Page 21 of A Lifetime in 30 Days
“I don’t like this,” Jamaica said. “I know you don’t have all the details, but I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
Easing her head up from where she’d momentarily let it rest on Ronni’s shoulder, Vanna replied, “And you’re the one who gets to stand on the other side of the locked cell door. Imagine how I’m feeling.”
“I did imagine it,” Jamaica replied. “All last night while we were waiting to hear from you, I was picturing you in there, and my stomach twisted. But what I’m saying is, I don’t feel good about where this might lead. Caleb obviously got you mixed up in something.”
“We haven’t even been talking that much these last few months. I mean, not like the every couple of weeks he used to hit me up, asking if we could talk.” She’d been amazed that all these years after their separation, Caleb had still thought they had something to talk about. She always declined, and when he’d finally stopped completely, she couldn’t lie—it had been a weird change for her.
“Is this lawyer any good?” Ronni asked.
“I asked around about him at work today,” Jamaica said. “He’s damn good. If I’d heard anything different, I would’ve called you and told you to find someone else. He’s pretty expensive too, so let me know if you need anything to get this taken care of.”
“Oh, yeah, right. I have some money in my private account too,” Ronni said. “I can help out.”
Ronni worked as a part-time secretary at the elementary school where Wyatt, her seven-year-old, attended. Her middle child and only girl, Tasia, was four and attended the church day care, along with Jonah, during the hours she was at work.
Vanna shook her head. “I don’t want you dipping into your private stash,” she told Ronni, and prayed they would avoid the conversation of whether women should keep a separate bank account from their spouses. They’d had it so many times, and where it had exhausted Vanna before, considering the present circumstances, she definitely didn’t want to go through it again.
“Don’t get all proud on us,” Jamaica said. “You know how we roll. If either of us are in need, we’ve got each other’s back.”
And that was true, had been for as long as Vanna could recall. But just as she’d never imagined herself being in jail, she couldn’t even fathom accepting money from her friends to get her out of this legal trouble.
“Aden paid for it already,” she blurted out, and noted the raised brows and widened eyes of both her friends seconds before the doorbell rang.
Vanna jumped at the sound and so did Frito, who’d been sleeping at the edge of the blanket where Ronni had been sitting. Now he jumped his compact little body up and charged through the room and down the couple of stairs to the door, barking like he was a pit bull instead of a noisy little runt.
“Who in the world?” Granny said, echoing everybody’s thoughts as she came back into the living room area. “It’s eleven o’clock at night. You got a booty call you ain’t tell us about, Vannie?”
Standing, Vanna ignored that question.
Jamaica snickered. “Lord knows, she needs one right about now.”
Granny made it to the door just as Vanna started down the stairs, and they both froze in shock once they saw the person on the other side.
“Hey,” Aden said, giving Granny a surprised smile. Frito was at his feet, dancing around and continuing his barking greeting. “Hey, little guy. Good to see you again.”
Vanna watched as Aden eased down into a squat and scrubbed behind Frito’s ears the way she sometimes did.
“Boy, what are you doing here at this time of night?” Granny asked, taking the words right out of Vanna’s mouth again.
When Aden stood once more, his gaze found Vanna’s, and he waved. Then he returned his attention to Granny. “Ah, I was in the neighborhood, coming back from a networking event, and thought I’d stop by to see how Vanna was doing.”
Granny folded her arms over her chest. “You know what time it is?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do. And I apologize for the late hour. I thought about getting in touch with Vanna earlier today, but I didn’t have her phone number.” He was actually standing there answering Granny’s questions, like he was a teenage boy knocking on her door at this time of night.
When she was a teenager, all Vanna’s boyfriends and boyfriends(romanticandplatonic) had known of Granny’s wicked tongue and were trained not to knock on her door after eight at night.
“So, you don’t have her phone number, but you have her address? Tell me how that works?” Granny asked.
Vanna walked down the last step and came to put a hand on Granny’s shoulder. “I can take it from here,” she said, giving her grandmother a light smile, then turning the same to Aden.
“I know you can, but I have questions,” Granny continued.
“And I’ll get the answers,” Vanna told her. “Now, please get your dog before he wakes up the entire neighborhood or runs out into the street. Neither of which I feel like dealing with tonight.”
“Hmpff,” was Granny’s only response, before she bent down and scooped up her dog, then walked back up the stairs.
Vanna waited until she heard her grandmother’s slippered feet shuffling across the living room floor before she spoke again. “Howdidyou get my address?” she asked him.
