Page 14 of Happy Is On Hiatus
“No,” Rita snapped back. “We go upside their head.” She was tired of taking the high road.
Jemel started pulling Rita back at that point. “That’s enough. You know she’s full of herself. Let’s just go.”
“She’s not gonna accuse my family members of stealing some stupid flowerpot and get away with it!” Rita yelled.
Rita never yelled. Not even at her daughters, who could certainly push the envelope on her nerves. The rest of the attendees had stood as well, some of them turning and walking out the door. Others came closer to the table as if they were ready for the entertainment an altercation between Rita and Ethel was sure to be. May Young, a twentysomething who’d just moved in about a year ago with her boyfriend and two loud and annoying shih tzu dogs, had her phone out filming everything.
It took a few more minutes for Omar and Jemel to get Rita outside, and when they did, she pulled away from their grasps. Wiping her hands down the front of her blouse and pants like she’d somehow gotten dirty by just arguing, Rita shook her head.
“You cool now?” Omar asked.
The glare she tossed at him was enough of an answer as Omar threw up both his hands in mock surrender.
“How ’bout we go to my place and have a drink?” Jemel asked.
“I don’t need a drink,” Rita replied and lifted a hand to fix her hair.
It was probably just fine, not one strand out of place, as usual. Just like the black capris and crisp white T-shirt she wore with cute velvet, black jeweled sandals was a casual-chic outfit. The hair, the outfit, her attitude (sans Ethel stepping way out of line), all of it was Rita’s signature, along with her steady and relaxed attitude. Today just wasn’t her day. And something deep inside warned tomorrow and the days that followed weren’t going to be much better.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out with a quiet sigh, Rita continued, “I’m going home.”
“We’ll come with you. I’m sure you have something left over from last night we can use to calm our nerves after that little incident.” Omar rubbed a hand over his mouth and gave an exaggerated look back at the clubhouse.
“I don’t need a drink.” Her response was quick and sassy, as her mother would’ve said if she were here. “I’m going home. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Before she turned away, she glanced at Omar. “Both of you.”
That was her apology to Omar for biting his head off ... twice. He wisely accepted it in silence and stood by Jemel as they both watched her walk away.
Chapter 7
GO FOR THE BALLS, AND SQUEEZE UNTIL HE PASSES OUT.
“So, you dodged a bullet,” Malik Jennings said the moment Sharae climbed into the passenger side of the car and closed the door, a little after one o’clock that afternoon.
Reaching for the seat belt, she frowned and said, “Barely.”
Malik’s wry chuckle seconds before he pulled out of the station parking lot was familiar. They’d been partners for three years, had investigated over a hundred murder cases together, and had spent more time in each other’s company than Sharae had with any other man—not related—in her life.
“His comments were basically ‘I should write you up,’ and ‘Get your shit together,’ all tied in with that I-expect-nothing-less-from-a-woman-like-you glare. I swear I hate it here,” she groaned.
Both of them knew that last part was a lie. Sharae didn’t hate her job; to the contrary, she loved every second of being a cop. She was living her dream.
“Hall’s old school,” Malik said, referring to the captain of the homicide division. “But he can also be an ass.”
One of the things she admired about Malik was his ability to see through all the crap in their business and get right down to the truth. At least he’d been that way until a case they’d worked a few months back where Malik had gotten caught up with his high school sweetheart who’d also been a suspect. They’d spent weeks after the case was closed going over all the reasons why he should’ve backed out of investigating it, so his next comment was no surprise to Sharae.
“You could’ve just called me and had me go over there,” he said before making a left turn. “I mean, you had to know it was gonna come down to this.”
Unable to hide her defensive tone, she asked, “How was I supposed to know what was going on before I got there? She’s my cousin, and she never even double-parks, let alone breaks any laws. It freaked me out to hear her address coming over the scanner.”
Glancing over, she saw Malik nod. His complexion was a shade darker than hers, and he sported a thin mustache-and-goatee combo lined as perfectly as his close-cropped wavy black hair. They were going to follow up on some leads, so he wore a light-gray suit, white shirt, and a gray-and-white tie that she knew was probably silk and ridiculously expensive. Malik loved clothes, casual and dress. He looked good in all of them and knew it too.
“I get that, but what’d you tell me before? A few seconds to think things through would’ve saved a couple of hours of misery.”
“That’s not what I said, and this is not the same.” She looked out the window. “You were sleeping with a suspect.”
“And this time you’d been at the suspect’s house hours earlier, drinking and line dancin’ in the grass. Same personal link.”
Shaking her head, she continued, “Different circumstances entirely. Rita isn’t a murder suspect.”
