Her world had been knocked off its axis. Mena had taken the week off, unable to concentrate on work. She’d placed her phone on vibrate, checking in every few hours to text her family and friends back. They meant well, but she’d been in no mood to talk or be around anyone. Then without any notice, her morning moping had been interrupted by police pounding on her door. Shoving the search warrant in her face, they forced her out of her home. Mena had fumed in the lobby as she called Omar to tell him what had happened. As she expected, her best friends had left work immediately to support her.
“Mena, we’re not expecting you to pretend like you’re okay. Getting out of the penthouse and staying with me for a while will do you some good,” said Regina.
Mena nodded. “I just don’t know what they think they are going to find. Julian didn’t try to kill Priscilla.”
“Just a damn witch hunt.” Omar said.
The maitre’d found their reservation and signaled for them to follow a waiter dressed in dark orange Bermuda shorts and a bright yellow tank top. Sandwiched between Omar and Regina, her arms looped between theirs, Mena took shaky steps forward. The waiter escorted them past a throng of locals and tourists waiting in a line that stretched across the rooftop of Harmony Towers to the side elevator. On the bottom level, hopeful restaurant patrons were wrapped around the block. Snaking through the opulent cabanas of Solar Restaurant, the newest and hippest restaurant and dayclub in the Palmchat Islands, Mena recognized several Caribbean celebrities lounging on the cabanas. Even CoCo had been spotted at the restaurant earlier in the week, sending the already massive reputation into the stratosphere.
Thankful that they were seated in a more discrete private area, Mena sat down on the cabana cushion and waved a hand for the waiter to lift the shade to shield her from the bright sun. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Her stomach was tied in knots, a dull ache that made the prospect less than desirable.
“You need a liquid lunch, my dear. You look like you haven’t slept in days,” Omar said as he ordered a round of Palmitos, his voice elevated to be heard over the loud music of the D.J.
“No, she needs food. You felt how shaky she was walking over here,” Regina admonished. “Mena, we have got to get your energy up. Julian is going to kill us if we don’t keep you fed and healthy while he’s away.”
Mena gave a small smile. “Why not both?”
“Let’s do it!” Omar said, pounding a hand against the table.
Fighting over the menu, Omar and Regina debated what to try, then ordered enough food for a party of eight.
“The two of you are crazy. How are we supposed to eat all of that food?” Mena asked.
“Who said we have to eat all of it? The goal is to try the best of what Solar has to offer and to keep your mind off of Julian and damn Prissy for a little while,” Omar said.
“Have you heard anything about her condition? Maybe from Charlie?” Mena asked, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted more details. Octavia had explained the complexity of Julian’s case. If Priscilla remained in a coma, there was a slightly better chance to control the narrative in Julian’s favor. If she woke, Prissy would likely confirm Julian as her attacker. Octavia could then shift the legal strategy toward discrediting her based on the other crimes Priscilla was charged with. Neither option sounded like a slam dunk for Julian.
“Charlie’s been swamped with making big money from that medical conference that’s in town. He’s closed on about a dozen deals for his medical supplies, worth about ten million in sales. If there’s one thing my boo knows how to do, it’s make that money, baby. But anyway, I did get an update when Katherine Pourciau stopped by the gallery yesterday,” Omar said.
“Katey and Prissy were best friends,” Regina remarked.
“Arebest friends. Katey insists that Prissy is innocent and that the charges are all a big mistake. Her husband is the chief administrator at the Rakestraw Blake Center. Apparently, Prissy’s adopted Ethiopian brother had her moved there. She’s being treated by some hotshot doctor from the States as part of an experimental clinical trial. There’s a good chance she’ll come out of the coma in a couple of weeks.”
Mena sat up straighter. Julian’s best friend Broman Garrison was also at the RBC being treated in an experimental clinical trial. “Have they figured out what was in the syringe?”
“No,” Omar shook his head. “Katey said they have the best researchers working on trying to identify what it is. They’ve never seen anything like it before. Katey says the unknown poison won’t stop Prissy from coming out of the coma. They just aren’t sure what other lasting effects could remain.”
“I thought we were trying to get Mena’s mind off the case for a while,” Regina interrupted.
“Hell, she asked the question. What am I supposed to do? Ignore her?” Omar retorted.
“No, you’re supposed to subtly direct the conversation toward another topic like this. So, Mena, did you ever talk to Uma? Any chance she’ll be coming back to work at the gallery?” Regina asked.
“I left her a message, but she didn’t call me back. Still can’t believe Beaujean insisted that I try to get her back on the team with everything she did to help Irving Bond steal from the gallery,” Mena admitted.
Regina said, “Beaujean believes in second chances. Uma made mistakes, but I really liked her--”
“Oh, Lord! Is that my husband walking in here with some fine ass man?” Omar said, rising from the cabana.
Mena looked up. Charlie Johnson was walking behind a petite waitress as he engaged in a lively conversation with …
Forcing herself to breathe, Mena could barely hear over the pounding of her heart as Omar waved them over toward the table.
Charlie broke into a wide smile at the sight of Omar, tugging on the arm of his companion to approach the table.
“Hey hon,” Charlie said, leaning over to give Omar a quick kiss. “Surprised to see you here.”
“Who’s your friend?” Omar asked, eyeing the man suspiciously.
