn’t exchange one word on the flight. Not one. We both took a short nap, for about forty-five minutes, but other than that, we just sat across from each other in silence. But now that we’ve landed and I don’t see Homeland Security waiting for us, I’m a little encouraged. Perhaps we can resolve this home burning and attempted murder incident like rational adults. I unstrap my seatbelt as Rena and Matt go back and forth about Georgie and Jacob.

             
“Rena,” Jacob says as he unstraps his seatbelt, “tell Matt that we’re all having a great time right now, don’t ruin it.” He smirks.

             
I then hear Matt
screaming
into the phone as Rena drifts her eyes up towards the ceiling. If Malcolm’s a bullshitter then Jacob’s an asshole. (He’s also dark, tall, smooth and sexy as hell but there’s no need to focus on that now, he may be trying to stuff me in his van.) I reach for my phone to send a mass text message to everyone that the plans have changed yet again.

             
Me 12:17 pm:
Okay, Rena, Georgie and I are in Hilton Head now so come here instead of Baton Rouge.

             
Jasmine 12:18 pm:
Danielle, what’s going on? What number is this? Something strange is going on. What is this about you moving?

             
Jon 12:18 pm:
Danny, what’s the problem here? What number are you texting me from?

             
Daddy 12:18 pm:
Okay.

             
Jasmine 12:19 pm:
And another thing, I’m not too keen on the idea of hanging out with people who just tried to kill my husband.

             
Jon 12:19 pm:
So you’re mad at me, but that white boy of yours is a saint, right?

              I don’t answer anyone back, especially Jon. I’m not going to go back and forth with him about my love life. I’m not fighting and arguing, I won’t even give Jon that satisfaction. This weekend’s events have changed me. I’m aiming to be a better person now.

              Ma 12:20 pm
: Hilton Head? Danielle, what in the hell is your ass up to? Call me now.

              I’ll have to wait to call my mom back; I need to come up with a lie with Rena first.

             
“Goodbye Matthew.” I hear Rena say. I turn to her and raise my eyebrows.
So what’s the plan?
She steals a look at Jacob and then puts a finger up, telling me to hold on.

             
“Alright ladies and gent,” Jacob pokes Georgie in the stomach. Georgie giggles. “There’s a car here to take you three to your house.” He looks at his cellphone. “I need to head back to Boston for a second, but I’m sure I’ll see you later on tonight. Maybe we can all have a drink together. Rena’s been stealing quick glances at me since Baton Rouge; I’m thinking she’s trying to tell me something. When does Matt get in?” He gives her one of those Jacob half-smiles.

             
“Oh please, white boy.” Rena says.

             
“Okay Jacob,” I say, “what’s going on here?” Enough is enough. He keeps his smile, walks over to us and hands Georgie back to Rena

             
“Danielle, Mac said he’d handle this. Let him. Feelings get hurt, shit happens, life goes on. He and I got this, no one else, just us two. It’s okay.” He gives Rena and me a knowing look. So Malcolm only told Jacob about this house fire incident? I look to Rena and see her cast a wary eye on Jacob.
Can he be trusted?

             
“I’d be fine with Malcolm handling things if he wasn’t trying to kill me in the process.” Jacob laughs.

             
“Mac, trying to get rid of Red? Come on …” He shakes his head. “You just had a contact high the night of the fire and it made you paranoid, that’s all. We shouldn’t have smoked around you, but Winnie found the joint in her handbag and asked if we all wanted to join in. And, well, it would have been rude not to.” He smiles again.

             
“Contact high?” Rena says as she looks at me.

             
“Oh yeah, that was the next thing I was going to tell you.” I look at her, shrug my shoulders and smile. She just looks at me. No expression. Nothing. Rena is probably so disappointed in me; I’m sure she’s willing to end our friendship over this incident. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” She just looks at me.
I look at Jacob and he’s looking between Rena and me, trying not to laugh.

             
“Don’t blame Danielle, it happens Rena.” He says. I look back to Rena with a ‘see, stuff like this happens’ face. She’s still looking at me. And once again, Rena’s making me feel uncomfortable.

             
“Where’s Malcolm?” I ask Jacob as I ease my eyes away from Rena. Now that I feel safe, all of those lusty and lovey-dovey feelings I had for Malcolm are crashing into me again. An adrenaline rush fills me when I think of seeing him soon, hopefully tonight. Malcolm Blair. I love that man, I really do. I simply
adore
him. Now I can see why Prince made that song. Oh god, Prince … Dena. Ugh. I’m not looking forward to seeing her. But Malcolm, he’s a different story; damn I love him. My man, Malcolm Blair, attorney at law. I start to hear a symphony in my head, a lovely ballad where Malcolm and I are swirling in a cloud of musical notes, he in a tux, me in an ivory chiffon gown. Am I dreaming of the two of us as
married
lovers? Why, I think I am! A small smile comes to my lips at the thought. This all ended pretty well. I’ll let Malcolm handle things from here and then we can go on being happy and in love. We were destined to be happy and in love. Mmm … Malcolm.
My
Malcolm. Mine.

             
“Actually, it looks like we just came into a problem.” Jacob says as he reads a message on his phone

             
And the music stops.

             
“What?” I ask as I glance at his cell phone.

             
“It’s okay, we were thinking this might happen.” Jacob gives me a reassuring nod. “We’re prepared for it, no worries baby.”

             
“What happened?”

             
“Well,” he lets out a tiny chuckle, “a reporter from The Globe learned that it was Malcolm’s house that caught on fire and that Laura was just the primary occupant of it. So …” He looks between Rena and me, as if he’s hoping we will finish his thought for him.
Don’t make me have to say this, ladies.
But we both have no idea where this conversation is going.

             
“I don’t get it. So what? Malcolm owned the house and Laura stayed there.”

             
“Wait, Malcolm owned that house?” Rena asks. “That was Malcolm’s home?”

             
“Yeah, that’s crazy right?” I look at her and give her a little smile. She just looks at me.

             
“It’s no big deal,” Jacob assures me, “but, you know how the media is.” He begins scrolling through his messages again.  “It looks like they’re just starting to make a story of it.”

             
“What does that mean?” Rena asks.

             
“Nothing really,” Jacob shakes his head and waves us off, “they’re implying that Malcolm was dating Danielle but, you know, still
keeping
Laura. But that’s the media for you.” Excusez-moi? Jacob looks at his messages for a moment longer and then eases his eyes back up to me. “I’m just seeing this now.” He smiles and points to the phone.
What the hell are you smiling about?
“But this is how it goes in our line of work Danielle. Don’t take it to heart, sometimes–”

             
“You’ve got to be
kidding
me, Jacob. What exactly is the media saying?” I ask as my phone starts to vibrate. Jasmine.
Ignore
.

             
And here we go …

             
“Danielle–” Jacob says.

             
“Do you mean that everyone in Boston is thinking that Malcolm was screwing both Laura and me?” My phone vibrates again. Nicky’s godmother. How the hell did she get my pre-paid phone number?
Ignore
.

             
“Oh hell no.” Rena says.

             
“It’s not that bad,” Jacob says to Rena, “Danielle’s been legitimized. It’s Laura that’s being called the mistress.” Jacob looks at me as if he’s waiting for my sigh of relief. I look at Rena who has her eyes closed and is shaking her head; Georgie’s mimicking her.

             
“Malcolm is being accused of having an ongoing affair with Laura!” I scream at Jacob. “I’d rather people know that I’m an attempted murderer than for them to think I’m a damn fool! How embarrassing!” My cell phone vibrates again. My mother.
Ignore
.

             
“Danielle, I know what–”

             
“I’m a Boston feminist. I sell out halls. I speak about the strength of women, the power of the intellect, and the wisdom of surrounding oneself with women and men who enhance your strengths. Are you telling me that everyone believes that the man I’m dating, has a mistress on the side and this mistress is Senator Rossi’s daughter? And this senator is a potential GOP candidate for the presidency next year? Is that what you’re standing here and telling me?”

             
“I, uh …”

             
“Are you telling me that my friends, my family, my employees, and my circle all think that I’m a dumbass?”

             
“No, I think what I’m saying is–”

             
“I’m a mother. I’m a boss. I’m a mentor. And now, I’m a fool? Is that what you’re telling me?”

             
“Danielle, Malcolm wasn’t keeping Laura in the sense that he was
keeping
her.”

             
“What the fuck does that mean! She was living in his house!” My cell phone vibrates again. Jon.
Ignore
.

             
“He bought that when they were together, he gave it to her when they separated. I promise you–”

             
“Don’t promise me a damn thing! You flew my ass out of Baton Rouge and into Hilton Head just to tell me that I’m the laughing stock of Boston? Is that what you just did?”

             
“No, I flew you out of Baton Rouge to tell you that you’re family now. There’s no need for you to be afraid … not of Malcolm and especially not of the media. They exist because
we
exist. Remember that. They don’t control us, we’re the ones who pay
their
bills. They eat off of our life stories. We need to show a united front. We need to stick together; we need to prove to the media that this doesn’t faze us. We need to show the media that there is more to the story than what meets the eye. We don’t need bad press for Rossi and we don’t need bad press for the Family.”