Bad Girls Finish First by Shelia Dansby Harvey Read Free Book Online Page A

mansion.
    â€œI could place a call to STRAPPED,” Dudley said. “They’ve got so much money—”
    Michael’s look stopped Dudley in midsentence. “I don’t care if STRAPPED is handing out cash on street corners. Do you have any idea how many black people were killed by handguns last year?” Michael slammed his drink onto the table and left the room.
    â€œWhy can’t he get it through his head that those STRAPPED crackers vote?” Dudley complained. “And when they do decide to kill a nigger they don’t shoot him, they drag him behind a Ram dualie or give him a lethal injection,” Dudley complained.
    â€œCrackers, niggers. You’re so articulate,” Raven said dryly.
    Dudley giggled.
    â€œWhen we started this race,” she said to Dudley without looking at him, “I promised myself that I would let Michael take the lead.” She turned the diamond bracelet on her wrist round and round as she spoke.
    â€œ Let him take the lead in his own race. How big of you,” Dudley replied.
    â€œNot on everything, but issues involving ethics, definitely,” Raven said, ignoring Dudley’s sarcasm. She stopped playing with her bracelet and looked him in the eye. “When I want something, Dudley, I want it. Period. At times I’m not all that”—Raven paused, searching for the right word—“ particular about how I get my way. What do you think about that?”
    â€œI think that in politics people who are too particular, who don’t realize that this is a business in which the ends often justify the means—those folks get left behind.” He got up to refresh his drink again, and with his back to Raven, added, “I don’t want Michael to be one of those folks.”
    â€œIf Michael keeps on making irrational decisions based on emotion we’re going to be,” Raven said worriedly. She ran both hands through her luxurious mane, sighed, and then said, “Tell me about STRAPPED.”
    He nodded, glad that in Raven’s internal tug-of-war, her practical side won over her follow-the-rules side. “I thought you’d never ask. STRAPPED is a huge organization, but one person controls it. Erika Whittier. It’s time the two of you met.”

    Erika Chaseworth Whittier was a fourth-generation west Texan, progeny of the Chaseworth-Stilton family. Unlike many rich Texans, Erika’s family money didn’t come from the oil industry; it came from banking and assorted black-market enterprises that served oilmen. Erika was free, white, over twenty-one, and rich—in other words, accustomed to having her way.
    Erika had seen Raven on television and once or twice from a distance, so she knew that Raven was a good-looking woman. As Erika watched Raven make her way toward her table, she saw that in person Raven was more than just attractive—she moved like a dancer and looked like a model, only healthier.
    Erika herself was a very good-looking woman. She was a brunette who’d never given in to the hype that to be beautiful, one had to be blond. She was on the good side of 40, yet her hair had lost none of its thickness and luster. In high school Erika’s had been voted “prettiest smile.” Her father blamed it on the fact that every other girl in the class wore braces. But when braces came off the others, Erika still had the best teeth and lips in three counties. She’d been a cheerleader back when it was okay for cheerleaders to look athletic, and she maintained her body as easily as she maintained her love of west Texas, by hiking, river rafting, and biking.
    Although she was a Texas gal who could bring down a six-point buck with a clean shot, Erika hung with the jet set when she felt like it. She was a patron of the arts, owned a villa in the south of France, and was on a first-name basis with Donatella and Oprah. On the professional front, Erika headed the Austin office of a New