“I am absolutely going to the council meeting,” she said, looking at him like he was crazy. “The fuck?” he heard her mutter. Then she took a deep breath and laced her fingers in her lap again.
Why was she pretending to be a rational human being all of a sudden?
“Miya is an honorary member of the Women’s Business Club. They say she’s the one that really runs Flemming’s real estate business though Dave Flemming is the one who claims to.”
He didn’t know what she did, but he knew she did something.
Earlier when Peters and Derry dispatched out to Dave Flemming’s office, the report stated that Andy Archer had witnessed Flemming getting handsy with Miya, and likely for the first time in his privileged life, Andy had played the hero and had thrown Dave Flemming to the ground and bloodied his nose. In the report, Peters wrote that Miya was “shaken,” but minimized the situation, stating that the incident was “a miscommunication.”
“In a show of support, Lina and I went toadvocatefor Miya. Given that the young Anderson—and yes, I’m choosing not to hold his lineage against him right now—beat that man’sass, I believed it was my duty to further clarify that if there was ever a hint of Flemming touching Miya again, he’d lose his license, his business, and likely the marriage he was trying to repair, once my lawyer finished with him. This wasn’t the first time she’s had to fight him off, you know.”
He hadn’t known. But in less than two weeks she knew.
“Is it your goal to alienateeverypowerful person in this town?”
“If defending innocent people is something to be alienated over, then yes. Each and every one of those fuckers can kiss my black?—”
“What about you?” he interrupted before she escalated. “Who’s looking out for you?”
The question must have confused her because she didn’t respond immediately. Which wasn’t like her.
“Well...” she began. “From what everyone keeps telling me, you are.”
He looked at her incredulously.
“I know, right!”
She pointed to the road ahead.
“Turn there.”
“That’s the road to my place.”
“I’m aware. I’m staying with you again tonight.”
He slowed down so he didn’t run his vehicle off the road as he searched her face to see if she was bullshitting.
She wasn’t.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve had a long hard day, and I have an even busier day tomorrow. That means I’m gonna have to pass on our little slumber party.”
“Listen Santi, I’m not walking into that house alone at nearly one in the morning after being gone all day. So, A, you can take me to your place, or B, you can spend the
night at mine.”
“I’m getting sick of you and your demands, woman,” he said, turning onto his road.
She smiled dazzlingly at him.
He grunted, refusing to be dazzled.
Lauren walked into Santiago’s kitchen and pulled the few breakfast items she’d purchased in town out of her bags. She placed the coffee next to his coffee maker, placed the honey, peanut butter granola, dates, and sea salt in the overhead cabinet, and placed the ground turkey, eggs, Greek yogurt, and biscuits in the refrigerator. She put some cashews in a jar of water to let them soak overnight then put the plastic grocery bag in the cabinet beneath the sink. Picking up her bag, she joined him in his home office.
It was nearly one in the morning and they’d each worked silently; he at his desk, and her in his worn brown leather reclining chair. She reviewed copies of historic information she found. More than just about the house, she discovered information about the individual family members themselves, and Deborah hadn’t been the youngest to die, but unlike the rest, she hadn’t died with the majority of her family. Lauren also found that not every descendant had died the night of the massacre, but the two believed to have survived had escaped the mountain that night and never returned.
She’d also read about how at one time, land this high up was deemed less valuable than the land closer to civilization. The people that lived this high up were also deemed as less valuable. They were indigenous, both once enslaved and free Black folks, poor Whites, and seeming many other cultures between.
Lauren was shaken awake. Disoriented, she looked up to see Santiago looking down at her, his hair cascading freely over his shoulders. Somehow the soft flow of his hair made the sharp angles of his face appear that much harder.
