Man of Fate

by Rochelle Alers

  A smile softened the lines around Kyle’s mouth when his thoughts drifted back to Ava. He hadn’t wanted to leave her apartment the night before, yet he hadn’t wanted to intrude on her time with her friends. Although she still bore some bruising and swelling from the accident, he’d found her beauty ravishingly refreshing because she’d made no attempt to camouflage her injury with makeup. There were women he knew who wouldn’t permit him to see them without their makeup. They slept and woke with foundation, eyeliner and mascara. One had even gone so far as to have a plastic surgeon apply permanent lashes and eyeliner.

  Kyle hadn’t realized he’d dozed off until Cherise shook him gently. He opened his eyes. “What is it?”

  “The tape is here. I thought you’d want to see it.”

  Swinging his legs over the sofa, he stood. “I do.” He followed the legal secretary out of his office and into the conference room where she’d placed the tape into a video player.

  Sitting on a chair, Kyle stared at the tape, his racing heart beating a tattoo against his ribs. Viewing the images on the large flat monitor revealed things that weren’t apparent in the photographs. Rising, he stopped the tape and ejected it. He’d seen enough. The tape gave him what he needed to prove Rashaun Hayden hadn’t committed the robbery or assaulted the storeowner.

  He returned to his office to find Ivan Campbell sitting in the chair beside his desk. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence, Dr. Campbell?”

  Ivan glanced over his shoulder. “I came to ask you about this coming weekend’s get-together. Duncan told me you wanted to throw something at your place.”

  Kyle sat down behind the desk and placed the tape in a drawer. He stared at his friend. Ivan, at five-eleven, was the shortest of the three. He worked out every day in his in-home gym to keep his muscular body in top condition. His brooding expression kept most women at a distance until he smiled. The flash of white teeth in his mocha-hued face was dazzling and mesmerizing. He’d earned the reputation of a love-them-and-leave-them brother, because whenever he found a woman getting too close he’d smoothly extricate himself from the relationship.

  Lacing his fingers together, Kyle gave Ivan a direct stare, noticing for the first time that the psychoanalyst was attempting to grow a mustache and goatee. “I’m going to be straight with you, Ivan. I can’t eat your food.”

  “You’re shittin’ me, aren’t you?” Ivan asked, deadpan.

  Kyle leaned forward. “I wish I was. The last time I ate one of your burgers I thought I was going to have to have my stomach pumped. I downed so much of the pink stuff that my eyes turned pink.”

  “You know you ain’t right, Kyle.”

  “It’s just not me, Ivan. Duncan feels the same as I do.”

  A scowl twisted Ivan’s mouth. “Damn. I thought the two of you were my brothers.”

  “We are,” Kyle countered softly. “You and Duncan are closer to me than I am with my biological brother. If I didn’t love you I wouldn’t be up front with you. You grill sirloin burgers until they’re hard as hockey pucks and gourmet steaks until they can be used as saddles for small dogs. It’s criminal the way you abuse good meat.”

  “So, you think you grill better than I do?”

  Kyle was hard-pressed not to laugh when he saw Ivan’s crestfallen expression. “I know I grill better than you do.”

  “What am I going to do with all of the meat and food I ordered?”

  “Bring it to my place. I’ll pay you for it.”

  “I don’t want your money, Kyle.”

  “What if we compromise? We can have the cookout at your place and I’ll step in as grill-meister? Come on, man,” he continued when Ivan opened his mouth. “You know I’m a better cook because of my dad. Whenever my father was home you found every excuse known to man to eat with us because your mother was less than proficient in the kitchen.”

  Ivan shook his head. “Now, why do you want to snap on my mother’s cooking?”

  “Weren’t you the one who said she couldn’t cook?”

  “Only I can say it,” Ivan retorted defensively.

  “Sorry.”

  A beat passed. “Apology accepted. You can cook at my place.”

  “I’ll tell my staff that the location’s been changed.”

  Ivan nodded, smiling. “Are you bringing Tracey?”

  “No,” Kyle said quickly. “I stopped seeing Tracey some time ago.”

  “What happened, Kyle? I thought she was going to be the one who would make you pop the question.”

  “I thought so, too, until she started playing games.” He wasn’t one to kiss and tell, so Kyle didn’t tell Ivan that the woman with whom he’d been sleeping had confronted him every couple of months with the possibility that she might be pregnant. He knew it wasn’t probable, because he always used protection.

  “Are you seeing anyone?” Ivan asked.

  “No,” he said truthfully. Having dinner with Ava at her apartment didn’t translate into them seeing each other.

  “Are you coming alone?”

  “I’m not certain.” Again Kyle had spoken truthfully. “There is someone I’m thinking of asking. Why?”

  “I’m keeping a head count so I know how much food to have on hand.”

  “I don’t mind kicking in for my people, Ivan.”

  Ivan dismissed Kyle’s offer with a wave of his hand. “Don’t bother. I’ve got it.”

  “What if I bring the beverages: soda, beer, water and wine?”

  Ivan waved his hand again. “Bring whatever you want.”

  “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave because I have to call someone about a client.” Kyle needed a computer expert to validate his suspicions that the videotape had been edited.

  Ivan pushed to his feet. “Tonight is my late night for seeing clients. How about dinner?”

  “I’m sorry, but I have a prior engagement.” First Jordan and now Ivan wanted him to eat with them.

  “Even though you’re coming over Saturday I doubt we’ll get a chance to talk.”

  “What’s going on, Ivan?”

  “Nothing’s going on. Don’t you think it’s odd that we got together more often when we didn’t have our businesses under the same roof?”

  “That’s because we made the time to hang out together. And because we’re in business for ourselves we have to concern ourselves with a mortgage, payroll and every once in a while do a little hustling to realize a year-end project.”

  Ivan smiled. “Preach, brother.”

  Kyle’s smile matched Ivan’s. “Get out of here so I can do what I have to do to keep a young man out of prison.”

  “Good luck,” Ivan said over his shoulder as he walked out of the office.

  Waiting until the door closed behind his friend, Kyle picked up the telephone. The person on the other end answered on the second ring. “I need you to check a tape for me.”

  “When do you need it?”

  “Like yesterday. Can you come by and pick it up?”

  “I’m sorry, Kyle, but I’m working on another project. If you drop it by I’ll try and take a look at it. How long is it?”

  “I haven’t watched the entire tape, but I doubt it’s more than five minutes.”

  “Bring it by my place and I’ll look at it in between my other jobs.”

  Glancing at a wall clock, Kyle emitted an audible sigh. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Ava opened the door to find Kyle dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and running shoes. “What did you do, play hooky?”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon and I doubt if you went into your office wearing jeans and sneakers.”

  Cradling Ava’s chin in his hand, Kyle studied her face. There was only a hint of swelling along her cheekbone, while the bruises were still evident. She appeared refreshingly young and innocent with her fresh-scrubbed face and wearing a floral-print sundress with spaghetti stra
ps that displayed an expanse of flawless brown skin, and tan ballet-type shoes. The curls in her hair were missing, replaced by the smooth, sleek hairdo she’d worn the night of the accident.

  “I had to run an errand.” Kyle had returned home, changed out of his suit and taken a taxi down to Alphabet City to drop off the videotape. Instead of taking a taxi back uptown, he taken the subway. It’d been a while since he taken public transportation, and it felt good to mingle with the mass of humanity that made New York City so unique. “How are your headaches?”

  “They come and go.”

  “No more fainting?”

  “No, doctor,” she teased.

  Kyle’s eyebrows shot up. “Speaking of doctors, have you made an appointment to see one?”

  “Yes, counselor.”

  He stared at her and then burst out laughing. “You must be feeling better because you’re rather sassy today.”

  Ava flashed a sensual moue. “I haven’t had to take any pain medication today.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I’m feeling better and I’m also experiencing cabin fever.”

  Kyle reached for her hand. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

  The ringing of the telephone preempted Ava’s reply. Easing her hand from his grip, she said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Kyle walked into the living room and stood at the expanse of windows. He didn’t think he would ever get used to the view of the river. He’d tried imagining living in the apartment and watching the seasons change. His family had lived on the fifth floor in their housing complex, while Ivan’s family had lived on the fourteenth floor. He’d liked hanging out at Ivan’s apartment because of the views.

  Whenever classes were cancelled because of a blizzard he’d take the elevator to Ivan’s apartment and spend the day looking out the windows at the neighborhood below. The coating of white covering up the dirt, grime and litter had turned the Harlem neighborhood into a winter wonderland. A highlight of the winter season after weeks of below-freezing temperatures was walking across town to Riverside Drive to see the blocks of ice on the surface of the Hudson River.

  “Kyle.”

  The sound of Ava’s soft drawling voice penetrated his musings. Turning, he saw her standing with a cordless phone in her hand. In the seconds it took to blink, Kyle was suddenly cognizant of why he’d followed the ambulance to the hospital, and why he continued to see Ava when he should’ve walked away from her the night of the accident. The display of spunk and independence in no way compromised her femininity. He’d found himself involved with two types of women: the strong ones who exhibited more masculine traits than he, and those who feigned a helplessness that set his teeth on edge.

  Kyle hadn’t had so many women in his past that he’d forgotten their names or faces, but interacting with Ava Warrick made him aware that he’d had to date those women for him to become conscious of what he really had been looking for. He didn’t have a laundry list of criteria for women he’d date like some men he knew. They wanted certain body and hair types, levels of education and ethnicities, unlike himself, who’d dated women from every ethnic and racial grouping. The only thing he required was intelligence, because he didn’t want to spend time having to explain everything he said. If he’d wanted a daughter, then he would’ve had children.

  “Yes, Ava?”

  She approached him, extending her hand with the phone. “It’s the insurance adjustor. He needs the name and address of the body shop where my car was taken.”

  Kyle took the phone, giving the adjustor the information on his cousin’s body shop. He’d spoken to his second cousin, whom everyone in the family referred to as Junior, telling him of the dent in the Jag’s rear bumper. Junior had personally come to look at the damage, stating the damage was minimal and that he would be able to repair it without replacing the bumper.

  After he hung up, his gaze lingered on Ava’s bare shapely legs as she walked out of the living room. For the first time he was glad he hadn’t bowed to family pressure to get married. An aunt had asked whether he liked women, because when a man in his thirties was still single that made folks “wonder about his sexual proclivity.” Kyle had kissed his mother’s sister and reassured her that he did like women, but that he wasn’t ready to marry and start a family. His mother had ended the discussion when she’d said she preferred a bachelor son to one who was a baby daddy.

  He was standing in the same spot when Ava returned with a pair of oversized sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose. The beginnings of a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “You look as if you should be on the Italian or French Riviera.”

  “I wish I was,” Ava said, smiling.

  Closing the distance between them, Kyle extended his hand. “Are you ready for your walk?”

  “Yes.”

  He opened the door and waited for Ava to lock it behind them and pocket the keys. They took the elevator to the lobby and out into the bright afternoon sunlight. “Do you want to walk uptown or downtown?”

  “Let’s head uptown.”

  Ava lost count of the number of times she’d walked the Morningside Heights neighborhood as an undergraduate Columbia University student. She’d shared a two-bedroom apartment on Morningside Avenue with another Columbia student who’d come from Iowa, and whenever she didn’t have classes Ava could be found either in Harlem or the East or West Village. After graduating and securing a teaching position she’d met William Marshall; they’d moved into a miniscule East Village apartment, hosting cocktail parties on average twice each month. But it had all ended when their relationship had changed gradually from live-in lovers to that of jailer and inmate.

  It was then that she realized Will was having a problem separating from his role as a corrections officer whenever he was at home. He’d begun leaving his handgun in plain sight instead of locking it in a safe, and he’d wake up in the middle of the night screaming for inmates to get back in their cells.

  She recognized impending burnout, and when she’d broached the subject with Will he went ballistic, threatening to kill her. That’s when Ava realized if she didn’t leave him then she never would leave alive. She carefully planned her escape, moving her personal possessions when he went to work, leaving the keys with the building superintendent. Will had called her cell until she was forced to change her number.

  “Why do you continue to come see me?” Ava asked Kyle after a comfortable silence.

  The seconds ticked off as Kyle pondered her question. He’d asked himself time and again why he found himself thinking about Ava, why he couldn’t stay away from her, and at no time had he been able to come up with a plausible answer.

  “I like you.” The three words summed up his true feelings.

  “You like me,” Ava said slowly. “How, Kyle?”

  Slowing, Kyle stopped. “I can’t explain it.”

  Tilting her chin, Ava smiled up at him. “Come now. I thought most lawyers were blessed with a gift for gab.”

  He smiled. “True, but in this instance I find it somewhat difficult to explain myself. However, as a social worker I’m certain you’re able to analyze body language and nonverbal communication.”

  “Most times I am.”

  “Then, what do you say to this?”

  Kyle didn’t give Ava a chance to react when he lowered his head and slanted his mouth over hers in a kiss that stole the breath from her lungs, leaving her stunned and struggling to keep her balance.

  He reached out, holding on to her shoulders as she swayed slightly. “What say you, Miss Warrick?”

  Her smile matched his. “I get the message loud and clear.”

  “And that is?”

  “I think you like me, Mr. Chatham.”

  Dropping his hands, Kyle wound an arm around her waist. “There’s nothing to think about, Ava. The fact is that I like you—a lot. You’re beautiful, intelligent and straightforward. You call a spade a spade.”

  Ava gave Kyle a sidelong glance as they waited for
the light to change before crossing the street. “That should be a warning to you that I’ll let you know when you don’t come correct.”

  “Ouch. You really know how to hurt a brother, don’t you?”

  “I thought you like my straightforwardness?”

  “I do, but can’t you try and soften it a bit?”

  “You can’t have it both ways, Kyle. I deal with black and white, not shades of gray.”

  His hold tightening on her waist, Kyle pulled Ava closer to his length. “I concede. I’ll be your way.”

  A slight frown found its way between Ava’s eyes as she opened her mouth to come back at Kyle but then changed her mind. She didn’t want to spend their time together debating personality traits. He liked her and she liked him. The difference was she had yet to tell Kyle how she felt.

  “Will you come with me to a cookout this coming weekend?”

  “That all depends?”

  “On what, Ava?”

  “If my sister doesn’t have her baby.”

  “If she doesn’t have her baby, then will you come with me?”

  “Where is the cookout, Kyle?”

  “Harlem.”

  She smiled, nodding. “I’ll go with you.”

  Dropping his arm, Kyle took her hand and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They walked in silence until they were in front of the Low Library, then turned and retraced their steps.

  * * *

  “How would you like to eat in the solarium?” Ava asked Kyle once they returned to the apartment.

  His sensual smile spoke volumes. “Now you’re talking. Where are you going?” he asked when she walked into the living room.

  She smiled at him over her shoulder. “I’m going upstairs to set the table.”

  Climbing the staircase, Ava removed the plants from a round rattan table, which she covered with a tablecloth and set it with china, silver and crystal from the second-story kitchen. She filled the dozen votives lining the windowsill with tea lights and lit them, then repeated the action with a quartet of white vanilla-scented pillars that doubled as a centerpiece.