Sinclair spotted Veronica and Bridget in the crowd as well as Sharon and other people from the office. Craig was also there. Bridget’s laughter and Craig’s focus on her as they spoke would be apparent to anyone that took the time to notice.
Craig’s presence meant Chance was close. Sinclair scanned the yard for a sign of him.
She tapped Craig on the shoulder. “Hi Craig.”
“Hey Sinclair, I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Hi Sinclair,” said Bridget.
“Hi Bridget.” Sinclair focused on Craig. “I didn’t think I’d make it.”
“Really? Why? You’re early. We came early to help with set-up. It doesn’t start until 3:00p.m.”
“Hmm. Really?” questioned Sinclair as she glared at Bridget. She knew there was some sort of angle to Raquel inviting her, but she still couldn’t figure it out. Bridget avoided her gaze. She watched as she dug the heel of her left sandal into the dirt. A cluster of little circles destroyed plugs of grass.
“Yeah. This thing goes into the night.” Craig’s face lit up. “I—we’ve helped her with set-up before.” His face turned an odd shade of pinkish red as he removed his glasses and wiped at them with the tail of his t-shirt.
Sinclair understood who was included in we. Chance. But she had no claim on him, now, and she certainly had no claim then. “Have you seen our hostess, Craig? I’d like to let her know I made it. I don’t know how long I’ll stay.”
“No. At least, I’m not really sure.” He focused harder on the unseen dirt on his glasses. “I saw her earlier somewhere. She should be out here soon.”
Veronica made her way into their three-point discussion, and she seemed to know exactly what they’d been discussing. “I think I saw her over by the racquetball court.” She pointed towards the right side of the mini-mansion.
“Okay, thanks Veronica.”
“Hey Sinclair the roasted pig is almost done. They’re going to carve it soon. Don’t you want to wait for one of the first pieces?” asked Bridget.
Veronica bumped against Bridget’s shoulder.
She smiled. “Thanks for the warning; I don’t eat beef or pork. I’ll check the kitchen for something and hunt down Raquel.”
“Oh, okay.” Bridget’s soft words floated behind Raquel as she turned toward the house.
Sinclair wandered through Raquel’s house marveling at each immaculately placed antique. It felt like the home of an eighty year old, not a twenty something. She found her way to the kitchen, and spotted some crab salad she could nibble on. After grabbing a bottle of water she ventured out to find the racquetball court.
Exiting a side door, Sinclair stepped back into the heat of the late summer. Rounding the side of the house, she interrupted two people using one of the benches on the side of the racquetball court as a bed.
Choking on a mouthful of water, she apologized. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Embarrassed, she stumbled backward. She fought the urge to cover her eyes with her hand like a school girl.
“It’s okay.”
She would know the voice anywhere. “Raquel, I-I was looking for you.” Her gaze jumped to Raquel’s companion. “Chance!” She couldn’t hide her shock.
“Sinclair!” he righted himself, slid to one corner, and pushed Raquel to the other.
“Sinclair, I’m glad you could make it.” Raquel rose from the bench and walked toward Sinclair. Using her thumb, and forefinger, she wiped the corners of her mouth erasing peach smudges.
Chance sprung from the bench. He reached Sinclair first. Her hand was not big, but she pressed her palm against his chest holding him away from her. If he wanted, he could easily challenge her, but he didn’t. She lowered her hand, and peeked around him. “Raquel, I wanted to thank you for inviting me. Your home is absolutely lovely.”
Raquel stood on the other side of Chance smiling as she fondled her clothing and ran her long dagger-like fingers through her hair. “Thanks Sinclair. I am so glad you could make it.”
“I thought I was late, but I see I was early.” Her gaze drifted back and forth between the two. Raquel’s innocence played against Chance’s confusion. She didn’t know which made her angrier, but she was pissed. Punching Raquel and slapping Chance were her only thoughts.
“No. No problem at all. You were right on time.”
“I can’t stay, but I wanted to come through, and say thank you.” If she stayed longer, she might kick, and bite, too.
“Even if it was only for a moment, I’m glad you could make it,” said Raquel smiling.
“I guess I’ll see you both at work Monday.”
“Yes, you’ll see us both,” Raquel said contently.
Chance tried to speak again, but Sinclair wouldn’t let him. She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. “Enjoy the cookout.” She turned and walked away.
The figure flattering yellow sundress disappeared around a corner. Raquel had begun to follow in the same direction as Sinclair. Her audience waited. He spun Raquel around to face him. He wanted to shake the life out of her. “Damn Raquel, what did you do?”
Shock then anger showed on her face. “What did I do?” One of her razor sharp finger nails pierced his chest emphasizing each word. “I just wanted your little girlfriend to see how you really are.”
He released her, and took a step back. “How I really am? What does that mean?”
Flip-flop clad feet stomped, and fingers pointed in an accusatory manner as she yelled. “You don’t care who you are with. For the last year, you came here when I wanted you. Now, she’s here, and you ignore me.” She spat the last words as if they tasted bad.
“So, what? I told you we wouldn’t be doing our thing anymore. I told you that before Sinclair.”
The two-year old temper tantrum flared again. “Because of my father, you have a job.”
Pissed at her statement, Chance matched her scream. “What? That’s not true. I chose to stay here. Your father has nothing to do with anything.”
Raquel slapped him. “Don’t treat me like I’m some piece of trash.”
“Raquel, I’m tired of this. I came to help you. We’ve been over. It had nothing to do with Sinclair. I have a few beers, you say the right things, touch the right spots and we end up on the bench. I can own up to it, but what’s wrong with you? Why are you gunning for Sinclair?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me, and you didn’t have to be drunk to kiss me. And as far as Sinclair’s concerned…she’s trying to get something’s that’s mine.”
“Raquel, if you’re talking about me. I’m not yours. I don’t have time for you and me. So, this ends it.”
Red-faced, Chance could barely distinguish between her skin complexion and her hair. “So, you’ve got a new toy, and now you toss me away.”
“Raquel, it’s over. Back off.” He went after Sinclair.
She shouted behind him. “This isn’t over. It’s far from over!”
He disregarded her words. He ran to the driveway looking for Sinclair.
She was gone.
Chance’s knuckles turned red from knocking on Sinclair’s door. Her car was out front, so he knew she was there, but there was no response.
Again her answering machine picked up. “Sinclair, I’m sorry, please answer. Let me explain. Sinclair. It’s me. It’s Chance. I’ve never lied to you. Please open the door.”
He heard the lock click; he twisted the knob; entered the condo, and locked the door behind him.
Sinclair sat on her couch in front of him hugging a pillow. Lavender scented candles flickered as they perfumed the air. Maxwell’s soft melodic voice cooed from the CD player.
“Why are you here?”
“Because this is where I want to be.”
She curled her feet up on the couch, and squeezed the pillow tighter. “Why?”
“Sinclair, you know who I want to be with.” Slowly he walked closer to her. “Raquel set us up. She wanted to hurt you, and me.” He debated between sitting beside her on the couch or halfway acr
oss the room at a small dinette table. He chose the couch.
“That doesn’t explain your tongue down her throat.”
“Sinclair, I told you we had a past. She cornered me after I had a few drinks. I kissed her back, but that was it. Nothing else.”
“Whatever.”
“If you don’t believe me ask Craig, he drove me here. Bridget is in his car, too. If we call him now, we could probably catch him before he gets too far away.”
He exhaled a loud sigh, leaned back into the couch cushions. “You keep pushing me away. What do you want me to do? Be a hermit?”
“Chance, I want you to stop playing with me. You knew I would be there.”
“I’m not. I told you I wanted to be with you. And I didn’t plan on anything happening there.”
Pressed up against the arm of the couch, she stared straight into his eyes. “Why do you want to be with me? Sex? That is all you want, right?” Her face was shadowed with doubt.
“No, I never said I only wanted sex from you. I just don’t know what I want. I want to spend time with you. We can figure it out. Take our time.”
The pillow she hugged slammed against the couch. She stood and walked toward the kitchen carrying an empty wine glass. “Sex.”
“No. Time. I am attracted to you.” He rubbed a hand up and down his forehead. “Lying in bed next to you in Vegas, I wanted to be with you that night, but you didn’t want me. At least you wouldn’t have me.”
She stopped at the kitchen doorway. “We’ve discussed this a million times. I wanted you, but I didn’t want to be the Black girl you had sex with in Vegas.”
“So, that’s what you’ve been thinking. You never said that before.” He leaned back and just stared at her. “Sinclair, where do you get this from? Who said you would be the first Black woman I was with?”
The glass in her hand slipped, but she caught it. “What?”
Chance leaned back; propped his arm up on the side of the couch and stared at the wall in front of him. “It was a long time ago. My high school sweetheart and I spent every moment together.” He turned to face her. “She got pregnant.”
“What?” Sinclair had surprise in her voice. “I mean what happened?” She walked back to her original seated post.
“We were too young. Our parents…well her parents, and my father made the decision for us. We put our daughter up for adoption.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” asked Sinclair.
Chance stared at her. Why did he need to tell her? Did he need to run down his dating history before she would date him? “Why? Would it have made a difference?” Anger tainted his words.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Yes. You never talk about yourself or your family.”
He sighed, and slouched into the cushions more. “I know. I don’t have any family.”
“Have you tried to find your daughter? Your Mother?”
“We’ve talked about this.”
“Not really.”
Chance rested his head back on the cushions of the couch. He stared at the beige ceiling. “My mother left when I was young. I don’t know why. Maybe she just felt like she was too young to be a mother. I haven’t seen her since.” He lifted his head from the cushions, folded his arms as if cradling a child, and swayed them back and forth. “My daughter…I saw her once. When she was first born-she was beautiful… all wrapped up in blankets. I could only see her face. Her eyes were closed, but she was beautiful.” His arms fell back to his lap, and his head back onto the cushions.
“Do you want to find her?”
“My father and I were trying to find her when...” Chance stopped talking. His eyes closed.
She sat cross-legged beside him, and took one of his hands into hers. “I’m sorry.”
“High school kids. He jumped in the middle of a fight. The kid didn’t mean to do it. His doctors called me when I was at school. By the time I got home, he was gone.”
“Chance, I just didn’t know.”
“You never asked. Sinclair, I don’t want to make any promises to you, but I do want you.”
“Chance, I just thought I’d be another notch on your belt.” Sinclair traced an index finger up and down the back of his hand.
His free hand covered hers. Their eyes met for the first time in a while. “Sinclair why do you put me into some weird category I can’t break away from?”
“Chance, I’m tired of people here looking at me like I’m a Martian.”
“I’m not from here, remember.” Chance’s arms wrapped around Sinclair. Softly, but firmly he pressed her body into the cushions of the couch. Gently, he kissed her cheek, her chin, and her closed eyelids. “Do I make you feel like that?”
She opened her eyes. “No.”
Sinclair’s legs opened to the push of his body. Chance’s hand moved up her thigh underneath her dress. His fingers pulled at the elastic band of her underwear. He kissed her. He kissed the corners of her mouth, and lightly kissed her neck. He found her erect nipple through the fabric of her yellow dress, and tugged at it gently with his lips. His hand slid up her dress to find the other bra covered nipple. Pulling the bra aside, he massaged her breast and squeezed her nipple until she moaned.
“Chance, tonight. Now.”
Between butterfly kisses, he mumbled, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Chance, I don’t know how I feel. I know I care for you. When you’re not with me I miss you, but I’m scared of you.”
He stopped, and sat up on the couch.
“What?”
“I meant…I have never been with a man like you before.”
“Meaning what?”
Sinclair rose from the couch. She waved her hands up and down the length of her body. “Chance, look at me.”
“I’ve seen you Sinclair.”
“Chance, you don’t fit into the world I’ve lived in.”
“So, why am I here?”
Sinclair straddled him, wrapping her legs around his waist. Staring into his eyes, she said, “Because no matter how much I fight it, I want to be with you.” She tugged at the bottom of his shirt.
Passion overtook her, and he gave into it. He lifted his arms, and she pulled the shirt over his head. Her fingers splayed across his chest and arms tracing each muscle. She untwined her legs from his waist, and returned to her cowgirl position. Her gyrations against his body engorged his organ. He cupped her bottom, and pulled her tighter to his body. Chance stretched out his legs, and deepened his kiss. He thrust his body against hers with more vigor. Small trembles waved across her body. Each ripple made him want her more. His body jerked with release in time with hers. At the final twitch of their bodies, she rested her head on his shoulder.
Chance kissed her forehead. “Sinclair I want to be with you, but I’m leaving in a few months.”
“Chance, I leave in six months myself. I’m going back to Georgia.”
“So, what do we do?”
Lifting her head from his shoulder, she looked into his eyes. “Maybe we stop making it so complicated. And just have some fun.”
“Sinclair when you say have fun…what does that mean?”
“I mean we go out. We spend time with each other when we have time to spend.”
He heard her, but he didn’t believe her. Searching her eyes, he tried to uncover the truth. “Sinclair, can you handle us being together and with other people, too?”
“Chance we’re both leaving, so maybe we accept that fact. But we can enjoy each other’s company while we’re both here.”
Sinclair rose; pulled a blanket from a closet, and joined Chance again. She flung the blanket over both of them.
“Sinclair, I don’t know if I want to share you with other people.”
“Chance, neither of us will be here long…what do we do?”
“I don’t know, but tonight can we just lie here together?”
Chance and Sinclair cuddled on the couch; Maxwell’s hypnotic voice lulled them both to sleep.
&n
bsp; Chapter Six
The relentless chimes of Sinclair’s doorbell shook Chance from his sleep beside her. Nestled up against his chest, he felt her warm breath against his skin. Each inhale expanded her small frame in his arms. With each chime, his annoyance grew. Who would disturb them so early? He just wanted to lie beside her and hold her until she wouldn’t let him any longer for fear of starvation or lack of water. She lay beside him undaunted by the annoying music. The bells stopped; he closed his eyes buried his face in her hair, and held onto her tighter.
The groan in his mind escaped before he could control it. Pushing himself up from the couch, he maneuvered his body around hers in an attempt to not disturb her rest. As he approached the door, he said, “Who’s there?”
A female voice responded, “Kendra...Kendra Jones. I’m looking for Sinclair Mosley.”
He reached for the knob, but remembered he was shirtless. “One second.” Tossing his shirt over his head, he opened the door to two wide-eyed African-American women.
A woman with a coffee colored complexion and shoulder-length, jet black wavy hair extended her hand with a knowing smile. “Hi, I’m Kendra...” She used her thumb to point at the shorter caramel skinned woman behind her. “...and this is Adena Wilson. We’re friends of Sinclair. Is she home?”
“Yes, she’s asleep on the couch.” Chance stepped aside to let the women enter.
Bouncing up and down, in unison, the women shouted, “Surprise! Wake up.”
Startled, Sinclair jumped up from her sleeping position. Wiping her eyes, her head bounced back and forth between the two women. Then she caught his eye next to the wide open door.
She stood and hugged each woman. “What are you two doing here?”
“It’s called a surprise,” responded Kendra.
Sinclair walked over to Chance. She smoothed down his collar, and whispered, “You know your shirt is on inside out?” Smiling she turned and spoke to her friends. “So, I guess you guys have met my friend Chance?” Both smiling women responded, “Yes.”
Nothing really made him nervous, but he felt like a piece of chocolate cake left in front of a hungry man or a shiny Christmas toy with a big red bow left in front of a three-year-old with specific instructions not to touch. Checking his watch, he said, “Ladies I’ve got a few errands to run. If you don’t mind, I will head out.”
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