Chapter 15
August 19
The pool party had been a great success, the fuchsia bathing suit as enticing as Jamaica had predicted. And the time spent with Aden after the party ... well, that had been quite memorable as well.
So memorable, she was at her desk after lunch on Monday with her body still tingling as she recalled the highlight of the evening.
To be fair, having twenty-six people gathered to celebrate her and frolic around at a hotel pool was a fantastic time. In addition to renting the pool and a room close to it at one of DC’s premier hotels, Vanna had also hired a DJ and a caterer. Light fare had been on the menu—shrimp tostadas, deviled eggs, creamy chicken salad bites, pepperoni pizza bites, and charcuterie cups. Drinks other than punch and water needed to be purchased at the hotel bar near the lobby, but nobody seemed to mind. The highlight of this event was definitely the hotel’s inside pool, since the day had been a sizzling ninety-eight degrees and 85 percent humidity.
“You look amazing,” Aden said when he’d sat on the lounge chair next to hers.
They’d been situated there, facing the top end of the pool, since the start of the party. On her other side were four more lounge chairs where Jamaica, Davon, Ronni, and Croy sat. Granny couldn’t swim and detested the idea of taking off most of her clothes to sit by a pool she had no intention of getting in. That, from the woman who just last week had lifted her dress, pulled down her panties, and shown her bare ass to two elderly persons and a middle-aged married man with three kids.
“Thank you,” Vanna replied, trying not to blush.
When the first two hours of the party passed, she’d stood and announced she was going for a wardrobe change. Aden had stood as well and offered to get them more food.
“I might have to get you to plan my next birthday,” he said, picking up a chicken salad bite—which was salad and a cucumber slice on top of a Ritz Cracker—and bringing it to his mouth.
She reached over to the plate he’d set on the small table between their chairs and chose a deviled egg. She’d pretty much eaten those and the pizza bites the entire time. Dessert was fruit cups and mini cupcakes from the same baker she was using the entire month. She couldn’t wait for those to come out.
“When’s your birthday?” she asked, before taking a bite of the egg.
“January seventh,” he said.
“Ooohhh, winter activities. Lots of possibilities, but we’d have to do a little travel. A ski trip would be great!” Her mind was already soaring with ideas, and as she talked, he chuckled. “You laughing at me, Mr. Granger?”
“Nah, I’m laughing with you, Ms. Savannah. I like hearing you get excited. And I like seeing you smile.”
“Well, she’s been smiling at you a whole lot today,” Jamaica said as she got up to start walking toward the pool. “And now, since you’ve changed into your ‘wet approved’ outfit, let’s get in this water.”
Vanna ignored the wink Jamaica gave at the words wet approved , recalling her remarks from their swimsuit-shopping trip. “I guess you’re right,” she said. “About the time to get in the pool part. I mean, it is a pool party.”
And because it was, she’d sat for eight hours after work yesterday to get her hair braided. By the time she’d gotten home, she’d been exhausted and her scalp was on fire, the knotless braids were so tight. Today, they were still tight, but cute as hell as they cascaded down to stop at the small of her back.
By the time the party was over and the last guest had been hugged, thanked for coming, and seen out the door, Vanna was still smiling, and Aden—just as Jamaica had predicted—hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of her.
“One last swim,” he suggested when he stepped close enough to put his hands on her waist.
“It’s almost eleven,” she said. “Somebody from the hotel is bound to come in here soon and tell us it’s time to get out.”
He shook his head. “We’ve got sixteen minutes,” he said. “I checked.”
She chuckled. “You want another swim that bad?”
They’d played in the water for over an hour during the last half of the party. Somebody introduced a volleyball, and the competition had begun. Not only was it the three guys against the three girls, as it had been during the bowling outing, but now other guys had joined the team led by a very competitive Davon, and their partners had joined an equally-as-competitive team led by Jamaica. It had been a super-fun time, but now, Aden was suggesting a solo swim.
He eased into the pool first, reaching his hands up for her like he really expected her to jump into them. With a shake of her head, she knelt down and put one leg at a time into the pool, just as she’d done before. His hands were at her waist again the moment she was submerged up to her breasts.
“I had a great time at your pool party, Savannah,” he said, then lowered his face to nuzzle her neck.
She closed her eyes, loving the feel of being in his arms, combined with the buoyancy of being in the water. It really seemed as if she were floating, even though her feet touched the bottom—at least, they had until he lowered his arms and cupped his hand beneath her thighs. He lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist.
A tiny yelp of surprise escaped her, and she asked, “Why do you call me that? Nobody calls me by my full name.”
“You answered your own question,” he said, walking them to the farthest edge of the pool, where he pressed her back against the wall. “I like being the only one who calls you that. Makes me feel special.”
His touch was making her feel more than special at this moment. “Oh, so you want to be special in my life?”
He traced a slow, heated line down her neck with his tongue. “Absolutely,” he whispered. “The same way you’re special in mine.”
“I am?” she asked with genuine question in her tone.
He must’ve picked up on that too, because he lifted his head and stared into her eyes. “You don’t believe me?”
In his eyes, she definitely saw sincerity and lust and something else she wasn’t quite sure she could decipher. But in her heart, she felt trepidation. She wanted to be all in with this new thing, which was checking a lot of boxes on that nonexistent list, but her mind was too weary of the try-and-try again motto. “I want to believe you,” she admitted quietly.
Because she really did. She wanted to believe and to take one day at a time, to follow the budding feelings of happiness brought on by being with him.
“Then believe, Savannah,” he said, bringing his lips close to hers. “Let go of all that other bullshit clouding your mind, and believe.” The kiss that followed his words was every bit as deep and delicious as the quick strokes he eventually gave her before they both found release.
Now, sitting in her office alone, Vanna shivered at the thought. It felt like the same pleasure she’d experienced in the pool at that moment on Saturday night was still present in her body on Monday afternoon.
“Damn,” she muttered. What the hell was this man doing to her?
The loud shrill of the phone on her desk had her jumping in her chair like she’d been caught doing something illicit—if recalling a great orgasm could be considered that. With a frown at the interruption, she reached for the phone and answered, “Hey, Neshawn,” because she could see that it was an interoffice call.
“Hey, your grandmother is on line four, and she’s yelling and screaming. I can barely understand what she’s saying,” Neshawn told her.
“Okay. I’ll grab it now,” Vanna said, and pressed the button to end the call with Neshawn. Then she pressed the blinking number 4 button.
“Granny?”
“Vannie, baby! You gotta come quick! Come right now, baby! The police are here tearing up your house!”
When Vanna turned onto her block, she saw the flashing lights from the police cruisers. Her heart had been thumping on overtime the moment she’d hung up the phone and shot up from her desk. Her call to Jovani had gone to his assistant because he was in court, but she promised she would get the message to him as soon as he was out. Her next calls had actually been text messages to her J my granddaughter is innocent,” Granny was saying as Vanna walked into the living room.
“I understand, ma’am, but it’ll be over soon. And it’s better if you and I just stay out of their way.” Jack was probably in his late fifties, a handsome man with curly salt-and-pepper hair and gold-rimmed glasses.
“Thanks, Jack,” Vanna said, moving closer and taking Granny’s hand. “I’m so sorry this is happening while you’re here trying to work.”
Jack shook his head. “No, don’t you apologize. I’m glad me and my crew were here with your grandmother when they arrived.”
She sighed heavily. “How long have they been here?”
“Just about an hour now,” Jack said. “Haven’t found anything yet, as far as I can tell. But one of ’em just ran out of here to grab an evidence bag, so ...” He let his words trail off, and then he looked away, as if wanting to give Vanna the space to be even more embarrassed without an audience.
“That’s not possible,” she said, shaking her head. “What could they possibly have found?”
She heard dry laughter and turned her attention back to the stairs by the door. As her house was a split-level, the front-door entryway led to a choice of either coming up the stairs to the living/dining room/kitchen space or going down the stairs to the basement area, which consisted of a room Vanna used for storage, a larger room that was set up like a second living room, a bathroom, and a laundry room.
Detective Parish cleared the top step, one of those brown paper bags she’d seen the other officer carrying in his hands. “You sure you want to stick by your statement that you had nothing to do with the robberies?” he asked.
Beaumont, with his lecherous glare, came up right behind Parish. He carried one of those brown paper bags as well.
“No, I don’t, because it’s the truth,” Vanna shot back.
“Oh, the lies we tell,” Beaumont said, and reached into the bag he was carrying to pull out another bag.
“What is that?” Vanna asked.
“Oh, this?” Beaumont feigned surprise as he looked down at the second bag he was holding by its handle. “It’s what they call a money bag—and what do we have here?” He looked up at her with arched brows as he turned the bag around so that the front of it was facing her. “Is that the logo for the Lennox Casino?”
Oooooh shit!
Vanna wanted to shout that it wasn’t hers. She wanted to yell that they’d planted that in her basement, but she knew enough to keep her mouth shut at this moment. Granny, on the other hand ...
“You dirty bastards!” she yelled, and stepped out from behind where Vanna and Jack still stood. “You know good and damn well you brought that in here with you, and now you’re acting like it was here all along. You’ve been in here all afternoon, and you just found that! Bullshit!”
They were the words right out of Vanna’s mind, but she reached out and put a hand on Granny’s arm. “It’s okay,” she said in a tight voice. “It’s okay. Just let them do their job.”
Even if their job seemed to be to frame her for the crime that Caleb had committed, because Caleb’s wretched behind went and drowned himself. Or had somebody drowned him the way somebody had driven that guy Elliot Joble off the road? She hadn’t asked for an autopsy because she’d accepted when the ME told her he’d drowned, yet the police had requested one. Only she hadn’t seen the results.
“Are you finished now?” she asked them, beyond ready for them to leave.
“Yeah, I think we’ve got what we came for,” Parish said with another chuckle. “You might want to call your attorney now, see if he can set up another meeting. This time with the AUSA to talk about making a plea deal. You’re gonna need one.”
Vanna didn’t speak another word, just stood there and watched the detectives and all the other officers who had been in her house leave.
“I’m gonna have my crew walk around and put things back in order,” Jack said once they were gone. “They didn’t mess it up that much. I’ve seen them do much worse.”
Vanna couldn’t find the words to ask how or why he would’ve seen such a thing; she’d simply muttered a “Thank you,” then took the stairs up to her bedroom.
Granny and Frito followed behind her. She didn’t want any more strangers in this part of her personal space, so she’d come up here to put things in order herself. Jack had been right: there wasn’t that much damage. They’d closed her dresser drawers, but when she opened them, she could tell her things had been riffled through. Same for her nightstand drawers. Her closet door was open, some shoeboxes knocked over; a couple of jackets had fallen on the floor, probably when they’d brushed through her clothes.
“If that boy wasn’t already dead, I swear I’d kill him,” Granny grumbled from where she sat on the edge of Vanna’s bed.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve said that same thing,” Vanna said as she put a pair of multicolored wedges into the appropriate box.
At the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs, Frito jumped down off the bed, where he knew he didn’t belong in the first place, and headed toward the door.
“Get out of my way, goofy dog,” Jamaica complained as she came in and had to skirt around Frito, who thought he was standing guard.
Ronni was right behind her, but she knelt down to try to calm Frito. The dog was such a traitor, because the moment she rubbed his head and started speaking in that weird baby voice she used with Jonah, he was putty in her hands.
“Girl, what the hell?” Jamaica said, wrapping Vanna into a hug as soon as she was close enough.
Vanna accepted the hug and threatened her tears not to fall. She would not break. Not now.
“I don’t even know, J. I don’t even know,” she said, and shook her head when her friend released her.
“Did you call your attorney?” Ronni, who was now carrying Frito’s spoiled ass, asked.
“Yeah,” Vanna replied. “I called as soon as I got in the truck. Then I shot you two a text.”
“Did you call Aden?” Granny asked.
Vanna had moved out of the closet and was heading toward her bathroom now. “Yes. I sent him a text.”
“A text?” Ronni asked. “Why didn’t you call him? How often does he check his texts?”
“The more important question is, Did they find anything?” Jamaica asked.
Aden normally responded to her texts throughout the day fairly quickly—unless he was in a meeting or had a client, which he had gotten into the habit of telling her about. She never asked about his schedule or requested explanations for his time spent away from her, because she didn’t think he owed her any of those things. They talked when they talked, saw each other when they did, and she was fine with that. Or at least, that was what she had been telling herself, because Ronni’s question did have her wondering why she hadn’t heard from him yet.
However, Jamaica’s question trumped Ronni’s. So Vanna stopped picking up the trash can the police had knocked over. Then she stuck her head out the door to look back into the bedroom where Jamaica was standing. “Why the hell do you think they would find something?”
Jamaica held up her hands in surrender. “It’s just a question, Vanna. You know I know you didn’t do this, but you also know I’m down with what law enforcement does to make a case.”
That was true. Jamaica had gone through training and started working at the jail right after they’d graduated from college. She was now a lead correctional officer, and advised staff as well as mentored lower-level officers. If any of them in this room were more versed in the legal field than Vanna, it was Jamaica. And in the criminal law field especially, Jamaica definitely surpassed her.
“Them bastards planted a couple of those casino money bags,” Granny said.
“What?” Jamaica asked. “This is crazy. It’s bad and it’s crazy.”
“But she’s innocent,” Ronni said.
“We know that, which is why it’s crazy. But for some reason, they’re hell-bent on making it look like you’re guilty,” Jamaica said.
Vanna had gone back into the bathroom, but she could still hear them talking. And she agreed with every word being said—this was crazy. She was innocent. And they were determined to pin this on her. But why? Who had she pissed off to earn this?
In the back of her mind, thoughts of how life was always coming at her with not just curveballs, but fuckin’ hardballs that smacked at her with painful persistence, surfaced. But she couldn’t lean into those thoughts. Couldn’t spiral down that black hole, where the possibility existed that perhaps she somehow deserved all the strife that plagued her. At the same time, she couldn’t quite come up with a positive vibe, a word of encouragement, or any of that therapeutic shit at the moment.
Jamaica appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. “Has Aden hit you back?”
For whatever reason, the cops had yanked everything out of the bottom cabinets of the vanity, so Vanna had knelt down to pick them up and put them all back. She looked over her shoulder to see Jamaica. “What?”
Her friend leaned against the doorjamb, her arms folded over her chest. “Aden. Has he texted or called you back after you told him what was going on?”
“No. Not yet. At least, I don’t think so.” She looked around and then sighed. “I left my phone downstairs with my purse, so he could’ve called while I’ve been up here.”
“But he’s not here,” Jamaica said. “We got here before him.”
There was a hint of something in Jamaica’s tone, something that took the place of what she hadn’t actually said. And one of her excellently drawn eyebrows was raised in question, which made Vanna oddly uncomfortable. She sat back on her heels and sighed. “You were off today, J. Your house is barely twenty minutes from here—twelve—when you’re speeding, which I’m positive you were. And the school Ronni works at is just down the road. That’s why the two of you got here so quickly.”
When Jamaica didn’t respond, Vanna sighed again. She leaned forward and planted her hands on the floor so she could push herself up to a standing position. Then, because she knew her friend well, she turned to face Jamaica. “Say what you want to say.”
“I don’t think you’re gonna like it,” Jamaica replied.
“That’s never stopped you before.”
“True.” Jamaica pushed off from her leaning position and held her hands out in front of her. “Just hear me out. I’m only going on what we know definitely. You know, just the facts.”
Vanna leaned a hip against the vanity. “Okay.”
“The first time you saw Aden after fifteen years was at the cemetery where you’d just buried your husband. Right?” Jamaica didn’t wait for Vanna’s reply. “Then you’re arrested at the cemetery. Aden has a lawyer he can call to get you out. You see a strange car up the street. Aden calls Jovani, and they set up a meeting with the detectives. Your house gets raided; they find money bags that had to be planted, and Aden has been spending a lot of nights here, so ...”
“Stop!” Vanna said. Her temples were throbbing, and she suddenly felt a little sick. “You’re right, I don’t like where you’re going with this.”
“You ever heard of hero syndrome?” Jamaica asked.
“I told you to stop.” Vanna moved to turn on the faucet. She leaned forward and cupped her hands to toss cool water onto her face.
Jamaica—true to her obstinate personality—continued anyway. “It’s when somebody creates a situation where they can then swoop in and act like the savior.”
Vanna could hear her step farther into the bathroom until she stopped right beside her.
“He’s been coming to your rescue since this whole thing started. You don’t think that’s kind of weird?”
Grabbing a towel that had miraculously remained in place on the rack during the search, Vanna dried her face and turned off the water. Her fingers had begun to shake, but she tried to breathe her way past the irritation currently swirling through her. “He didn’t get here in time to save me from the humiliation of watching strangers go through all of my personal belongings. And he’s not here right now. Not saving me at this moment.”
Jamaica tilted her head. “And that’s even more weird. Where is he? Why hasn’t he called or returned your text?”
Turning around to lean against the vanity once more, Vanna wrapped her arms around herself. “Why are you doing this? I thought you liked Aden. He answered all of your questions that night we went bowling, so I figured he’d passed your test. You even hugged him good night when you left the pool party.” Vanna didn’t understand what was going on, and this was the absolute last thing she needed going through her mind right now. Her priority for the moment should be staying the hell out of jail. Not second-guessing the man who—despite how many times she told him she didn’t need it—had been showing up for her in a way no man ever had before.
“I like him as long as he’s good to you and good for you. But if he’s here to fuck with you, to pick up where Caleb left off in destroying your life, then he’s public enemy number one to me. And you know that,” Jamaica said seriously.
Vanna did know that, mostly because she felt the same way about Jamaica and Ronni. They were super close, ride-or-dies, 110 percent devoted to each other. So there was no way Jamaica would say something that she knew would hurt Vanna’s feelings unless she wholeheartedly believed it could be true. Which was the only reason Vanna let everything Jamaica had just said settle into her mind without completely dismissing them.
“I don’t believe he would do that,” Vanna said with a shake of her head. “Why would he do that?”
“He met you first,” Jamaica said with a shrug. “Didn’t you say he told you that?”
“It’s true, J,” she said, growing more annoyed with this conversation. “He didn’t have to say it; I was there, remember? And so were you. I told you after I bumped into him and you were with me the night I saw him again at the step show.”
“But what if this is get-back?” Jamaica asked. “What if setting you up is a way to get back at you for choosing Caleb?”
“You really believe that?” Vanna asked. “It doesn’t even make sense that he would be that tore up over me all this time. We didn’t hold hands, kiss—nothing but bump into each other. And before you say it, I know there are guys that act stupid over less, but Aden’s not like that.”
Jamaica raised that brow again. “You sure? Because you thought Caleb—”
Vanna held up a hand then, because she knew exactly where Jamaica was going with that sentence. And she couldn’t take it. Not at this moment, not after all that had happened today—hell, this month. She just couldn’t take it. “I can’t do this again, J,” she said quietly.
Ronni stepped into the doorway. “Do what?”
Jamaica sighed heavily. “I told her what I just told you I was thinking about Aden.”
Vanna must have missed that part of the conversation going on in her bedroom while she was picking up toiletries off the bathroom floor. But Granny had heard it, and now Vanna wondered what she thought about Jamaica’s assumptions too. Probably that her granddaughter just couldn’t seem to get this right. Because that’s exactly how Vanna was feeling right now.
“Ooooh,” Ronni said, a sad look covering her face.
“Guess you believe it too,” Vanna said. She let her head fall back and stared up at the ceiling, praying the tears that formed wouldn’t fall. “Well, I can’t believe it.”
“V, listen to me,” Jamaica started again. “I don’t want Aden to be a bad guy either. I want you to have every ounce of happiness you deserve. But I also want you to be smart about this. Just let the facts marinate for a minute.”
“No,” Vanna said, bringing her gaze back to the two closest friends she’d ever had. “I can’t. Because if I let those facts marinate, if I believe what you’re saying, if I admit that a small part of me has already grabbed hold of those words and is ready to run to the police with every one of them, I’ll have to admit I’ve failed yet again.”
“What?” Ronni asked.
Vanna closed her eyes, opened them, and felt the warmth of the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t do this,” she said. “I can’t do this relationship shit. It’s just not for me. Love and happy endings. Through good times and bad. I’m not built for it, so I should just give it up.”
“What are you talking about?” Jamaica asked, coming in closer to wrap an arm around Vanna’s shoulders.
Ronni stepped farther into the bathroom as well, stopping to stand just in front of Vanna.
Vanna gave a wry chuckle and reached a hand up to knuckle a tear away. “You’re right about one part of this. The part you started to say about Caleb. You would think I’d learned my lesson, but obviously not. If what you’re suggesting about Aden is true, then I’m just not meant to be loved and treated right, I guess. But damn, I wanted it. You know? I wanted it. After all I’ve been through, all I put up with during my years with Caleb, I figured I fuckin’ deserved it!” She huffed. “Joke’s on me, huh?”
“No,” Ronni said, taking Vanna’s hands and holding them tightly in her own. “The joke is definitely not on you. Because you do deserve love and happiness, Van. If ever I knew anyone who did, it’s you.”
“And you’ll have it,” Jamaica added. “You will have all the things you’ve ever wanted, because you’re strong enough and bold enough to go out there and get them. Don’t let this bullshit deter you. You’re better than that, V.”
She was better than that. She knew that. She was stronger and smarter. Hell! Vanna had told herself all these same things over and over again. She’d read those stupid cards on her dresser multiple times, until some of them had grown worn with use. Just last week, she’d thought she needed to go online and find herself a new box of them. But what the hell for? Why was she plucking a card out of a box each day just to tell her how to feel on that day, when every time she allowed herself to breathe freely around a guy, some wild and deceitful shit popped off?
Why was life always delivering these swift—hell no, these debilitating—kicks her way? Why was she the one who was supposed to bear all the bad breaks and figure out how to keep standing after each one?
“This is not how my celebratory month is supposed to be going,” she said on a half laugh, half sob. More tears poured down her face, and she eased a hand away from Ronni’s to swipe at them.
“Then don’t let it go that way,” Jamaica said.
“And besides, this is just a thought. J doesn’t have any real proof about any of this. She was just spouting off things like she usually does,” Ronni said.
“Okay, shade,” Jamaica said as she looked over to Ronni.
“You know what I mean,” Ronni replied. “And you know Jamaica is always suspicious. Hell, we all can be suspicious when it comes to these trifling-ass men out here. But if you believe there’s something to what she’s saying, then just ask him. If you want to trust him, trust what’s happening between the two of you, then do that. Just because a thing looks bad doesn’t mean it is.”
“Is that like ‘a rose is still a rose even if it smells different’?” Jamaica asked.
Both Vanna and Ronni looked at Jamaica now.
“You mean ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet’?” Vanna asked, her brow furrowed.
Jamaica waved a hand and pursed her lips. “Look, you’re the one into all those quotes and nonsense. I just keep it real. I like Aden. But I’m not blind, and neither are you. So just ask him and see what he says.”
Ronni nodded.
Vanna thought it was worth an ask too, and that was the problem. If she believed any of this could be true, then she didn’t trust Aden. Didn’t believe he genuinely wanted to be with her and that they had a future together, as he’d asked her to do at the party on Saturday. But Vanna didn’t know if that was something she could ever believe in again.