“Top shelf of the fridge,” I respond with a sigh. “I never said anything happened. I’m just saying that I shouldn’t have… I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for…”
“It’s just dick, Aricia. Calm down,” Rana says, punctuating her statement with a loud pop as she gets the cork off my prosecco. “Kennard didn’t stop himself from getting dick when he wanted it.”
She smirks and even if I want to be mad at her, I can’t blame her for making light of the situation. I lowkey forced my trauma on her. I grab a flute for some of that prosecco and my best friend takes the hint, making me a drink.
She’s the only one sober by the time we have to drive to the funeral home.
I give everyone at the firm two days off for Kennard’s funeral. Rumors are already spreading around the office thanks to Inessa. It’s her life and her story to tell, so I can’t blame her, but I don’t want to put myself through this ordeal along with the additional humiliation of my employees gossiping about my marriage. When they go low, we go higher.
Kennard’s family came up to Buffalo from Atlanta – his parents are both retired doctors and I don’t think they had any idea about how their son behaved when there was nobody looking.
They came with his two sisters – Keyonah, the oldest of the two is in her early twenties and I think she might be attending college somewhere in the Midwest. The other sister is around seventeen years old, and it’s weird that I was together with her brother so long that I remember when Kamilla was born.
I don’t make it through the funeral or the repast without medical assistance, but I at least stay for the whole thing. We arranged to have the will read the day after the funeral so that Kennard’s family can get back to Georgia. I know what’s in his will and even if I know what’s in there, it still scares me to think…
It’s all mine.
I thought I wouldn’t be able to leave my ex-husband without losing at least half of what I’d built. Kennard would obviously fight every claim in court and I thought I would have to quitcriminal defense and take up something more calming like estate planning.
But everything is mine – Plant, Parker & Nigel, LLC belongs to me… And my cheating ex-husband is no longer a problem.
Kennard’s life insurance payout leaves me with an additional $2.5 million dollars in cash – more than enough to leave the Orchard Park house if I want to. He leaves $500,000 to his parents and his speed boat to his father. He leaves his Airstream camper van to his younger sister, Kamilla, and $75,000 to his sister Keyonah, plus a trust for a few of his younger family members.
He might have been a demon, but at least when he died, he took care of his family.
I have mixed feelings when I send them back to Georgia and have to face heading back to work and the office alone.
I’m a woman in my forties accustomed to ignoring my period, so I forget to take Plan B and don’t notice anything when my peri-menopausal ass misses one period…
I totally forget about that wild night at the bar and try to settle into my new normal without Kennard.
Chapter Eight
Peter
It only takes me seven days to track Flora down to Lorenzo and Geralynn Taviani’s house. She claims she was hiding out from whoever drugged us, but I don’t believe a word that comes out of her mouth. I don’t care what she says until I torture her enough to feel confident I’m hearing the truth from her. Unfortunately, I need to get Flora in my custody completely to begin torture.
Geralynn stands in my way – and Renzo’s way quite frankly. Flora sits on their couch with her face in her hands.
“She showed up here out of her mind.”
“And dressed like a skank,” Renzo says. “It reminds me of Nicki the night she drugged you. Why are you so quick to trust her?”
“She’s crying! Plus, I spent the past seven days with her and I can tell she’s not lying,” Geralynn says.
“I should take you upstairs and spank you for your insolence. Stepawayfrom Flora and let her brother sell her to a Moroccan slaver if he chooses.”
This clearly sets off Geralynn in a way that gets in the way of me getting my hands on Flora. I’m boiling with rage. If she hadn’t performed whatever fucked up sleight of hand she got up to at Belladonna’s, maybe Aricia wouldn’t have disappeared onme. I would have said all the right things to keep her coming back. I don’t evenrememberwhat the fuck happened that night, which pisses me off almost as much as it embarrasses me.
“Just when I think you’re making progress on your racism, you say something so goddamn outrageous,” Geralynn snaps at him, taking Flora’s hand into her lap as my sister sobs louder. I glare at her, searching for signs of deception on her weeping face. Geralynn believes her, but clearly Renzo wants her gone, though he’s hardly objective.
“I’ve said nothing wrong. Listen, Peter. I’ll let you have her for only twenty-five grand so I can get Geralynn that new Cartier watch she wants and she’ll forget about Flora by tomorrow.”
Flora whimpers, “I didn’t, I swear!”
“Some CREEP followed her outside the bar and she luckily stole some idiot’s motorcycle and ended up here where I kept her safe,” Geralynn says. “Trust me, Peter. I know you don’t know me but I saw her and there was something wrong.”
“She had alcohol in her system.”
