To put this in better context, read Falling Black in Love: Martin & Gina (Part 1 and 2 before reading this. Enjoy !
Atlanta, GA.
Monday.
Maxine.
Maxine’s heart beat furiously underneath her blouse. She unbuttoned the top button of her jacket, sliding it off and letting it hit the floor. The sweat began to build up on her brow. She gripped the aid bar in the restroom to keep her balance — the phone still pressed up against her ear. She tried to make sense of what was being delivered to her but all of the words only seemed muffled. Her breath hallowed. The trembles in her knees overpowered her, giving way to the floor. She fell to her knees, her phone falling out of her hand and smashing against the tile floor. Maxine collected herself as best she could, her breath now deep and intense. She used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow. She closed her eyes, gathering herself and finding her “good space,” the tranquil serenity of rain falling into the river; The sound of water hitting water, rhythmically falling from the sky. She positioned her back up against the wall and stretched her legs out, extending them in the empty stall next to her. Her breaths drew deeper and deeper.
10…9…8…7…6…5…4….3…2…1…
Maxine counted backwards in her head. It was a technique she had been taught by an old friend from law school. She had gotten better over the years at calming herself before her anxiety gave way to a full blown attack.
“Maxine? Are you, there Maxine?”
Maxine quickly came back to herself. She scanned the stall in search of her phone. She checked its face; It had been spared the nuisance of a cracked screen.
“Maxine?” Are you there?”
Maxine pressed the phone against the side of her face. She used her free hand to tear a few pieces of toilet paper from the dispenser and wipe the beads of sweat that had gathered under her brow.
.
“Yeah, I’m here,” she managed to say between breaths. Maxine put her phone on speaker and placed it on top of the toilet seat. She used her free hand to pull herself up by the aid bar. She brought her phone close to ear and listened itently.
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Washington D.C.
Olivia
Olivia scanned the spacious brownstone apartment again, trying to make sense of the crime scene.
Just another day at the office.
The thought cross Olivia’s mind as she surveyed at the large dead body lying on the floor with a single gunshot to the chest, his crimson spilling about the floor and forming a pool under him. He’d died with his eyes open, cell phone still in hand.
“Keep breathing, Max,” Olivia reassured her as she made her way out of the living room and up to the bedroom — the other crime scene.
“Are you sure, Liv?” Maxine asked. Her breath began to come back to her as she focused on forming each word that came out of her mouth. “Are you sure it is Martin Payne — the radio host?” .
“Max,” Olivia began entering the bedroom. “Listen to what I am about to say to you: I am standing in the bedroom of a woman named Lisa Monroe in Washington DC. There is a man by the of name of Tommy Strong laying dead in her living room from an apparent murder-suicide that is about to break the news cycle. Lisa Monroe was the mistress of Martin Payne for over 10 years — the same Martin Payne that married to your business partner Gina Payne.”
Olivia could hear Maxine’s breathing intensify through the phone.
“Martin did not want to continue to relationship and, rather than end the affair himself, he sent Tommy to do it. Lisa then shot him , and then went into her bedroom and put the gun in her mouth. Tommy somehow managed to use his last breath to call Mr. Payne who then called me.” Olivia peaked into the bedroom at the gruesome scene, Lisa’s lifeless body sprawled wildly about the bed, her blood splattered across the sheets and up the wall.
“Now, I’m looking out of the window,” Olivia began “And, at any minute this neighborhood is going to be buzzing with all the cameras and satellite trucks from all of the major news networks. I can contain it for another 5–10 minutes max before this is INTERNATIONAL NEWS!”
Olivia walked to the other side of the room , surveying the blood patterns up the wall. She walked back to the window. By now, the first news truck was making its way up the driveway.
“You literally have 60 seconds to pull yourself together and warn your friend of what is about to come down the way. She doesn’t deserve to find out all of this on Twitter or the 5:00PM news.”
___________________________________________________________________
Maxine
Maxine dropped her head. How had a casual lunch, the same lunch, she had at the same time, with the same business partner, at the same table, turn into such a nightmare?
“How am I supposed to go in there and tell her this? Why is it up to me?”
“Because if you don’t, she will find out on the news cycle and by that time it will be too late. Stay ahead of this while we’ve got the time — and that is scarce, Max. Now hang up the phone and go be a sister to a sister; she’s going to need you.”
Maxine used the toilet paper to dab the sweat from her neck. “ L, I am no good at that type of stuff — you know that. Even as a mentor, you knew to never call me for a pick-me-up because I don’t know how to do that well.”
“Maxine,” Olivia began, “This isn’t “little Livvy Pooh” calling my lawyer mentor friend for advice on a case study. This is Olivia Pope, Attorney-at-law telling you Maxine Shaw-Baker, Attorney-at-Law, that you have a murder-suicide on your hands and your friend and business partner’s husband is at the center of it and you have a minute to tell her before the world finds out. Now…” Olivia continued, “how do you want to handle this?”
