Vanley was a cancer survivor who was miraculously healed by carrot juice. He never got tired of telling his story. He was in the middle of recounting his story when they walked in. He waved to Charles and whistled at Phoebe.
Phoebe was shocked at how many people were in the circular shack which had a straw roof and a round bar table. People were chugging down vegetable and fruit juices and snacking on strange looking snacks. There was a small chalkboard at the front of the shack that advertised the 'brew of the day'. She had to double check if she was seeing right when she saw the words Seaweed Juice.
“Ew,” she turned to Charles. He had on a blue Oxford shirt and black dress pants. She had never seen him so dressed up and when he had accompanied her to the driving depot she could not keep her eyes off him. As soon as they left the depot, though, he had undone the top buttons of his shirt and dragged it out of his pants.
“I hate the formal thing,” he had looked at her apologetically.
Phoebe had shrugged because even in his scruffy state, he was handsome.
“Welcome, Empress,” Vanley said loudly, almost bowing to his knees when he saw Phoebe. “Charlie, is your chick this? She looks like she drinks vegetable juice all day—beautiful.” He smacked his lips obscenely. Phoebe laughed and Charles gave him a high-five. They sat down on a bar stool and Charles ordered the usual.
“How did you find out about this place?” Phoebe asked Charles curiously.
Charles laughed. “We play here sometimes. Vanley pays us with drinks and his delicious seaweed chips.”
Phoebe shuddered again. “Seaweed chips? I never pegged you as a raw food lover.”
Charles smiled. “Vanley's story about his survival from cancer can move even the most avid skeptic to rethink the concept of eating for health. Once more the concept of 'simple' is working here. Rich foods with elaborate ingredients may not be the best for your digestive system. A poor simple plant may be the best thing for you even though it is growing next door in Flatbush Scheme rather than as an exotic bush in Bluffs Head.”
Phoebe smiled. “I hear your analogy, duly noted.”
Vanley placed before them two large pineapples, husked out and filled with juice. The juice tasted like pineapple mixed with papaya and acerola cherries.
Phoebe sipped through the straw and hummed. “This is good.”
Charles smiled, his brown eyes lighting up with glee. “Told you: 'simple' is better.”
*****
Phoebe was happily sipping and grinning with Charles when Ezekiel walked in. He had to bend his head to prevent the straws that were hanging around the shack from grazing his head. He looked around in the semi dark interior and his eyes zeroed in on Phoebe. She was laughing at something the guy who she was with had said.
She threw back her head and laughed in wild abandon. He had never seen Phoebe like that before—so relaxed and free.
The guy, Charles Black, wiped a speck of juice from her chin. It was a revealingly intimate gesture. She looked at Charles, a smitten look on her face.
Ezekiel's heart clenched in fear. He had heard her tone of voice the last they spoke and had rapidly closed the negotiations in Australia to return to Jamaica. He had bided his time while his security detail gave him a full report on Phoebe's whereabouts for the time he was off the island, and what he read scared him.
He had found out, belatedly, that she couldn't drive. He acknowledged, painfully, that he had practically set her up with Charles Black. According to the security’s reports, they had been inseparable for the past few weeks. He felt like hitting his head on something hard.
How could he compete with Charles Black? He was younger, more handsome, not tied down by any responsibility and he lived beside Phoebe. She had obviously forgotten her conviction about marrying for practicality rather than sentimentality, if the ‘doe eyes’ she was making with Charles was any indication.
He left the restaurant and sat in the back of the Bentley. Should he leave the situation as it was? There were so many options running through his head. He could always use his money to woo Phoebe back. She obviously has a soft spot for him. She had kept the car that he gave her, hadn't she? But did he want her on those terms? Did he want a woman who only wanted him for his money?
He contemplated that on his way to Lion's Head and he contemplated it over dinner, which was a lonely affair. He had planned to invite Phoebe up to the house tonight but the security detail he had trailing her had told him she was at Vanley's Veggie Bar with Charles Black.
He contemplated it until he couldn't sleep. He went walking alone by the seaside, hoping that the sound of the sea would soothe his active mind.
Why didn't he just dismiss Phoebe as another gold digging woman who was after his fortune? God knows, he had encountered several of them in his lifetime. And he had found that trait, even in the most beautiful of women, as ugly as the scars on his face. But then he remembered the conversations that he had with Phoebe on the phone, he pictured her pretty face upturned to his and smiling. He wanted her; he wanted to have her around him everyday. He needed those lips to smile for him exclusively. He wanted her in his bed every night. He wanted to explore her both inside and out and he didn't care if she was a gold-digger.
He gritted his teeth and sat down in the sand. If he should marry her, how could he keep her? How would he live with himself knowing that she was unhappy with him, knowing that she yearned for that boy, Charles Black? The thought was enough to have him gritting his teeth even more.
In the wee hours of the morning he made up his mind that he would try for Phoebe one more time. He would extend himself one more time; he would allow himself to be rejected by her. If she pushed him away, he would leave it there. It would be hard, his whole essence was taken up with Phoebe, but the years would loosen the intense feeling he had for her. If she didn't push him away he would marry her and she could grow to love him as he would love her.
The ball would be put squarely in Phoebe's court. He would allow her to decide.
Chapter Twelve
Phoebe's cell phone rang early Friday morning; she looked on the screen and saw Ezekiel's number—she was tempted not to answer and to turn it off. She almost did so, but she remembered the car outside and her finger reluctantly pressed the talk button; she stared at it as if it was not a part of her body.
“Hey Ezekiel.”
“Good morning, Phoebe.” Ezekiel sounded crisp and business like.
“Morning.” Phoebe sat up in the bed, feeling slightly tense; he sounded brusque like he meant business.
Ezekiel paused. “I've been invited to a party in Cayman this weekend. Want to come?”
“Cayman?” Phoebe gasped, “as in outside of Jamaica?”
“Yes,” Ezekiel replied cagily. He sounded reserved, quite unlike the relaxed man she had been talking to for the past few weeks.
Phoebe's mind raced. She had all but made up her mind to give him back the car. If she went to Cayman with him, what would that make her—the gold digging opportunist that her mother had carefully reared for years?
She liked Charles. He was fun and simple, and for the first time in years, she didn’t care that a man had no prospects or money in the bank. She would not call what she felt for Charles, love; maybe it was a crush. The feeling was strange to her, but she actually felt willing to explore it some more.
She looked around her in the gloomy room and inhaled. If Ezekiel but knew what he was asking her to choose with this trip. This was the pivotal point. She was supposed to go to a church social with Charles and his lively group of friends on Saturday night and then they were playing at an event in Fairview on Sunday night. Charles said he was going to play a song just for her.
She sighed. Seconds were ticking by. Ezekiel was quiet over the phone. It was as if he was hardly breathing. He didn’t say a word to convince her one way or the other, no coercion, nothing.
She clutched her cell phone tighter.
Money or Love?
Money or Lo
ve?
Phoebe inhaled deeply. “Do I need a visa to go to Cayman?”
Ezekiel exhaled loudly. “I will work out the details by the end of the day. Pack lightly. I ordered clothes to be delivered to the house for you.”
“Huh?” Phoebe asked, surprised. He was that sure of her response.
“In anticipation of your coming with me I gave a personal shopper your size and she got you some things. The clothes will be there before we land in Cayman this evening.”
Phoebe's heart leapt with anticipation. These were the kinds of things that having money could do for you. “Wow.”
“I'll send George to pick you up from work at four-thirty. I'll see you at my private airstrip.”
Phoebe gulped again. “Private air strip?”
“Yes,” Ezekiel said, a smile in his voice. “I travel too often to use regular air transportation. I’m really looking forward to this weekend, Phoebe.” His voice softened. “Thank you for accepting.”
Phoebe got up from the bed reluctantly when Ezekiel hung up. The conversation with Charles would not be easy. She was tempted to just tell him, face-to-face, that she wasn’t going to be around, but she didn’t want to see his expression or his disappointment in her. She would call him during her lunchtime and tell him that she wasn’t going to be around this weekend.
Her mother was sitting in the hall crocheting when Phoebe entered the cramped space—her fingers happily flying over the thread. She was also humming her favorite song, ‘Yeh Kahaan Aa Gaye Ham,’ a Hindi romantic song, which always made her excited.
Her mother had always sung it to her to put her to sleep when she was young. It was based on a movie called 'Silsila'. The movie was about star-crossed lovers who finally ended up with their true loves in the end, after much drama. Her mother used to tell her the story in both Hindi and English. She wondered about the irony of her mother humming that song at this time of the morning and looking so happy.
Phoebe had to pause to look at her. She could pinpoint the last time she had seen Nishta smile and look contented. It was the time she had convinced Phoebe to enter a beauty pageant. She had been filled with such joy, in anticipation of Phoebe winning that she smiled all day, up until Phoebe had been placed third. Her smile had vanished for years and was just now re-emerging.
“Why are you so happy?” Phoebe asked grumpily.
“Because my daughter is sorting out her life properly,” Nishta said happily. “Just the way I taught her. A mother has to be happy for that.”
Phoebe grunted. “I am going to Cayman with Ezekiel this weekend.”
“You are?” Nishta squealed, “How fabulous! This is serious business, Phoebe. Don't mess it up.”
Phoebe groaned. “I don't know if I should keep on encouraging him? I am of two minds. I like Charles. He’s so easy to be around.”
Nishta knit her brows and hauled herself from the sofa, throwing down her thread. “Look at me, Phoebe,” she said with a heartrending fierceness in her eyes. “If you give up this opportunity, you are looking at yourself in twenty-four years. Do you hear me?”
Phoebe scowled. “I will not let myself get fat like you, and Charles does have a job. He’s an entertainment coordinator at a large hotel.”
Nishta laughed. “I hated fatness too and Larry did have a job. I thought that love could conquer all. I defied my parents, said goodbye to my heritage, and look at me now. Look Phoebe,” Nishta sneered, “don't you think I was pretty too? Don't you think I had flawless skin and a tiny waist? Don't you think I saw possibilities in our one-acre farm? Don't you think I thought that our one room hut was quaint but livable? Don't you think,” tears sprang to her mother's eyes, “that I wanted to go back to school. I had dreams, big dreams.”
Nishta pointed at Phoebe. “I had ambition. I wanted to grow. I wanted to have it all, but the thing is, Phoebe, my looks faded overtime—hastened by poverty and worry. You won't have those looks forever, my dear girl. Remember that.”
She passed Phoebe and went into the kitchen. “Since your father has finally gotten off his haunches and gotten a job, I have eggs for breakfast. Want some?”
Phoebe stood in the hall, digesting all that her mother said, and empathizing with her. “No, I’m in the mood for something more exotic like smoked salmon or a quiche.”
Her mother grinned. “That’s the spirit, girl. That's the Phoebe I grew and love. Never you ever dare settle for less than good enough.”
She went back to humming her Hindi song and Phoebe sat in the settee, feeling unsure and unhappy once more.
What if settling with Charles wasn't really settling? What if love was better than money?
*****
They arrived in Cayman some minutes after five. Ezekiel had spent almost all his time on the phone in his onboard conference room. However, his personal assistant, Nathan, checked in on Phoebe every five minutes to ensure that she was comfortable.
“Boss' orders,” he said, grinning. He was a tall, thin, white guy with a bookish air; he looked to be in his early thirties. “Mr. Hoppings is once more offloading one of his company's in Brazil. He is just putting things in motions, so he'll not be taking long.”
He came and sat across from Phoebe. “I’m his right hand man, you know. I've been working with him for seven years now.”
Phoebe nodded, feeling overwhelmed. She had had no idea how the inside of a jet looked. She was surprised to see that the images of planes she had in her head, with rows and rows of seats, was somewhat different from the one she now found herself in. It had seats facing each other, as well as a bedroom suite and a conference room.
The pilot had saluted her and the airhostess had given her a gift basket of fruits when she sat down. The airhostess had also itemized a long list of things that Phoebe could have for her comfort and enjoyment, just by asking.
Ezekiel had kissed her on the cheek and left her to her own devices. She looked at Nathan who was skipping through a business magazine and trying to chat with her. She didn't expect him to entertain her, but she understood that when the boss ordered something, it had to be done.
Nathan had been valiantly trying to chat with her without probing or revealing anything about his boss. It was a struggle for him because each time he looked at her, she could see curiosity beaming through his intelligent gaze.
“So where do you live, Nathan?”
“Anywhere Mr. Hoppings lives,” Nathan said happily. “My job has no starting or ending hours and the staffing quarters on all his properties are more luxurious than any hotel.”
“Sounds hectic,” Phoebe said sympathetically.
“No, not for me,” Nathan replied. “I am single. My boss travels to exotic locations at the drop of a hat. I love it. When I applied for the post I had just graduated from law school. I had no idea it was so hard to get a decent job if you are not from one of those brand name law schools.” He shook his head. “I applied for this job and got it. I will never practice law now.”
“Right.” Phoebe nodded.
Ezekiel came into the main cabin and Nathan got up. He was in a charcoal gray business suit and his hair was neatly trimmed. He looked powerful and vibrant and he moved with an elegance that belied his size.
“Sorry about that, Phoebe,” he said. “I have this farm in Brazil that is getting some serious offers from two very determined bidders.”
“No problem,” Phoebe nodded. “How big is it?”
Ezekiel sighed. “It's a modest holding, just five hundred acres. I farm cattle there.”
Phoebe tried valiantly not to let her jaw drop. Five hundred acres was modest? How rich was he? She contemplated this in her head for a while and then they were reminded to put on their seat belts by the pilot. They had arrived on a private landing strip near what looked like a sprawling resort.
“Wow!” Phoebe said when she alighted from the jet. “What hotel is this?”
“Welcome to Lion's Gate,” Ezekiel said grinning down at her. “My private residence in Cayman.”
Chapter Thirteen
The mansion had a beach for the front yard and was made of cut stone and glass—she could barely take in all the features of the place. When Phoebe remembered to close her mouth, she was standing in a living room with two spiral staircases leading to doors on a balcony that was surrounded by intricately designed wrought iron balustrades. There were four mature palm trees in the middle of the living room, which had several towering glass windows through which one could gaze at the sea view.
Ezekiel was looking at her closely. “I trust you like the place?
“It's awesome,” Phoebe whispered looking at him and smiling. “It looks even more spectacular than Lion's Head.”
Ezekiel chuckled, a shaft of sunlight caught his eyes and Phoebe realized that his eyes were chocolate brown and his lashes were thick and curly—she hadn't realized that before; she also realized that she didn't notice how ugly his scars were, today. In the grand scheme of things, she reasoned prosaically, his scars were a minor issue. They were beginning to matter less and less to her.
He caught her looking at him with a look of puzzlement in her eyes and he gave her a lopsided smile. “Let me show you to your room.”
Phoebe followed him up the spiral staircase and into a room with floor to ceiling glass, which opened onto a private balcony. She could hear the sea so clearly from the room that she knew she was going to have a good night's rest.
After showing her around and teaching her how to operate the gadgets needed for her comfort, Ezekiel looked at her. “I hope you don't mind having only me for company this weekend. I rarely keep staff here. Nathan usually heads to the staff quarters. We won't see him until we head back on Sunday night.”
Phoebe inhaled nervously. “We are not sharing the room are we?”
Ezekiel raised one eyebrow. “Would you want to?”
Unholy Matrimony Page 7
