“Again, you admitted being wrong. Now tell her. A nice candlelight dinner, glass of wine… Antoine, you’ve got swag. She’ll forget about that argument.”
Antoine wagged his finger at Derrick. “Not that simple. And like I said, she’s not my type. So, why ask her on a date?”
“Yes, but you have to work with her, and you’re not dating. Take my advice. By the way, Uncle Roland left a message for you on my cell. Said he couldn’t reach you.” Derrick opened a bag of chips and dumped them in a bowl. “I’m getting hungry.”
“What’s the message about?”
Derrick bit into a chip, crunching and smacking like always. But that was one life-long habit Antoine wouldn’t try to correct.
“It’s about your townhouse. What else? You don’t go up there enough.” Derrick licked the salt from his fingertips. “I don’t understand you. The Bay Area is still your first home and you love it up there. If you’re not working weekends, you’re in that stuffy room. Why don’t you fly home more often, get with your friends? Have you stopped writing and doing spoken word?”
Derrick’s rambling without taking a breath was getting to him. “Other than taking Rashad out to play ball, or hanging with Ellis, hitting the Power of Words Lounge is all I do in Oakland. Pacific Heights is boring, and I’m tired of not seeing black people in my neighborhood. Oh, and FYI, I’m doing a spoken word performance in Fillmore soon.”
“That’s great. So, if Uncle Roland calls again, I’m saying I spoke with you. He said Aunt Faye’s the same.”
“I’ll call Pop. I have to call Nikki and Joy soon, too.”
Derrick lifted his glass and shook his head. “Nikki don’t give me crap when I call about Aunt Faye.”
Antoine rubbed his shoulders. “You know me. All I want is to hear is Mom’s voice and I’m straight.” He watched his cousin dip chips in salsa, smack, and sip his margarita.
When his cousin Derrick, a certified public accountant, offered to share his spacious three-bedroom home in Baldwin Hills after his relocation, Antoine gladly accepted. Then the bombshell hit, and he discovered his cousin’s affiliation with the LGBTQ community. Not that Derrick being gay bothered him, but that axed plans to hang out with him and meet new women other than groupies.
Derrick’s phone rang; he picked it up and hurried to his bedroom. No doubt, it was likely Romero on the phone. Antoine pulled up his father’s number on his cell but couldn’t bring himself to dial.
An occasional dark mood overshadowed Antoine’s quintessential lifestyle when he thought of his mother. The fact that Faye Bailey, the smart, witty music teacher and socialite, battled Alzheimer’s Disease affected him like nothing else in life. After his father’s real estate company experienced booming growth, he moved his family from East Oakland to the Oakland Hills. Antoine’s fondest memory was his mom’s warm hugs when she reassured her kids they’d be okay after the move. At thirteen, all he cared about was missing his school and friends, mainly Ellis Taylor.
When it came to cooking, his mother’s couldn’t be matched—nor could her eloquent voice—a blend of wisdom and affection. He missed the cherished mother-son discussions about poetry, artwork, and music. Her slow deteriorating memory and health issues changed the family dynamics. Though they vowed to stay by her side, their lives were forever changed, and family no longer had the same meaning.
Derrick walked back in the room and sipped his drink. “Yep, Nikki can be a flip chick-a-dee.” He flapped his arms like a chicken and let out a chortle. “I have nothing more to say about her, though. She’s my cuz.”
“Yes, well, I wish you’d tell your cuz to step off me. I can’t run back and forth to the east coast very often.”
“Uh, I’m out in that situation. Talk to Nikki. Back to Ms. Traffic Director, jump on that before it’s too late, and I’m expecting Romero in a couple of hours.” He looked at Antoine with a familiar stupefied gaze whenever he mentioned his boyfriend’s visits. Weird.
A couple of margaritas, and the haughtiness of Mr. Derrick Bailey broke out in full swing. Despite Antoine’s disagreement over not being visible when Romero visited, he still loved and respected his cousin like a big brother. Two years his senior, he’d given Antoine some valuable advice over the years.
Antoine picked up the remote from the coffee table and changed the television channel. “Sometimes you’re worse than a horny old man,” he joked with his cousin.
Derrick lifted the glass to his mouth and slurped like a thirsty animal before chuckling and smacking his lips. “Horny old man? You’re the one with no lover.”
Antoine chewed his bottom lip and glanced at his giddy-acting cousin. “Right. Well, Romero’s not here yet, so I’ll chill, then I’m out of here.”
“Yeah, and don’t pop up until I text you,” Derrick winked as he walked to his bedroom with a bowl of chips and the margarita in hand.
Antoine knew what that meant, and Derrick never gave a rational explanation. Seldom was there a variance from the norm, and Derrick’s text to his cell chimed at the same time if Antoine wasn’t at home in his bedroom. Staring at his watch, it was almost 12:00 p.m. This is when he longed to return to the nightshift. There would be no interferences with Derrick’s dates, no dealing with the traffic director, only the sheer enjoyment of entertaining fans. It’s time to buy a television for my room.
Chapter 7
ANTOINE
Friday
Antoine’s transition to rising at 4:00 a.m. for a 6:00 a.m. show required more discipline than he’d expected. Morning runs to the gym decreased from seven days a week to five, and early afternoon naps at times were unavoidable. He rested his head back on the sofa, thinking he’d go to the station and work on several voice overs later.
He watched CNN news, pondering politics and the American government. Derrick popped into his head; his cousin loved to discuss politics. Derrick’s ridiculous suggestion that he take more trips to San Francisco seemed irrational. Most of his friends, including Ellis, were married and mingling with them was awkward since he didn’t have a girlfriend.
The job opportunity at KTLM came at the perfect time, so he’d packed up and moved to L.A. That was a chance to break free, start over, and get past the trauma that constantly nagged him. He was over Fiona, but he had an inkling that she may not be over him. His main desire was to cope with the memories of the tumultuous end to their three-year love connection and move forward.
San Francisco, CA – 2016
After arriving at Washington-Dulles International Airport, Antoine walked through the security check and removed his tennis shoes, watch, and iPad from the conveyor belt. He glanced at the flight information display system. Great. He would arrive in Los Angeles in time to surprise Fiona and celebrate the last hours of her birthday. He purchased a caramel latte at Starbucks and found Gate 1712.
He unzipped the inner lining of his coat and removed the gray velvet box. A brief concealed view of the two-carat custom made heart-shaped diamond solitaire made his chest swell. Antoine spent more than he’d intended but buying a special ring for the angel in his life meant a lot. His cell chimed. Fiona. He put his Bluetooth on and answered.
“Hey, sweetie. What’s happening?”
“Not much. Just waiting for you to come home.”
“I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there earlier. Promise I’ll make it up. Do you miss me?”
A moment of silence drifted by.
“Fiona, did you hear me?” He placed the gray box back in his jacket and scanned the area before taking a seat next to a lady with two talkative kids.
“I heard you. You could’ve called earlier. Where are you? I hear kids in the background.”
“Uh, I’m picking up take-out,” he turned his back to the woman and her kids. “I asked if you miss me?”
“I always miss you. I just wish you’d cancelled your trip. Weekends alone are no fun.”
Visiting his mother was hard, and Antoine could not fathom why Fiona continued to ask to accom
pany him. The answer was always the same; she was too sick for visitors outside the family. His mother had deteriorated significantly, and each visit created a downward spiral emotionally. And the epitome of evil? His father had the audacity to divorce the sick mother of his children to be with a younger woman.
“Don’t worry. I won’t be leaving again any time soon. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“You’re not with another woman, I hope.”
He frowned. “Of course not. You know better, plus you reap the rewards from those weekends that I work.”
“Babe, you do that by choice. All that family wealth, and you work harder than a poor man.”
“Because I love what I do. And you keep recycling old issues. I’m wealthy, but I don’t flaunt it. I live a simple life; you know that. I prefer to use some of my money to give back.”
Fiona’s deep breath seeped into his ear. “Skip it,” she said. “I’m not going there, and I’m tired of hearing it. How much you think your people care about you? What they care about is your money.”
“No, seriously. Why’d you bring that up again? I want to know.”
“Because your mom is ill. I hate that you and your family are on opposite ends. My belief is peace in broken families can happen with effort.”
Antoine sighed and stood to see if another seat was available. “Maybe so, but I’m not bending to pacify my family,” he twisted his mouth. “I’ll keep doing what I want. Listen, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call when I land in LAX tomorrow.”
“Yeah, bye.”
Clearly, Fiona spoke partial truth, and he could not dispute her practical opinion, but he hated conversations about his family. The once close bond between the Bailey family withered after his mom’s health started to decline. He learned the importance of giving back when his mom retained her teaching job in East Oakland after the Bailey Real Estate Group exploded. Antoine’s relationship with his father and older sister changed, and if he could figure out how to resolve their conflicts, he would. But the situation was too complicated.
The plane landed in LAX on schedule, Antoine exited the plane and scurried to baggage claim, excited about what was to come. This evening, he would propose to his best friend, lover, and beautiful partner. He picked up a dozen red roses on the way home, but when he pulled into the carport, his brows furrowed. Why is there another car parked in my slot? Wait… that can’t be. I’d know that red Mitsubishi SUV anywhere.
He pressed a fist against his mouth. “What is Kelvin doing here?”
Antoine parked behind Fiona’s Infiniti Q70L and cut off the ignition. With both hands on the steering wheel, his body stiffened as his thinking muddled like scrambled pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He picked up the bouquet, strutted up the walkway to the elevator, and exited on the third floor. Pausing at the front door, an eerie feeling in his soul said leave. Instead, he slipped the key in the lock and walked in. The pungent odor of incense and sex attacked his gut, then nausea set in. The bedroom door was ajar. He heard the loud moans of a man. A woman’s moans. And then a man’s voice echoed from the bedroom. Fiona’s voice echoed from the bedroom. Antoine kicked the door all the way open and balled up his fist so tight his nails dug into his palms.
Fiona screamed and pulled the covers to her chin; his friend Kelvin jumped out of bed. “What are you doing here?” Fiona asked.
Antoine flared his nostrils. “I live here. Or did you forget? So, you missed me, huh?” He threw the flowers at her. “Happy Birthday, Liar.”
Kelvin searched beneath the covers for his underwear. “Bro, I’m sorry. I swear I am,” he hastily put on his clothes.
“Yeah, bro’, you’re sorry all right. Both of you are scum,” Antoine shouted. “If you value your lives, leave. And be quick about it.”
“No, Antoine, listen to me. I was lonely. This was a mistake, I swear. I love you,” Fiona slipped on a sundress and fingered her long hair in place. “This was the first time; it won’t happen again.”
While Kelvin scuttled out the door, Fiona ran to Antoine and threw her arms around his neck. He shoved her against the wall.
“Don’t touch me,” he shouted. “You slept with my friend. You think I’m gonna fall for your crooked lies?”
“Antoine… Honey,” Fiona cried out, “let’s talk about this please. I’m so sorry.”
He squinted, “Talk about what? It’s over. I want you out of here.”
“All right, you’re angry,” Fiona flipped her hair over her shoulders. “I… I thought you had another woman. You’re gone a lot. What else was I supposed to think?”
Antoine frowned. “Oh, so you’re trying to accuse me of cheating?”
“I, uh… no.” She pushed her fingers to her temples. “But—”
“You’re wrong. And why my friend Kelvin? I wasn’t good enough for you? Or was he a better lover than me?”
“Stop! Antoine, it just happened.”
He bum-rushed Fiona and shoved her on the bed. “You think he’s a better lover? I’ll show you better.”
With his feet spread apart, he glared at Fiona. “Take off your dress,” he said in a calm voice.
“What for?”
“I said take it off,” he yelled.
“No.”
He grabbed the front of her dress.
“No, stop it,” she slapped his hand away. Antoine ripped the dress down the front and tousled to get it off. Kicking, she screamed, “You’re hurting me.”
Antoine froze. He realized he’d lost control and let go of her arm. He jumped from the bed and looked up at the ceiling, uttering a prayer. “Dear God, please forgive me.” Returning his gaze to Fiona, he paused before he spoke. “You’re not worth it.”
Fiona wrapped a throw blanket around her shoulders. “I said I’m sorry. What more do you want?” She asked in a steel tone.
“A woman who’ll be loyal. Not one time have I ever slept with another woman during our relationship.” He unzipped his coat pocket and pulled out the gray box and opened it. “You see, this is how serious I was about us. Did my love mean anything to you?”
Fiona’s head dropped to her chest as a flood of tears streamed down her face. Her nonchalance about cheating ticked him off, and Antoine was afraid the boiling rage would return. He paced back and forth, fever ishly contemplating his options. Kick her out or leave and cool down. Ellis. He had to talk to his friend. Removing his cell from his pocket, he said, “Siri, call Ellis.”
Ellis answered, “Hey, Champ, what you been up to?”
“Man, I need you. Now.” Still pacing, he said, “Get over here pronto before I hurt somebody. I’ll explain later.” He tossed Fiona a funky glare before punching the wall, and then rushed out of the apartment.
“Ant. Ant, wake up,” Derrick shook Antoine’s shoulder.
“Hey, hey.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I passed out. What time is it?”
“It’s time for you to leave. Romero is on his way.”
Somewhat annoyed, Antoine was relieved the dream had ended. He put on his jacket and grabbed his car keys from the table. Before he could get to the door, the doorbell rang.
Antoine opened the door to Romero’s permanent smiley face.
“Well, hello! Long time no see,” Romero said.
“Yeah, talk to Derrick about that. I’m out.”
Chapter 8
JADA
Friday – Santa Monica, CA
Gordan parked near the Santa Monica Beach pier. Before they left the car, he licked his thick lips and pulled Jada to his chest. They kissed for what seemed like forever. After the kiss, he hugged her so tight she could hardly breathe. The engagement. This moment was truly amazing, but her uneasiness had not subsided. And kissing in the car like two puppy love high-school teenagers? This is so not Gordan. He was a private person. There had to be something on his mind that he needed to discuss.
They held hands and went into one of their favorite restaurants on the pier. Jada enjoyed the ocean view while they immersed in a ‘free-the-min
d’ conversation during lunch. Strange. At one point, Gordan stopped talking, but she re-engaged further with other topics to keep their communication going. During the conversation, Gordan kept losing focus and forgetting what he intended to say. Jada doubted work or personal problems was the reason for his change in behavior.
A waitress with a slight limp balanced a tray on one shoulder, delivering luscious Cajun shrimp, a salmon salad and corn on the cob to their table. The food smelled and looked tasty. Having polished off a half glass of raspberry iced tea, Jada could only eat a few bites of the meal. After their meal, they strolled the deck gazing at boats as they sailed. The blue waves rippled along the edge of the sand and fizzled down to foam offering a romantic atmosphere and profound relaxation. Jada glanced at Gordan. This was the perfect time to dig into his head.
She ran her hands through her hair and leaned against Gordan’s arm. “Baby, you know what? This proposal caught me off guard. I think it’s best to have an extended engagement. What are your thoughts?”
“Yeah, bae, I know,” he said with a dry voice before shifting his attention to the sea. His gloomy mood continued to baffle her. This man proposed to me. He should be in sheer bliss, ready to jump over the moon.
Throughout their time together, she sensed Gordan had the kind of tension she’d experienced after stressful events in the past. The difference was Gordan would always be open to discussing his concerns, and he managed stress effectively. He referred her to a family friend who was a therapist to help her learn to do the same. After counseling, she’d adapted to utilizing better coping skills.
They sat down on a bench, and she placed her hand on Gordan’s. He didn’t move or speak. “All right. I’m asking again. Are you okay? If not, it’s time to ante up and throw the dice,” she joked, hoping he would laugh or smile. He didn’t.
He rubbed his hands together. “I’m not okay. I’ve got something important to say and it’s embarrassing and crazy.”
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