No One in the World by E. Lynn Harris, RM Johnson Read Free Book Online

in law school; she now worked for a small firm out of Orland Park.
    She had a copy of the confidentiality agreement we had sent to her office. She acted as though she didn’t know me, and I played along.
    Lilith set the contract on Sissy’s desk.
    Kendrick hobbled over on his crutches.
    Lilith pulled a pen from her suit jacket pocket, gave it to Kendrick, and instructed him where to sign.
    He glanced up at me with what I once thought were eyes the color of a beautiful green sea but now looked like the color of infant diarrhea. He signed the page, gave the pen back to Lilith, and rose up smiling.
    â€œMr. Winslow,” Lilith said.
    I walked over while Kendrick stumbled his crippled butt out of the way and signed the contract as well.
    â€œExcellent,” Sissy said, in an overly cheery voice. She grabbed the cashier’s check that had been made out to Kendrick for 50K and gave it to me.
    I stepped up to Kendrick, leaving not a foot between us. He beamed, obviously excited about his payday. I gave him the check, then held out my hand.
    He took it, and we shook.
    â€œSorry about your injury,” I said. “You would’ve gone high in the draft, maybe even number one.”
    â€œIt’s okay,” Kendrick said, confident. “I’ve still got the legal profession.”
    With a vengeful smile, I said, “I hope you don’t intend to practice here or anywhere else in the country. I put the word out about you. Have a nice time trying to find a job.”

11
    O ver the past three weeks I had devoted almost all of my attention to finding Eric. I had been checking the mailbox every day for any information from the Social Security Administration. Nothing. I had been on the Internet, night and day, searching for any clues. I had even been actively searching obituaries.
    It seemed like a hopeless cause.
    Last night I told my sister what I had been doing. She was appalled.
    â€œYou don’t even know this man. What if he’s crazy, or worse? What if he’s poor?” my sister said, pacing back and forth in front of me. “You’re part of Winslow Products. What do you think it would look like for you to have a homeless brother, living on the streets?”
    â€œWho said he was homeless? He could’ve accomplished what I have. He could be a physician, the head doctor at some hospital somewhere. Maybe a teacher or something.”
    â€œCobi, just drop it. Please. We have other much more important things to take care of, like finding you a wife.”
    â€œHow’s that going?” I said, still not certain if what Sissy was suggesting was the right way to go.
    â€œI found someone in serious financial need. I hear she’s not quite as cultured as many of the society women I know, but she might have to do. You know Priya Parks, formally Priya Parks-Frazier. Married to—”
    â€œWinston Wallace Frazier, the investor that swindled all that money?”
    â€œYes. The one they call the black Bernie Madoff. She’s the one.”
    â€œBut I thought they were very well off.”
    â€œThey were, till the feds came and took all of their money and threw Frazier in prison. The poor woman is lucky she didn’t go, too. Now she’s broke and looking for someone to save her. The meeting is tomorrow. Let’s hope that someone is you, Cobi.”
    The next day, I was trying to appear as though I was not staring at Priya Parks as she sat in my living room across from Sissy.
    Priya was much more attractive than the pictures I had seen of her in the newspapers and tabloids. Her hair was long and parted down the middle. She had a small mouth, big eyes, and wore a diamond stud in her nose. She wore a dark dress, as if just coming from a funeral. She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, listening to my sister.
    â€œNo one can know that this marriage has been arranged. You will be free to divorce only after two years, and you must live here at the