A Private Affair

by Donna Hill

  Move with it

  Not against it.

  ’Cause there’s nothin’ you can do

  All those stories about gold at the end of the rainbow

  They ain’t talkin’ about you.

  Tomorrow is just more of today.

  There were more. Dozens and dozens of poems, short stories, song lyrics. Some finished, most incomplete. Many brought tears to her eyes and others made her laugh, but all of them left her feeling the weight of his hopelessness.

  Throughout all of the work ran the single thread of a buried hurt. Many were half-written stories about a little boy who had to become a man too soon, who did what he needed to do to survive.

  She closed the last book, trying to absorb the enormity of what she’d read. Through his writing he was able to express his feelings, his outrage, even weakness, which he’d never dare to show anyone.

  Retracing her pattern, she returned the books to his hiding place.

  Quinn had talent. Raw, phenomenal talent. But he hid it, kept it to himself, unwilling to share.

  She couldn’t let that happen. She had to find a way to get him to see how important it was to sharpen his skills and share them. And from all that she’d learned about him, it wouldn’t be easy.

  Quinn returned around 2:00 a.m. She heard him try to be quiet as he moved around the room. She lay perfectly still until she felt the weight of his body push down on the bed.

  Usually when he came in he’d wrap himself around her, kissing and caressing her body, warming her by degrees until she was hot with need. Tonight he made no move in her direction. He kept his back turned.

  She opened her eyes. So this is how it’s going to be. Whenever he’s upset he’s going to pout. That’s not how things are going to work.

  “Quinn.”

  He knew she’d say somethin’. Had to. That was Nikita. Couldn’t let anything rest. But, bottom line was, it was his intention, anyway. He’d wanted her to make the first move.

  “Hmm?”

  “We need to talk, Quinn.”

  “About what?”

  “Could you at least turn around?” She sat up in the bed.

  He turned on his side and propped up on his elbow. “What? I’m listenin’.”

  She blew out a breath, then wrapped her arms around her bare knees.

  “About earlier…I’m sorry if I said something to upset you. It’s just that I want so much for you. I get afraid for you when you’re gone all hours, who knows where. I look at the news and hold my breath, hoping and praying that I don’t hear your name connected with something awful. I can’t take a decent breath until I hear your key in the door.”

  “Nik, I been takin’ care of me and my sister since I was sixteen years old. I did what I had to do. Being out there, turnin’ a dollar into two, runnin’ numbers…whatever. I did it. I got good at what I did. I got respect from everybody on the street, and then I got better. The world you talkin’ about…Naw, it ain’t no place for me. Corporate America is lookin’ for people they can control. I control what I do.”

  “But what about tomorrow, Quinn, and the day after? What about when you have a bad week and the money doesn’t come in? What if you get sick? Does Remy provide health insurance, a pension plan?”

  Quinn looked at her dejected profile, the way her shoulders hunched over, and the way she kept biting on the inside of her lip like she was going to cry.

  She’d better not cry. That was the one thing he couldn’t handle—a woman’s tears. Put a gun to his head, and he wouldn’t feel as weak and helpless. He hadn’t meant to hurt her.

  Damn. There was that first tear, running right down her cheek. Sniffles, too? Damn. But how could he ever explain how alien he felt out of his environment? How scared he was of failure? Not to her. Not to his lady.

  “Niki, baby…” He sat up and pulled her into his arms, and her sobs broke like a burst water main. He shut his eyes and stroked her hair. “Come on, baby. It’s gon be all right. I just gotta do things my own way. Ya know. You need to understand that.”

  “Quinn…I get so scared. I…just want the best for you.” She sniffled and wiped. “You have so much going for you. I…I don’t want anything to happen to you.” She buried her face in his chest. “I don’t want to be without you, Quinn. I love you.”

  His heart slammed in his chest and he would have sworn his stomach was trapped in his throat.

  Love? Who’d ever told him that they loved him? Only Lacy. Sure, women had said they loved him in the middle of hot sex, but he knew good and damned well it wasn’t him they loved, but what he was doing.

  Love?

  He eased back and lifted her face. Her beautiful brown eyes glistened. So many things he wanted to say with her looking at him as if he was the most wonderful thing in the world. He ached to make things right for her. Sure, he could tell her he’d do whatever would make her happy. But he might be lying. And he never wanted to lie to her.

  Instead, he kissed her. Really kissed her. Long, slow, searching, pouring into that kiss all that he couldn’t say. Hoping she’d understand.

  She clung to him, needing his nearness like a fix—desperate for a part of him. The longing made her feel weak and light-headed. She knew that the unquenchable desire she had for Quinn was a dangerous thing. It blinded her to the realities all around her. But she couldn’t help it and she didn’t care.

  When she felt his large hands stroke her heated flesh, his fingers separating the tiny folds, she shivered, whispering his name. She moved closer, not able to get close enough. She wanted him to know just how important he was to her, that being with him like this was not just a physical need, but an emotional fulfillment.

  Feeling her wet heat surround and draw him in, he let loose his doubts, if only for the moment, succumbing to the comfort and security of her giving, hoping to convey with his body all the things he could not say.

  If only for the moment, the gap that separated them was bridged once again.

  Chapter 19

  Tell It Like It Is

  Maxine and Val stood by the watercooler in the employees lounge of the bank.

  Val tossed her plastic cup in the gray trash can. “You have your things for the gym tonight?”

  “Yeah. I definitely have to go tonight. I’ve been fallin’ off big-time, but I’ve been working so hard trying to pull everything together for my business. It’s been straight from this job to the one at home. I’ve been so tired, girl, my eyes are crossin’.”

  “That’s just why you need to go to the gym to unwind.” Val looked at her friend and missed the usual sparkle in her eyes. “When’s the last time you saw Quinn?”

  “Coupla weeks…I guess.” She shrugged. “Why?”

  “Nothing. Just asking.” She waited a beat, then put her hand on Maxine’s shoulder. “You wanna talk about it, Maxie?”

  Her throat closed up. She shook her head. “Maybe some other time.”

  “You know I’ll listen, hon. No judgment. No ‘free’ advice,” she teased, getting a half smile from Maxine.

  Maxine took a deep breath. “It’s just…Shit, I don’t know what it is. I guess somewhere in my stupid head I just figured Quinn would suddenly realize that I exist. Me…Maxine Sherman. I am woman.” She shook her head. “Then he winds up keepin’ house with Nikita, the last person on earth anyone would ever imagine him being with. I just don’t get it.”

  “I know the whole thing threw you for a loop. It would have done the same thing to me. But the reality is, Quinn has made a choice. For how long, we don’t know. But you have your life to worry about, your growing business, and your own relationship with Dre. Don’t waste any precious time sweatin’ something you can’t do anything about.” She lowered her voice to a pseudo whisper. “Besides, man look that good, probably ain’t that good. Know what I mean?”

  Maxine laughed. “But, g-i-r-l, I just wanted to check it out for myself. One good time!”

  It was just about quitting time. Maxine checked her appointment
calendar for the next day, ticked off all the items she’d already accomplished and shut down her computer.

  Hmm. 4:50. She should give Dre a call and see if he wanted to do something later.

  She picked up the phone and punched in the first numbers of his pager, then hung up. There was no way she was sitting there a minute past five waiting for a return call. She dialed his office directly. Either he was there, or he wasn’t.

  The phone was answered on the third ring.

  “Security. Tower Two.”

  “André Martin, please.”

  “Who?”

  Are you deaf? “André Martin.”

  “Sorry, miss, he doesn’t work here anymore.”

  “’Scuse me?”

  “He doesn’t work here anymore. Gone about two months.”

  She frowned. What was going on? “Uh, thanks.”

  Absently, she hung up the phone.

  Why didn’t he tell me? Better yet, what’s he been doing for the past two months? No wonder he started tellin’ me to just beep him, said management was cracking down on personal calls.

  Yeah, right. Lyin’…Humph.

  Now she was ticked. He could have told her. She felt like a fool calling his job like that.

  She slammed her desk drawer shut and locked it, dropping the tiny gold key into her empty “You’re the Greatest” coffee mug. I’d really like to hear your story, my brother.

  She snatched up her purse and her gym bag, practically stomping down the main corridor to Val’s office. She was locking up as Maxine stormed in.

  “What in the world is wrong with you?”

  Val picked up her gym bag and slung it over her shoulder, giving Maxine the once-over.

  “Guess what?” Maxine planted her hand on her hip, daring Val to guess.

  “I’m stumped.” She closed her office door and they walked back down the hall.

  “Dre doesn’t have a job.”

  “What are you talking about? He never had a job, or he doesn’t have one now?”

  “He doesn’t have one now, and hasn’t for two damned months! Man’s been lyin’ to me through his teeth. And for what?”

  Val was silent until they’d been checked by security and let out of the bank. “Why do you think he didn’t tell you?” she asked, in her patient, soon-to-be-lawyer voice.

  Maxine twisted her lips as they trekked down Chambers Street, bumping into and dodging the after-work mélange of human traffic.

  “I…don’t…know.”

  “Of course you do. But you’re so intent on being the one put upon that you aren’t looking beyond your feelings. I’m sure he didn’t lose his job for the express purpose of tickin’ you off.”

  Maxine switched her gym bag from her left shoulder to her right. “I guess he was embarrassed.”

  “Of course he is. Look at you…Beginning businesswoman, secure in your position at the bank—”

  She released a long sigh. “Yeah, and there he is trying to make things work between us and bam, he loses his job. He just let his male ego get in between. I would have understood.”

  “He doesn’t know that, Max. He’s probably figuring you’re gonna see him as just another brother out of work, looking to cash in on you.”

  Maxine looked at Val. “Yeah, and he’s probably feelin’ even worse because I’m doing so well. He’s been so helpful and thoughtful. Never said a word about his own troubles. It musta been killin’ him.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m calling him as soon as I get to the gym. We have to talk, work out a plan. If we’re gonna have a relationship, we have to be honest with each other. Good times with the bad, and all that.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  Maxine grinned. All they needed was a plan.

  Dre drove up to his neighborhood bank, found a parking space that was meter-free and got out. He needed gas, his light bill was due and rent was coming up in another two weeks.

  He pulled out his thin brown leather wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket, took out his ATM card and slid it into the opening until the little red light flashed and the door clicked open.

  Standing behind an obviously pregnant woman who wore one of those finger-wave hairdos that he hated, he concentrated on the flakes of dried gel in her hair instead of how much money he probably didn’t have in his account.

  It was his turn. He stepped up to the window, selected English as his chosen language and dipped his card in the slot. He pressed Withdraw, then $100.00.

  The machine’s humming and whining made his stomach churn until he saw the money slide through the little door. He threw up a silent “Thank you” and pressed No when the machine asked about further transactions.

  He knew all he had left was about two hundred dollars, minus the monthly service fees. The World Trade Center had denied him unemployment, saying that he was fired for insubordination.

  He was out of cash and out of options.

  Returning to his car he headed back home. Maybe there was a message on his answering machine in response to the dozens he’d left about job possibilities.

  When he got home and checked, there were no messages about job offers, but there was one from Maxine, who’d called from the gym. She wanted to talk. Tonight.

  His stomach seesawed.

  Maxine took a good long shower, letting the steamy hot water massage her overworked muscles. Otherwise, she knew, she’d be one big knot in the morning.

  Wrapping herself in a thick towel, she hurried to her room, dried off and rubbed some generic baby oil all over her skin. She did some quick maintenance on her toes, then slipped into her favorite pink panties and matching push-up bra. She dabbed some Eternity behind her ears, at her wrists and between her breasts, then put on her sea green silk sweater and matching pants. She untied her head scarf and brushed her short hair back into its precision cut.

  Ready.

  Now she just had to wait for Dre.

  Bing. The timer on the oven sounded and her stuffed chicken breasts had come out mouthwatering perfect. The steamed veggies were ready and the yellow rice had about another five minutes to go. She’d bought a bottle of wine on her way home from the gym which she’d stuck in the fridge to chill.

  As she took a quick survey of the small but neat apartment, everything seemed to be in order. She wanted Dre to feel comfortable, full and relaxed when she talked with him.

  The bell rang. She took a breath, repeated her mantra—Be cool—and opened the door.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey, babe.” She kissed Dre lightly on the lips. “Come on in.” She took his hand and looked over her shoulder as they walked down the hall. “I fixed up a phat dinner, got some wine and the night is still young.”

  “What’s the special occasion?”

  “Does there have to be an occasion?” She turned off the pot of rice, then faced him. “Maybe I just wanted to do something nice for you. You’ve been so good to me, Dre, hangin’ in there with me tryin’ to get my business together. I figured it was my turn. Ya know.”

  He stuck his hands into the pockets of his gray slacks, lowered his head, then looked up. “Uh, listen, Max, there’s something I need to talk with you about.”

  She leaned against the light green kitchen counter. “I’m listening, Dre.”

  He took a breath. “I lost my job, Max. I been outta work for two months.”

  She kept a serene expression on her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I couldn’t.” He looked at the floor, the stove, the table, everywhere but her face, her eyes. He didn’t want to see that look—the look that his mother gave to his father. He couldn’t handle that. Not from Maxine. “I felt like you would lose respect for me—as a man. Ya know?”

  “No. I don’t know, Dre. Why would I think any less of you? Folks lose jobs every day. It’s what you do about it that matters.” She pulled out a chair from beneath the kitchen table and sat down. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

  Dre blew out a
breath of relief and began telling Maxine how he and his supervisor got into a confrontation over Dre’s handling of checking passes of all employees and visitors to the Tower.

  “It was the same dude I’ve been seeing for months. He was late for a meeting and forgot his pass. I let him up on the floor and my boss found out and went ballistic. He wasn’t tryin’ to hear nothin’ I had to say. Told me it was a breach in security policy, whether I knew him or not. Even after I told him it would never happen again, he says, ‘You bet it won’t. You’re fired.’” He shook his head in disgust. “Come to find out from one of the guys on my shift it was all a setup. Dude I let through has his nephew working in my old job.”

  “Damn,” she whispered. “Dre, you should have told me, baby.” She reached out and took his hand. “So what are you gonna do? You been lookin’?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been looking. Filling out applications, answering ads. No luck.”

  “How are you fixed for money?”

  “Oh, that. I’m good. Got everything taken care of.”

  She watched his eyes dart back and forth while he talked, and knew he was lying. But she wouldn’t push the issue. “If you need anything, Dre, all you gotta do is ask. Okay?”

  “Sure. Okay.” He sort of grinned, showing his chipped front tooth. “Something sure smells good. What you got cookin’ in that oven, girl?” He came up to her and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her waist, easing her closer. He closed his eyes, letting her nearness push aside his fears.

  While she held him close, she silently prayed that Dre would find a job soon. She’d seen too many times what despair did to black men.

  Chapter 20

  Lookin’ Fast Forward

  Nikita and Parris were relaxing in Parris’s apartment when Nikita dropped her news.

  Parris put down her cup of tea on an end table. “He writes?”

  “Yes. Poetry. Short stories. And they’re good, Parris. Really good. I couldn’t believe it myself.”

  “I suppose you haven’t talked to him about it because he doesn’t know you were looking through his things.”