Bad Girls Finish First (15 page)

“Anyway, Callie was a real nice young lady, real nice.” Crawford shook his head as he remembered Callie Stephens. “Raven somehow convinced Omar to help her get Callie kicked out of school. They say she was slipping Omar a little bit through the back door.”

Dudley wondered whether Michael knew that Raven was sleeping with one of her classmates at the same time she was sleeping with him.
He probably did, the punk,
Dudley concluded. “Keep going,” he said to Crawford.

“Raven and Omar set up Callie in a cheating scandal. There was a big hearing. You should have seen it, child,” Crawford said as he slapped Dudley on his wrist. “In the end Callie got off and Omar went missing.”

Dudley was disappointed. He'd heard rumors that Raven was a true bad actor, but this crap didn't even qualify for honorable mention.

“Thanks, Crawford. See you around,” Dudley said as he started to squeeze himself out of his seat.

“Don't leave! You haven't heard the best part,” Crawford said. “Six months passed and no Omar. Although Raven denied it, the police and Omar's acquaintances believed that the last time anyone saw him, he'd been on his way to meet Raven.”

A slight smile crossed Dudley's lips. As best he could, he got settled into his seat. “Really?” Dudley drawled. “Tell me more.”

“From what I heard, Omar's fiancées suspected foul play, but they mainly relied on their intuition.”

“Fiancées? He had more than one?”

“I'm telling you, Dudley, Omar was a straight-up dick slinger.” Crawford sighed. “Too straight, unfortunately.” He put himself back on track before Dudley could snap at him again. “But to answer your question, he had three women. Callie Stephens—I'm not sure whether they were ever engaged. But he was engaged to two other women at the same time, a married white girl—her husband owns that big computer company, what's the name?—Huffmeyer? Yeah, Huffmeyer. And he had another one, a little Louisiana girl. What was her name?” Crawford snapped his fingers as he tried to remember. “Boudreaux? Micheaux? Hold on a minute,” he told Dudley as he went and sat behind his desk. After a few strokes on his computer, Crawford said, “Tanisha Malveaux. She was nice, too.” As though he had personal insight into Omar's preferences, Crawford added, “Omar liked them nice, except for when it came to Raven.”

 

 

“I can't believe our luck,” Michael said to Christopher as Lawrence shuttled them both to the airport. Christopher was headed to Dallas, and Michael, to Washington DC. “I shouldn't call it luck, though; I knew you did a lot of work to get that new office space. Good job,” Michael said.

Michael was talking about Christopher's successful bid to have Michael's Dallas office moved into a larger facility. Christopher called on Dallas-area business leaders and convinced them that a larger, better-equipped Neighborhood Assistance Center would benefit their businesses as well as the community. Christopher did everything above board, followed all the campaign finance rules, and was about to oversee the actual move.

“Thanks, Dad. I can't wait to get things off the ground. We've got lots to do, but Monica's a great help. It'll take over a week to get everything set up. Genie's coming up Wednesday or Thursday to take our communications system offline. Then I'll have her come back the week after that to put us back online.”

“Good deal; when Genie does something, it's always right. She's about the only person in the world meticulous enough to work for Raven and diplomatic enough to get along with her. Genie's a hell of a young woman.”

“She's all right,” Christopher said with a marked absence of enthusiasm.

“Just all right?” Michael closed his portfolio and put his electronic organizer in his breast pocket. “I thought I noticed a little strain between the two of you.” He rubbed Christopher's shoulder as he prepared to step from the limousine. “I know you don't think much of my choices when it comes to love, but your old man's still good for some decent advice. Let's talk about it when we both get back to town, okay?”

“Sure, Dad. Have a safe one.”

Christopher spent the day working side by side with Monica Fowler. She might be all hip-hop on the outside, but inside, Monica was pure brains. She oversaw the packing of the boxes, supervised the movers, and, rather than waiting for Genie to come to town, personally took the communication systems offline. All in one day.

That night Christopher took Monica to dinner. They planned their setup strategy for the next day, and when Christopher mentioned that he'd be there about nine, Monica drawled, “The building opens at seven. What's up with wasting two hours?”

“You're a workaholic, Miss Monica. Why aren't you finishing your degree instead of working as a receptionist?”

Monica put her elbows on the table and formed a tent with her fingers. “Got into a little trouble.” She momentarily seemed lost in her own thoughts, so Christopher kept quiet and watched the tattoo on Monica's breast rise and fall. He kept watching it.

“To tell the truth, I'm not sitting out this semester of my own free will. I'll be enrolled next semester, though. In the meantime, my grandfather called your dad and hooked me up. Grampa Buddy's always trying to tame me.” Monica used her straw to dig at the ice in her glass as she spoke.

She gave Christopher a wicked grin. “I'm trouble, true enough, but I'm the best kind of trouble, Chris, because I'm smart. And I'm as good on the inside as I look on the outside.” She noticed him watching her tattoo, and glanced down at it herself, to let him know she caught him staring and didn't care. “I've got more, but I don't show them to just anybody.”

Genie wouldn't get a tattoo, not even a hidden one, if her life depended on it,
Christopher thought. He'd once joked with her about getting a tattoo in a private spot, but she said she would feel unprofessional, even if other people couldn't see it. “Yeah. Whatcha got?” he asked.

Monica rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling as she thought. “Well, I've got an hourglass in the small of my back.”

“What does it mean?”

“Private joke. Drunken mistake.” Monica grinned. “And I've got a butterfly that's off the chain. It's filled in.”

“What color?” Christopher asked.

“Dark brown, the same color as this,” Monica flipped one hand through her hair. “Outlined in deep red. Can you imagine how good that looks against my skin?”

Monica was a golden girl—her skin looked like honey. And yes, Christopher could imagine it.

“And I'm about keeping it real, so other than the ink outline, my butterfly is all natural, the same dark brown as the hair on my head,” she giggled. “Except it's not permed,” Monica said.

It took Christopher a minute to catch on, and when he did, he blushed. “Oh.”

“You're so cute. It's been a long time since I hung out with a brother like you. It's nice,” Monica said. “Now, let's finish talking about tomorrow.”

 

 

By the time Genie flew in Thursday, there wasn't much for her to do. She breezed in wearing a Prada ensemble and Gucci shoes. Monica's gear was expensive too, all Sean John. Monica showed Genie around and told her that she'd already taken the computer system offline. All Genie would have to do was connect the system to Michael's network once the move was complete.

“Monica, this is good. You're really a bright young lady.” Monica was sitting at her desk, and as Genie walked by, she patted Monica's shoulder. “Good job!” she said in a cheery corporate voice.

“Gee, thanks,” Monica said.

As Christopher drove Genie back to the airport, Genie asked him, “When are you going to have a talk with Monica?”

“About what?”

“Her attire, for one thing. Now that the center's high profile a lot more people will be going through there, businesspeople who'll expect to be greeted professionally. Monica seems like a smart girl, so maybe she'll be good at accepting constructive criticism. Unless she does though, you should think about getting someone new to be the first face people see when they walk into the center, put Monica in the back.”

Christopher came to Monica's defense. “Genie, Monica's not a girl, she's a woman. She's a college student who's taking a break, and what you saw today? She's twice as smart as that. Monica's the main reason that the move to the new space is going without a wrinkle.” Christopher laid out his case as a lawyer would, but he was a little miffed that Genie felt like he needed her advice.
If it weren't for Monica, you'd still be down on your hands and knees, unplugging wires,
he thought. Christopher kept going. “Monica is Buddy Fowler's granddaughter, and after all Buddy's done for my dad, I wouldn't disrespect him or Monica by putting her ‘in the back' as you say.”

Genie took the point. “I'm sorry, Chris, you're right. I fly in here for half a day and start making judgments and recommendations. This office is your thing, and you're working it. If Monica's all you say she is, you'd be a fool to move her.” She leaned over and kissed the side of his mouth. “I'm probably just being a hater. Did you check out Monica's pants? I couldn't fit into those if I tried.”

“She doesn't dress like that every day,” he said, still feeling defensive. “Those were her moving clothes.”

“Pretty skintight for moving but she got the job done. Heck. I wish I could dress like that
any
day.” Before she got out of the car, Genie pulled Christopher to her and gave him a real kiss. “See you Sunday evening?”

“Yeah, babe. I can't wait.” On his way back to the center, Christopher thought about his father's offer to have a talk about Genie. No need for that. Genie's kiss, and the way she backed off about Monica, proved it. Their relationship was heading back on track.

15

“M
rs. Joseph, to what do I owe the pleasure?” State Representative Charlie Smotes said as he ushered Raven into his office using the cigar he held as a pointer.

“Pleasure's all mine,” Raven said in a honeyed voice. She'd been in Texas long enough to mimic a Southern drawl when she needed to. She made sure she passed close enough for Smotes to smell her perfume.

Raven had on pants, so sitting back and crossing her legs wouldn't do. She knew every fashion rule including the one that dictated that when the bottom was covered the top had to be exposed. Raven leaned forward as she spoke.

“I'm here on pension protection, Charlie.”

“You are?” He feigned surprise and ogled her breasts at the same time. “Why?”

“Because I hear you still haven't made up your mind how you're going to vote.”

Smotes stood and poured himself a drink to go with his cigar. Raven's breasts were okay but they were too brown for his taste. He'd rather have a drink. “Michael's got you out rounding up votes? I thought that was Dudley's job.”

Raven got up and walked over to Smotes. “It is.” She took the drink from him, had a sip, and handed the glass back. “But you're a special case, so I decided to come myself.”

Smotes nodded and sat the glass down. A six-piece glassware set, ruined, he thought. “A special case, huh. Michael said that?”

Michael had said nothing of the sort and Dudley hadn't either. Raven hadn't talked to either of them about her plan to visit Smotes. She knew that next to gun control, pension protection was the project closest to her husband's heart. They'd lost so many endorsements and votes lately, she didn't want to take a chance on losing another one.

“We need you on this one, Charlie,” Raven said as she mentally sized him up. Although it was early fall, Smotes wore a sky blue seersucker suit. Raven idly wondered where he could have purchased such an atrocity. He waved his cigar like it was a Cohiba, but Raven could tell from the aroma that the cigar was a cheap drugstore brand.
He's for sale,
she thought,
at a bargain basement price.

Although she had given him back the glass, Raven didn't move out of Smotes's personal space. “You come through for Michael on the pension plan bill and I promise you, he won't forget about you when he becomes governor.” She was so close he could feel her breath, which smelled of spearmint.

Smotes took a puff of his cigar and exhaled right into Raven's face. “You mean
if
he becomes governor. And that's a pretty vague promise, don't you think?”

Raven forced herself not to blink. She stared into Smotes's eyes through the smoky haze. “I said
when
he becomes governor, Charlie, and that's what I mean. And as for the promise, it's as good as a slimy slug like you is going to get.”

Raven reached into her bag and removed an envelope. “I've heard through the grapevine that you're a poor man. What is it they call you people? Poor white trash or trailer-park trash? I always confuse the two.” She shook her lovely hair and laughed in his face. “A poor white politician. You've got to be the dumbest man alive if you can't figure out how to make money in this game.”

She waved the envelope in front of Smotes. “Here's a little something to help you make next month's rent on your double-wide. You know what I expect in return.”

Raven dropped the envelope on the floor and walked out. She had no way of knowing that Erika had already funneled Smotes more than enough cash to buy himself a little something nice. A car, maybe, or a down payment on a beach house in Galveston. All Smotes had to do was vote against Michael on the pension bill, and keep on voting against him on every piece of legislation that hit the floor.

 

 

“He in yet?” Michael demanded of Smotes's secretary.

“Yes sir, he is. But—”

Michael strode to Smotes's door and barged in. “Charlie, what the hell! What happened? I thought we had a deal!”

“Morning, Mike.” Charlie Smotes was sitting on his sofa, watching
Good Morning America
. “Just catching up on current events. Join me?” He motioned toward a chair.

Michael stood in front of the TV and held up his fingers like quotation marks. “Senator Joseph's pension board legislation dies on the vine.” Michael made a disgusted snort. “Doesn't even make it out of committee. How's that for a current event?”

Smotes turned off the television and walked over to Michael. “Oh, so now I guess it's your turn to bully me. I'm surprised, Michael. You know I don't respond well to being pushed around.”

“Pushed around? What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about your wife.” Smotes pulled a cigar and lighter from his shirt pocket. The cigar between his lips, Smotes cocked his head to the side and lit up. “Sending her over here to strong-arm me. The way she came into my office, talking to me like I'm some damn errand boy—you must've been out of your mind to pull a stunt like that,” Smotes said, the cigar bouncing up and down as he spoke. “From now on, when you're lining up votes, count me out.”

Smotes went to his door and invited the Democratic candidate for governor of the great state of Texas to get the hell out of his office.

 

 

“Raven! What did you do?” Within twenty minutes of leaving Smotes's office, Michael was in his wife's. The brisk walk from Smotes's state capitol office to Michael's campaign headquarters left him red faced. The only time Raven had seen her husband so out of breath and excited was during sex.

“Sit down a minute, Michael. Here.” She poured a glass of water and tried to hand it to him, but he wouldn't take it.

“I don't have time to sit down.” He looked at his watch. “What in the world possessed you to go talk to Smotes about the pension bill?”

Raven was the picture of innocence. “Honey, I talk to legislators all the time, you know that.”

“But I'd already talked to Smotes. You had no business going to him. Do you know how ineffective this makes me look? If I can't push through my agenda as a senator, why the hell should anyone trust me to be governor?”

“If you didn't want my help, you should've told me.” By now, Raven was fully on the defensive. “Things have been so raggedy around here, I'd think you'd want all the help you can get.”

“I appreciate help, but not the kind of help that makes veteran politicians feel like dirt.”

“Michael, you're wrong,” she protested. “I don't know what Smotes told you, but I treated him just fine. You know how I can do a man when I want something.” She turned her back on Michael, let the innuendo sink in. “If he says anything different, he's a liar.”

“You calling somebody else a liar. That's rich.” Michael walked around to where Raven could see him. He'd calmed down, and his voice was matter of fact, but his eyes were as cold as ice. He looked at Raven that way more and more these days.

“I owe you a lot. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have had the nerve to run for governor in the first place. But sometimes, Raven, you're nothing but an albatross hanging around my neck, messing up everything.”

Michael was tired of reminding himself every other day that
he
was the one who'd wanted to get married to Raven,
he
was the one responsible for keeping his marriage to a firecracker on track. He decided to give Raven a quick, hard one below the belt.

“Grace was quiet, not nearly as outgoing as you are. She wasn't one to go out politicking for me, but she'd cut off her arm before she'd do something to hurt my career. The difference between you and Grace is that her main concern would've been me becoming governor.” He had his finger in Raven's face by this time. “The main thing, the
only
thing you care about, is being the governor's wife. What I wouldn't give to have a woman like Grace on my side every once in a while.”

He broke off and headed toward the door. “I'm in meetings all day. Tonight, too. When you get home, I won't be there. Don't wait up,” Michael said and walked out.

 

 

“Hey, little lady, what you up to?” David asked as he entered Raven's office. He was in Austin for the day, and as had become his custom, he stopped by to see if Raven was available for lunch. Dinners he reserved for Erika.

“Hey,” Raven responded. She was usually a perpetual whirlwind, but for once Raven was sitting at her desk, doing nothing. Except, that is, figuring out how to get back at her husband.

As David took a seat, Raven got up and locked the door. Then she went back and sat down behind her desk. They chatted for a few minutes, but David sensed that Raven was just going through the motions. “How's life treating you today?” he asked her.

“Not too good.” Raven didn't say anything else and when David continued to look at her quizzically, she added, “Headache.”

“Why didn't you say so?” He got up and went to her. “I've got magic hands. Just tell me where it hurts.”

“Here.” Raven motioned to her temples. David began rubbing in a circular motion just at the edge of Raven's hairline. She relaxed and closed her eyes. It was so quiet in the room that David could hear her soft breathing.

Raven reached up and guided David's hands into the thick of her hair. As David rubbed his hands through her luxurious mane, his breathing became as audible as hers. Raven leaned forward, flipped her hair up in back, and held it there. “My neck,” she said.

What the hell are you doing!
David's conscience shouted at him, but it was a tiny, faraway shout that was drowned out by all the heavy breathing going on. David bent low and massaged Raven's neck, then her shoulders. She leaned back in her chair then and grabbed David's left hand. She guided his hand inside her shirt.

“No,” David managed to say and tried to pull away, but Raven held him firmly.

“Can you feel how fast my heart is beating? Go on, feel it.” Raven slowly let go of David's hand and instead of pulling away he squeezed her tighter and groaned deeply. David twirled Raven's chair around, picked her up, sat in it, and placed her in his lap, so that she straddled him. He thrust his hands into her hair again, pulled her to him and kissed her. Raven's lips were as soft as he'd imagined they would be.

David wrapped his arms around Raven. “We can't do this to Michael,” he whispered in her ear. His voice was thick with guilt.

“This doesn't have anything to do with Michael. It's between me and you,” Raven whispered back. “This has been coming for a long time, David, and we both know it.” She backed away from his ear and kissed him again and then looked him in the eye, silently asking him,
Are you down?

David's expression was a jumbled mixture of sadness and heat. He bowed his head and when he raised it again, Raven was looking at a different man. The brother was up, had been since the moment he opened Raven's door and looked at her, and now he began moving slowly beneath her. Raven thought buck wild was the only way to go and she tried to hurry him along. She tried to unbutton his shirt and take off his belt, but David wouldn't respond. David didn't change the tempo of his own unhurried groove, he just kept kissing her, pulling at her tongue, gently biting her full lips. He kept it up until Raven started moving at his rhythm and started kissing him back.

“Take it slow, pay attention,” David whispered to Raven, once he'd subdued her. “You don't want to miss any part of what's about to happen.”

David shoved everything off Raven's desk and placed her there. He undid her top and slid her thong to the side. Then he quickly undressed himself. Reverend David Capps, with his thirty-seven-year-old, righteous self, was a specimen. His biceps were pumped, and his upper body was broad and cut. David's stomach wasn't exactly flat, but it was firm. A patch of curly hair dusted his chest, formed a band at his sternum, headed south, and kept going.

He dropped his shorts and there it was.

Raven rose up and held him in her hands as one would a rare jewel. “You should have told me,” she said. “I wouldn't have waited so long.”

 

 

“Is that it, Robert?” Michael asked the representative from the budget office. They were in Michael's Senate office on state capitol grounds.

“Well, actually, there is one more item.” He handed Michael a folder.

Michael opened the folder, then snapped it shut. “I need a break.” He looked at his watch. It was almost three. “Let's take an hour, hour and a half.”

Raven hadn't called or stopped by the way she usually did after one of their arguments. She'd usually come in and fling a bunch of four-letter words, he'd fling around more, and then they'd go to lunch, or slip home for a little midafternoon love. Michael missed that.
Guess I went too far this morning,
he thought.

He decided to walk over to his campaign headquarters and apologize.