Forces of Nature (25 page)

“Ma'am,” one of the officers asked as he pulled the driver's side door open, “are you all right?”

Marie stumbled out of the car as the officer opened the door. The other officer grabbed her arm, holding her up. “Have you been drinking?” he asked.

Marie looked up at the officer—not recognizing him as an officer she knew—and smiled, then she held her index finger inches from her thumb. “Just a little, but this has nothing to do with that.”

The officer who'd been holding her arm called for a medic and a tow truck, while his partner questioned Marie further.

“Can you stand up?” the officer asked her.

“These shoes are just a little painful,” she slurred, then leaned against a sign post.

“Can you perform some field sobriety tests?”

Marie sighed and rolled her eyes. “Do we really have to do this? Why don't you just give me a ticket and we call it a day?”

“Ma'am, you hit a tree. This can't disappear with just a ticket,” the officer said as he watched his partner direct the approaching tow truck and the medic ambulance. “You're obviously drunk.”

Marie folded her arms across her chest and stomped her foot on the cement. The officer shook his head, knowing that he didn't need her to breathe into a Breathalyzer to know she was over the legal limit. “Come on, ma'am, either perform the tests or I will have to arrest you for suspicion of DWI.”

“Arrest me?” she snapped incredulously. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” he said. “I don't know who you are. Do you have your driver's license?”

Marie slapped her hands on her hips and focused her indignant stare on the officer. “I'm Marie Charles. You're not going to arrest me. No one got hurt and you don't have to arrest me.”

“Yes, I do,” he said as he reached for his handcuffs. This wasn't how things had played out in her mind when she'd sent Hailey away. The drunk part of Marie considered running; she didn't want to be put in handcuffs. When it came to dealing with handcuffs, she wanted to be the one in control. But with her shoes and the splitting headache she had, running was not an option.

“Come on, officer”—he paused and squinted at his name tag—“Wiggams. Ooh, just like
The Simpsons
. Can't you just give me a warning?”

“Ma'am, place your hands on your head,” the officer barked. Marie rolled her eyes again, ready to tell Officer Wiggams how sorry he was going to be, but she simply did what he told her.

“You're so going to lose your job,” Marie said with a giggle.

“You have the right to remain silent,” he said. “I suggest you use it.”

“Go to hell,” she snapped as he locked the cuffs on her wrists. The officer read Marie her Miranda rights and then stuffed her in the back of the squad car. She threw her head back and groaned. Marie knew her father would be livid when the news of her arrest reached him.

 

 

Six
A.M
. was the magic hour for celebrity chef Devon Harris. He stood in the kitchen in the middle of his loft, creating a savory meat pie recipe for the women at My Sister's Keeper, the homeless shelter where he volunteered and taught a cooking class for some of the women who lived there. The meals that his students made became lunch and dinner for the sixty-five residents who lived in the shelter. Devon placed the top crust on the pie and gently wrapped it in wax paper. He needed to head to the kitchen of Hometown Delights, the restaurant where he ran the kitchen for his friends, Jade Goings, Serena Billups, Alicia Michaels, and Kandace Crawford. Over the last three years, the restaurant had become one of Charlotte's premier eateries and meeting places. Fans of the Food Network flocked to the restaurant because Devon filmed his weekly show,
Dining with Devon
, there, and every month, Devon debuted a new dish to go along with a social event hosted at the restaurant.

Devon was proud of the work he did at the restaurant and was thinking of writing a cookbook. Hell, he didn't have anything else to do. Since he'd been in Charlotte, he had grown tired of women looking for a wedding ring after two dates or who thought one dinner date meant they were in a committed relationship. Devon couldn't deal with that or the women who felt as if they had to compete with everything he did all in the name of being independent. He didn't mind a woman who had her own thing going on, but did she have to keep throwing it in his face?

Maybe that's why he threw himself into his volunteer work with My Sister's Keeper. Working with those women made him happy and took his mind off the fact that his bed was colder than the top of Mount Everest in the middle of December. Still, he'd rather have a cold bed than share it with a woman who didn't mean a damned thing to him. He'd indulged in a few meaningless flings, which Serena and Alicia gave him hell about, and he was tired of the empty feeling.

“You know you're just trying to replace Kandace,” they'd say to him when he'd complain about it.

“Don't let her husband hear you say that,” he'd always reply. Back in college, Devon and Kandace had dated until he made the mistake of cheating on her. Any hopes of rekindling their romance had been dashed when Kandace met Solomon Crawford, a rich guy who always got his way. Devon was genuinely happy for Kandace, even if he didn't like her husband. But with Kandace and Solomon expecting their first child, he'd made more of an effort to get along with Solomon.

That wasn't easy, though. Solomon still didn't trust that Devon was over Kandace and often made snide remarks about Devon still wanting his wife.

Yawning, Devon decided that he'd make himself some coffee, since he couldn't shake his sleepiness, before heading into the restaurant to bake the pies and take them over to the ladies at My Sister's Keeper for lunch.

While the coffee percolated, Devon scrambled two eggs and tossed in some of the leftover meat from the pies to make a quick breakfast burrito, then flipped the TV on to watch the morning news.

“Charlotte socialite Marie Charles was arrested on suspicion of DUI after police say she crashed her car into a tree on Elizabeth Avenue early this morning. The accident followed a dispute at The EpiCentre, where Charles attacked a man on the dance floor at the popular eatery Mez,” the newscaster stated. Devon glanced at the picture of Marie Charles and shook his head.

“Everybody wants to be famous for all the wrong reasons,” he mumbled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Devon changed the channel to ESPN and watched
SportsCenter
while he ate his breakfast. After eating, showering, and dressing, Devon dashed out the door and headed for the restaurant. He wanted to make sure that the pies were hot and delicious for the women at the shelter before he started lunch for the restaurant.