Angie asked, ‘Did you talk to Jo about this?’
‘What would I say? “I know your man is hitting you. Why the fuck don’t you leave and take half his money?” Hell, she knows that already. She’s known it for near ’bout ten damn years. And what has she done about it?’ She walked over to a covered barbecue area. She took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. ‘It ain’t like it used to be. One picture, one video from an elevator, she’d get the world on her side.’ LaDonna laughed. ‘Of course, you see how that plays, right? She’ll be all over TV and shit and people will feel sorry for her, and then a week later they’ll all be blaming her, saying, “Look here in the video where she ain’t yelling,” and “Look here where she punches him in the chest,” and “Why’d she make him mad like that?” and “All she wants is his money.” ’
Angie shook her head. ‘I can’t tell if you’re saying she should get out or if she’s better off staying.’
‘I’m saying the girl ain’t got no backbone.’
‘Backbones come at a price,’ Angie said. ‘Fig would lose his contract if Jo let the world know what he was doing. There wouldn’t be any more money coming in.’
‘Fuck the money.’ She tossed Angie a bottle of water. ‘If Marcus tried that shit on me, ain’t enough gold in Fort Knox would keep me here. I still know how to clean a hotel room. Me and my kids would be living out of a box before I let them see me beat down like a dog.’
Angie wondered if that was true. ‘Why don’t you help her?’
‘Shit, I’m not getting that girl’s stink on me.’ LaDonna drank some water. ‘Besides, I got kids to take care of. A household to run. A husband who needs me. I’m not going to throw away my precious time trying to save somebody who don’t even wanna be saved.’
A sound came out of Angie’s mouth, almost a ‘huh.’ LaDonna might not be running whores, but she had the mama logic down pat.
‘Look at me, sister.’ LaDonna took off her sunglasses. ‘Watch my mouth. Listen to my words. Take it back to Kip. Jo Figaroa likes what she’s got.’
‘She likes being hit?’
‘Why else is she staying with Fig?’ LaDonna added, ‘You ain’t seen the two of them together when he starts to simmer. She don’t lift a finger to calm him down. Shit, she winds him up. Nags on him. Slaps on him.’ She pointed her finger at Angie. ‘Right here at this pool, I saw it with my own eyes. Team party a few months ago. We’re all lounging, drinking cocktails. Fig tells her something real quiet, like go get me something to drink. Jo don’t want to do it. She says, “Get it your damn self.” Now, Fig, he don’t like that. We can all see him getting riled up. He pushes Jo out of her chair. She still don’t get the drink. She mouths off, punches him in the chest, like she ain’t afraid of him. We all knew what was coming next. Fig ’bout tore out her hair dragging her inside. Don’t know what he did, but she never mouthed off to him again.’
And apparently, none of the collective three thousand pounds of basketball player muscle did anything to keep a one-hundred-pound woman from getting the shit beaten out of her. ‘I’m sure Fig was terrified when Jo hit him.’
‘Right?’ LaDonna said, ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying, girl. You want out? Take a picture of that shit—the bruises and the fat lip and the black eye. Put it up on TMZ. Call a lawyer.’
‘Call a medical examiner,’ Angie said.
‘Maybe.’ LaDonna finished her water. She tossed the bottle into the recycling bin. ‘He’ll put a cap in her ass if she tries to leave him. And don’t even get me started on what Fig would do if she tried to take away his son. That man loves his boy. He’ll blow up the fucking world if Jo even thinks about taking him.’
‘I thought it was easy. Just take a few pictures and get a lawyer.’
She stared down on Angie. ‘Tell me again why you’re so worried about Jo.’
‘It’s my job.’
‘Then why are you bringing this shit to me?’ LaDonna kept staring at her. ‘Why don’t you help her?’
Angie shrugged. ‘Tell me what to do.’
‘Don’t tell Kip, ’cause he’ll put Laslo on your ass if you mess with the team.’
Angie put it back on her. ‘So what, then? Wait for Jo’s funeral?’
LaDonna gave it some thought. She took out another bottle of water. She twisted open the top. Finally she shook her head. ‘Doesn’t matter what we do. Even if Jo got away from Fig, she’d just end up back with another asshole doing the same damn thing. That’s what my mama did. She finally leaves my daddy, she meets this man who’s all sweet on her, gonna take care of her, and the minute they get back from the honeymoon, he’s raising his fist to her. That’s how it’s been happening since Jesus lost his sandals. Some men are born to beat and some women are born to take a beating, and they got these magnets inside of them that always pull them together. Like to like.’ She turned to Angie. ‘Some people are born with a hole inside them. They spend their lives trying to fill it. Sometimes it’s pills, sometimes it’s Jesus, and sometimes it’s a fist.’ She threw the bottle cap into the trashcan. ‘We done here?’
Angie knew they were, but she wasn’t going to let the other woman have the last shot. ‘This girl in Vegas. Do I need to get Laslo to clean that up?’
‘It’s taken care of.’
She sounded like a Mafia don. ‘You make her an offer she couldn’t refuse?’
‘I broke her God damm teeth out of her face.’
Angie held LaDonna’s gaze. She wasn’t going to be the one to look away first. ‘I’ll get out of your hair.’
LaDonna looked out at the pool. ‘You do that.’
Angie knew when she was being dismissed. She opened the cold water as she walked back down the corridor. The wives were all atwitter back in the salon, but Angie just grabbed her purse and left. She didn’t need an escort to lead her back to her car. She was backing out of the motor court when she remembered the green phone.
‘Dammit,’ Angie cursed, because of course this was how it had played out.
While she was wasting her time playing patty-cake with LaDonna, Jo had gotten a text. More importantly, she had texted back, downloading the cloning program to her phone.
MR: ITOWN SUITES 1HR.
JOSEPHINE: OK.
The time stamp showed the text had been sent ten minutes ago.
Angie woke up the iPad. She pulled up the GPS tracking software. A blue dot beeped on the map, slowly making its way down Cherokee Drive.
Jo was on the move.
WEDNESDAY, 1:08 PM
Angie stood behind the manager of the OneTown Suites. A monitor sat on the desk in front of him. The screen was split into four perspectives from various security cameras around the motel. The lobby. The elevator. A long hallway. The parking lot.
By sheer luck, the motel was less than fifteen minutes from the Rippy mansion. Or maybe that was by design. Angie had no doubt that Marcus had used the place before. The rooms rented by the week, so you could overpay for a few hours with the understanding that no one would ask questions. The place reeked of bargain-price discretion. Everything was clean and well kept, but downmarket. It was the sort of place a very rich man might take a girl he’d met at one of the strip clubs in the area. Up the street, the St Regis and the Ritz were for more permanent arrangements.
Angie stared at the quarter panel of the monitor that showed the parking lot. Jo was still inside her parked Range Rover, the same as she had been for the last twenty minutes. She was sitting on her hands, just like she had at Starbucks. She stared straight ahead. She didn’t move. She didn’t get out of the car. Angie looked at the time. The text from Marcus had come in fifty minutes ago. Anthony’s school would let out in another hour. If Marcus Rippy had scheduled a tryst, it would have to be a fast one.
The manager tapped the keyboard and scrolled through more angles of the parking lot and hotel. He asked, ‘How much longer?’