Looking For Trouble (24 page)

“I'm flattered that you see all of that in me, and after just one night.”

“I told you, it's about more than this one night. I've known this all my life.”

“How?”

“Maxx not only loves you like a brother, he admires you like a hero. He's always talked about how smart you are and what a good friend you've been to him. He said you're one of the most honest people he knows, and that's why he trusts you so. That says a lot about your character.”

John smiled. “Maxx and I go back a long way.”

“Yes, I guess we all do in one way or another.”

“You're right.” He reached for her hand. “We . . . you and me, are connected, and not just by Maxx. I feel something deep with you, Elizabeth.”

She nodded and smiled. “Me too.”

Maxx has to live,
John thought.
He's got to pull through, because I have to tell him that I want to be with his sister.

John knew he was falling hard and fast for Elizabeth, and there was no denying it. As implausible as it seemed, she'd managed to touch his heart in one night. His grandmother's words came to him again, and he smiled inside, confirming that she'd been right, as usual.

Elizabeth squeezed John's hand. “I appreciate you, John.”

“I want to be with you, Elizabeth.”

They looked at each other for a long beat, resting in the moment.

“I want to be with you, too,” Elizabeth said. Then she leaned into the man she loved and kissed him tenderly.

 

Grace eyed her daughter closely when Elizabeth walked back into the waiting room holding John's hand. The sight nearly made her hyperventilate. After everything that had happened within the last few hours, it was more than she could take. She stood up and marched over to Elizabeth, ignoring John completely. “I need to speak with you in private.”

“Did the doctors give an update about Maxx?” Elizabeth asked with hope and concern. “You can talk in front of John, Mama.”

Grace acted as though Elizabeth hadn't said a word. Instead, she looked down at Elizabeth's hand still clutched inside John's and wanted to swat him away like a pesky fly. “Lizzy, follow me, please,” she said through gritted teeth. Then she abruptly turned and started walking down the hall.

“Um, excuse me, John.” Elizabeth was clearly embarrassed by her mother's openly rude behavior. “Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back.”

John nodded. “I'll be here, waiting for you.”

He took a seat in one of the chairs and counted to ten. This was the second time tonight he'd had to practice that exercise. Again, he had to temper his emotions. He knew why Grace was so upset, and it made him want to curse.

John wasn't a conceited man in the least, but he knew most mothers would toast to the heavens if their daughters brought him home on their arms. So the fact that Grace couldn't stand him was almost farcical, especially since the reason for her dislike was rooted in pure absurdity. Even though he was accustomed to prejudice and racism, having grown up in the South, and working in the world of high finance, he found it hard to swallow when that behavior was directed at him by other black people.

Grace's skin tone was almost alabaster, as was her mother's, her mother's mother's, and her mother's before her. Her family was filled with mildly-colored people of African descent, whose milky-white complexions had masked their heritage and afforded them certain privileges in the deep South—privileges that separated them from their darker-skinned brethren.

Grace's ancestors had been light-skinned house slaves who worked in the false comfort of their master's home, not the dark-skinned field slaves who toiled under the blazing sun and unrelenting lash of the overseer's whip. But even though the family was full of mulattos, quadroons, and octoroons, they were equal-opportunity bigots and stood firmly against the notion of interracial marriage with whites.

Beyond the bleaching that Caucasians had afforded their skin from generations ago, Grace's family had very little use for white folks outside of their color. They chose to intermarry with other light-skinned blacks in order to keep their complexions intact. They understood that their hue was a valued commodity, and they'd been taught to protect its value.

Maxx was one of the very few in his family who actually had the nerve to consort with and even date people darker than he was. Grace had blamed it on Milford's side of the family. The Sanderses were a light-skinned brew, too, who were just as bad as Grace's people were. But every now and then, they let a darkie slide through the cracks and marry into the family.

John knew that Grace merely tolerated him because of his money and status. But now that it was clear to her that Elizabeth had joined her brother's ranks, John knew that Grace couldn't and wouldn't accept it.

“She better hold on tight,” John said aloud to himself with determination. “I'm going to be with Elizabeth, and there's nothing that Grace Sanders can do about it.”

Chapter 33

M
adeline leaned against the closed door, looked at Slim, and smiled. “What's wrong?” she asked innocently. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“Why did you close the door and put the lock on?”

“Because I don't want anyone to disturb us.”

Slim rapidly blinked his eyes behind his thick glasses. “I shouldn't be in this room with you like this. It don't look right.”

“It looks perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with two friends spending a little time together.”

“But we ain't friends. I barely know you,” Slim said nervously. “Look, I need to get goin'.”

“Awww, Slim, don't leave yet,” Madeline pleaded, smiling deviously. She gestured toward the chair at the desk. “Have a seat and stay awhile so we can talk.”

“I don't think that's a good idea, Madeline. Please open the door. I'm fixin' to leave.”

Slim made a move toward the door where Madeline stood, but she held her hand up and gave him another sly smile. “Don't leave so soon. Once you're gone, I'll be all alone.”

“I ain't tryin' to be mean, but that ain't my problem. I need to get back to the club. Besides, John will be here in a lil bit.”

Madeline formed her lips into a pout. “I don't care about John. It's you that I want.”

Slim shifted in place. “You makin' me real uncomfortable with this kinda talk. Now I already told you, I got to go.”

“And I said I don't want you to.”

Slim frowned. “I'ma ask you nicely one more time. Please move out of the way so I can get back to the club. I won't mention none of this to John, and we can forget this whole thing ever happened.”

“Slim, if you keep talking like this, you're going to make me very angry, and you don't want to see me when I'm angry.”

Slim's eyes narrowed, as if he'd had enough. “Woman, don't threaten me. Now move away from that-there door so I can leave.”

Madeline wanted to laugh at Slim's weak attempt to be tough. She'd met ruthless people—hell, she was one—and she knew that Slim was anything but. He'd walked into her trap so easily, it almost seemed too good to be true. Little did he know, but the longer he stayed in the room, the more believable her lie would be. “Okay, Slim, calm down. I didn't mean to threaten you. I just really don't want you to go.”

“I don't know what kinda game you playin',” he said, frustration starting to creep into his voice, “but I don't want any part of it. John's like a brother to me, and—”

“Oh, shut the hell up about John, you stupid motherfucker!” she screamed in an outburst. Madeline was fed up with hearing him say John's name, and she could feel her anger quickly rising. His whiny mouth had pissed her off, and she didn't want him to say another word, especially not about John. Plus, even though his being there was in her favor, she knew she couldn't run the risk of John coming back early and spoiling her plan before she had a chance to set things into motion. She needed to act fast.

With the speed of a cheetah, Madeline rushed past Slim, picked up the ceramic ashtray, which was sitting on the wooden desk, and banged it against the side of her head.

“What the hell!” Slim said as his eyes bucked wide.

Madeline didn't answer. Instead, she crashed the ashtray against her smooth jaw before tossing it to the floor. She took a deep breath, balled her hand into a tight fist, and punched herself in the eye before delivering a hard blow to her mouth, until her bottom lip began to bleed.

“You crazy bitch!” Slim yelled. “What the hell's wrong with you?” Now he looked as if he'd indeed seen a ghost.

Madeline quickly glanced down at the desk and braced herself. She swung her left leg out to the side and banged her thigh with force against the wood's hard edge. She grimaced, muffling the scream that wanted to leap from her bloody mouth as a sharp pain shot through her lower left side.

Slim looked on, wide-eyed and speechless. He wanted to move, but shock and disbelief held him in place. He watched as Madeline pulled at the fabric of her thin sundress, until she ripped it open, down the front.

Bloody and disheveled, Madeline lunged toward Slim, tackling his thin, gangly body so hard that he fell to the floor. They tussled and rolled around on the stiff carpet, until Slim managed to pin her down. He loomed over her, breathing hard. “I ain't never hit a woman! But as God is my witness, if you don't stop, I'ma whup yo' ass like you a man!”

Madeline laughed. “You weak son of a bitch. Is that all you got?” She spat in his face and started clawing at him like a wildcat.

Slim tried to restrain her, but his clumsy hands were no match for Madeline's stealth ones. She scratched his cheek so hard that blood ran down his face as she bucked and twisted underneath him.

Finally, after a few more scratches, Madeline was satisfied with her results. She dropped her hands in surrender as droplets of Slim's blood trickled onto her dress. She looked into his bewildered eyes and laughed again.

Slim rolled off her, still breathing heavy. He fumbled for his eyeglasses, which had fallen off his face. Once he found them, he slowly rose to his feet.

“You can go now,” Madeline said, “and don't forget to tell John to hurry back over here, I'm going to need his help.”

“You need help, all right!” Slim shouted. “I don't know what's wrong with you, but I'ma tell John the truth about all this.” Slim's chest heaved up and down as he stood in the middle of the room. His shirt was torn, and his face was bloody and scarred. “Look what you did to me, and to yo'self! You crazy as hell!”

Madeline crawled from the floor to the bed and sat down. Her right eye had already begun to swell shut; a knot had formed on the side of her head; her jaw was bruised and her bottom lip was busted. “Slim, you poor, pathetic fool. This all boils down to your word against mine.” She stood up, removed her panties, and dabbed them on the blood that had trickled from her bottom lip. She then tossed them on the other side of the bed. She sat back down and smiled.

“Oh, hell no,” Slim said in a low, stunned whisper as his eyes filled with panic.

Madeline nodded. She could see that for the first time the simple man understood what was really happening. “I'm going to tell John that you raped me.”

“You crazy bitch!”

“Now, now.” Madeline waved her finger with caution. “It's not nice to call people names.”

“He ain't gonna believe you, and neither is nobody else.”

“Don't be so sure. I'm a beautiful, sophisticated woman, who can have any man I want. You're a goofy-looking busboy and cook, who works at a nightclub and couldn't get a prostitute if you paid for one.” Madeline leaned forward. “Who're they going to believe, you or me?”

“Everybody who know me know I wouldn't hit a woman, let alone rape one.”

“That's not true. You told me you were gonna whup my ass like I was a man.”

“'Cause you crazy as hell!” Slim said loudly, backing closer toward the door.

“Think about it, Slim. You were the one who practically begged John to drive me back here to the hotel. You complimented my looks and gushed over me in front of both John and Maxx. And now you're standing in my room debating with me after you just beat and raped me.” Madeline made a tsking sound with her mouth. “It's not looking too good for you, Slim.”

“You crazy bitch!”

“If you call me names one more time, I'm going to have to do something drastic.”

Slim shook his head in bewilderment. He turned to walk out the door, but then he stopped in his tracks when he heard Madeline pick up the phone.

“I think I'll call the police and report this attack. That way, it'll look more official.” Madeline wanted to laugh out loud when she saw a fresh wave of panic streak across Slim's scratched-up, pitiful-looking face. She had no intention of calling the police, because she knew she had more to hide than Slim ever did. There was no way in hell she wanted the authorities digging around or asking her questions.

She knew from experience how tricky and conniving police detectives could be, once they started interrogating you. She'd learned that lesson long ago when they almost uncovered the truth about her burning down her parents' home while they slept in their beds. But she'd acted so innocent, traumatized, and shaken that they stopped asking her questions, feeling sorry for the poor little adopted girl, who had become an orphan all over again.

No, Madeline didn't want officers of the law sticking their noses into her business and possibly ruining her plans. Picking up the phone and making Slim think she was going to call the police was her mischievous way of having a little fun at his expense. “I can even tell them that I scratched you in self-defense,” she said, leveling another false threat.

Slim stood motionless, just as he had in what seemed like a lifetime ago before Madeline went berserk. “I can't believe this is happenin'. What's wrong with you?”

“Oh, you better believe it!” Madeline slowly put the phone back on the hook. “But because I'm a good-hearted person, I won't turn you in. I've heard about the bad things that happen to men when they go to jail, especially the ones who're in for rape.”

“You a sick woman. John was right about you.”

Madeline wanted to know what John had said about her, but then she decided not to even venture down that messy road. “Okay, Slim. Get going before I change my mind.”

Slim tried to move his feet, but they stayed planted where he stood.

“I said
go
!” Madeline shouted. “Get the fuck out of here before you make me do something you'll regret.”

Within the flash of an eye, Slim unlocked the dead bolt. He raced out the door so fast that he caused a breeze to rush into the room.

A few minutes later, Madeline slowly limped into the bathroom. When she flicked on the light switch, she bristled at the damage she'd done. She hated to see her beautiful face swollen, bloodied, and bruised; but at the same time, she had to smile with pride at her handiwork.

She limped out of the bathroom and headed straight for the bed, where she planned to lie until John got there. She knew he would have a hard time believing that Slim was capable of causing the state she was in; but she also knew that he'd seen the way his friend had looked at her tonight, like he wanted her all to himself.

Madeline also knew that John's sense of honor and reputation ran deep, and that he would feel responsible and guilty as sin about what had happened to her. “It'll be hard for him to explain that while he partied his ass off in a nightclub, his helpless girlfriend, whom he brought home to meet his family, was being raped and beaten in a hotel room across town,” she said with a sinister laugh.

Because of that ungentlemanly, embarrassing fact, Madeline knew John would keep it quiet and do whatever it took to make things right with her—and for Madeline, that meant his nursing her injuries and giving her the diamond engagement ring, which would put her on the road to gaining his fortune.