I eyed my lawyer, frustrated by the whole process. If he wasn’t a friend, I’d lose my shit on him.
This run around and grilling was getting on my last nerve. Twelve hours in the county jail without a shower, a toothbrush, or a moment to myself would make anyone a cranky bitch.
Being on the other side of this process was bullshit.
“Let’s just get the story straight so I know how to help you, Lonnie.”
I swallowed down my growl. Getting mad at him wasn’t going to get me out of there any faster. I took a deep breath to calm my irritation.
“I’m giving it to you straight, Frank. I slept with him, yes, but I didn’t help him kill anyone or put them in my fucking attic. He’s setting me up.”
The look on his face made me grit my teeth so hard my jaw ached. Why did no one believe me? Sleeping with someone and murder weren’t even in the same league. I leaned back in my chair and blew out another breath.
“Look, either you’re going to help me or you aren’t.”
He held up his hands in surrender.
“I’m going to help. We’ll get you out first and then work on uncovering what we need to clear your name.”
He said he’d find a way to get me released sooner rather than later.
Thankfully, Frank worked it out so I had a single cell. The upside was not having to deal with drunks. The downside is it gave me plenty of time to think about every move that brought me to that point.
Never have my desires fucked me over more.
When this was over, I was going to make an effort to find a normal guy. No more fucking serial killers.
Sleep was difficult that night. A narrow cot with a scratchy blanket wasn’t my problem. It was nightmares of me laying dead-eyed in a field with my stomach torn open, or me dangling from the roof with ligature marks around my throat.
Daylight found me back in front of my lawyer, looking as desperate as I felt.
“Here’s the deal. They’ll release you before official charges.”
“Excellent.” I paused. “And?”
“They want you to contact him and bring him in.”
Contact him? Did they think I had the killer on speed dial like a booty call?
“I’ll do whatever they want me to do if it clears my name.”
He gave me a hard look before speaking again.
“No fucking around with this guy, Lonnie.”
I had a feeling the fucking he was cautioning me against was the fucking I wanted to do more of.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
This series of yours is excellent writing as many other texts you are publishing. You have a special talent to build up suspense and your style is well fitting to the contents. But allow me a more personal critic: you are selling yourself far under your value. You seem to be under a permanent pressure to write. Inevitably some crap is also produced this way. Creative work needs breaks in between. And I am sure you are not just a slave to your sex drive. With your capacity of designing a good plot, giving a vivid and absolutely convincing picture of circumstances and your natural style you could do much more. Or are you doing that under a different name? From everything you have been saying about yourself occassionally I get the impression, that you feel inferior in some way often, probably from your experiences of being a black girl. You aren’t inferior, you are great! But obviously you would need to get whipped into showing your true abilities, sorry to say that! You are excellent. Show it in its full dimension! I wish you luick for it!
I’m still trying to work out a response other than no. I don’t feel any particular inferiority. I’m more competitive and a perfectionist so that makes this difficult. I still excel at my craft and my thoughts on my loved experience as a black woman doesn’t play into that at all.
I’m curious where you get the idea that I’m under permanent pressure to write? I only write because I want to unless it’s the odd moment where I’m struggling with writer’s block.
Your comment about “need to get whipped into showing your true ability” is an interesting one. You’ve mentioned my ability as though writing about sex diminishes it somehow. In what way should I be showing it in it’s full dimensions? I’m well aware of my value
Oh she’s dreaming of it, right!
Looking forward to the next part
She certainly wouldn’t turn him down if he asked again
“no fucking around” – we will see! Interesting comment above ;-/ x
If you’re referring to the first comment, interesting is one word for it.