Lily White Lies(90)

The engine ran as I sat with one hand frozen to the shifter, the other grasping the wheel, staring at the same Thunderbird we parked next to the other day. I felt my heart rate increase and swallowed hard in attempt to beat back my racing nerves.

Pushing the shifter into park, I whispered, “Give’em hell,” and stepped out of the car.

I don’t know which was stronger on the walk to the front door, the force pulling me toward it, or the force pushing me every step of the way.

After the loud knock, I held my breath in anticipation of who would answer the door. I expected Ivory but knew Joker could surprise me.

The door opened slowly and I exhaled when I saw Ivory standing with her hands on her hips and a sly smile on her face.

“I knew you’d be back,” she said.

“I didn’t.”

She motioned me in, offering me something to drink. When I declined, she smiled and pointed toward the French doors at the end of the hall.

“He’s a person, Meg... an ornery, obnoxious, mean streak of a man, but still, just a person,” she said, as she disappeared through another door.

I did a quick once over, smoothing my hair back, straightening my clothes and rolling my neck to loosen my muscles before knocking twice.

“What the hell is it now, Ivory?”

Casting my eyes upward, I whispered, “God, give me strength,” as I turned the handle and took a step inside.





Twenty-Seven





...He was holding an old, wooden box the size of a hatbox. Like the tree at the pond, it bore carved affections of one-time loves. Rather than taking his seat behind the desk, he stopped directly in front of me. My nerves stood on end waiting for him to speak...





Joker had his head buried in paperwork and never looked up as I entered. For a split second, I saw his dismissal of me as my last chance to turn and run, but instead, I coughed into my hand and waited for him to acknowledge my presence.

I stood motionless as he raised his head.

“What the hell... who let you in?” he complained, looking over the top of his reading glasses.

I felt my insides quiver and wondered if he could see it.

“I’d like to talk to you.”

Tossing his glasses to the desk, he asked, “What the hell for? You said more than I wanted to hear the last time you were here.”

I knew he would never invite me to sit, so I walked over to the chair I occupied on my last visit and sat defiantly.

With wide eyes, he asked, “Exactly what do you think you’re doing? What is it, are you selling something, I’ll buy as many as I have to if it’ll get rid of you, you hear what I’m saying?”

With one of my hands wrapped tightly around the other, I replied, “I’m not selling anything. I want something from you.”

I trembled when his hand cracked down on the desk.

“Now there’s a goddam surprise. An Embry wanting something from me.”

My eyes never leaving his. I swallowed hard and said, “Listen, I don’t care how rude you are to me, I’m not leaving until I get what I came for. So unless you want a dinner guest, you should listen to me.”

He leaned back resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, as he held one finger from his clasped hands to his lips. He stared at me for several of the most awkward moments of my life before speaking.

Leaning forward, he calmly said, “I get the feeling you don’t like me very much.”

I was stunned. “Like you? You’re not exactly likeable you know, but then again, you don’t like anyone?” I hesitated. “Do you like anyone?”

He let out a short laugh and said, “I like everyone as long as they don’t bother me.”

I found his sudden calmness a little eerie, but didn’t let that interfere with what I came for.

“Have you always been so mean?”

He shot, “Have you always been so disrespectful?” right back at me.

“You’re rich, why don’t you buy yourself something useful... like manners or a personality!”

Shaking a finger at me, he said, “You know... you’re annoying...”

“I don’t...”

He cut me off with a look that paralyzed my speech. Once he had my attention, he said, “Don’t interrupt me,” bowing slightly, he added an emphasized, “please.”

Pacing behind his desk, he continued, “You’re annoying... but... I like you... for an Embry that is.”

I didn’t know if he expected me to say anything or if he would get upset if I said anything without his permission, but it didn’t matter, his compliment—left-handed as it was—left me verbally impaired.

“You remind me of my grandson’s mother... Sally... too much sass for her own goddam good, but I like her.” Looking at me through cynical eyes, he added, “And that’s nothing she needs to know.”