Can You Keep a Secret?

By Mary Monroe

The prequel to the New York Times bestselling author’s provocative series featuring best friends getting a crash course in love, family, and betrayal.

They couldn’t be less alike—except for their restless spirits. Lola came from a loving home, even though it included her father’s live-in mistress. And Joan is a secret wild child chafing under her mother’s watchful eye. So when Lola’s quiet world shatters and her hopes seem out of reach for good, Joan has the perfect consolation in mind.

But the besties will soon discover that boyfriends, money, and good times are no real escape from their families’ ever-scandalous drama. Soon, with demanding stepparents, conniving relatives, and simmering secrets closing in, they’ll have to watch each other’s backs and use their quick wits to save their lifelong dreams . . . 
 
Praise for Mary Monroe
 
“Mary Monroe is an exceptional writer and phenomenal storyteller!”—Kimberla Lawson Roby, New York Times bestselling author of Here and Now
 
“Impossible to put down.”—Susan Holloway Scott, national bestselling author of The Secret Wife of Aaron Burr
“Readers who enjoy watching characters’ fortunes rise and fall will relish this tumultuous family.” —Booklist on Family of Lies

“Once again, Monroe displays her gift as a marvel with this sensational novel.” —RT Book Reviews on Lost Daughters

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kensington Books
• Release date: Sep 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781496709943

Mary Monroe

Mary Monroe is the award-winning and New York Times bestselling author of twenty-five novels and six novellas. She is a three-time AALBC bestseller and winner of the AAMBC Maya Angelou Lifetime Achievement Award, the PEN/Oakland Josephine Miles Award, and the J. California Cooper Memorial Award. The daughter of Alabama sharecroppers, she taught herself how to write before going on to become the first and only member of her family to finish high school. She lives in Oakland, California, and loves to hear from her readers via e-mail at [e-mail]. Visit Mary’s website at MaryMonroe.org.

Book preview

series.

Chapter 1

Lola

October 1991

M

Y PARENTS SEEMED SO HAPPY TOGETHER, I STARTED THINKING ABOUT

marriage when I was in the fourth grade. My future husband had to be handsome, intelligent, and a well-respected member of our community. He had to want at least three children, make a good living, and treat me like a queen. I didn’t meet a man with all my requirements until I was thirty-two-years old. His name was Calvin Ramsey.

Calvin was everything I had hoped for and more. He had a great personality and he was good in bed. He was also a war hero and a Christian. Before our relationship even had enough time to develop into something serious, I started planning our wedding and picking out names for our children.

At the same time, the man I had fallen hopelessly in love with was methodically planning to murder me. And for a reason too incredible to comprehend . . .

* * *

I had a good life with two of the most wonderful and loving parents a girl could hope for. They were not perfect so they made a few stupid mistakes, but I refused to blame them for all the stupid mistakes I made.

I had no siblings and other than my parents, the only other relative I had in California was Daddy’s older brother, Gerald. He lived in Anaheim and had three children and an ex-wife. Uncle Gerald had married a woman from the Philippines named Narissa Pullon. When they broke up, she took their children and returned to her native country and never looked back. I had never met Narissa and my cousins, and I had only seen Uncle Gerald in person once during one of our few visits to Disneyland. At the time, I didn’t really care that he didn’t seem interested in having a close relationship with us because my parents were my world anyway. I thought they were all I needed. Mama and Daddy were good people in every sense of the word. They were in the church, had good jobs, and everybody I knew admired and respected them.

Daddy drove a bus for the city and Mama taught third grade in the same elementary school I attended. We lived in a nice big brown house on Fullerton Street in the San Jose, California suburb of South Bay City; with a population of approximately thirty thousand residents.

People told me I was cute and smart so I had a lot of friends. But Joan Proctor was my main girl because she was so strong and full of life and not afraid to try anything. I didn’t approve of a lot of the things Joan did, but I usually ended up getting involved in the same things myself mainly because I wanted to impress her. I loved going to her house, which was located two blocks from ours. She had a huge family and they all liked to get loose and loud, something my laid-back parents rarely did. Any day of the week it was party central at Joan’s house. There were some days when you would have thought that the dullest people in the world occupied my house. Most of the time, I holed up in my room and read comic books and assembled jigsaw puzzles. At the same time, Daddy would be in the living room sitting on the couch as quiet as a mute watching reruns of old TV shows. Mama occupied another room, grading papers or chatting on the telephone with one of her friends or one of the other teachers. During dinner, my parents compared notes about how bad the world had become and how fast I was growing up. They both advised me on a regular basis to always stay on the straight and narrow; which was their way of warning me not to get pregnant before I finished school and got married.

Despite my parents’ peculiar behavior, I envied the relationship they had. Daddy was very affectionate, so whenever Mama got close enough, he squeezed her hand or kissed her. When they went out together in public they held hands and occasionally smooched like a couple of love-struck teenagers. That was the kind of relationship I wanted to have with a man someday. I didn’t think there was anything better than a man showing his wife how much he loved her the way my daddy did. But a lot of his friends called him a player and he loved it.

My ninth birthday was October 11, 1991; the same day the TV evangelist Jimmy Swaggart was caught with a hooker that he had picked up to have sex with. When we saw the story on the six o’clock news the next day, Mama was horrified. She had been one of Reverend Swaggart’s followers for years. His downfall was the main subject my parents discussed at the dinner table for the next few days.

If a man of the cloth can’t control himself, who can? Mama said as she dumped turnip greens onto my plate. The news says that he pestered another prostitute three years ago that I didn’t even know about! She let out a long loud sigh and shook her head. I had never seen her look so disappointed. Oh well. I guess with Reverend Swaggart being famous and having money, greedy prostitutes were bound to come out of the woodwork eventually and tempt him. Right, Clarence?

Mama and I looked at Daddy at the same time. I couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say about the horny preacher today. First he took a long drink from his glass of buttermilk and let out a mild belch. After he excused himself and wiped a ring of milk off his lips with a napkin, he started talking loud and fast with a dreamy-eyed look on his face. Aw, shuck it! I don’t know why everybody is making such a fuss! I bet there ain’t a preacher alive that ain’t itching to fool around with a prostitute. And I bet a lot of them already done it. They just didn’t get caught. Some women jump at the chance to hop into bed with a man of God. Especially if the man is as good-looking and weak as Reverend Swaggart.

Ugly men are just as weak, Mama said with a smirk.

That’s true. I know a whole lot of butt-ugly men with some real pretty women chasing after them. But, by nature, a handsome dude has a much harder time fending off a frisky woman. She can’t resist a man’s good looks so she hounds him until he backslides all the way into a bed with her. Humph! Y’all wouldn’t believe all the hassles I went through with women when I was younger. And I didn’t even have no money. But I was as cool as a ice cube and my looks made up for my shallow pockets. I had to beat the women off with a stick. Everybody that knew me called me Stagger Lee.

Who is Stagger Lee? I asked as I dismembered a fried chicken wing with both hands.

Oh, he was way before your time. They even made a record about him years ago. He was a real ladies’ man, Daddy said, eyeing Mama with caution.

Stagger Lee was a pimp, Mama tossed in, glaring at Daddy.

But I was not a pimp, Daddy went on. I was just cool like that. He softened his voice and winked at Mama. When I met you, Mildred, everything changed. I had eyes only for you on account of you were one of a kind. You worked on me like a tonic. You really got my attention with them big, high-shelf titties and that bubble booty.

Daddy’s words pleased Mama, but she didn’t like it when he said anything even slightly related to sex in my presence. Now, Clarence, I’ve told you time and time again not to talk nasty in front of this child, she scolded.

Oops, Daddy chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand.

Now you behave, Mama added, glancing from Daddy to me. I don’t want Lola to grow up thinking that, uh, the activities of the flesh are that important to a man. She sniffed and raked her fingers through her thick brown hair. Her gray eyes lit up and a huge smile formed on her small round face. Next thing I knew, she leaned sideways in her chair and hauled off and kissed Daddy on the cheek. He put his fork down and wrapped his arms around her trim body.

Y’all need to get a room, I teased.

This is our room, Daddy shot back.

He was right. One night when they thought I was in bed, I accidentally saw them making love backed up against the kitchen wall. It happened more than once and in other rooms. They never caught me watching them and I never mentioned it. I eventually realized that my folks were only dull when they knew I was around. But when they were alone, or thought they were alone, they got just as buck wild as other grown people.

I was glad I had parents who were not shy about showing their affection.

Apparently, Daddy had more love to