A Private Affair

by Donna Hill

  “That’s not a reason to move in with him, Nikita. You’ve only known each other for a few months.”

  “I know that. It’s just that…I’ve never felt like this before…about anyone.”

  Parris smiled. “And who knows that better than me? I’ve seen you run circles around men. And the only one who ever came close to locking you down was Grant. And we see now what happened to that relationship. It’s just that I want you to be sure. Quinn is handsome, charming, talented, and has a quiet danger about him that’s irresistible. Just be with him for the right reasons, Nik. Not because you think you can reform him.”

  “You of all people should know how I feel, Parris. Nick wasn’t much different from Quinn, not that many years ago.”

  “Exactly. But I also went into my relationship with Nick knowing who he was, what he was about. I had no delusions about steering him onto any course but the one he’d chosen before we met. Nik, when two people change to please the other, no one winds up happy. I just want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy, Parris. Happier than I’ve ever been.” How could she tell her that she felt this was the only way to keep Quinn? That she felt threatened by his other life, which he wouldn’t talk with her about? That she felt she could never compete with the mystique of the street that was more potent than the scent of any woman? That if she was there, with him every day, she could find a way to help him see that there was so much more out there that he could be a part of? All Quinn needed was someone in his corner. That wasn’t reform. That was love.

  “Then I’m with you one hundred percent. When’s the big move, and what do Mom and Pop Harrell have to say?”

  “She’s moving in?” Maxine chewed her gum a little faster. “You’re kiddin’, right?” Any minute he was gonna tell her he was joking. If they hadn’t been sitting in Sean Michaels’s waiting room, she would have simply screamed.

  “Naw. This weekend.”

  She felt her stomach dip and rise like a ride on a roller coaster. “It’s like that, huh? ’Bout time somebody locked you down.” She forced herself to smile. She chewed a little faster.

  Quinn chuckled. “Never thought it’d be me.”

  “Yeah. Who you tellin’?” She swallowed, but her throat was so dry she almost choked. How in the hell did that happen? Quinn Parker had never been with one woman more than a few weeks at a stretch. Never had the time or the inclination, he’d always said. And as long as she’d known him, no woman had ever spent more than a night with him, if that long. Now here comes Ms. Goody Two-shoes with her white-girl ways and upstate education, and the man done flipped the script. What in the world did she whip on him?

  “Hey, if it makes you happy, go for it.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Need any help with anything?”

  “Naw. Most of her stuff is already at my crib, since she’s been stayin’ there most of the time.”

  Her stomach took another nosedive. “Oh.”

  He wasn’t sure why he’d told Max. Except that when he looked around at his life, the one true friend he had was Maxine. Yeah, he could kick it with Remy, even Nick, but he could never explain how he was feeling, especially about Nikita. Remy would just say something about how her stuff would be easier to get, and Nick, well…he was Nikita’s best friend’s husband. He didn’t want all his business spread during pillow talk.

  Truth was, he was scared as all hell. This wasn’t just taking their relationship to the next step; it was a leap. He wanted to talk it over with Max, but she seemed to have closed up on him, as if she wasn’t really interested. That wasn’t like Maxine. She’d always been one of his noisiest cheerleaders whenever any major change happened in his life. It was in moments like this that Lacy would have just the right thing to say, whether he wanted to hear it or not.

  He snatched a glance at her smooth, dark brown profile, and those jaws were working that gum. But she was just staring straight ahead, as if she were in the room all by herself.

  “What’s happenin’ with Dre?”

  “Huh? Oh, he’s good. We’ve been spending a lot of time together. He’s been helping me get my business set up. I just found a guy to do a Web page for me on the Internet to announce my services. I hope it’ll be up and running in a couple of weeks. Then it’s just wait and see.”

  “It’ll work.”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling myself.” She finally turned and looked at him. “How about you—I mean, besides this moving-in thing with Nikita?”

  “I…started writing again.”

  “You have?”

  Her exclamation drew the attention of the receptionist, who quickly reverted her attention back to her files.

  “Yeah. A little. Just foolin’ around.” He hadn’t shown any of his work to Nikita. There was just something stopping him. Nikita was taking courses at NYU. She’d studied in Europe, gone to boarding school. All he had was a twelfth-grade education. She was pretty much running that magazine by herself. Naw. He couldn’t tell her. At least not yet.

  “That’s great, Q. I know it was hard.”

  “At first. Then once I got started, it got easier.”

  “Quinn, Maxine,” Sean said, stepping into the reception area. “As usual, sorry for the wait. Come on in.”

  “I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked,” he said, taking a seat and extending his hand to the two vacant ones for them to do the same. “And it’s not because your case is on the back burner. Actually, I didn’t want to contact you both until I had something concrete to talk about.”

  Quinn unfolded his arms and sat up a bit straighter in his seat. It had been nearly six weeks since that first meeting, and they hadn’t heard one word from this dude. He was beginning to think the “best-dressed brother” was just B.S.-ing them.

  Sean folded his hands in front of him just as there was a light knock on the door. Everyone’s gaze swung in that direction.

  Quinn took a quick inventory. She was the woman in all of the photographs with Sean. She looked a hell of a lot better in person. Reminded him of somebody…couldn’t figure out who.

  Maxine turned back around. Humph. That suit was slamming. Wonder where she shops. Man, she looks just like…um, Sheryl Lee Ralph from the TV show Moesha.

  “Sorry, folks. I’m Khendra Phillips.”

  “My wife and business partner. Khendra’s been behind the push for an investigation.”

  Khendra took a seat to the right of her husband, crossed her long legs and flipped open a zippered leather folder. She started talking in a “this is important” voice.

  She looked directly at Quinn. “I’ve requested the autopsy report on your sister, Mr. Parker.” She was slightly startled to realize just how much he and his sister looked alike. Losing a family member under any circumstances was always devastating, she thought, but to lose a twin…She’d read some of the studies scientists had done on twins, and death between twins was invariably life altering. It was truly like losing a part of oneself, they said. Some twins reported never feeling whole again—almost like those who have lost a limb, but still have the sensation. She took a breath. “It appears that they’ve lost the report.”

  Quinn was out of his seat as if hit with a stun gun. “What?”

  “Quinn,” Maxine whispered, grabbing his arm.

  He snatched it away and leaned forward, bracing himself on his palms against the desktop. “What’re you sayin’? That the rumors are true, they are tryin’ to cover their asses?”

  “To put it mildly—yes,” Sean responded. “I wanted you both here so that we could talk with you face-to-face.” He turned to his wife. “Khendra…”

  “I’ve made an appointment to meet with the district attorney early next week. We’re going to demand a full investigation of everything associated with the shooting.”

  Quinn spun away and began cutting a trail in the carpet. “What do you think you’re gonna find out? Do you really think they’re gonna let you get to the bottom of it? Hell, no!”


  “Mr. Parker, we have no illusion that there is going to be anything easy about this case. Nothing,” Khendra said. “It’s obvious that they’d prefer we just shut up and go away.”

  “It’s not going to happen,” Sean added. “I know that you want this resolved. So do we. You’ve got to believe that we’re going to do everything in our power to make sure that justice is served.”

  Quinn took a long breath. Looked from one to the other. “Do whatever you have to do. No matter how long it takes, no matter how much it costs. Just do it.” He turned to leave. “You need me, you know how to reach me.”

  He stalked out, leaving the door standing open.

  Maxine stood. “Thank you…both. We appreciate everything you’re doing. Quinn’s just upset.”

  Sean stood, also. “No apologies are needed, Ms. Sherman. We’ll keep you both posted.”

  “Thanks. Nice meeting you,” she said to Khendra and hurried out of the office.

  Quinn was sitting behind the wheel of his BMW, music blasting.

  Maxine got in the car, took one look at his stiff profile and knew this was not the time to talk. Not that he could hear anything she had to say over the blare of the music, anyway.

  In no time he pulled up in front of her building.

  She turned to look at him. “You cool?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, good luck with the move…and everything.”

  “Yeah.”

  She opened the door. “It’s gonna work out, Q.”

  For the first time since they’d gotten in the car he looked at her, his eyes filled with a pain she knew she’d never understand. The anguish in his voice tore at her heart.

  “When?”

  If looks could kill, he would certainly be laid to rest. The daggers that Nikita’s parents threw at him when he came to help her with her things felt real. It wasn’t anything they said—because they didn’t say a word—but the blatant disgust for him was obvious in their every move.

  Quinn picked up a bag. Hey, they’ll get over it, he decided. Nikita is a big girl and can make her own decisions. But briefly, while moving some of the boxes into the house, he wondered what it felt like to have parents who cared enough about you to get pissed off when you did something. Humph, he’d never know.

  “That’s it,” Nikita puffed, dropping the last box on the living-room floor.

  They looked at each other and the dozen or so boxes and bags that surrounded them, and fully realized what they were embarking on. There would be no more getting up and going home for her. Privacy, a thing that he relished, would be cut back. All the little annoying habits that they’d hidden from each other would be right there in their faces. Every day.

  They got scared, and both started talking at once.

  “You can, uh—”

  “Where should I—”

  “Go ’head,” Quinn said.

  Nikita took a breath. “First, I think we’re going to be great together.” Her gaze ran across his face. “I’ve never lived with anyone before, other than roommates at school.” She smiled. “I don’t want your life to change because I’m here. I know there are things in your life that don’t include me. Maybe they will one day, maybe they won’t. I…just want us…to be happy when we are together. And to just work toward making us work.”

  Us. Damn. He’d never been an “us.” “Sounds cool. We’ll just take it one day at a time.”

  He bent down to pick up a box. “I’ma take this upstairs. You can put all your clothes in the closet in the guestroom. I’ll find some space for your…other stuff in my dresser.”

  He took the box and walked toward the door, stopped and turned. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Chapter 18

  Revelations

  Nikita floated through her days at work, eager to get home to Quinn. More often than not, he was there when she got in, and they talked a bit, shared a meal, but by ten o’clock he was gone, usually not returning until the early morning hours.

  Her mother called her at work practically every day, telling her what a mistake she’d made, that there was no way it would last. Her father was bolder, calling her at the apartment but refusing to acknowledge Quinn if he answered the phone.

  She saw the sting of her father’s treatment reflected in Quinn’s eyes, the tight set of his jaw, the momentary faltering of his proud stance. And she hurt for him, pushing her parents even further away. And the further she pushed, the closer she clung to Quinn.

  “Can we do something this weekend?” Nikita asked, stacking the dishes in the dishwasher.

  “Don’t know, Nik. You know I got things to take care of.” He walked across the kitchen, took the pot off the stove and emptied the wild rice into a plastic container.

  When she moved in, she’d had only an inkling of how Quinn spent his time. Three months later, she didn’t know any more now than she had in the beginning. She just sort of accepted things the way they were—as the norm. It was only now and then, like now, that it bothered her.

  She didn’t want to ask too many questions, pressure him or demand too much of his time. She just didn’t want to rock the boat. She wasn’t going to prove her parents right. She didn’t say anything when he stayed out half of the night. She didn’t tell him how she felt about being left home alone. She didn’t say how much she resented all the time that he spent with Maxine. She wanted to be the one to go with him to see the lawyers. And she already knew that talking about Lacy Parker was out of the question. He’d made that perfectly clear when she’d asked him what happened to Lacy, though he’d finally told her what had happened to his sister. He’d been distant and almost analytical about the tragic details, as if the only way he could relay the events was to remove himself.

  Tonight, she was tired of being shut out.

  “Why do you have to be in the street every night, Quinn? I know you could get a real job and just work during the day like everybody else.”

  Slowly he turned to face her and her heart went on a rapid-fire rampage. She’d never seen such fury emanate from him. She swallowed, determined to stand her ground. She watched him bite down on the inside of his lip and shake his head. She wasn’t sure if it was in disbelief or dismissal.

  “Later.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, snatched his keys from the table and walked out.

  Quinn sped down Seventh Avenue, racing the lights, swerving around cars, barely missing getting sideswiped by a yellow cab. He turned the music louder, hoping that it would block out the thoughts that ripped through his head.

  It ain’t gonna work.

  He was a fool to think that it could. Nikita couldn’t understand his life. The way it had been. The way it was now. Naw. Never. Even if he tried to explain, it wouldn’t come out right, and she’d try to find a way to make it better.

  His heart settled down a bit and he took in a long breath. That’s just the way she was. Always striving, trying to do better, make things better. And it was all good. He dug that about her, except when it came to him. She had to know that.

  He jumped onto the FDR and headed uptown.

  He’d never been able to talk to anyone about himself, explain all the whys. They just understood, or didn’t care enough to want to know. Most of the time it didn’t matter, anyway.

  He pulled up in front of B.J.’s, looked around, saw the usual sprawled out here and there, smelled the pungent smell of marijuana that left a permanent aroma in the air, the streetlights—every other one lit—that cast hazy shadows along the gray concrete and brownstone buildings.

  Yeah. He saw it all. Saw where he fit into the puzzle. And he saw himself behind the black and whites in a club where you didn’t have to go through a metal detector to get in.

  He opened the car door. The alarms beeped into place. Where did he belong…really?

  He moved easily among the brothers and sisters who society had written off, but had been like distant relatives to him all his life.

  Middle ground. Where wa
s it?

  Nikita wandered aimlessly around the house, turning lights off and on, turning the stereo up, then down, but the sinking sensation just wouldn’t go away.

  Was she wrong for wanting more from him, knowing that he was capable of giving it? Why should he want less than the best for himself? She couldn’t understand that.

  Restless, she finally found herself in the bedroom that they shared, and she suddenly felt so alone. She needed to be close to him, hear him say that it was going to be all right between them.

  She strolled over to his closet and opened it, inhaling his scent. She looked at the array of suits, shirts, sports outfits, rows of shoes and books on the shelf. She started to close the closet when she noticed several black-and-white notebooks tucked in the corner.

  She’d never gone through his things before, and had made a silent oath to herself that she wouldn’t. But her curiosity went into fifth gear.

  She stretched. She tiptoed. She couldn’t reach them without knocking everything down in the process. Now her curiosity was beginning to heat up like a fever. She hurried across the room and dragged the small nightstand from next to the bed and pulled it up to the closet.

  Climbing up, she reached the trio of books and took them down.

  Her heart was racing, expecting a security guard to tap her on the shoulder at any moment and hustle her off to a back room for interrogation.

  Hopping down, she pushed the stand back in place and took the books to the bed. Fluffing the pillows around her, she sat cross-legged on the bed and opened the first book.

  Never in her wildest dreams had she expected to discover what she’d found.

  Starin’ out my window, lookin’ for the sun to shine

  There ain’t nothin’ there but more of the same

  More of yesterday

  That same beat of the street, a mood all its own

  The only place I know.

  Only place I’ve been, can ever go.

  There’s nothin’ beyond the sunshine

  Just more of the same hurt, anger and pain.