Baby Love Lite (58 page)

Authors: Andrea Smith

Tags: #steamy content, #steamy erotica romance, #erotic adult romance, #steamy romance fiction erotica adult sex, #romantic chicklit, #alpha bad boy

Once his parents had died suddenly in a horrible car accident
that the twisted midget had orchestrated, she'd convinced him to
take up where they'd left off. He was over 21 by then; she taught
him the way to pleasure women, then tasked him to take that
knowledge to teach and then pimp his own damn half-sisters for
which he'd legal custody at the time. The elder of the two sisters
was totally on board with it; probably some genetic thing that ran
through the 'Renaud' bloodline.
His mother
apparently shared in the wealth, and with her connections to some
very prominent families in New Orleans and Baton Rouge (one in
particular where she'd worked as a household staff supervisor) she
was able to orchestrate even more devious schemes using Matthew as
her foot soldier.
She'd used Matthew as her point man in getting an up and
coming federal judge who was engaged to the daughter of the family
she was working for caught in a "compromising" position of sorts.
The dude apparently was a good and honest guy, but was convinced to
sow his wild oats one last time with a hooker who hadn't been
"broken in yet." The poor judge thought that'd had meant she'd
never sold her stuff before. He'd no idea the chick was a fucking
virgin and that old Matthew had planted a video recorder in the
room where he'd swiped her v-card! The plan was to show Preston
Tylar the video after his father-in-law made the recommendation for
appointment to the federal bench (anonymously of course) and to get
a few thousand bucks out of him to keep his new bride and her
family from finding out.
The plan changed when it was discovered that the young,
innocent half-sister got knocked up. The judge never knew a damn
thing about it. The greedy midget had another plan in store; one
that would prove quite lucrative over the next eighteen years.
There'd been a couple of snags along the way, in particular, the
fact that the baby's mother wanted no part of Matthew or his
schemes any longer and tried to relocate to
Mississippi.
I opened the
lock on his cell door. He was all scrunched up in the corner of his
cell, on the cot with his knees pulled up to his chin, his skinny
arms wrapped around his knees.
"Come on,
Renaud. Get your skinny ass up. Mommy Dearest's here to see
you."
I saw him
tremble. God damn! Had he always been such a fucking wimp?
"No, no," he
said hurriedly, a nervous tick showing itself on his face. He was
shaking his head no vehemently. "Don't want to see her. She's going
to be mad at me for telling Doctor Evans what happened. It was our
secret. We promised each other we'd take it to our graves. I
should've kept my mouth shut. Mommy's gonna be pissed."
"Ahh, suck it up, dude. She'll get over it before Mother's
Day, right? I mean what the fuck? Is she going to ground your
ass?"
He looked up at
me as I stood waiting and I saw a thread of sanity briefly cross
over his face. It was if his whole demeanour had changed and he was
sane again, but only briefly.
"You're right,"
he said, "I can take her down with me and she knows that."
I escorted
Matthew Renaud to the room where she waited for him. She'd paid
extra for privacy. I'd acted like it was cool, but what she didn't
know was I had the mic system in that room turned on so I could
hear whatever was said. Again, despite what you see on television:
there is NO attorney-client privilege in jail or prison. There are
always ears listening!
I listened to
them when I got to the room next door. I'd told Karen Deeny to
knock on the wall between us when she was finished. I also told her
to make it quick; like ten minutes.
I put headphones on to listen in. The hair on the back of my
neck stood on end when I heard just exactly how sick that bitch
was!
"Matthew," I
heard her say, "What exactly have you told the psychiatrist your
lawyer had you see?"
"I told her
everything, Mom. I told her the truth."
"And what
exactly is your version of the truth?"
"You know what
it is; you know the truth. She asked about my childhood; about my
dad and mother; and about you."
"I am your
mother," she spat.
"You were my
mother; you didn't raise me and we both know why."
"I did that for
your own good Matthew! I did it so that women wouldn't take
advantage of you and so you'd know how to please them at the same
time."
"You made me
sick in the head, Mom. You made me do things I didn't want to
do!"
"Like what?" she
hissed.
"Like poison two people, Mom. Two blood
relatives!"
"Bah!" she yelled, "You were best rid of the both of them!
They spelled trouble and if you hadn't been so stupid in handling
the matter, we'd have been very wealthy now. You've put me at risk
with your ramblings to that shrink. Do you realize
that?"
"I only did what
you taught me to do, Mother!"
"I didn't teach
you to fuck your own sister and get her pregnant, now did I?"
"You made
everything so confused in my mind. As a kid, you told me to do
things to you that weren't right but you said they were."
"Let's not
rehash this shit, Matthew! Right now we need to be concerned with
damage control. Your life's at stake here."
"I don't give a
shit about my life, Mom. I'm tired of the life I live; I'm tired of
being used by you. I'm tired of having to hide all the time."
There was a
pause in the conversation. I strained to hear what was going to
happen next. Sounded like the little wimp was trying to stand up to
the shrimp bitch!
"Matthew," she
said, her voice lowered, "I have to tell you something. The fact
that you've confessed your involvement to that county shrink is
going to be used against you."
"No, no it isn't
Mom. It's confidential because of HIPPA law. She told me."
"That's a damn lie you stupid bastard! See what I mean? You're
simply setting yourself up and will end up dragging me down with
you."
"It was your idea, Mom. They were all your ideas. Maybe it's
time for you to own up to them."
"Oh yeah, and then what? I'm 65 years old Matthew. So I guess
you'll feel better knowing I'm rotting in some prison too? What
good will it do? We'll never see each other and you'll get the
death penalty, I won't. So you'll be out of your misery long before
I will."
"What's your
point, Mom?"
"My point is
this: you've already implicated me. So if you testify against me,
I'll go to prison for life; you'll get the relief of death. I'd
rather be dead."
"So what choice
do I have Mom? Maybe I won't get the death penalty if I
cooperate?"
"You really are
crazy if you believe that! You've brought shame to me; and now
you've cast me to a life behind bars with what you've told that
shrink!"
"I told her the
truth!" he shouted.
"The truth as
you believe it; not the real truth! I loved you! I gave birth to
you and then I lost you because of the filth you spread about me!
It's time you grow up Matthew and take responsibility for what
you've done to me or you'll burn in hell as sure as I'm sitting
here."
"I'm going to
burn in hell for everything," he replied, dejectedly.
"For once
Matthew, for once in your life, spare someone from the pain and
misery of your actions. Spare me, son."
I could hear the dude crying now totally back to the sick
mother-fucker he'd become, or maybe that he'd always
been.
"Tell me what to do, Mama," he whined, his voice sounding like
a 5 year-old. "Tell me what I can do to be the sweetest one in
town?"
"Would you like
me to sing that song to you, Matthew?"
"Yes,
Mama."
"If I do, will
you do what I ask you to do?"
"Yes, Mama."
I sat there, my feet propped up on my desk, listening in to a
conversation that was probably the weirdest I'd ever eavesdropped
in on. I heard her start the popular lullaby.
Hush little baby
don't say a word; Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird.
If that
mockingbird don't sing; Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring. .
.
When she'd
finished if was if Mathew was in a different place; a more relaxed
and subservient place.
"Tell me what I
need to do now Mama."
I'd given them another five minutes than banged on the wall.
As I went and unlocked the door, the change in Matthew's demeanour
was drastic. He was quiet, compliant and resolved. His mother
seemed confident and satisfied with the visit.
I directed her
to the exit, and then put the cuffs back on him, leading him back
upstairs to his cell block.
Once we got
there and I got him situated in his cell, I removed the cuffs.
"You need
anything Renaud?" I asked before slamming the cell door shut.
"No. I've
everything I need right in here," he said. "I'm good to go."
That was the last time I saw Matthew Renaud alive.

About the Author