Say Nothing... (The Speak Series Book 2) (11 page)

"What's going on?" I ask impatiently.

"Mr. Benton just called on my line. He can't get through to you. He said he's been trying but the phone is going straight to voicemail and you haven't answered your cell," she says frantically. I pull open my desk drawer and see five missed calls from his number.

"I know. Sorry, it's been like this for the last ten minutes. Every time I hang up one line, another one lights up. Did he say what happened?"

"He told me to tell you to turn the answering service on and that they were on their way back. It was really noisy in the background, so it was hard to hear anything else. We got disconnected shortly after. It sounded like he was in a hurry," she says shrugging.

"That's weird. Let me see if it says anything online." I immediately do a Google search of Timothy Lemon's name. A breaking news alert pops up on the top of my search a few seconds later.

Breaking News: Real Estate Mogul Timothy Lemon Exonerated Of All Charges.
According to the LAPD, at about 11:30pm Tuesday evening Melissa Martin was arrested for driving under the influence and reckless endangerment. Melissa Martin is the estranged wife of Louis Martin, former lover of Patricia Lemon. Louis Martin was also a suspect in the death of Patricia Lemon, but substantial evidence was never discovered.

According to witnesses, Mrs. Martin was driving recklessly down Pacific Coast Highway when her car veered into oncoming traffic and collided with another vehicle. The driver of that vehicle was airlifted to a local hospital where it was noted he sustained internal injuries and is currently on life support. Should the driver not survive, Mrs. Martin faces vehicular manslaughter charges.

Mrs. Martin's alcohol level is said to have been three times the legal limit of 0.8% for the state of California. While being arrested, officers said she was mumbling about the death of Patricia Lemon. She claimed to be involved in her death and was said to be inconsolable during questioning. Details of whether Mrs. Martin was actually involved in the murder have not been released to the media, but resources say that new evidence has been discovered. Upon this new development, the judge exonerated Mr. Lemon of all charges during today's scheduled proceedings. Timothy Lemon was set to take the stand this Friday and faced charges of murder in the first degree.

"Holy shit. Look,” I say to Hilda, pointing at my computer screen.

She makes her way around my desk and reads the news story over my shoulder.

"Wow. It's over," she says dumbfounded.

Hours and hours of work down the drain with a snap of a finger. My cell rings and Ben's name flashes across the screen.

"I'll let you get back to it, honey," Hilda says patting my shoulder.

I nod and answer my cell. "Hello?"

"Hey babe, have you heard? It's breaking news on every channel."

"Yeah, I just found out. The phones started going crazy. I just looked it up online but haven't gotten any of the details from Mr. Benton and Mr. Warner. They aren't back yet. They had to call Hilda to get a hold of me. They should be here any minute."

"Okay. I won't keep you. It sounds like you're gonna be busy for the rest of the day. Are you still meeting Vonne tonight?"

"Yeah, we're gonna grab a quick bite then get our nails done."

"Okay. I have a few things I have to do before tomorrow, so I'll just see you when you get in. Careful driving home. I love you."

That silly grin resurfaces. "I love you, too. I'll see you tonight."

Mr. Benton and Mr. Warner returned to the offices shortly after my call with Ben. They filled me in on all the details, and surprisingly, they didn't have much more to add. Everyone is still in a bit of shock. I got a jump-start on some of the new cases, and with the voicemail picking up calls the rest of the afternoon, I was able to get a lot done.

I leave the office just in time to meet Vonne and send her a quick text to tell her I'm on my way.

I pull up to Happy Nails about a quarter to seven. I see Vonne already chatting with Kathy as I park. We've been getting our nails done here since our freshman year of high school. Our manicurists, Kathy and Wendy, have seen us through every winter formal, prom, and special event.

"Hi, sweetie, good to see you. I set you up next to your pal over there," Kathy says, pointing to the spa chair next to Vonne. A glass of wine is waiting for me on a small table separating the two pedicure stations.

"Hey, lady,” Vonne says with a small wave.

"Hey, yourself. So are you ready for tomorrow?" I ask.

"I think so," she says with a shrug.

"You've worked your ass off for four years and the best you can give me is a shrug and a meh? I thought I'd at least get a booty twerk or something." She laughs.

"I don't know. I'm excited but just a little worried about the internship and the move."

"And?" I ask.

"And? That's it. There's just a lot I still have to do," she replies.

"Bullshit . . .” I cough out, and it warrants me a long sigh.

"I know you. That pouty lip has guy problems written all over it. So don't sit there and try to B.S. that this has anything to do with San Diego." The side of her mouth curls up in a grin, and she shakes her head.

"You know I really hate you sometimes," she says, frustrated.

Melting into the massage chair I submerge my bare feet into the warm lavender scented water. Taking a sip from my glass of chilled Moscato, the soothing jets begin to relax my aching feet. My eyes close, and a contented sigh escapes before responding.

"Yeah, well, right now I love everyone. So just spit it out."

"It's Eli."

"You two still haven't figured your shit out? Is he still acting weird?" I ask.

She releases a frustrated sigh. "He wants to be exclusive."

"Okay, you're killing me, smalls. At first, you were bummed because he seemed spooked, and now, it's the opposite. I'm confused. What the hell do you want?"

"I'm gonna mess this up. You know me. I don't do exclusive very well."

"You've never tried," I retort.

"I did for a while in high school, remember, and you saw how well that went. Jason still hates my damn guts."

Jason Cruz. She crushed on him our whole junior year of high school. He asked her to our junior prom, and I thought for sure it would stick. She ended up hooking up with his cousin at the after party.

"We were sixteen, Vonne. Who in the hell is serious at that age? Plus, I don't blame you. His cousin was freaking hot," I say with a grin.

"He's a really good guy, Relz. I don't want to hurt him."

"You can't worry about things that haven't happened yet. Without sounding like your AA sponsor, just take it one day at a time." That gets me a laugh.

"Now, stop worrying and just have a little fun."

"Ugh . . . fine. You're right. So what's going on with you? I saw your boss on the news."

"Yeah, I think they're still in shock. We just jumped right into the next case. Those two never rest."

"So is Ben excited about tomorrow?" she asks.

"I think he's just excited to start his internship. Being at home doing nothing is driving him insane. I caught him the other day organizing my medicine cabinet." We both laugh.

"Aww . . . poor guy. So is this shacking up thing going to be permanent or . . . ?" she asks waggling her eyebrows.

"We haven't talked about it. He's waiting until after graduation to figure things out. The house is tied up in a trust account, and he can't make any decisions without his uncle. So we'll see what happens."

"What's up with him? He seemed to take off pretty quick on Sunday. I mean he didn't even wait around to see if you were okay. That's weird."

I tense at her question. "I don't know. Supposedly, he got a call from work and needed to get back to the hotel for something."

"Hmm . . . I don't know. Something’s strange about him. I can't put my finger on it. Alba thought so too. Is he going to be there tomorrow?"
No, thank God, 
is how I want to respond.

"No, he had to get back to work. Did I tell you he's touring with the band Memory Eraser?" I say trying to distract her. She's a huge fan.

"Holy shit. No, you didn't tell me that."

"Yeah, I guess he worked with them when they were just starting out, and they asked him to do the sound for their tour."

"So will we get to meet Jalen Jeffrey?" she asks looking hopeful.

"Easy there, stalker. I'm not even sure Ben likes his uncle, let alone has a relationship where he can ask for favors."

"Well, what's the point of having a boyfriend who has a hookup to a rock god when you can't use it? BOO," she says sticking her tongue out at me.

We finish our appointments without any more talk of Amos. We're both starved after our hour of pampering and decide to hit up our favorite hole-in-the-wall burger joint we frequented as kids. With our bellies full and hours of catching up behind us, we decide to call it a night.

"All right, lady, I'm gonna head out. I'll see you tomorrow," I say reaching out for a hug.

"Okay. I'll be the one with the cap and gown," she says laughing.

"I'll make sure to look for you." Damn smartass.

"I'll text you tomorrow to let you know where we're going for dinner."

"Sounds like a plan," she says before getting into her car.

I send Ben a quick text and head home.

I LOOK OUT TO THE
group of thousands currently filling Founders Park. The day I've worked years to achieve is finally here. I sit with the other hundred-plus students and scan the crowd for Ari. She was a nervous wreck this morning. The thought of having to sit through my ceremony with my mother had her completely rattled. My only hope is that Eli and Andrew do a good job playing interference.

We shouldn't be too long; this is the shorter of the two ceremonies. I was only allowed two tickets to the larger one held this morning. It was an easy decision because I wasn’t going to exclude Ari so my mom could bring Andrew. I'm sure that didn't help my mother's mood, but she'll just have to deal. This one is for pre-law students only.

Vonne's name is called first and a small roar from the crowd erupts to my left. Glittery poster boards are being held up and a loud foghorn sounds. I smile as she beams toward the crowd. She shakes a few hands, accepts her diploma, and heads off the stage. We go through this at least a hundred times until they finally reach the letter R.

"Benjamin Rodriguez.” My name is called over the loudspeaker, and the feeling is so surreal. I hear the loud cheers, and although I'm happy for this day, the feeling is bittersweet knowing that my Nana Rosemarie isn't here to see it. I reach the stage and repeat the process done by all the other graduates and head back to my seat. An empty diploma holder sits on my lap as I wait impatiently for this to end.