by Donna Hill
“It wasn’t yesterday, Ellie, not even the day before. It was when I was back in college.”
She did a quick calculation in her head. That had to be well beyond twenty years ago, the seventies, late sixties…pre-AIDS. She was finally able to swallow and eeked out, “Oh.”
“I was a member of the Black Panthers.”
“What? You were?” She could see Ron with a black beret cocked to the side, with a machine gun hanging from his shoulder. Kind of gave her a little thrill. She remembered seeing photographs and news photos of the angry black men who wanted to “take it to America.”
He nodded. “I was a student at the University of Mississippi. How black students were treated, how blacks in general were treated…” He shook his head at the memories. “Anyway, I was determined to do my part for the cause, to rally the young people together. I was holding meetings, sending out newsletters, printing flyers, recruiting.” He blew out a breath. “Someone, and to this day I don’t know who, went to the administration and the administration went straight to the FBI.”
“Oh no.”
“Anyway, one morning there was a knock on my room door, I was put in handcuffs and thrown in jail, charged with conspiracy.”
“What?”
“That’s how things went down back then. It took me nearly two years and a battery of charges to beat the case against me. But as a result, I wound up on the FBI’s watch list.”
“Watch list?”
“Yeah, every now and then I get a visit or a phone call, just to see ‘how I’m doing’” He shrugged. “I’m used to it by now. Part of my life, but I wanted you to know, just in case we are together somewhere and a little man in a dark suit walks up to me.”
“Sounds like something out of a spy movie.” She wasn’t sure if she was appalled or intrigued.
“And now with all the terrorist alerts, alarms, code oranges and the Patriot Act, I’m sure they’re going to step up their game.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve already been paid a visit at my apartment.”
She leaned forward. “Do you think they would come to the spa?”
“It’s possible. But I wouldn’t worry about it. Once the job is finished, they would have no reason to come there. I’ll be gone and they’ll just follow me around like they’ve been doing for the past thirty-plus years.”
“Wow, and I thought you were going to tell me something innocuous like you were allergic to shellfish or something.”
“Not shellfish, cats. You don’t have cats, do you?”
Elizabeth laughed, snapping the rope of tension that had wrapped around her throat as she’d listened to his story.
“No, I don’t have cats.” She looked at him. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“That’s pretty much it. No secret babies, no ex-wife, no girlfriend. Pretty much what you see is who I am—a hardworking, honest man who wants things to be right in his life and in the world.” He slapped his hand down lightly on the table. “That’s my story.”
“Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”
“Is there anything else about you that I should know? Some gross habit?”
She chuckled lightly. “Unfortunately, my life is nowhere near as interesting as yours. I got married straight out of college, put my career on the back burner for my husband and my children.”
“That can’t be it. You make your life sound like you were a Stepford Wife. I can’t believe that about you. What are your interests, hobbies, what career did you kick to the curb?”
“I wanted to run my own business. I wasn’t sure what it was. I knew the things I loved, cooking and decorating. I know, it sounds so frivolous, but…”
“Not at all. What’s wrong with doing what you love, what you enjoy? Look at me, I’m an overgrown kid getting to play with big trucks and hammers and drills.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“So now that you have the opportunity to go after your dream, what are you going to do?”
Her expression softened, her eyes took on a sparkle. “I haven’t spoken to the girls about it yet, but I was thinking that even though I’m the only one of the four of us who hasn’t worked outside of the home, I’m the only with any real in-the-trenches managing skills, from scheduling to meals, to appointments, inventory. You name it. Running a household is like running a small company.”
“So you want to be the spa manager?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“So, go for it. No one else has stepped up, have they?”
“No. We’ve all been so busy just getting the groundwork in place.”
“Listen, when I decided I wanted to get into construction, I didn’t have practical experience. I’d always been ‘the other guy,’ the ‘go-to guy,’ but never the head man in charge. I took out a loan, called on some guys that I’d worked with on some other jobs and went for it.”
“What was your first job?” she asked, more intrigued by him.
“Don’t laugh.”
She made a sign of the cross. “Promise.”
“My mom’s basement.”
“Everybody has to start somewhere.”
There was a momentary pause when they looked into each other’s eyes and then burst out laughing.
“And trust me,” he sputtered, “your mama is your worst customer.” He took a long swallow of his iced tea.
Elizabeth pulled herself together and wiped her eyes with the napkin. “I can only imagine.”
“Well, I hope it’s not our food you’re both laughing at,” Dawne said, stepping up to the table.
Ron looked up. “No, not at all. I was telling your mother about my first contracting job.”
Dawne pulled up a chair and sat down, Desiree followed.
“Ron used to be a Black Panther,” Elizabeth said with a sound akin to pride in her voice.
“Get out!” the girls chimed. “Tell us all about it. That is so cool.”
It didn’t take much prodding from the twins to get Ron to recount his youthful exploits as a l960s militant. The young women were captivated.
“Looks like you’ve worked your charm on my daughters,” Elizabeth said later, as they walked to their respective cars.
They stopped in front of Elizabeth’s car. “You are the only one I’m looking to charm, but your daughters run a close second.” He winked.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She disengaged the alarm on her car and opened the door.
“So…have I scared you off?”
“Not yet,” she said.
“Good. I want to see you again. You name the day and time.”
“Fair enough.” She got in the car, looked up at him. “Friday night. Eight o’clock.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “My treat, wherever you choose.”
“We’ll talk about it during the week.”
“Planning on stopping by to check on me?”
“Actually, I’ll be moving some of my things up into the apartment. I’m sure I’ll need some help.”
He leaned down, pressing his palms against the frame of the open window. “I did mention that I was a handyman?”
Elizabeth giggled. “See you during the week. Thanks for a great afternoon.”
Ron stepped back, slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, forcing her eyes to that enticing bulge in his pants. She swallowed and dragged her eyes to his face. She put the car in gear before she said something really dumb like: Come-home-with-me-I-haven’t-had-a-man-in-months. And as she watched him watching her through her rearview mirror, it took all her home training not to make a U-turn and a fool out of herself.
She couldn’t wait to get home and call Barbara.
Chapter 36
Now Barbara was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that she hated perky little gym instructors more than any other creatures on earth.
She was sure she was dragging her left leg up the steps and that creak she kept hearing wasn’t the stairs. If sh
e thought for one minute that the very young and athletic Michael Townsend had whipped her body in directions she didn’t know were allowed by law, he didn’t have nothing on Ms. Girl at the Sports Spot.
Her muscles howled, calling her every name but a child of God. She didn’t think she’d make it to the tub, and if she did, she’d probably sink beneath the hot water and drown. At least she would be put out of her misery.
Through pure force of will she made it into her apartment without collapsing. She tossed her hated gym bag into the corner, inched across the living room and plopped down on the couch.
The phone rang, beckoning her. She groaned, got up and answered the phone. It better not be a telemarketer, she thought as she said hello, ’cause they were sure going to get an old-fashioned cussing-out.
“It’s Michael.”
She sat down on the stool in the kitchen next to the phone. “Yes?”
“I was calling to see how you were doing.”
“Fine,” she lied, and tried to stretch out her leg without screaming.
“I was hoping that I could see you.”
“See me? What are you talking about? You said you were in Miami.”
“I am. But I’m leaving in the morning. We need to talk.”
“I don’t see where there is anything to say right now, Mike.”
“Please, Barbara.”
She sighed heavily, too tired to argue. “Fine. When?”
“I’ll be getting in about noon tomorrow. Can I meet you at work for lunch? I have to get right back on a plane at six.”
“I suppose so.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
What could be so urgent? she wondered as she hung up the phone. He couldn’t have gotten the DNA results back yet. Even the muscles of her brain were exhausted. Whatever it was, it would keep until tomorrow. For now she needed a hot bath with some Epsom salts.
Barbara’s first patient the following day was Mrs. Wells. She was a treat and definitely the lift that she needed.
“How are you and that young man doing?” Veronica Wells asked as she ceremoniously disrobed. Veronica was notorious for doing a virtual strip show each time she came in for her appointment. If you got it flaunt it was her motto.
Barbara sighed, pulled the drapes and sat down on the stool that was in front of the exam table where Veronica was daintily perched as naked as she was born.
“Not so good at the moment,” she confessed.
“Sorry to hear that. I knew something must be wrong, that spark is missing from your eyes.” She heaved a sigh. “Do you think I should get a Brazilian wax? I hear it’s all the rage.”
There was no telling what Veronica would say at any given moment, but this was definitely up there in the top ten.
Barbara didn’t dare answer. “Did you see the news the other night, the story about the basketball player and a pending paternity suit?”
Veronica frowned in thought. Then she brightened. “Yes, I believe so. Pretty little thing.”
“Well, the man she wants to sue for paternity is the man I’ve been seeing.”
“Oh.” Veronica twisted her lips in consternation. She shrugged nonchalantly. “And what is the problem? Men screw around all the time. This one just happened to get caught. Doesn’t make him a bad man, just careless.” She angled her head to look at Barbara. “So…why are you really upset?”
Barbara huffed. “It’s not so much that he had a life before me. I have a problem with him paying child support for a year and then stopping.”
“Maybe he had good reason. Maybe he found out something that changed his mind.”
Barbara chewed on her bottom lip. “I suppose.”
“Did you talk to him about it?”
“Sort of. I was too upset to really make sense.”
“Want my advice?”
Barbara nodded.
“See what happens before you make a decision. He may be totally vindicated. How many times are the claws put on athletes?”
“I know.”
“What’s important is how you feel about him, if the relationship is even important enough to pursue.”
She looked into Veronica’s eyes and told her about Michael’s proposal, something she hadn’t even shared with Ellie when she’d called to tell her about her harrowing date with Ron.
“Sounds like he’s serious.”
“Hmm.”
“Well, dear, as I said, go with your heart. You have a good head on your shoulders, use that, too.” She winked at Barbara and that made her smile.
“Thanks, Veronica.”
“Anytime. Now, let’s see how high I can get these legs up in the air. We’re planning a seven-day Caribbean cruise and I want it to be a trip that my husband will never forget and I don’t mean the food.”
Barbara laughed and shook her head.
She was a nervous wreck as she stood in the hospital lobby waiting for Michael later that day. He’d called on his cell phone nearly a half hour earlier to say he was on his way. She checked her watch. Her lunch hour would be over in another fifteen minutes.
Although he was hard to miss at six foot six inches, she barely recognized him. He wore a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, a hooded Nike sweat jacket and matching pants. She hated to admit it, but he really did look like one of the kids she saw running around in the park.
He pulled off his shades as he approached. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Why are you dressed like that?” She was accustomed to him in casual attire, but he truly looked like a character from Boyz in the Hood.
“Where can we go to talk?”
“I really don’t have much time, Mike. I have to get back to work. I guess we can go to the employee cafeteria.”
“Fine.” He took her arm. “Sorry it took me so long to get here. I wanted to make sure that no press were dogging me.”
“Press!”
“Yeah, they’ve been all over me since the story broke. One of several reasons I needed to get out of Miami so I could breathe. I’ve been like a prisoner in my apartment.”
It hadn’t occurred to her how all this was affecting him and his life.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Not your fault.” He looked down into her upturned face. “None of this is.”
They continued down the corridor and turned right, toward the cafeteria. It was busy. No one paid them much attention.
“There’s a table in the back,” Barbara said, leading them to it.
Once they were seated, she launched right in. “What was so urgent that you needed to see me today?”
He dug around in his pocket, pulled out a box and put it on the table between them.
“Don’t open it yet. Hear me out.” He took a breath, collected his thoughts. “When you came into my life, not as my therapist but as a woman, my life changed, for the better. I know I may not be all that you want, but you are what I want. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. When I asked you to think about marrying me it was the biggest step I’ve ever taken in my life. I’ve never asked a woman to share my life. You are the first and I hope the last.” He opened the box and Barbara’s heart stopped short then beat at an alarming rate. “This is only a small token, something that I want you to hold on to while you think whether or not you want to share my life.”
The diamond, sitting on a platinum band, was blinding in its brilliance. Light bounced off the stone in a kaleidoscope of colors. She didn’t want to guess how many carats. This was Elizabeth Taylor action.
“Michael…I don’t…can’t…”
“Please, don’t say anything. I don’t want an answer. Take it. Think about it. And when the decision comes back from the test, whichever way it turns out, make your decision then. That’s all I ask.” He pushed the box toward her.
The diamond called out to her, Take me, take me. Trancelike, she reached for the box. She looked at him, looked at the diamond and closed the box.
“Michael, I can’t
take this from you.”
“Why?”
“Because to me it’s the equivalent of saying yes I’ll marry you, and I haven’t said that or know that I will.”
He exhaled heavily and nodded his head in understanding. “Fine.” He stood. “I need to get back to the airport, my flight was changed.” He licked his lips. She handed him the box. He ignored it.
“I’ll call you in a couple of days.” He turned to leave.
“Michael!” She jumped up. He walked faster. She started off after him and noticed the eyes that were turning in her direction. The last thing she wanted was a scene and for the assemblage to actually recognize Michael, if they hadn’t already. She slowed her step. In her moment of hesitation, Michael walked out and was gone.
Barbara straightened, gripping the velvet box in her hand. She slid the box into the pocket of her smock. A diamond bigger than her eye? What would the girls have to say about that?
She hurried back to her office, shut and locked the door behind her. Like a kid coming down too early on Christmas morning, she looked over her shoulder before opening the box. The diamond flashed in her eyes.
“My goodness,” she said in awe.
Reverently she took it out of the box. This sucker was heavy, too. She tentatively slid it onto her ring finger and held her hand out in front of her. Perfect fit. She turned her hand slowly from side to side, watching the light dance off of it.
A slow smile crept across her mouth. “Damn, that looks good.”
Chapter 37
Stephanie set up an interview with a photographer that would be taking pictures of Pause for the catalog and print material that she was putting together. He was actually one of the names she’d pulled from her Rolodex but had never used. Anthony Dixon. She’d checked out his Web site, which was impressive, but she was always one who believed in seeing things live. She knew the power of Photoshop. Someone skilled could make Medusa look like a runway model.
She sipped a glass of lemonade while she waited for him to arrive and flipped through her folder of things she still needed to do. They were scheduled to meet at two. She hoped he could convince her of his skills in an hour. She wanted to sit with her sister and have dinner with her if she was having a good day. And she had one more appointment before she could see Samantha.
