by Zuri Day
She took a step in the other direction. The passenger had come from the other side of the car and stood in front of her.
A frustrated sigh gave her the chance to quickly scan the areas behind and beside her. Suddenly the streets were empty. Not another person in sight. Why didn’t I buy groceries on Monday, instead of spending the day on Long Island catching up with friends? Instead of fifteen dollars and some change, her desire for a sparkling libation could cost a lot more. Her brownstone was only two doors down. If she could just get around them...
Summoning her Brooklyn-born-and-bred attitude, she raised to her full height of five foot eight and looked the man standing in front of her directly in the eye. At the same time, she positioned her house key between her index and middle fingers, ready to puncture a cheek or gouge out an eye.
“Let me by.”
“Nicki Long, right?”
Caught entirely off guard, she couldn’t hide her surprise. “Who are you?”
“Friends of Vince. Come to get the money you owe him.”
Seriously? Vince’s ego was bigger than she realized. But if he thought this Brooklyn babe could be intimated, he had another thought coming.
“You have the wrong Nicki. I don’t owe Vince a thing.” She took a step to go around the guy talking, the one on the right. He stepped, too, in front of her.
“Move,” she commanded, now truly more annoyed than angry. “Vince has obviously lied to you, just like he did to me. I hope the promise of money wasn’t one of them.”
The tall, lanky driver studied his nails, wearing dark shades at almost midnight. “Vince did promise us money, as a matter of fact. From the money you owe him. So now instead of one problem—” he looked at his partner “—you have three.”
“Look, I don’t owe Vince. And I don’t even know you, let alone owe you. You’ve got the wrong woman.” Nicki pushed past him. A steely hand clamped onto her arm. Stopped her in her tracks. She whirled around.
“Let go of me.” The driver increased the pressure. It hurt like heck. Her heart thudded erratically. But Nicki forced her features to remain relaxed. She pointedly looked at his hand on her arm and then into his eyes. “I said let. Me. Go.”
“Hey, neighbor!”
Nicki’s body almost sagged in relief. Miss Frances was an elaborative gossip and a constant snoop, but at this very moment Nicki could have kissed her on the mouth.
“Good evening!” She pushed past the men and walked toward the gate where Miss Frances stood wearing a flowered robe and a sleeping cap over pink foam rollers, her squinted eyes trained on the men now walking toward the car.
“We’ll be at the show,” the driver said, fake friendly. “Rapunzel,” he added, making sure she knew he knew which one.
“We’ll be sure to look for you.” Nicki turned and watched the passenger taunt her as he opened his car door. “Break a leg.”
A shiver ran down Nicki’s spine. She turned away. Miss Frances continued to stare at the car as it started up and eased away from the curb.
“QZZ, zero, zero, zero, four.”
“Ma’am?”
“The license plate number. Hurry up and write it down.”
Nicki repeated the number, impressed that her neighbor had thought to get it. “I’ll remember it. Thank you so much, Miss Frances. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come out when you did.”
“I saw you trying to get past them. When the second one came over and blocked the walk, I figured it was trouble.” Miss Frances turned keen eyes on Nicki. “You don’t know those men?”
Nicki shook her head. “No.”
“They obviously know you, came right to your doorstep. What did they want?”
“They had me confused with somebody else.”
“How could that be when they’re coming to your show?” Miss Frances’s gaze was unflinching. Clearly she was unconvinced.
Nicki was equally convinced that what the two men wanted from her was not only something she wouldn’t give, but also something her nosy, overly talkative neighbor didn’t need to know.
“Thanks again for coming out to check on me. You more than likely prevented a crime.”
“Watching out for each other is what neighbors do.”
Nicki gave Miss Frances a quick hug and headed toward her gate.
“Watch yourself,” Miss Frances yelled behind her. “Remember, those men said they’d see you tomorrow.”
Nicki gave a final wave as she hurried up the steps and into her apartment. There was no need for Miss Frances’s reminder. What the men had said—and even more so how they’d said it—was something that Nicki knew she’d never forget.
Once inside she opened the wine, poured a liberal amount into a goblet and took a long drink. She added some sparkling water and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. With each step her heart slowed and her hands shook less. The past several minutes replayed like a video in her mind. Even as it happened, it had felt like a movie. As if it were someone else. After recording the license number on a pad by her bed, she dialed Vince’s number. It went to voice mail.
“If what happened tonight happens again, I’m going to the police. I will not be harassed, and I certainly will not be threatened by the likes of you or those fools you sent over tonight. Their actions were recorded. So is this phone call. Leave me alone, Vince Edwards. Goodbye.”
She hung up, exhausted. Massaged her tense neck and shoulders. Despite the bravado in her message to Vince, the sinister-looking bullies had left Nicki shaken. She wondered if by chance the store’s surveillance camera had picked up those guys accosting her tonight. She made a mental note to check with the owner tomorrow. For now, she wanted to go to sleep and escape a nightmare named Vince.
Chapter 3
She’d planned to tell no one what happened last night. Especially Paige, because Nicki knew she would worry. But a few days later, while Nicki waited with Paige for the pop star’s car to arrive, the words tumbled out.
“If my neighbor hadn’t come out when she did,” she finished, “I don’t know what might have happened. A part of me wants to believe this was just a scare tactic to see if I could be frightened into sending the cash.”
Paige’s look was doubtful. “And the other part?”
“Really wishes those store cameras could have captured their images so that I’d have concrete evidence of how they harassed me.”
“But their car was on the tape?” Nicki nodded. “Then take that along with a statement from your neighbor and file a police report. You can’t ignore this, Nicki, or wish it away. I hope that night was the end of it, but if not, you’ll want to have everything that happened documented. Do you still have the messages Vince left on your phone?”
“I think so.”
“You need to keep all of that, and if he ever calls again, record it. And you need to tell Julian.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because the more people who are aware of what’s happening, the better any future case might be. And because he’s the man who loves you.”
Joe waved as he pulled the car to the curb.
Nicki waved back and turned to walk away.
Paige called after her, “Where are you going? Joe will take you home.”
“And get used to such lavish star treatment? I’m fine on the subway.”
Paige waved off the comment and walked toward her. “Marry Julian and you’ll have your own driver.” She lowered her voice. “I know your real reason for preferring the train. To get off the subject of telling Julian what’s going on. This business with Vince is out of control. He needs to know about it.”
“I’ll think about it.” Nicki started walking again. Tossed a parting line over her shoulder. “See you mañana.”
She headed to the downtown
trains, jumping on the Brooklyn-bound number three. Passing a couple empty seats as the car swayed and wove its way through the underground tunnels, she placed a shoulder against a pole with the practiced ease of a native New Yorker, checking emails and reading texts. One was from Julian. He’d wished her merde, a dancer’s good luck, as he did most nights. Made her think of Paige and the proposal that had happened months before Julian began his internship.
It had been lovely. Lit up on the marquee in the heart of Times Square. He’d gone to one knee, pulled out a telltale blue box and everything. A crowd had gathered, oohed and ahhed. He’d looked so hopeful. But she couldn’t say yes. She’d smiled and hugged him excitedly, making the crowd think she accepted so he wouldn’t be embarrassed. But later on she broke the truth. New York was her soul, Broadway her goal. That’s when he decided they needed a break.
And then Vince happened. She’d heard there’d been no shortage of women vying to claim the spot as Julian’s girlfriend that she’d vacated. A couple of them she knew. Word was he hadn’t dated, had focused on work. Once they got back together, she found out why and felt even worse about her rebound fling. Her rejection had hurt him as deeply as he loved her, a love so strong that when she reached out to him several months later, he took her back, no problem.
The train reached her stop. It was late. Only one other person got off with her. She walked to the stairs and climbed up them, trying to ignore the fearful thought that the duo she’d started calling Bert and Ernie might be waiting for her. Time for a diversion. It was either that or a panic attack. Pulling out her phone, she called Julian. Contrary to Paige’s advice, she would not tell him about what was going on. Julian didn’t know about that ill-fated tryst. She intended to keep it that way.
“Hey, babe. Thanks for the encouraging text. Didn’t read it until after, but the show was—” Nicki drew in a sharp breath as she watched a dark-colored sedan race toward her. Instinct took over. She ran against the light, chancing a look back as she crossed the street. Caught the first two letters on the license plate as the car zoomed through the intersection and continued on its way. Not after her. Just in a hurry. She remembered the license number Miss Frances had given her. The one she’d just seen wasn’t it.
She eased out of the storefront entryway, feeling silly. Paranoid much? She felt someone’s gaze and looked up to see an old man watching her intently. Could only imagine how she must have looked, running when no one was chasing her. Hiding from someone that he couldn’t see. She looked down and realized the call to Julian was still live. God, no. Had she made a sound? Nicki quickly pushed the end button, praying that somehow in the frenzy a message that would sound weird at best, maybe even frightening, wouldn’t go through. Minutes later a text came through. Her prayer had not been answered.
Babe, what’s going on? Where are you?
She continued the short distance to her house, formulating an answer on the way. Just inside her home, she dropped her bag and texted back.
Sorry about that. Just wanted to beat the light, that’s all.
Nicki continued up the stairs to her bedroom, hoping the casual answer would suffice. After several minutes had passed, she thought it had. She took a shower, washed her hair and slipped into a pair of comfy cotton pj’s. Grabbing her phone, she continued downstairs for a cup of chamomile. Julian had called. Left a message and a text. Not only did he not buy her lie, he told her he’d see her on opening night, in person, to find out the truth. Damn, damn, damn!
* * *
One week after that text exchange and ten minutes before curtain, the Drake entourage entered the theater and were ushered to the third row in the orchestra’s center section. They’d flown in for opening night on a company plane. A limo service met them at the private airstrip, with premium champagne and appetizers for the thirty-minute ride into the theater district. The men debonair, the women beautiful, they commanded the attention of the entire audience. Julian took the center seat. To his right was his oldest brother, Ike Jr., with his wife, Quinn. No question whose decision it was to accept his invitation. Ike, ten years older than his pretty wife, detested hip-hop or any similar sounding music. Or he had, until Quinn came into the picture. Of all Julian’s brothers, Ike’s temperament most closely matched his own. That the conservative executive who almost slept in a business suit tonight sported a matching shirt and slacks set from their fashion designer brother-in-law Ace Montgomery’s collection was proof of how Quinn had relaxed him.
Julian loved observing the laid-back Ike, almost as much as the fact that California’s next senator sat on his other side. After serving as mayor of Paradise Cove for several years, another brother, Niko, two years younger than Ike, was on a tireless campaign to represent the Golden State in the next election. He and attorney wife Monique crisscrossed the state tirelessly, so much so that the family staged a mock intervention to force a weekend of rest. The bribe? Tickets to Nicki’s sold-out show. A Monday morning meeting with a political think tank had been thrown in also, but Julian chose not to focus on that. His brother was here, relaxed, laughing with Terrell, Julian’s next oldest brother, in town with his wife, Aliyah. All in attendance to support his girl.
Their gesture was much appreciated. For almost a decade, his focus had been on getting his PsyD and completing his internship. Everything else had taken a back seat, including Nicki and his family. He blamed that fact on why Nicki turned down his marriage proposal. As for the people around him who shared his name? He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed them until just now.
He nudged Ike. “Ready to get the party started?”
“What I’d start would more likely be a mass exit.”
“Honey!” Quinn smacked his forearm. “That didn’t sound very supportive.”
“Hey, I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes, with a pair of earplugs in your pocket.”
Julian leaned forward toward Quinn. “You’re kidding, right?” She shook her head. “Bro, really?”
“Guilty as charged.”
Julian and Quinn shared a sigh of exasperation. She watched him idly tapping the chair arm with his fingers. “Nervous?”
“Excited.”
“When’s the last time you saw her perform?”
New Orleans, Julian thought with a smile, remembering their secret family reunion getaway. “It’s been a while.”
“London’s going to hate that she missed it.”
Niko’s wife, Monique, sat next to Quinn. “All London is thinking about is fashion week. She and Ace are busy tightening up next week’s show-stopping finale.”
Julian’s youngest sister, London, was a superstar model, her husband, Ace, a model turned fashion mogul.
“Fashion week is impressive,” Quinn said, her eyes sparkling as she eyed the stage. “But this is Broadway.”
As if on cue, the lights dimmed.
The stage went completely black. A single drumbeat burst out of the darkness. Boom cha. Boom cha. Then several more percussion instruments along with a sequencer delivering an old-school scratch over syncopated beats, building with every note. Lights, like stars, began to flicker everywhere. On stage and off.
A group of dancers appeared, Nicki among them, lithe, graceful, beautiful, twirling and gyrating and skipping across the stage. Julian watched. Focused. Entranced. Her body seemed a mass of barely contained energy mixed with soulful joy and childlike timidity, personifying the young character she portrayed. A bodysuit clung to her like a second skin, the crystals covering it catching the light, mixing with the twinkling orbs around her that made her a star as well. His heart swelled with pride and, but for strong discipline, another body part would have also grown in size. She was beautiful and talented, amazing and perfect. And she was his girl.
The dance ended. For a second no one moved, then as one, the theater erupted in a round of earsplitting applause mixed wi
th whistles and yells. The second song in the act began, a solo by Rapunzel, and ninety minutes later the audience had to catch their breaths from the wild, exhilarating ride on which they’d been taken. Shortly after the show ended, an assistant came to escort the Drake family backstage.
Behind the door was a crush of sponsors, reporters, actors and their family members, all vying for space in the close, humid quarters. Julian spotted Nicki across the room. She posed with the actor who’d played Rapunzel. Camera flashes temporarily brightened their drab surroundings. A dozen conversations happened at once, a din that made talking at length impossible. He motioned for the others to follow him. Nicki saw his gesture. She whispered to Rapunzel, who looked their way and joined Nicki as she walked over.
Nicki hugged Julian before turning to Paige. “You remember Julian.”
“Of course. Hey, handsome!”
“Hey, Paige. Excellent show.” They shared a brief hug and air-kisses.
“And this is part of the Drake family.”
“My pleasure to meet everybody.” Paige smiled as she took in the beautiful tableau. “I’ve heard so much about all of you.”
“All good, I hope,” Niko said.
“No, she told me the truth.”
Amid the laughter, Nicki introduced Paige to the rest of the family before leading the way through a narrow, dimly lit hallway to the door with a star that bore her name. Once inside, Julian allowed the others to offer their congrats before once again pulling Nicki into his arms. “You were amazing, baby.”
