AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“So, what, we make her go back? Sit there with her in her dorm every day and make her do her assignments?”
“She’s going back.”
“Marcus.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Idounderstand. I want her to go. I want her to finish. But…you don’t have kids so they can live your dreams.”
“What else is she gonna do, Lady? You think we can send our black daughter out there without a degree and shit is gonna be sweet?”
“I think we did okay for ourselves.”
“Heh." He scoffed. "Yeah, we did okay. But you don’t have kids so they can do the exact same as you. They’re supposed to dobetter. Every generation is supposed to do better. My daddy did better than his daddy, I did better than him, and I want my kids to do better than us. Is that wrong?”
“It’s not wrong.”
He sneered at her, and it sent a chill down her spine. “I think it’s hard for you to understand because you didn’t go through what I went through. Your family has always been happy being mediocre.”
“I’m gonna pretend that’s the liquor talking, because otherwise, fuck you.”
“Pretend all you want.”
He glanced at the kitchen, probably trying to decide whether or not he needed another drink. Part of Ladonna wanted him to get drunk and pass out, but the other part wanted to deal with the Carmen situation.
“You don’t get it, Lady. I work my ass off for those girls. For her to waste my money like this.Ourmoney. It’s a slap in the fucking face. I’ve made too many sacrifices. I…I’ve done too many things.”
“I know, but—”
“Things that I’m not proud of. Illegal things.” He looked at Ladonna and chuckled. “Things you have no idea about.”
“What kind of things? Is there something I need to know?”
“Is there somethingIneed to know?”
They stared at each other. Ladonna wondered if he was as anxious as she was. She knew what she was hiding, but what the hell washekeeping secrets about?
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Webbpracticallydidacartwheel through the office doors. He’d spent the entire night before wracking his brain, trying to figure out what he was missing. He’d found it this morning, in the bathroom of all places.
He’d closed the bathroom door that morning to keep his dog—a chocolate brown poodle named Duchess—out. She’d taken to chewing on the hamper for some reason, and until he could figure it out, no more bathroom for her.
With the door closed, the steam and heat from the shower filled the small room. When Webb stepped out and onto the tiled floor, he wasn’t hit with a rush of cool air. He stood there sweating for a moment, his mind racing, and then it hit him.
Ackerman arrived at the office about twenty minutes after Webb did, and the latter greeted his partner with a grin. “I got it,” he said from his chair.
“Can I at least sit down first?”
“Remember that day at the clubhouse?”
“What about it?”
Webb could barely contain his excitement. “The first floor was nice and cool, right? But as soon as we hit the top, it was hot as balls. We both had to take our jackets off, and we were still dripping with sweat.”
Ackerman was logging onto his computer, half-listening. “I remember.”
“Heat accelerates decomposition.”
