CHAPTER TWO
1028 Words
CHAPTER TWO
Osana waltzed through the grand foyer of her mansion. “That creep!” She threw her purse on the floor as her housekeeper and friend, Leslie Whatley got off the elevator.
At 34, Leslie was one of those drab-looking chicks that could be hot if she put on makeup and took a trip to the beauty shop occasionally.
“Are you all right?” She rushed to Osana with her thick, wavy brown hair in its usual bun.
“Your clothes are all twisted and your hair’s messed up.” Leslie smoothed down the back of Osana’s hair. “What happened?”
“Preston Kinard is what happened.” Osana traipsed across the checkered floor and into the living room with the off-tan/whitish décor. “I can’t believe I fell for his shit.” She kicked her pumps off and rested on the extended beige sofa across from the other sectional.
“You mean your meeting at his place?” Leslie sat beside Osana, the overhead lights blaring on her milk-chocolate skin. “Did he do something to you?”
“Did he?” Osana rolled her eyes, huffing. “He didn’t call me over there to discuss the deal. He was trying to get me into bed.”
“What?” Leslie gripped Osana’s arm. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were.” Osana propped her foot beside the bowl of spiced apple potpourri on the rectangular coffee table. “I get there and he’s acting funny to begin with. He was looking at me like I was a pork chop. I should’ve brought my black a*s home. Anyway, he threw me on the bed and wouldn’t let me go.”
Leslie let Osana’s arm go. “What were you doing in his bedroom?”
“He lured me up there. He said he wanted to show me changes he suggested for the proposal.” She kicked the table. “I’m such an i***t. I guess I was so desperate for the deal I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s not your fault. No matter what you did he had no right to attack you.”
“I’m so sick of men.” Osana sighed. “I don’t care how badly I want a deal. I’m not getting it on my back.”
“Amen. What happened after he got you on the bed?”
“I fought him off and hit him.”
Leslie’s shadowy-brown eyes protruded. “You hit him?”
“Yeah with this vase thing on his end table.” Osana shook. “I was so scared, Leslie.”
“I can imagine.” Leslie hugged her. “I’m glad he didn’t hurt you. Are you going to the police?”
“Attempted r**e can’t be proven.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t want to see him again, and I wanna forget this happened.”
“You’re probably starving.” Leslie stood, pulling at her denim skirt.
Even her matronly clothes didn’t hide her Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model-body.
“I’ll heat dinner,” she said. “I made meatloaf.”
“I’m not hungry.” Osana stood and gathered her shoes. “I’m gonna take a bath and try to relax.”
“How about I bring you some ice tea?”
“Tea?” Osana scoffed on her way out the living room. “Bring me some damn liquor.”
****
“Osana!”
She awoke the next morning to Leslie shaking her awake in bed.
“Osana, get up.”
“What is it?” She pried her eyes open and checked the clock by her bed. “Girl, what are you doing waking me up an hour before I gotta get up?”
“It’s about Preston Kinard. He’s—”
“The last thing I wanna do is talk about that asshole.” Osana yawned, stretching against the headboard. “If I never hear his name again, it will be too soon.”
“He’s dead,” Leslie exclaimed with kinky sprigs popping out of her bun.
Osana shook her head and batted her eyes. “What did you say?”
“Preston Kinard is dead.” Leslie got the remote off the end table. “They’re talking about it on the news.” She turned the TV to the local station where a reporter spoke of the tragedy.
“No.” Osana gaped. “Leslie, what—”
“They said he was killed by blunt force trauma to the head.” Leslie’s lips quivered. “What did you do?”
“Me?” Osana kicked off the sheet. “I didn’t do a damn thing. The bastard was still alive when I left.”
“Are you sure?” Leslie shrieked. “Maybe you thought he was.”
“No he was wide awake!” Osana gripped her head, pacing. “I didn’t hit him hard enough to kill him, anyway.”
“How do you know he didn’t die after you left?”
“Because he didn’t!” Osana jumped up and down. “I swear I didn’t hit him that hard.”
“Then how do you explain this?” Leslie pointed to the TV with the remote. “How the hell is he now dead if you didn’t do it?”
“I don’t know.” Osana got in her face. “I didn’t kill him.”
Osana’s cellphone rang.
“Lord.” She sat on the bed, huffing and puffing. “I can’t talk to anyone right now.”
Leslie got the phone and checked it. “It’s Mrs. Spears.”
Osana groaned, taking the phone. “Momma?”
“Are you watching the news?” Wanda asked. “Preston Kinard is dead!”
“I know.” Osana tried to relax her breathing. “I’m looking at the news now.”
“What...how did this happen? We’re trying to work out a huge deal with him and the man ends up murdered?”
Osana looked at Leslie. “It’s definitely shocking.”
“Did you see him last night?” Wanda asked. “You were supposed to have a business meeting with him, weren’t you?”
“No.” Osana’s voice caught in her throat. “He cancelled. I never saw him last night.”
Leslie squinted.
“This is a mess,” Wanda said. “The press is gonna be all over us too.”
“I’ll handle everything, Momma.” Osana rubbed her face. “s**t, I’m gonna have to fan the flames when I get to work. You coming into Spears Corp. today?”
“Yeah, we’ll call a meeting and address this.” Wanda sighed. “It’s a shame. Preston was such a wonderful guy.”
“Yeah,” Osana muttered. “I’ll see you at work.” She hung up.
Leslie glared at her. “Why did you lie to your mother?”
“We can’t let anyone know I was at Preston’s last night.”
“But you said you didn’t do anything.” Leslie stomped her foot. “Osana, did you kill that man? Don’t put me in this position, please.”
“I didn’t kill anyone.” Osana rose. “But I’m not going down for s**t I didn’t do. No one but you knows I was there. His servants weren’t even there.”
“How do you know no one saw you?”
“Because they didn’t.” Osana went to her closet and yanked out her red power suit. “I gotta get ready for work.”
Leslie whimpered, “Osana.”
“Everything’s gonna be fine.” She laid her suit on the bed. “Trust me.”
- Writer
