“I made me a star. And you, too, since we’re being honest.”
Nathan moved swiftly in her direction. She flinched. She didn’t expect to be hit, but his anger was startling; she’d never seen him so enraged. “I own the sky in which you shine, and you’re going to do what I say.”
“I make my own money. Support for the cause is needed now more than ever.” While Kitty had no intention of crossing back over the color line, the reality that she could be pushed suddenly didn’t seem as scary as it once had.
“If you continue this, they’re going to find out about you. About Cora. About all of you. And I won’t be able to protect you. They want to end the Black Panther Party—cut off its finances, jail every member.”
“They don’t suspect me. I can continue supporting the cause.”
“Our daughter should be enough of a cause for you. We could both end up in jail. Then what?”
“You’re not going to jail, Nathan.”
“You could—and what would I do without you?” His voice cracked and got higher on the end, as it did when he was choking back emotion. She reached for him, hating to see him in pain, but he stepped back before she could touch him.
“I’ll do what I can to fuel the phantom Negro Cora Rivers theory, but you have to listen to me.” He was still exasperated. “They don’t know about those other checks yet, and we have to appease them so they stop digging. They follow the money, and you’ve left quite a footprint. Any legal issues and we could lose everything. We have to protect our daughter and her inheritance. Everything is at stake. I need you to listen to me. For once.”
“I’ll do what’s best for my family. That’s what I’ve always done.”
“That’s what you think you’ve accomplished here? We never would have been in this mess had you not lied about the simplest of things.”
“People are dying—have died—all over the country for the simplest of things. For the right to be, to exist!”
“And they aren’t you.”
Now Kitty was the one who yelled. “They are me! You’ll never understand what it’s like. You just see a pretty face, your Kitty Karr star—you don’t know the truth about me, where I come from. You don’t know how it feels to be ashamed of who you are, to hide parts of yourself, to carry hate for people who say they love you.”
“Do you hate me?”
Tears sprang in his eyes when she shrugged. He was the only one who had ever been free: a White, rich man, he owned everything, just as he’d said. He could go anywhere without restrictions.
He was quiet for a long while and then went to her, pulling her close. “Perhaps pretending not to know was easier for me too.”
Relieved that he didn’t ask anything more, she gave in to his pleas, which were later reinforced by what she learned from the others at Blair House.
The two agents had knocked on Kitty’s door at roughly the same time as two others arrived at Lucy’s. She and Laurie had been making a fruit cake.
Lucy was high on their list because a few of the charity accounts were in her name. Once she proved the account signatures weren’t hers and that she hadn’t seen Cora in years, they ended the interview.
No one at Blair House had. Cora had changed her name twice by then, married a senator, and moved to D.C.—not Chicago—three years before the FBI showed up.
The signatures on the account and deposit slips belonged to Laurie, whom neither agent had acknowledged. She listened for a while, as an invisible party, and then slipped away to put everyone on notice before they’d even left.
Word circulated of their theory in the following week.
“Maude said they’re on the hunt for a Negro girl, so … I’m worried,” Lucy said.
Kitty didn’t say what or who had given them that idea. When some Panthers, only a long drive away from LA, were killed, Liberty, Addie, Lilly, and Sammie left Los Angeles as if they were fleeing a lynch mob. Eighteen hours later, the house they were hiding in was raided, and they were all charged with crimes against the United States.
At least they didn’t shoot them.
Might as well. They’re going to jail for life.
That’s not dead.
Might as well be.
CHAPTER 40
Elise
Tuesday evening, October 31, 2017
Elise sat on the Perch with a bottle of champagne and small bites from the caterers, attempting to rally for the occasion. Though it was arguably dangerous, the invincibility of youth had always pulled Elise and her sisters there to greedily observe the happenings of their parents’ parties long after they were sent to bed.
Sarah had promised to dial down the extravagance, but Elise saw no evidence of that. Their backyard looked like a carnival. It was only the best for the family’s closest hundred, which included living legends, sparkers of cultural phenomena, budding icons, and reserved masters with extreme intelligence and talent from every discipline and creative arena, from all over the world. The epic fete would go until dawn and boasted a candy treasure hunt, a haunted maze, costume awards, a movie, and a full dinner as standards.
There was already a line around the main tent where, inside, guests could pet lion cubs, exotic birds, and monkeys. Giant edible gummy bears, lollipops, and chocolate bunnies and bears were strung up in the hedges of the labyrinth, likening it to a scene from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. In the center of the maze, Sarah’s bench had been replaced with a giant jack-in-the-box candy dispenser. You could only keep what you caught, but the supply was endless.
The Ferris wheel was well oiled and spinning without a hitch, happy to be on display. Its beauty would grace social media all night as the preferred backdrop for everyone’s photos. Elise wondered if the white spoke lights could be seen down the hill that cloudless night, or if they blended in with the stars, seemingly unmoving, an unknown celestial gem.
“Everything looks great.” Giovanni crawled through the window, interrupting her thoughts. She secured her flat-ironed hair into a low bun as the wind started blowing it across her face.
“It always does.”
“She went for the gusto.” Noele straddled the windowsill, gesturing for Elise to open the champagne. She passed a glass to Giovanni to hold for the pour.
“Sounds like you’re happy she did.”
“I’m excited about my costume.” As a kid, Noele would sometimes appear at breakfast dressed as Santa Claus in the middle of July. That year, she and Giovanni coordinated: Giovanni would be Neve Campbell in The Craft, and Noele was a black bird with a ten-foot wingspan. She’d had the wings made with real ravens’ feathers.
Noele eyed Elise’s sweats. “You don’t look close to ready.”
Two weeks ago, Elise had planned to be a lion. Her curly-coily hair displayed the reddish hue that 23andMe attributed to distant Irish blood and was a perfect dupe for a mane. Everyone expected her to win the costume contest for the fifth year running.
Elise didn’t answer her sister as the extended, party version of their mother’s laugh rose to their ears. She was in the center of a crowd, gesturing to her face paint, explaining, Elise figured, how many hours it had taken to create her unicorn costume. Her horn, secured to the top of her head, was twelve inches long and covered in silver glitter. She wore a tight silver sequined floor-length gown to match.
She was in full celebrity mode, touching the hand or arm of each person she spoke to, giving them a split second of intense attention. She had a way of making everyone feel as though they were the most important, interesting person in the world. Some said she stared, but if you knew her, you understood her interest was a compliment—most people she looked right through.