Bad Girls Finish First (12 page)

 

 

“Michael's taking a hands-off approach with the faith-based money,” David told Dudley during one of their late-night phone calls.

Dudley's relationship with his younger brother existed after dark. Talking after midnight was a habit they had developed during childhood and one that Dudley fully incorporated into his life. He stayed on the phone all night long, or if he wasn't on the phone, he'd sneak out of the house. Early in his marriage, Dudley gave his wife the two children they both wanted—she wanted to make a real family, and he wanted her focused on someone other than him. After doing his duty, Dudley felt no obligation, and certainly no desire, to sleep with his wife, and so his nights belonged to him.

The men's habit of talking after dark stemmed from being raised by their mother, Sue Capps, who went by the name Baby Sue, and their grandmother, also named Sue Capps, known as Big Sue. Big Sue was an elephant of a woman. By the time she was forty-five she was so huge she could barely get out of bed. Baby Sue, who was as scrawny and dried up as Big Sue was ample, had a habit of dragging home stray men.

When the welfare check came on the first of the month, Baby Sue bought steak for her boyfriend and Spam for her sons. Whatever her current lover put on her—a black eye, a slap across the mouth—she took out on Dudley and David. Despite the way their mother mistreated them, their main reason for hating Baby Sue didn't have anything to do with a man. They despised their mother because she stank, smelled like the funky side of rich fertilizer. The neighborhood children called her Stinky Baby Sue.

“How could he?” Dudley would whisper to David whenever a man entered their mother's bedroom.

Dudley and David dealt with Big Sue and Baby Sue by staying out of their way. They didn't play or talk until Big Sue's snoring competed with the grunts and yelps coming from Baby Sue's room, usually after midnight.

Following their childhood pattern, the brothers commiserated about Michael after dark.

“How long have I been telling you that Michael's only out for himself?” Dudley said. “Now that you've solved his problem with women, he's riding high and acting like he made it this far on his own. As long as he's on top, Michael's not interested in anybody else's agenda.”

“Be realistic, Dudley. It's not like Michael can simply cut me a check. The public might not look too kindly on my church ending up with the bulk of the money if he's personally involved in the process. I don't want him to get jumped for passing out favors to his friends.”

Dudley snorted. “Bullshit. This state was built on cronyism and a governor is expected to throw a little business his friends' way. Michael's just one of those Negroes who locks the door behind him once he's gotten in.”

“Dudley, you really need to stop hating on Michael.” David never understood why Dudley criticized Michael so harshly. “He always looks out for you and I know he values your advice. When did you become so bitter?”

“I'm the same man I've always been, but Michael has changed. Since the debate, he's been walking around like he's the Second Coming,” Dudley said. “And maybe he used to take my advice, but to tell you the truth, I don't have Michael's ear anymore.”

“That not true,” David said. He was eager to convince his brother of Michael's loyalty. “In fact, because he liked your idea about putting Raven over his faith-based initiative platform, I still have a shot at getting a good chunk of the funds.”

“Oh, yeah? He told you he's giving the job to Raven?” Dudley was pleased. He couldn't care less about the politics of throwing crumbs to Holy Rollers. But the media was fixated on the initiative and Raven was eager to be involved in any project that would keep her name on the front page, so to Dudley it seemed the perfect fit. And it would keep Raven out of his way.

“Yep.”

“Then talk to her. I know she likes you. Better yet, hit her with the Capps' magic wand and the money's yours.” Dudley guffawed. “You know how we do it.”

David was taken aback. “How could you even suggest that? You know I'd never fool around with Michael's wife. We're more than political colleagues, we're friends!”

“So I keep hearing,” Dudley said, his voice dry. “But if my idea is so far-fetched, why are you getting so agitated?” Dudley cradled the phone between his shoulder and head while he freshened his drink. “Besides, I haven't seen you out and about with any eligible women lately, which means that you're probably doing something that can get you in a lot more trouble than flirting with Raven.” Dudley laughed to soften his words, but if he could have seen David's eyes, he would've known that they hit the mark.

David wiped his brow and thought about Erika. Since their driveway escapade he'd driven to Austin three times in two weeks. They ordered in and spent all their time in Erika's bed. David felt like a field hand more than ever, but he was hooked.

“As a matter of fact, Dudley,” he began, “there is something you should know about, just in case I ever need a quick alibi.”

 

 

As they sat across from each other, Raven and David were pictures of perfection. David's royal blue sweater enhanced the blackness of his smooth skin and his goatee brought attention to his lips, which were thin by Raven's standards, but sexy nonetheless. He looked hot, but Raven was hotter. She hadn't forgotten the way David looked at her at the Juneteenth fund-raiser when Erika walked up. In the hotel lobby in Lufkin, she'd gotten under his skin and she knew it. Since then David had been polite but distant, and Raven wasn't used to men holding her at arm's length. David needed to be initiated into the Raven Holloway Joseph Fan Club. He'd flubbed his prior invitations, but no man could permanently resist Raven's offer to worship her. She wasn't having it.

As soon as David called to ask her to lunch, Raven had buzzed Genie. “Call the salon, tell them I'm coming and I want everything: hair, nails, makeup. Then call Cheryl at Saks and tell her to pick out something ultrasexy for me. Have her bring it to the salon.” She started to hang up, but then added, “I doubt that anyone needs reminding, but just in case, tell them I'm not one to be kept waiting.”

Raven and Michael made a striking couple, but Raven and David looked like a world-famous photographer had paired them for the ultimate photo shoot. David could feel the buzz they generated. When he'd been close to her on other occasions David had deliberately avoided really looking at Raven. But sitting directly across from her now, he couldn't tear himself away from her catlike, deep-set eyes, her full lips, and her flawless skin.
As dark chocolate goes, Raven's on the ultrasweet side
, he thought.

“You look . . .” David's words hung between them because her beauty struck him speechless. “That's a nice dress,” he finally said.

Raven didn't say anything. She knew how to make a man squirm.

David started over. “It's good to see you. How's Michael?” He retreated to non-flirtatious ground and stayed there. When the waiter brought their meals, Raven looked at hers and said, “Excuse me, I ordered the mandarin chicken.”

“No, no,” the waiter told her in rushed, broken English. “You order black bean chicken.”

Before Raven could reply, David said to the waiter, “She's right, she ordered the mandarin chicken.”

“No. Black bean,” the waiter insisted.

“You know what—” Raven began, only to be interrupted by David again.

“He doesn't mean any harm, Raven. It's the language barrier—”

“I realize that,” she said, speaking over him in the same light tone she'd been using all along. She looked at the waiter and said, “Black bean chicken is fine. Thank you.”

“That was good of you,” David said once the waiter walked away. “Thanks for not making a scene.”

“What makes you think I'd do that?” Raven asked. She made scenes all the time and enjoyed herself immensely when she did. Raven was the queen of scenes.

“Because I've seen you in action! Remember how you treated that little waitress in Lufkin?” he said. “And black women are scene-makers by definition. You love going off on people who're providing a service. Waiters, flight attendants, store clerks, but especially waiters.”

When Raven didn't respond, he said, “I'm just kidding! You know how much I like to joke around.”

“If you think you can pigeonhole me or any black woman into some definition you've made up, then you're very naive. And you need new jokes.” Raven took a bite of her chicken and then she said, “I ran off that waitress to save you from yourself, David. Something was about to happen that you, as a minister and a key part of my husband's campaign, should have no part of.”

David refused to concede that he might not have been in control of the situation with the waitress in Lufkin. “I still say you misread what was going on, but I know you were trying to help me.”

“Then would you mind treating me with a little respect?”

David blinked. “Not at all,” he said. For a man who ran his mouth all the time, David found himself at a loss for words. Finally, he said, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude.”

“You were, but, no problem,” Raven said. She smiled at him and to David, her lips looked like ripe fruit, ready to be nibbled.

“I assume you asked me to lunch to talk about the faith-based initiative?” Raven asked.

He began by telling Raven about New Word. David started out slowly, because he was still taken aback by the way she'd called him out. But once he started talking about the things he wanted to do with the money, David quickly warmed to the topic.

“I want to start a program that pairs retired businesspeople with young entrepreneurs. And I want to bring in retired teachers to help students study for the SAT. My goal is to get Ivy League scholarships for at least five south Dallas kids every year. And every child with natural intelligence and a drive to succeed who comes through the New Word program is going to get into somebody's college. “

Raven was impressed. “I've met with about five ministers so far, and they've got some good ideas, but they're all the same. Nobody's come up with ideas as far reaching as yours.” Raven leaned forward with her elbows on the table and her hands clasped together. “You've got a passion for these things, I can tell. You get this look in your eyes just like Michael does.”

“Michael and I aren't the only ones,” David replied. Raven was displaying more than a little passion herself. David's energy was contagious, and as she listened to him, Raven forgot about how nice her hair looked and how her new dress showed off her cleavage. She didn't make any moves calculated to be sexy the way she usually did; she just acted naturally. Which, of course, made her even more alluring.

David stopped talking and listened to Raven expound on his dream. She posed questions on everything from when David thought he could get his program up and running to how he'd convince an A-list, black filmmaker to do a documentary on New Word. Then she helped David figure out the answers.

In January, when he and Raven had debated whether Michael should run for governor, David had realized that Raven was smart, but he hadn't appreciated how her intellect changed her. Raven's eyes alight with a fresh idea were infinitely more alluring than her usual sexy gaze. When she unself-consciously brushed her hair from her face, as opposed to performing her studied hair toss, David felt the urge to reach across the table and caress her cheek.

When their desserts came, Raven sat back in her seat. She enjoyed a spoonful of her ice cream. “Ahh,” she sighed. “Wouldn't it be nice if you could really do all those things?”

“I can,” David said with quiet confidence. “And if I didn't believe it before, I do now. You've convinced me.”

“David, your church's share of the money probably won't fully fund one of your programs, let alone everything we've talked about.”

David threw up his hands in exasperation. “But what about what you just said? Every idea I pitched, you loved. And any holes in my plans, you filled in. How could you be so into my program and not get behind it?”

“Helping you talk through the kinks wasn't personal, it was an academic exercise for me,” Raven said blithely. “Just because I enjoy figuring things out doesn't mean I'd be willing to award your church more money than it deserves.” She licked her spoon and gave David a mischievous smile. “At least not without a whole lot more information.”

David, who had ordered a slice of pie for dessert, took his spoon, reached over, and dug into Raven's ice cream. “I should be annoyed with you,” he said. “I have a feeling that would get me nowhere fast. If it's more information you need, then I'm going to do my personal best to give it to you.”

 

 

Minshew knew that this time, Raven wouldn't hang up on him. He could feel it—today would be his lucky day. Just in case his luck didn't hold, Minshew had a backup plan. He had a crib sheet with key lines to his speech written on it to prevent him from fumbling around for the right words the way he had during his prior calls to her. He might be able to write a newspaper column in under two hours, but it took Minshew two days to perfect his conversational tidbits for his call to Raven. He went over it again (really, six more times) before he dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Jerry Mi—”

Click
.

 

 

“I didn't realize we had an appointment,” Raven said. She was sitting in her office at Michael's campaign headquarters. She made a mental note to give Genie a stern dressing down as soon as her unexpected guest left.