CHAPTER 29
Mona
November 2010
Interrupting their laughter, Sally said, “Here you go, suga. This note here is for you,” handing Mona a piece of paper.
Mona frowned, stared at the note, at Davis, at the waitress who wasn’t theirs, then exhaled. “Who sent this?”
“Don’t know his name, suga. Just doing what he asked.”
Davis chimed in, “His name?”
“She doesn’t have to read it, suga. It’s not for you,” Sally said, walking away.
Reaching for the note, Davis asked, “You want me to read it for you? Or is this ‘top secret’ too?”
Mona pulled the paper close to her breasts. “Davis, don’t start.” Her Southern drawl became gentle with compassion. “If my twenty-four hours ended right now, this day has been the best of my life in quite some time. The way you just teased my pussy with your tongue in your truck until I came in your mouth, still has me tremblin’ inside.”
He frowned, then smiled. Sat up straight, thrust his chest forward.
Men. Predictable.
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I have no regrets for anything we’ve done over the past six months. I want to keep it that way. Forget the twenty-four hours to live thing. You deserve your own day for us to do whatever you want. At eleven o’clock in the morning, when my twenty-four hours are up, a tour bus is picking us up and we’re picking up your family, and we’re going to Disneyland.”
Davis opened his mouth to speak. Mona shook her head. “No buts. That’s final.”
Mona unfolded the paper once. Her cell phone dinged twice like a butter knife against an empty crystal glass. “See, perfect timing. That’s probably the bus driver confirming our trip.”
Davis frowned but didn’t speak.
She paused, picked up her cell phone. Smiled, giggled, then burst into a joyful laughter that permeated throughout the café as she silently read, Hey, princess. Hope you don’t mind. Got your # from your mom. It’s your knight in shining armor. I’m living in Seattle now. Come see me. Wherever you are, get a ticket today and I’ll reimburse you when you get here. Lincoln.
Princess? Was the text meant for her or Katherine? No, he’d said he called her mom for her number. And her mom gave it to him? That meant his message was definitely intended for her. If she left now, packed her suitcase, hit I-5, and drove north, she could be in Lincoln’s arms by eleven o’clock tomorrow night.
The more she tried to contain her excitement, the more she felt joy expanding. Any moment she could burst, scream with anticipation. Maybe the note in her hand was from Lincoln too. Maybe he’d come to Bakersfield to sweep her off her feet the way he should’ve done graduation day. She’d prayed for him every day, but she’d stopped praying that one day they’d reunite. Maybe he really did love her more than he loved Katherine.
“You okay?” Davis asked.
Mona dug in her purse, pushed her gun aside, checked the side pocket. Her silver band and her genie troll with the pink hair were there. “Yeah.” She beamed, kissed her doll, then shoved it back in the side pocket. “I’m real good. Give me a minute. I’ve gotta go pee,” Mona said, clenching the note and her phone in the same hand as she stood. “Keep an eye on my purse.”
She scurried to the back of the restaurant, entered the ladies’ room, locked the door. “Ahh! Oh, my gosh! I can’t believe it! William Lincoln texted me. Me!” she yelled, jumping high in the air. She settled herself, lined the toilet with two seat covers, pulled down her pants, sat, then opened the note.
A puff of air shot from her mouth. The momentum escaped her body as she read each word. Why was he determined to make her life miserable? He hadn’t contacted her since the night she’d ignored his call at the hotel six months ago. His chasing Davis’s truck like a fool that day in front of Tina Marie’s Café didn’t matter to her. She thought he’d moved on. She never should’ve married him, moved from Selma to Bakersfield with him. She should’ve filed for a divorce, but she still didn’t know what he’d told the police. Mona never loved Steven the way he loved her. He was obsessed. Kinda like she was with Lincoln.
“Damnit, Steven!” She flushed the note down the toilet, marched to their table, told Davis, “Wait here, I’ll be right back,” then stormed outside.
Crunch. Crunch. The rubber soles of her tennis shoes—the same shoes she’d worn the day she’d left him—marched toward the Pepsi marquee with the words KNOTTY PINE CAFÉ. Cars zoomed by the two-way road. Houses with piles of stuff some would call junk were on the other side of the road. She did a one-eighty, hiked between rows of parked cars. The crunch beneath her feet echoed in her ears. There he stood, damn fool that he was, staring at her. A few feet from the restaurant’s back door, Mona made her way to the Dumpster.
“What, Steven, what! What the hell do you want now?” she yelled.
“I want you to stop seeing him, that’s what.”
Mona looked around. Her gun was inside her purse. Her purse was with Davis. Probably best. In the heat of the moment she was positive she’d shoot Steven if she had her weapon.
She replied with the same demanding tone, “The hell I will. Even if it weren’t him, it sure as hell will never be you again.”
“If you’re not coming back to me, I’m sending you back home to Selma and you’re staying there! Your only other option . . . listen to me!” he yelled, grabbing her arm. He yanked her close to his chest, then whispered in her ear, “Your only other option is to room with Sarah McKenny.”
Her first thought, knee him in the groin. Instead she pushed him away. Her fingers curled into fists, slammed atop each hip.
“I’m a grown-ass woman, Steven, and I have enough money to live any damn where I please and I don’t need your permission! And I wish you would try to frame me.”
An unknown man passing by said to Steven, “Let her go, man. Take it from me. You can’t keep a woman that doesn’t want to be kept. It’s not always cheaper to keep her. If she’s miserable, you’re going to be miserable too,” then got in his car and drove away.
“You heard the man,” Mona said, raising her hands toward the sky.
Steven gripped her wrist. “Shut up and let’s go.” He pulled her toward him. “You’ve gone too far with this Davis guy. Get over him,” he said, wrapping his lips around a cigarette.
Breaking his hold, Mona spat at his feet. “Even if I wasn’t with Davis, I ain’t never coming back to you.”
Exhaling smoke in her face, he retorted, “I’m not asking you, Mona,” then grabbed her biceps.
This time she slapped his face hard as she could to let him know she wasn’t playing by his rules anymore. His cigarette fell to the ground. She jerked her arm away. Stepped back. “It’s over between us. Over, you hear me. Accept it.”
His broad shoulders squared back as he rubbed his jaw. His dark brown eyes narrowed. Six feet of once-upon-a-time, melt-in-her-mouth caramel stood before her. But the only man her appetite craved was Lincoln. The prayers she’d given up on had been answered.
Laughing, Steven lit another cigarette, then said, “Are you serious?” Swallowing his cynical laugh, inches from her face, he grunted. “It’s not over until I say so. And I’m never going to say so. Understood? Go inside and get your purse from him. Or should I go get it for you?”
“Stay away from me, Steven. I’m not coming back to you. That’s final.”
His voice escalated with each word. “Don’t tell me what’s final! I say when things are final!” Then he whispered, “And don’t forget what I do for a living. Don’t make me choose which hat to wear for you.” His lips locked around the filter. He inhaled long and hard, then blew smoke in her face again. He plucked the cigarette to the ground.
“I’m doing what’s best for you,” she said. “You really should thank me.”
Steven wasn’t her first, second, or third choice of man. He was most available and the best provider. Now that she had a second chance with the only man she’d ever loved, Steven didn’t know he’d already lost this battle.
Steven leaned his head back, opened his mouth wide, then roared with laughter. His eyes narrowed, lips tightened. He stooped, stared at Mona. “Slut, you weren’t thinking about what was best for me when you were fucking him. Earlier your ass was screwing him in public. Then you’re so horny, you got your feet so high in the air pressed against his windshield, that neither of you noticed me. Guess you were too busy cuming, then putting your nasty-ass drawers back on,” Steven lamented, shoving her. “I should kill him and you too!”
Stepping on the burning cigarette lying between them, she boldly told him, “And don’t forget I’m better than you. I have evidence that could get you life without the pos-si-bi-li-ty of parole. That’s right. I stashed away video footage that’ll link you to every murder you’ve committed. Don’t make me testify against you, Steven. I’m serious. Dead serious.”
Steven lit another cigarette. “You’ve got exactly”—he glanced at his watch—“seven hours. I’m not playing with you. Tonight. Midnight. The top of Thanksgiving Day. If you’re not back in our house by midnight, Mona,” he said, tossing the cigarette to the ground. “There you go. More evidence. Videotape that. I don’t give a fuck what you claim to have!”
He smashed the burning tobacco into the gravel with the tip of his shoe, emptied the remaining cigarettes in the pack on her head. “Be grateful that I still love you. Because if I didn’t—” He stopped midsentence, then slowly walked away.
“I hate you, Steven Cunningham! I hate you.” She saw Davis headed her way, toting her purse. Mona shouted louder, “I love Davis! You hear me,” she lied out loud again to piss Steven off more.“I love Davis!”
Mona stomped on the cigarettes repeatedly. Tobacco spilled between the gravel. Davis stood holding her purse.
Mona snatched her bag from Davis and said, “Let’s go . . . I’m staying the night at your house.”
By the time Davis would awaken, she’d be on a flight to Seattle.