Free Natural Born Liar: The Misadventures of Mink LaRue by Noire

mother’s call, Barron walked through the front door of the Dominion Estate. His cousin, Pilar Ducane, was standing in the large foyer talking on her cell phone, and she ended the call and stuffed the phone inside her purse the moment she saw him.
    “Barron! What the hell —?”
    “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you had a meeting in the city today?”
    “I thought you had one too!” she said. “That’s why I wanted us to go to lunch. What the hell happened?” she asked, rushing at him with a frown on her gorgeous face. Pilar was a sexy-ass socialite and the spoiled only daughter of Barron’s uncle Digger. Her and Barron had grown up together and they’d always been tight, but lately Pilar had been playing him close and tossing around some steamy hints that let Barron know she wanted them to be a whole lot closer.
    “You promised to take me to lunch today, B, and then Charlie calls and says you’re ditching out. What’s up with that?”
    “Something came up,” Barron told her. He caught the pissed-off look that flashed across her face as he rushed past. “I’ll take you out tomorrow. I promise.”
    “That’s what you said last week!” Pilar whined, and then she smirked at his back. “What? Let me guess. Carla’s got your ass running around in circles again, right? How come every time me and you are supposed to hook up that little hater tries to pull something slick?”
    “It’s not Carla,” Barron said over his shoulder as he strode toward the parlor. “I gotta talk to Mama real quick. I just found out there’s another chick out there claiming to be Sable. I’ll tell you more about it later. After I handle this business.”
    Pilar crossed her arms across her breasts and her stylish jewelry sparkled. “Oh, I’ve got some business for you to handle,” she muttered under her breath. “You can believe that.”
     
    “A’ight, so we’ve got another nutcase on our hands,” Barron said as he stepped into the stunning, two-story parlor. Selah sat on an expensive sofa drinking a vodka tonic. She jumped up when her son entered the room, and there was excitement mixed with alcohol and hope in her eyes.
    “I just got off the phone with Sam,” Barron told her. “He said to tell you he’s sorry for calling you with all that nonsense. The next girl who calls him thinking she’s Sable is gonna get sent straight to the lab.”
    Barron had lit a fire under Sam’s ass and had the dumb dick apologizing until he was out of breath. For years, Viceroy had been sliding that fool big chunks of cool cash to keep this kind of shit away from Selah. But now that Sam had fucked around and let this crazy broad from New York slide through, all of that extra paper was about to be dead.
    “So it’s all good, Ma. He won’t be calling you with no more nonsense.”
    “But I told you I’m not really sure it’s nonsense this time,” Selah said as she raked her fingers through her silky, blow-dried hair. The liquor had broken her out in a sweat, even though the temperature in the mansion was always kept extra-cool.
    “This girl seems like she might be the real thing, Barron. She had all the right answers. She has the same birthday as Sable, she was adopted at the right age, she has the sickle cell trait—she even has the same genetic mutation that causes babies to be born with six toes just like Sable was. I don’t know ... something tells me she could be the one.”
    Barron stuck his hands down in the pockets of his tailored Brioni suit. “That’s the same thing you said about the last two girls, Mama. One of them freaks was trying to get a sex-change operation, and the other one wanted you to give away all your money because the world was coming to an end. C’mon.” He put his arm around her as they walked over to the window. “Right now Pops is enough for you to worry about. I don’t want you to go getting your hopes up high again on Sable.”
    “Sable is still my baby,” Selah said