Public Affair Read online

  “What we need is to expedite this.” She taps a finger against her crossed leg as she considers our next move. “The longer we fight, the more time it gives them to gather evidence.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Plead guilty. They have you on record admitting to prostitution. We’ll negotiate the sentence down. Serve the time. Get them off your back.”

  I turn the ring between my thumb and forefinger, not liking what Holly’s saying. She was hired to keep me out of prison, not to tell me to go into it willingly. But I have to trust that she knows what she’s doing. Seidi recommended her after Ember’s longtime attorney, Doug Bass, died three months ago from a heart attack. Thankfully, it wasn’t while he was fulfilling his desire with his favorite, number fifty-three.

  “What happens when I plead guilty and they want to know who I’ve been with?”

  “You give them names,” she tells me, dead serious.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Then we hope they don’t ask. But we don’t want them to try by jury, because if they do, they may be able to convince them that you’re a money laundering madam.” She hands me the newspaper she’s holding. “Believe me, you don’t want that.”

  I look at the headline. “Pretty Girl Lost or Madam Luxe? The Fascination with the Mysterious Eva Cage and the Power of Her Black Book.”

  Tossing it onto the coffee table, I say, “I’m not fascinating.”

  “The media thinks you are. They’re certainly fascinated with that black book. Which is exactly why we need to end this before any real evidence is found. We go in with our heads down. Appear repentant.”

  “They can’t prove anything.”

  “It doesn’t matter. If this is a jury trial, you can be convicted with circumstantial evidence. Our best shot is getting a bench trial. And we need a lenient judge. Judge Abernathy is anything but.”

  At the sound of his name, I raise a brow. “Is that who’s been assigned?”

  “Yes. Why? Is he in your little black book?”

  “There is no black book.” It’s true. The book is brown.

  Holly taps one perfectly manicured fingernail against another. “Is this judge going to be a bigger problem than I anticipated?”

  “He shouldn’t be. Is there a way to request a change?”

  “I might be able to request a substitute. But I’d need a good reason. A conflict of interest.”

  Biting my lower lip, I ponder the implications of Judge Abernathy presiding over my hearing. I’ve known the man for three years. He’s never been with me—I’m not his type. No one with a vagina is. That includes his wife of thirty years. The secret I know, what I’ve facilitated, I’d take to the grave. It’s not my place to force him out of the closet. But he doesn’t know that.

  His fear of losing his family could either be my saving grace. Or my damnation.

  “Is there someone else who might better serve our needs?” Holly asks, rightly assessing my thoughts. “Eva, you need to trust me. Anything you say here is confidential. It’s my job to ensure that you’re set free.”

  “Judge Wolfe. See if you can get him. Or call him. He might have some influence over Abernathy.”

  “What, does he owe you a favor?” The side of her mouth twitches up slightly.

  “A lot of people owe me a lot of things. But he owes me nothing. He’s just a good friend who might be willing to help.”

  “How good of a friend is he?” She sniffs, stands up, and walks to her desk.

  My eyes follow her, and I wonder if Ben is something to her, regretting having brought up his name at all. “Very good. Call him. He might be able to help.”

  “Right. I’ll get on that.”

  “Let me know what he says.” I stand, staring out the window that faces the front of the building. “Look at them down there waiting to tear me apart.”

  “They’re only curious, Eva. You intrigue them as much as you frighten them. They know you hold unflattering secrets they’d love to reveal.”

  Sighing, I move out of their view, mentally preparing myself for the reporters I’m about to face. “You coming with me?”

  Holly nods. “Just to your car. I’m sure someone will try to bait you into incriminating yourself.”

  After I gather my things, we leave to find Carlos standing outside the door.

  “You ready?” he asks.

  “Are there people at the back entrance?”

  “More than the front,” he says.

  We step outside and are immediately swarmed. The sunlight is practically dimmed as hands with microphones rise above us. My ears ring with the sounds of the collective voices, all questioning me, baiting me, as Holly warned.

  “Mrs. Cage, is it true you were once part of a harem in Nevada?” someone asks.

  “What? No. I’ve never lived in Nevada.”

  “Eva, over here! What can you tell us about Senator Iverson? Does his wife know he’s paid for your services? Is it true you performed oral sex on him in their bed,” another nosy gossip probes.

  “Who the hell is Senator Iverson?”

  “Eva, how much do you charge an hour?” a man with a perverted grin throws at me.

  “That’s it!” Holly screams. “Everyone back off.”

  Carlos spreads his arms, creating a barrier between the crowd and me. They all go silent, but the microphones are still directed toward us.

  “Mrs. Cage will not answer any questions at this time. We’ll make a brief statement next week when we know how the court will proceed with her hearing.”

  A woman stands directly in front of Holly. “Ms. Becker, DeeDee Smith here. Is it true that Mrs. Cage has too many judges under her belt to be fairly tried and her case will be moved to another county?”

  “We’re no longer answering questions. Move!” Holly orders.

  Carlos opens the back door of his Town Car and I slide in. I turn to Holly and she smiles at me reassuringly before the door shuts, drowning out the mob.

  Inside this cushioned space, I can no longer see them and it’s hard to hear them, but they’re still there. Their muffled song scares me all the more because I’m blinded to it.

  Carlos gets in, and a moment later, the divider between the front and back of the car slides down.

  “Where to?” Carlos asks.

  “I want my mommy,” I whisper, pulling my knees up to my chest as I close my eyes.

  He knows exactly where to take me.

  Chapter 4

  The drive from Naples to Bellington Village Assisted Living and Memory Care on Sanibel Island seems eternal in the back of this damned hearse. I open the windows as we go over the causeway that takes us there, letting the sight of the San Carlos Bay calm me. Though the blue of the water is muted now, making everything look more like a black and white painting, it’s still beautiful. Soothing.

  At the gate, I show my ID. The guard gives me a second glance when he sees my name. The question on his face is obvious, but I’m glad he chooses not to ask.

  Carlos parks beneath the portico, then comes around my side of the car to let me out. “Would you like me to wait?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll take my mother’s car. It’s parked in their garage. Thanks for bringing me, Carlos.”

  He hands me my purse and closes the door. “Where will you be staying?”

  “I’m not sure yet. My apartment, I guess. Are you leaving now?”

  “Yeah. Just a few more things to pack.”

  “Where will you go?” I ask.

  “Mexico. Taking my momma home. She’s wanted to go back for a while now. I can’t afford to get caught doing anything illegal. I’m all she has.”

  “Yeah, I know. Thank you for everything, Carlos.”

  Taking me in his big arms, he pulls me to him. “Will you be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  We say our goodbyes and I enter the fortress, as my mother likes to call it. She enjoys it here even less than I enjoy being in the back of the Town Car.
br />   Just as the inside of the luxury vehicle is made to entice its passengers to stay for a while, so is the inside of this place made to keep its residents from ever wanting to leave. Highly polished marble floors gleam under soaring ceilings with large crystal chandeliers. The scents of polish and fresh cut flowers waft from bouquets set on round wooden tables. Staff members posted at equal intervals ask, “How are you today?” and “What can we help you find?” as you walk by.

  The lobby, with all its finery, easily rivals anything you’d find in New York City or London, but the view of the beach through the window behind the front desk is what sets it just a notch above.

  There are several reasons I chose this place for my mother after reporters practically forced her out of her Naples assisted living home. One, the security. Bellington is completely gated. No one is allowed in or out without prior authorization. Two, the service. It truly is like staying at a five-star hotel. And three, the beach. My mother has always been a water baby. She was practically born in the ocean.

  Even though she complains that her warden has to escort her, at least she gets to go down there every day if she chooses. And when she doesn’t, she can look at mangroves, palm trees, and the bay through her bedroom window.

  This is what I find her doing when I enter her room as Nicole, her nurse’s assistant, is finishing up with her.

  “How is she today?” I ask the young woman.

  “She’s doing wonderful. Aren’t you, Mrs. Free?” the woman asks with a thick Haitian accent and a heavily dimpled smile.

  My mother sighs, gazing out at the water. “I like it here, Nicole, but it’s not my beach. That’s not the ocean.”

  “You’ll grow to love it here, just like you did Naples, Mom.”

  “All right, I’ll leave you two. Ring the buzzer when you’re done,” Nicole instructs, then exits the room.

  “No incidents today?” I ask my mother, setting my things on the recliner and sitting by the window with her.

  “Not today. It’s been, what, a week now?” She tries to count on her slim fingers, but when the tremors make her lose her place, she brings her hands down. “How’s your day been, honey?”

  My lips pull up in an attempt to smile, but it feels forced and distorted. “I got hounded outside Holly’s office.”

  “Yeah, I saw.” She points to the muted television. “You’re all over the local news.”

  “Great.”

  Pressing the button on the remote, I raise the volume but regret it almost instantly when I hear what they’re saying.

  “Eva Cage, or as some have dubbed her, Madam Luxe, has caused a stir as many speculate if she is, in fact, a modern age madam of an organization named Ember. If these allegations are true, it could potentially turn into the investigation of the decade as we wonder, How far does their reach go? Who’s involved? and Will she reveal the names of her clients?

  “Diana Morales was on scene earlier as Detective Kingston of the Naples Police Department gave a statement about the case, which is expected to go to trial next month.”

  The woman who’s followed me around as long as I’ve been in this business suddenly appears on-screen. Microphones are directed at her as reporters anxiously wait for gossip on the girl who’s gotten away from her for years.

  She clears her throat, and her blue eyes look up. “At this time, there have been no major changes in the Eva Cage case. The District Attorney has filed criminal charges against the subject based on the evidence—”

  I turn the television off, disgusted. “How did they get information on Ember?”

  “That woman,” Mom points to the darkened screen. “All she had to do was make a little phone call, leak a name, and now she has all your rich clients running scared, being sloppy.”

  I’m not so sure it was the detective, though I don’t voice my thoughts, because really, I have no idea who’s leaking so much information. “They probably think I’ll start talking.”

  “Would you? If it came down to their freedom or yours, would you talk?” my mother asks.

  “I gave my word that their names would stay protected, no matter what. I’d rather rot in hell than be a rat.”

  “How I wish you’d never gotten involved in this business.” The worried look on her face and the way she wrings her hands makes me wish I hadn’t either. This was never meant to touch her.

  “Me too, Mom,” I say regretfully. “But I did.”

  “Now you’re Madam Luxe.”

  “At least I’m deluxe. It would have been really insulting if they called me Madam Budget.”

  She laughs in spite of herself, but she stops almost as soon as she starts. “I’m sorry if I ever did anything that made you choose this path. Maybe if I’d been there for you when your marriage started to crumble…”

  “Mom, you had nothing to do with this. No one did. It was all a series of events that transpired in a certain order that made it happen. It’s no one’s fault,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around my mother’s frail frame and leaning my head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry if I’ve given you reason to feel ashamed of me. Your only child turned out to be a whore.”

  “Shut your mouth, Eva Jean. My only child has always made sure I’m taken care of. My only child has always loved me and respected me. And my only child is the only child I’d ever want as mine.”

  Closing my eyes, I swallow the tightness in my throat. “I’m so tired.”

  She pats my elbow in an attempt to comfort me. “I know, honey. Why don’t you rest for a bit?”

  Nodding, I lie down on the floral quilt, inhaling my mother’s soft scent. She settles in behind me, running her fingers through my hair like she used to do when I was young. Only, back then, I was lulled to sleep by the gentle motion. The uncontrolled shaking now reminds me of how advanced her Parkinson’s disease is.

  I think it will keep me awake, but it doesn’t. Exhaustion eventually overtakes me, and I’m dragged into an abyss-like sleep that has me jumping from the feeling of falling. Yet even then, I don’t fully wake.

  “Mommy?”

  I hear the small voice, a faint, barely there sound. My eyes struggle to open, to see if what I heard was real or nothing more than an echo of the past.

  “Brandon?” I call. “Sam?”

  My hands reach out as I pray with everything I have that they’ll find what I seek. What I’ve sought for years.

  “Call for me one more time. Please!” I cry.

  But there’s nothing. Instead, I bolt up, my arms flailing.

  Space and time seem to stand still as I sit there in the unfamiliar room. A woman is standing by the dresser and waving a brush in front of her furiously.

  When the haze clears, I remember where I am.

  “Mom?” I stand and go to her. “What are you doing?”

  She turns to me, looking confused. “I was going to the bathroom, then…I couldn’t figure out where I was. You were there.” She points to the mirror. “But I couldn’t get to you.”

  Taking the hairbrush from her, I guide her. “Here, I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

  “Darn it! I can do it myself.” She pulls away but stops almost immediately, wiping her brow with a shaking hand. “I can’t believe this is happening. Eva Jean?”

  “I’m here, Mom.”

  “I just can’t… My mind can’t…”

  “I know.” After she does her business, I help her to the bed.

  Her hazel eyes glaze over as she stares off into the distance at the water, probably wishing she were as free as the gulls that flock there. It hasn’t been easy seeing my mother deteriorate this way. I feel completely helpless at best and, at worst, that I’m a hindrance with too many emotional disabilities.

  The hardest part is that she’s fully aware that her mind is being affected. She doesn’t have dementia or Alzheimer’s. It’s a state of confusion where she’s cognizant of the fact that her brain isn’t connecting with any of her senses. It’s knowing there’s a wrench in her mind that’s st
alling all thought process, yet she has no choice but to wait and hope that she’ll regain control.

  That’s how she describes it. It terrifies me because I’m sure she’s not telling me the whole of it. Maybe she doesn’t want to scare me more.

  My phone rings. I leave my mother’s side and go into the hallway to answer the call.

  “Hey, Seidi. What’s up?”

  “It’s Claire. She’s been taken into custody,” she tells me, her voice flat.

  “What! How do you know?”

  “Grant called me. Said they dragged her out in front of her kids.”

  “What are the charges?” I ask.

  “Invasion of privacy and pandering.”

  “Those are bullshit charges.” I lean against the railing, holding my hand to my chest as I feel the burn rising in my throat.

  “They linked her to you. Wonder how that happened?” she adds sarcastically.

  Matthew’s report. Fuck me. “I’ll fix it.”

  “How? You haven’t fixed your own shit,” she throws at me.

  “I haven’t tried.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t forget that it’s you they’re after.”

  I hold back the biting remark to remind her that I was chosen by them to be Ember’s CEO, if you will. They all had something to protect. I’d already lost it all. The exact words were never spoken, but why else choose to give me so much of the control? The money?

  “Thanks for that,” I say, hanging up.

  Going back inside, I ring the buzzer that will let the nurse’s station know I need help.

  “Nurse’s desk,” someone answers through the intercom.

  “This is Georgia Free’s daughter. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”

  “We’ll make a note. Someone will be with her shortly.”

  Kneeling before my mother, I lay my head in her lap. “I have to go, Mom.”

  “Okay, honey. Don’t worry about me. I’m feeling better now.” My mother pats my back gently.

  “I’ll call you tonight. I love you.”

  Leaving her is almost impossible, but I have to clean up a huge mess that’s only getting messier by the minute.