Authors: Bianca Sloane
G
eneva had insisted on going to the most expensive restaurant in Olympia Fields and implored her two girlfriends to order the priciest items on the menu. There were hors d’oeuvres, champagne, steak and lobster dinners, decadent desserts.
Geneva’s girlfriends had never really questioned where she got her money. She’d always hinted at being kept by a wealthy man, but her girlfriends thought she was full of shit.
Her girlfriend, Denise, a dark-skinned, busty blonde by way of her never-ending wig collection, was the first to ask Geneva about the bombshell she’d dropped earlier that day.
“So you were married to him?”
Geneva nodded her head. “Yup.”
“So how come he was married to ol’ girl?” her friend, Helen, a reedy, caramel-colored redhead, asked.
“Girl, we didn’t want nobody to know. It was easier to get to her money if nobody knew about us. M.J. knew. That was all that mattered.”
Helen and Denise stole a look at each other.
“So he just married her for her money,” Denise said.
Geneva nodded again. “Yeah,” she said, starting to get more than a little annoyed.
“So how was ya’ll plannin’ to get that money exactly?” Helen asked.
Geneva rolled her eyes. “Oh, he’d been getting money from her for years. He was a lawyer…real smart…knew how to get what he needed.” She paused. “What we needed. That’s why I’m doing this. It’s what he would have wanted.”
“Okay, but he was a big time lawyer. Didn’t he have his own money?” Helen asked, more confused than ever.
Geneva let out a sigh suggesting she was dealing with petulant children. “He didn’t want to have to work no more. Wanted
us
to be taken care of.”
Helen and Denise looked at each other skeptically once again.
“So you really are going to sue ol’ girl? You can really do that?” Denise asked.
Geneva sucked her teeth. “You’re damn right, I can do that. Like I said, it’s what he would have wanted. Besides, she killed my Boo.”
“So how much money you gonna get?” Helen chimed in.
“I don’t know yet, but ladies, I am expecting a huge payday. What I really want though is the company. And let me tell you…the first thing I’ma do is change the name.”
Denise sipped her champagne. “Runway does sound kinda stupid, don’t it? Whatcha gonna name it?”
“I was thinking…Faces by Geneva.”
The two women nodded and murmured their approval as they contemplated what Geneva was saying. Helen yawned and looked at her watch. It was eight-thirty.
“Oh, I gotta go. Some of us do have to work.”
Geneva smiled. “Yes, let me give you a quarter so you can call someone who cares.”
All the women started to laugh, and Geneva signaled to their waiter for the check. Within minutes, he came back with the leather holder containing their bill, and she pulled out her gold AMEX and slid it inside.
“Thank you,” she said as she handed the holder back to the waiter. The three women continued to chat, and Geneva never noticed how long it took the waiter to come back with her card. The ladies were finishing up their champagne when two police officers made their way up to the table.
“Geneva Monroe? You need to come with us,” one of the officers said, looking directly at her.
“Excuse me?” she said. “What the hell are you talking about? I told those detectives today, they can’t talk to me without my lawyer.”
“Ma’am, you are under arrest for using a stolen credit card and for impersonation. You have the right to remain silent—”
Geneva stood up, laughing. “Oh, no, you got the wrong Mrs. Monroe. It’s the other one y’all want. She killed my husband.”
The officer continued as if he hadn’t heard Geneva, and his partner pulled out his handcuffs and went to restrain her. She yanked her arms out of his reach.
“Get your goddamned hands off a me! You can’t arrest me! I ain’t done nothin’!”
“Ma’am, one way or another, you are coming with us. You can make this easy, or you can make this hard. Your choice.”
Geneva was seething, her hand on her hip. “I ain’t going no-
where
until I talk to my lawyer.”
The second officer jerked her hands behind her and clamped the handcuffs around her wrists. “Call him when we get to the station. Let’s go.”
The two officers hustled Geneva out of the restaurant. Other diners were staring at the scene, fascinated by the whole spectacle. The remaining two women continued to sit at the table, stunned. Their waiter came over and cleared his throat.
“You still owe us for dinner. The total is four hundred seven dollars and fifteen cents.”
The two women looked at each other, pissed. Finally, Denise picked up her purse, pulled out her own credit card, and handed it to the waiter.
“Damn, Geneva is gonna owe me for this shit. I ain’t got that kinda money.”
Helen gave Denise a glum look. “Maybe she’ll give you a job at her cosmetics company.”
G
eneva was fingerprinted and had her mug shot taken. They claimed she’d been using a stolen credit card, and there was an investigation about identity theft. Finally, they let her make a phone call to Harvey, and after three rings, he picked up.
“What the hell took you so long?”
“Who is this?”
She rolled her eyes. “Geneva.”
“Oh…oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice. What’s wrong?”
“I just got arrested. She done something. I don’t know what, but she done something.”
“Who?”
Geneva put her head down in her hands. She was starting to question if she’d chosen the right man to represent her.
“Kelly, fool. Kelly! Get down here and get me out.”
“Alright, alright. Fortunately, I’m still at the office, so it shouldn’t take me long. I’ll see you soon.”
Geneva slammed down the phone, now completely irritated. A female officer came over and grabbed her arm.
“Alright, let’s go.”
The officer walked Geneva back to her cell, and she cringed when the gate thundered shut. She sat down on the cold metal bench and stared unseeing at the wall. The longer she sat there, the longer she seethed about Kelly and what she’d done—whatever it was. There was no question she was behind this. Geneva sniffed. Patience. That girl would get hers—she’d see to that.
She stayed glued to the bench, revenge fantasies playing in her head in rich, colorful detail. Over an hour later, she heard someone call out her name. She looked up and groaned.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the illustrious Mrs. Monroe,” Bill Hanson said in a singsong voice. He stopped directly in front of Geneva and smiled. “Good evening,” he said as he crooked his arm through one of the bars. “What is this I hear about identity theft?” Hanson chuckled. “Pretty funny, considering.”
“How the hell you know I was here?”
He stepped back and gave Geneva an amused look. “Mrs. Monroe. Come now. You think we haven’t been watching you?”
Geneva narrowed her eyes at the young cop. “Don’t fucking talk to me. My lawyer will be here soon, and until then, I plead the fifth.”
He let out a low whistle and chuckled. “There we go with that pleading the fifth stuff again. And my, aren’t we testy this evening. I guess I would be too, if my husband, who no one knew I was married to, was murdered by his second wife, and then—” Hanson started to laugh, “—she managed to have me arrested for identity theft! I gotta hand it to Kelly Ross. She’s pretty damn smart.”
Geneva didn’t say anything for a moment, and then started to laugh herself. “I guess so, since you ain’t caught her yet.”
Hanson gave a non-committal wave of his hand. “Eh, that’s just a matter of time. She can’t run forever, and we’ll get her.”
He started to walk the length of the tiny hallway, the heels of his shoes echoing throughout the tiny concrete box. “Really, I’m much more interested in you, Geneva—may I call you Geneva? How long were you and Mark Monroe married?”
Geneva pursed her lips together and looked down at the gray floor.
“Was the plan for you and him to take Kelly for a ride? Is that why he married you?”
More silence.
“You and Mark Monroe had sex the day he died…in the bed he shared with Kelly. That’s how she found out. Did you two plan it that way?”
Geneva continued her muteness
“How did you meet? How did you choose Kelly?” Hanson banged on the bars with the heel of his hand. “Mrs. Monroe, I can’t hear you!”
Hanson stopped his stalking of the small hallway and curled his fingers around the bars separating him and Geneva.
“Why’d he marry you? Why’d he marry her?”
“He married me because he loved me. He was just using her.”
“Hmmm…interesting. Let’s try this again. What was going on with you two?”
“We were in love, and so we got married. It ain’t that complicated.”
He grinned. “How does it feel Geneva, huh? How does it feel to know that if it weren’t for you, Mark would still be alive today? If you could have managed to control yourself and not screw Mark Monroe in his and Kelly Ross’ bed, she might not have picked up that knife and stabbed him to death, would she?”
Geneva flew up off the bench and ran over to the bars until her face was just inches from his.
“Don’t talk like that. It wasn’t my fault that bitch killed my man—I didn’t put that knife in her hand.”
“You were really jealous of her, weren’t you? She’s beautiful—no, let me say this the right way—hot…
loaded,
and she got to go around as his trophy wife. You hated that, didn’t you? Did he taunt you with that? Maybe it turned you on that he did that. Was that part of the game you two were playing? Did you push Mark to do you in their bed because you wanted her to find out?”
“No. No! I loved him, I loved him more than anything in the world. We loved each other!” She was sweating now, furious at what he was saying.
Hanson leaned just a little bit closer until he was inches from Geneva’s face.
“And what about your son, Geneva? How does he fit into all of this?”
She sucked in her breath. “You leave him out of this,” she said through clenched teeth.
“What is he, nine, ten? Does he know about this game you and his father were playing? How do you explain all this to him?”
She reached out to grab him, but he was too quick for her. He bobbed away from her and leaned back against the wall opposite the cell, laughing.
“Don’t worry, Geneva. I’m going to figure out what was going on here, because let me tell you…one and one ain’t addin’ up to two here.”
At that moment, Harvey Jackson came striding in.
“Excuse me, Detective, but I would advise you against harassing my client.”
Hanson held up his hands as if to indicate he was through. “She’s all yours, man.” He looked back at Geneva and smiled. “Nice seeing you again, Mrs. Monroe. I’ll be in touch.”
Hanson walked out and started to whistle, his footsteps clicking against the concrete floor.
Geneva’s breathing was heavy and loud as she tried to regain her composure.
“Are you alright, Mrs. Monroe?” Harvey asked.
She clutched the bars. “You getting me out of here or what?”
“I’ve posted bail, and they’re processing it. What is going on? Identity theft? How did that happen?”
Geneva shook her head, glaring as she thought once again of her nemesis. “I don’t know what that bitch did, but she is going to be sorry she messed with me.”
H
arvey felt a chill run through him as he saw something cold and empty slither across Geneva’s eyes.
It scared him.
He backed away a little and cleared his throat. “Umm…well, they should be down shortly to let you go.” Harvey fumbled with his briefcase, mentally urging the officer to hurry up and come down so he could get the hell out of here.
As if a stage director heard his pleas, a female officer materialized, jangling keys that indicated Geneva was free to go. Slowly, she walked out of the cell, followed by a reluctant Harvey. They had to wait while her belongings were processed and released to her, but they both stayed mute the whole time.
As soon as Harvey opened the door, he was blinded by the lights of TV cameras and an explosion of flashbulbs. He shielded Geneva’s face with his briefcase, but it didn’t stop a cadre of microphones from being shoved in their faces.
“Geneva, is it true you were arrested for trying to steal Kelly Ross’ identity?”
“Geneva, are you going ahead with your lawsuit?”
“What if Kelly Ross is found not guilty of murdering her husband? Will you proceed with your lawsuit?”
Harvey grabbed Geneva’s arm in an attempt to push her through the mob of reporters that had gathered outside the Olympia Fields police station. The throng inched across the parking lot towards Harvey’s car like a slow-moving blob.
“My client has no comment!” he yelled as he tried to deactivate the alarm on his Cadillac.
“Geneva, how did you meet Mark Monroe?”
“Was your marriage to Mark Monroe valid?”
“Whose credit card did you steal?”
Harvey managed to get Geneva inside the car and went around to the driver’s side. They continued to machine-gun questions at them as they glommed onto the car. He leaned on his horn in an attempt to make the rats scatter, but it didn’t deter them. It was only when he gunned the engine that the crowd dissipated and Harvey was able to maneuver out of the parking lot. He let out a huge breath.
“Man!” he said as he gripped the steering wheel. “What the hell was that? You okay?”
Geneva didn’t say anything, her heavy breathing the only sounds she made.
“This ain’t the way I planned this,” she finally whispered to herself.
Harvey glanced over at her, trying to keep his eyes on the road. “Geneva, what are you talking about?”
She just clenched her fist, ramming it into her thigh, over and over. Harvey licked his lips, unease filling him up like air into a tire. He pressed a bit harder on the accelerator, hoping the light traffic would hold up until he dropped her off. He was relieved to see her gold Lexus still parked at the restaurant where she’d been arrested. She continued to sit next to him, staring out the front window, oblivious they had come to a stop. He cleared his throat.