Mr. Mysterious In Black

by S. Ann Cole

  “No, you’re not,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. “It’s just that, you-know-who is once again demanding a dance with you.”

  “Tico, the guy…makes me wary. I’m not going within a foot of him. The fact that he’s so insistent on getting a dance with me all week is creepy. Are you sure he’s not some kind of lifetime movie type predator? He’s always dressed in black. What if he’s one of those cult people who likes to kill for the rush of it?”

  Tico flung his head back and laughed out. “No, Sadie. I know him very well and he’s nothing like that. He’s not a member of the club either. He just started showing up here since you began working here a few days ago. Clubs are not his sort of…thing. His presence here is because of you.”

  “But, why? How does he even know me?”

  Tico shrugged, but the expression he bore told me that he knew much more than he was letting off, and I was too lethargic to try deciphering anything at the moment.

  “Tell him I said no, and that he should leave me the hell alone. He’s creeping me out.” I tugged on Kash’s arm prompting her to move with me. Tico gave a reluctant nod and stepped away.

  I was rocked awake from my fugacious sleep as Kash pulled up outside my apartment. “What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

  “Just a little after midnight.” Shifting in her seat, she turned to face me. “You’re gonna stop, aren’t you?”

  “You know me too well,” I mumbled. “There’s no point if Tico keeps restricting me from every damned thing.”

  “Yeah, Tico’s behavior is a bit out of character when it comes on to you. My only thought is that he wants to set you up with that guy who watches you like a hawk.”

  “Well that’s not gonna happen. He’s just too damn weird. I mean, he stares at me all night, yet if I smile at him, his face gets all serious and disapproving. But then he sends Tico to ask me for a dance. He’s just…ugh, whatever.”

  Kash laughed.

  But I didn’t, for the joke was lost on me. A sigh emitted instead. “I haven’t gotten a call back from any of those job applications. I’m not sure what the hell I’m gonna do now. Dancing on-stage had looked so easy.” I managed a short laugh. “Yet I couldn’t last more than four nights.”

  Kash reached over and rested a warm palm on my cheek. “You are a strong, smart, fearless woman, Sadie. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

  Opening the car door, I clambered out, swaying. But in a minute Kash was there by my side placing her arm around my shoulders. “I got you.”

  I knew Kash didn’t want me to stop working at the club, but to be honest, that was just not for me. At some point in my life, I was going to look back and ask myself, “What the hell was I thinking?”

  Tucked away on the thirtieth floor of a skyscraping building, Secre X was a private and exclusive members-only gentlemen’s club, where only top-class business men—who were married and bored—were allowed. There were no more than about thirty members of the club and each member rented their own booth. Tico made loads from those men.

  Making use of an inherited and honed talent, I at times design and sell costumes to dancers. Kash was a regular customer of mine, and I’d stopped by Secre X one night last week with a few pieces that Kash had ordered. She’d been on-stage when I arrived and I’d taken a seat by the bar and watched her while I waited. It was at that moment that I’d been like Eve who’d bitten into that deceivingly juicy apple, because the vast amount of money that Kash had made on-stage had been very temping. I’d easily convinced myself that that would’ve been an easy way to make some quick cash and pay off my debts. Such had been propelled by Kash’s encouragement. However, it didn’t take long for me to realize that one needed a carefree psyche or a completely inebriated mind to get through a few hours at such a job.

  Kash halted with me on my doorstep. “Sadie, did you forget that the owner of Narcofax had said he was coming to see you tomorrow night? You know he’s entranced by you and always tips you big. Come by, if it’s only to see him. That’s a couple of hundred guaranteed.”

  True, that gray-headed man did give large tips. “Okay. Maybe.”

  Taking my bag, she searched around for my keys, retrieved them and opened the door. “And just remember, if you want anything at all, I’m here to your avail, okay?”

  With a nod of acknowledgement, I stumbled across the threshold, closing the door behind me.

  “Looks like someone’s had a busy night. You’re stoned.”

  I glanced up to see Kelsy and Tevin cuddled up on the big black couch in my living room, staring at me with amusement.

  “You two shit faces still here? Don’t you have a home?” I grumbled as I walked rather clumsily over to the black leather recliner in the corner and sprawled out in it.

  “You left us watching Gone with the Wind, and it just ended. You know how long that damned movie is. We were just about to leave anyways,” Kelsy said, popping her gum. “You’re back early though, how was ya night?”

  “Shitty.”

  Kelsy Mitchell looked at me with her big green eyes, her long dark hair pigtailed with red hair ties and her bodacious frame swallowed up in one of Tevin’s oversized sweaters. She’s been my best friend, confidante and everything in between for five years. Polar opposites, though. She was from an affluent upbringing and I was from an impecunious, dysfunctional family. But Kelsy had always loved me for me and shared my tears and laughs with me—though laughs, for me, weren’t much. That, along with the fact that I could be used as an excuse to her parents so she could date my ride or die thug of a friend, Tevin.

  Tevin was unacceptable, ineligible, absolutely not the son-in-law that Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell would approve of. He was, quintessentially, the kind of man all women should steer clear of. Tevin Trouble was what I called him. Trouble with a capital T. But I can’t lie, though, I adored the curly-haired, Hispanic hombre as a brother as he loved me like a sister. At just over six feet he was athletically built with a unique Spanish swagger to him. He had a large heart-designed tattoo with massive wings on his arm that had all three of our names etched in it.

  “Just imagine, you own a house with five bathrooms,” I slurred, wagging a lazy finger at Tevin. “And you,” I slurred to Kelsy, “have enough money to buy one with twice as much bathrooms. Yet, in this apartment that I rent and share a bathroom, you dwell in it more than I do.” I closed my eyes and flopped back in the recliner. “I should just let y’all pay my rent when Brenda gets back from New York. Lizards.”

  “We just wish you’d actually let us pay the flippin’ rent and stop playing Miss Pride,” Tevin snapped, his words all curled up with that Hispanic accent.

  Ignored him I did.

  “Come on, Sadie. You’re stressing yourself out over things we can help you with easily. Nothing’s wrong with accepting help from others sometimes,” Kelsy joined in, her voice laden with compassion.

  “I don’t want your money. Neither do I want your pity. Didn’t you guys just say you were leaving?”

  “Stubborn as always,” Tevin said, wagging his head. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go.”

  Their steps neared me and then I felt their kisses on my cheeks. “G’night, pony. See ya in da’ morrow,” Kelsy whispered.

  The soft click of the door seconds later confirmed that they were gone. Unsteadily, I got up from the recliner and headed to my bedroom, tossing myself onto the bed without undressing.

  Oh shoot…

  It didn’t matter how stoned I was, there was one thing I had to do before I met up with sleep. I reached over to the nightstand, retrieved my old, tattered bible and opened to where it was bookmarked. The words were blurred due to the heaviness of sleep in my eyes, but I strained and read the highlighted words in Proverbs that I’d been reading every night for the past six years:

  Oh God, I beg two favors from you; let me have them before I die.

  First, help me never to tell a lie.

  Second, give me neither poverty nor riches.
/>   Give me just enough to satisfy my needs.

  As the last of the words slurred from my lips, my eyes instantly grew heavier and sleep overpowered.

  Chapter Two

  Brilliant sunrays came bursting through my bedroom windows, coercing me from my sleep. My eyes opened in reluctance and an instantaneous headache pounced upon me.

  Hangover.

  Today would be a weighty, mood-swinging day, I could tell. Rising from my slumber, I dragged myself to the bathroom.

  My hideous reflection stared back at me in the mirror, cognac irises surrounded by lashes as long as palm tree leaves. My heart-shaped face was all mascara-blotched and lipstick-smeared. And my twenty-six inches of chocolate brown ripples were tangled in knots. Death resembled me.

  Deciding on a long, hot shower, I denuded myself and hopped beneath the steaming shower. Tensed muscles soon relaxed as hot water sprayed over my body. Scorching, I liked it that way. Sometimes I think I have an addiction to pain. It’s distracting.

  Tossing my head back, I let the water beat on my face, stinging my sensitive skin.

  Lord, what was to become of me now? I. Am. Such. A mess.

  That tragic and unexpected news I received last night still had me horrifically shocked. Though, I couldn’t understand why it was a ‘shock’ when I’d known it was bound to happen sooner or later. A mere month after breaking up with him. A mere month. And now he was gone.

  It was the work of a divine intervention that I’d timely mustered up the courage and left him. For sure, as soon as I realized that I was a mess on my own, I would’ve gone back to him. As I always did.

  When Tevin had brought me the news last night about him, my ex-boyfriend Cali D, being murdered in his house, I’d slipped into momentary shock. As much as I was sick and tired of the selfish, insensitive bastard, learning that the life of someone you’ve spent so much of your time with had just been taken with such brutality as if it had no value, does indeed summon forth tears. Cali D was never the ideal man. But he was there for me at a time when I was lost. Yes, once upon a time I was twenty times more lost than I am now. Believe it.

  What if I’d never broken up with him? It was a ritual for him to stay in on Tuesdays and watch boxing matches on television. And I knew, implicitly, that I would’ve been there with him, sprawled on his fluffy white carpet in his TV room watching boxing matches, and the assailants would have killed us both. I could have been dead.

  I shuddered.

  The thought was frightening. It was sad that he had to go that way. I didn’t love him, no, but he was what I knew for six years. Rough, tough, hardcore love. Drugs, guns, cynicism and disloyalty.

  Cali D had been my shoulder, my refuge, and an oasis in the desert since that time I could no longer plague myself with thoughts about—thanks to my retrograde amnesia. I was heartbroken, vulnerable and weak, and Cali D was a timely distraction. But I’ve never loved him. Never wanted to share my heart with anyone. So because Cali D was easy not to love, I’d stayed with him. Many a times I’d left him when he became overwhelming and possessive, but I’d always go back, for the fear of starting over; or worse yet, meeting someone and falling in love with them. I didn’t want to love. There was some unknown force that wouldn’t allow me to. So staying with Cali D seemed safe. Safe only where my heart was concerned, but not my life.

  The thought that my blood, along with his, could’ve painted that white carpet red, was shivering. I hated my life, yes, but I didn’t want to die, no. “Thank you, God,” I whispered under the cascading hot shower, “for getting me out of there in time.”

  That’s why I’d drunk myself into oblivion last night. I was so shocked, desolate, despaired, timorous. In a myriad of emotions I was entwined, and the alcohol was comforting. It’d afforded temporary solace.

  After showering and spending over thirty minutes of blowing-drying and struggling to school my overly long and unruly curls, I began rummaging through my closet of self-made apparels.

  I smiled with pride for a moment.

  At least I was good for something. Nothing gave me greater pleasure than sketching my own fashion, shopping for fabrics—when I could afford such luxury—sitting behind my mother’s old machine and creating my own designs. It was my vice.

  A dress that I’d made last winter, intended for this season, caught my eye: a pale green, squared-neck, flared, spring dress. I grabbed it from the hanger and donned it along with my light yellow loafers. Then girlishly puckered my lips as I turned from side to side checking myself out in the mirror. I looked very…Spring.

  My overt predilection for colors was beknownst to all. I couldn’t help it. Besides, my mood was not in its brightest today, so my apparels might as well be. To complete my outfit, I grabbed my large Givenchy handbag, black with yellow straps.

  After snatching up everything I needed, I left the apartment, stuck my earplugs into my ears and selected Pink’s song, Crystal Ball, on my iPod. Apt for my crappy life right now. There were a million cracks in my crystal ball. I wrestled my emergent feeling of depression into submission as I commenced my promenade to Starbucks under the warmness of the early March sunlight.

  Seating myself in a corner at Starbucks, I took a sip of my espresso, closed my eyes in appreciation and hummed. Upon checking the time on my cell phone I noted it was 9:25am. Ten o’clock would be appropriate enough to visit Miss De’Lacy. That gave me a few minutes to catch up on this Laura Kinsale novel I’d been trying to complete for about two weeks now. I withdrew my paperback of Flowers from the Storm from my handbag and began reading. Despite his impediment, I was utterly in love with the hero Christian Langland. But was overly disgusted and annoyed with the heroine, Maddie.

  “Wouldst thou likest…” I mocked at the pages.

  A stifled chuckle sounded above, startling me, which prompted me to look up, and there I met warm brown eyes peering down at me. A tall, ashy-blond haired man, who was rather very handsome, by the way, was hovering over me, his mouth twisted in a grin suppression.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” I echoed. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, you can. By allowing my presence at your table so I can enjoy my coffee. I’m in a rather somber mood today and need me some company.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m afraid my mood mirrors yours. I couldn’t possibly bring cheer to anyone at the moment. And unlike you, I’m desiring no one’s company. Not even my own.”

  “Already we have one thing in common. That’s got to be a sign.” His smile was charming and his voice soothingly melodic. Clad in a charcoal jacket suit with a crisp white shirt and shiny black shoes, he resembled every bit a confident businessman. He looked…expensive.

  “My mother told me never to talk to strangers,” I quipped, bringing my book up to my face as a sign of dismissal.

  It was ineffective.

  He chuckled and took the vacant seat opposite me. “My mother told me the same thing. That’s two things we have in common so far.”

  “You’re annoying me,” I said petulantly.

  He nodded towards the book in my hand. “More than the character you were mocking in that book?”

  His question elicited an involuntary giggle from me. Oh hell no, I don’t think anyone could be as annoying as Maddie.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  With a bright smile, he fixated his stare on me, causing me to shift uncomfortably. “You are very beautiful. Quite radiant.” His brows crinkled in a frowned at that, and something unfathomable flitted across his face. I didn’t acknowledge his compliment.

  He was obviously as determined on sitting here as I was determined to ignore him. As long as he remained quiet, we’d be good. Bringing my book back up to my face, I resumed reading. ‘Christian went out on the battlements when he wanted to be alone…’

  The handsome brown-eyed man was quiet and seemed to be lost in thought. Despite his earlier proclamation of being in a somber mood, it was paradoxical to his cheery demeanor, then. Now, he wasn’t looking
somber per se, but something was definitely a bother to him. Not that I cared. I lowered my peeking eyes and continued nosing my pages.

  “I’m Devon,” I heard him say after a while.

  My eyes peered over the top of my paperback. “Oh,” was all I replied.

  “Do you have a name?”

  Irritated, I slammed my book shut and was about to say something peppery, when I noticed that his expression was different from what was it was earlier. He was no longer amused or thoughtful, but earnest and, if I wasn’t mistaking, desirous.

  Staring back at him, I blushed a little. No, I wasn’t attracted to him, but that look was…

  “Sadie,” I answered. “My name is Sadie.”

  “Sadie,” he whispered my name absentmindedly, lost in thought again. What’s going on with him? Freaked, I checked my cell phone for the time and noticed I’d stayed past planned time. It was 10:10am.

  Stuffing my book, iPod and cell phone back into my bag, I swung it over my shoulder and started to leave. My movements seemed to have dragged Devon from his reveries.

  “Sadie, hold up.”

  On a heavy sigh, I halted and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “Your beauty and your presence are ethereal. I didn’t expect—” he stopped short and his brows furrowed. “I’d like to see you again sometime.”

  What did he expect me to do, swoon at his words and say: ‘Oh, anytime, Devon. Anything.’?

  I snorted. Countless men have met women in coffee shops and repeated that line, I’m sure. Wagging my head, I turned and walked off.

  He jogged to my side. “Please, Sadie. Can I have your number?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you mine.”

  “Sure.” There was no hesitation, because I knew that I would not be calling. My hand shot out, waiting.

  He frowned at my non-hesitant acquiescence. Running his hand along the sides of his jacket, he shrugged. “I have no pen or cards on me now. Let me put it in your cell phone.” He stared at me in scrutiny. Oh God, the man just wouldn’t give up.