Smoke and Mirrors

by Tiana Laveen

  Brent could see the sincerity in the man’s eyes. “Ben, you have my word! You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

  “…And don’t think I didn’t notice the airplane posters in your office when I paid my advances. And the model airplanes, some of which are quite rare… You’ve got quite the collection. As I wanted to remain somewhat anonymous, I didn’t ask you the questions I wanted to, or shared my thoughts with you. But I could see you loved it, though I never knew you wanted to actually fly yourself. I believe you have it in you to do this, you just need a little help.”

  “I won’t disappoint you, Ben.” He extended his hand as the man stood up to leave, and they shook on it.

  “I know you won’t, and I’ll be in touch.” He smiled warmly.

  “Hey, where are you flying to tonight? I’m just curious,” Smoke asked, grinning big.

  “I get to go to London, then to Australia! It’s tea time, mate!” He chuckled as he saluted him, turned on his shiny black heels and walked away.

  Smoke stood there with his chest heaving and nostrils flaring as he fought back tears. He watched the man until he was totally out of sight.

  That could be me one day. That could be me walking to my plane. I know I’m still worthy! Just because I made some bad choices doesn’t mean I don’t deserve a second chance. I can turn my life around. I have something to live for now! I’ve got a good woman; she’s smart and beautiful. We can have a beautiful life together. God, if you exist, please help me, give me a chance!

  He sat back down and placed his hands together, as if in prayer.

  If you are real, you are the only one that can make this dream of mine come true. I read somewhere that you aren’t into doing deals and making bargains and all that stuff, but I also read you have a different relationship with each and every one of us, so I promise you, if you let me have this opportunity, I’ll do you proud. I will never say you aren’t real again, and I will not go back to the life I left. As tempting as it is, I will never pick up my old ways. It is so hard, because any moment, I could turn around and get a few girls, earn thousands of dollars in one night versus worrying about my savings dwindling away. But that’s not right, that’s not the life I want anymore. I wanna square up, completely!

  I know I was wrong. Admission is half the battle. Being a pimp wasn’t a glamorous thing. Most nights I could barely sleep, the jealousy from other pimps was grating, scared the cops would decide to haul me in, worried about people trying to rob me, or johns doing crazy stuff. Having to physically fight, deal with a bunch of different women’s emotions, stopping catfights, keeping them STD clear, HIV free and no pregnancies—it was always something! Just because I tried to be the best one I could be, and treat people with compassion, doesn’t make it any less ugly and iniquitous. Yeah, iniquitous… I learned that word from Paris. He grinned.

  Anyway, I didn’t have a good life growing up, and I blamed you for that. I figured, if God was real, why would He give me a mother like I have, and let my father die like that? I still don’t understand that, but it doesn’t mean you aren’t real. Paris believes in you; she prays before every meal. Through her, I’m learning. She’s not stupid, so why would I think her beliefs are dumb, too? I got a little money, and I need to stretch it. You may have blessed me with a baby, too. I need to take care of that child, God, and I need to be able to do it long term, have something secure. But, with you on my side, and a good woman in my corner, anything is possible. I don’t know what ‘amen’ means, but I think this is the part where I say it. Amen.

  He slowly opened his eyes and took note of several people staring at him. Standing from his seat, he made his way back towards the airport exit. His chest poked out with pride, and his heart swelled with promise.

  And all the airport church members said, ‘Amen’…

  *

  A few weeks later…

  PARIS DRUMMED THE dining room table a bit louder. She had no idea she’d feel this way, the mixed emotions, the disappointment. Smoke sat across from her, his salad half eaten and a stack of papers to his left. He lifted his head and clasped his hands together, offering a sad smile.

  “Well, isn’t it funny how things like this can make you ponder? So, you’re not pregnant. Okay.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean much has changed in the way that we’re treating one another and our goals.”

  “I know.” She lowered her head. “I’d just kind of gotten used to the idea. Like you said weeks ago, I know the timing wasn’t the best, but the notion started to grow on me. When the doctor told me this morning that I wasn’t pregnant, I just…wanted to cry. And then I got scared, started wondering maybe I can’t even have a baby, you know?”

  “Why would you think that?” He sat back in his seat and peered at her in confusion.

  “Because…my past. And…my periods are off more times than not.” She shrugged. “Things happen. Anyway, just wanted you to know the test was negative. I’ll live.” She smiled weakly. “So, uh, I see you’ve got a bunch of stuff to read again.” Her smile grew a bit wider.

  “Yup.” He tapped the stack beside him. “I still can’t believe it. Everything is coming together. The lawyer said it will take a while to get my record expunged, but it will be done.”

  “That is wonderful!” She was so proud of her baby.

  “Hopefully I’ll hear back soon from Valdosta State University. I’m still trying to get into their Organizational Leadership bachelors program.”

  “You’ll get it,” she said with certainty. She stood from the table and began to clear the dishes. “I have faith in you.”

  “Here, let me help you.” He started to stand.

  “No, you stay right there and read through that dictionary,” she teased. She bent low and kissed the top of his head, moving his dark, silky strands about. As she turned to walk away, he grabbed her wrist. She twisted in his direction.

  “What?”

  “I love you.”

  She stood there a couple seconds, seeing the truth all over his face.

  “I know you do, and I love you, too.”

  As she walked away towards the kitchen, she heard the shuffling of papers as the man dove back into his work for receiving his pilot credentials. He was on a mission, and she found him far sexier at that moment than he could ever imagine…

  *

  SMOKE HAD HAD a hell of a time finding the place. Brian Ranch Airport was not readily accessible, but once he got there, his heart flipped. Where else could he find such an atmosphere? On one side sat the light sport aircrafts and on the other, fields and rows of fruit trees stretched as far as the eye could see. He’d tried to find the place she’d gone to as a child, but it was closed, defunct. Paris held his hand as she looked around in bewilderment. Her brown and white polka dot scarf, which was wrapped around her head like a headband, blew around in the light wind, making her look like a damn movie star. Just then, a man approached them wearing a blue-gray jumpsuit. He extended his hand.

  “You must be Brent Patterson.”

  “I am,” Brent smiled widely and shook the man’s hand. “And this is my girlfriend, Paris.”

  “Nice to meet you, Paris.”

  “Likewise.”

  “You can follow me,” the middle-aged man instructed as he turned on his heels.

  “What’s going on?” Paris questioned. “You told me you were bringing me out for a plane ride.”

  “I am.”

  “Then why are you looking so goofy, like you’re up to something?” She arched an eyebrow.

  “Baby, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He feigned ignorance as they made their way inside of a large barn-like area.

  “Daryl, this is Brent. He is getting his FAA license but he has brought his girlfriend with him to first go picking, and then take a ride.” The tall man with sleepy eyes and large bifocals nodded to them.

  “Picking? Picking what?” Paris asked.

  “Shhhh,” Smoke whispered as he took her hand and they followed thei
r host back out the barn. They climbed into a golf cart, and made the trek over to rows and rows of colorful nectarine, plum, apricot and cherry trees. Paris covered her mouth in awe, only partially stifling a noise he’d never heard her make before. The man got off the cart and handed each of them a large basket with two folded canvas bags inside.

  “Now,” he said, pointing towards the field. “You can start anywhere you wish, but I’d recommend from left to right. There are apple trees in the middle, and pears too, including the Asian pears. If you need anything, I or Darryl will be close by. Have fun and enjoy.” The man nodded and sauntered off, leaving the two of them standing there.

  “I can’t believe you did this!” she squealed as she jumped into his arms, her basket beating him about the head. He kissed her cheek, placed her back on her feet, and they entered the picking area, talking along the way. Several feet ahead, others roamed about. Some were families, laughing and smiling. “Well, I guess we’ll get started… I love this!”

  She was over the moon, her smile so large, it lit up the entire place, including his heart.

  “I’m happy if you’re happy…thought it would be something fun to do. We’ve both been busy, distracted.”

  She nodded in agreement as she stooped low and plucked a nectarine. After studying it a while, she placed it in her basket.

  “How do you choose a good nectarine?” he asked, more for conversation versus concern.

  “I try to make sure it isn’t bruised…that the colors are right. Also, you want it to have a little give when you push your finger into it. Not too much, that would mean it is overly ripe, but just enough where you know it’s sweet, and not too hard because it hasn’t ripened yet.”

  “Reminds me of a woman.” He laughed, causing her to do the same. “You know, when I discovered this place I couldn’t believe it. Airplanes and fruit trees, two of our favorite things combined. It’s all the way out here in Llamo, but so well worth it.”

  “I’ve lived here my whole life and never heard of this place, Smoke. I don’t know how you keep finding these little hidden gems. This is awesome!” The woman was still high on it all.

  That smile on her face…I did that.

  They continued on, collecting here and there, engaging in small talk until they’d reached the apple trees.

  “Look how beautiful these are! All of these red, yellow and green apples! You know what, I’m not much of a baker, but I’d like to try my hand at baking an apple pie.” She plucked a dark red apple from the branch, and placed it inside of her basket.

  Setting his own down, he gathered her in an embrace. Her body relaxed against his as he covered her face in sweet kisses.

  “Hey,” he said, the muscles in his jaw twitching. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Yes.” She took a step back from him, her expression mimicking his, and she mirrored his stance, too. “What is it?”

  “A long time ago, I used to watch you from a window.”

  “Yes, you already confessed your stalker ways a long time ago,” she joked.

  He cracked a smile. “Yeah, I guess I am. But in that time, I got to know you in a whole different way, on another level. You would uh, jog in the mornings.” Warmth crept into his cheeks. “I liked watching your breasts go up and down. You needed a better sports bra, Paris but thank you for cheapin’ out on it and giving me a show.”

  She smacked his shoulder, and both burst out laughing.

  “Shhhh!” they said to one another, and this caused even more cackling.

  “Anyway, you’d jog and you’d have this half eaten apple in your hand. And I’d think, she looks completely normal, you know? No one would know she sold pussy,” he whispered in her ear, titillated off the word now in a new way. “She looks like your regular girl next door, and for me, you were just a regular girl next door. There was nothing abnormal about the way you spoke, lived your life, carried yourself…

  “When I saw you at the bank, I wanted you, Paris. I had come there to get some rules and boundaries established, but when I looked into your eyes for the first time, I was actually attracted to a woman beyond what that woman could do for me from a financial standpoint. Beyond the thought of what money she could bring me. I kept that image of you with that apple in my mind,” he said, pointing to his temple, “because I think on some subconscious level, that was my goal. To in fact give you a normal life, if you wanted it, to match who you really are inside.”

  She tilted her chin a bit higher and a dreamy glaze formed on her eyes.

  “We mirror one another. Our lives have been parallel. When many look at us, they may see complete opposites, but we know the truth. You are like a female version of me, and I, a male version of you. I think that’s why we get along so well; we kinda know what the other one needs before they say it. You’ve taught me a lot about myself.”

  “…You’ve done the same for me, Brent.”

  “And I know for a fact, if it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be doing things that were self-destructive, and refusing to find myself, to get to know myself.” He paused, catching his breath. “They say money can’t buy you love, and that’s true. Anyone who says otherwise has gotten wrapped up in an illusion. Love can buy love though, and that’s what we’ve done here. You gave me some; I gave you some. It was a mutual exchange. Like these apples we’re picking from the trees.” He leaned over and plucked one from a branch. “I can see my reflection in the apple, but is that really me?”

  She stared into his eyes, holding onto his words.

  “We bear fruit from our good deeds. One day when you have my baby, and it will happen,” he assured, while she hung her head and smiled, “that baby will be our apple, our fruit, a testament of our love for one another. I’d never made love before, Paris.” The words hung out there for a spell, while he caught his breath again.

  “I’ve had a lot of sex, as you know, but uh, making love? No. You were my first.”

  “…And you were mine.”

  “And firsts are important. Just like when we were children. We remember all of our first times doing something new and exciting. When you were a little girl in that orange grove, you were being born all over again, bearing fruit inside your mind, realizing that you found something you could love… It was life changing. I brought you here today, Paris, to unwind with you, spend some time with you, but also because it’s time for me to plant another type of seed in this relationship.”

  He slid his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black box. The woman’s basket hit the ground and out rolled plums, pears and nectarines, all over the damn place. She took several steps back, her body turned into a temple of trembles as she covered her lips with a quaking hand.

  Smiling, he opened the box, then dropped to one knee.

  “Get back over here, girl.” He laughed lightly. Tears ran down her face as she slowly returned to him, her knees almost knocking. “Do you remember the day when I was gone all of those hours at the bank, right before the incident that landed my ass in prison?”

  “Of course.”

  “I was at the bank handling some affairs, but I also made another stop, at the jewelry store. A week prior to that, I had picked you out an engagement ring, Paris. I had it made for you, and it was ready to pick up. When the police took me away, they found the ring on me, and went through great lengths to try and claim I stole it until they found the receipt, and the jewelry store owner vouched for me as well. So, I begged them to please return it to the store, and he promised to keep it for me until I could do this the right damn way.

  “There was no way I’d propose to you while in prison, Paris. I loved you enough to not hold your life up, if I ended up having to stay in there for a long ass time. A woman like you needs to have wings, to move about, not be constricted. Our hearts are wild, baby. They fly!” He looked into her eyes, watching the tears continue to fall, a long, slow trek like a river. “That’s why we have ribs; they serve as a cage to keep our fluttering hearts intact. That�
�s the only confinement you needed, so I waited and by some amazing luck…no…” He shook his head. “By some blessing, I was set free and now, here is my chance.” After a short pause, he went on—“So Paris, the apple of my eye, will you marry me?” Now, he started to shake too, and a solitary tear even managed to escape and crawl down his face.

  “Yes!”

  Taking her hand, he slid the sparkling 5-carat cushion cut diamond ring onto her finger.

  “Oh my God, Brent, it’s beautiful!”

  The woman shook like a leaf, enough that he was certain she’d topple over. Getting to his feet, he gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips into hers, damn near sucking her life-force, taking her breath away. “You have no idea how happy I am!” She sobbed against him. “I wanted to marry you, Brent, but didn’t want to pressure you, especially with all that is going on. I had no idea you were up to this!”

  “Of course I was. We are the same, just like I said.” He winked at her, then held her closer.

  I’m not Adam, the john that was kind to you, wanted the world for you, but you are my Eve, Paris. As we stand in this garden of Eden, please know that my temptation for you is genuine, and there isn’t anything ugly, sinful or wicked about it. It’s pure, fresh and beautiful. No more smoke and mirrors, baby; the self-deception is over. I know who I am, what I need, and what the fuck I’m doing. And I know what I have and what I want. And that’s you, Pussycat. I can see our future quite clearly, now. Trust me, baby. I got this…

  *

  Chapter Nineteen

  PARIS GAVE HERSELF a gentle tap on the back for planning a wedding of this magnitude in less than six months, let alone on a shoestring budget. Moreover, Smoke was buried in books, and she was working herself to the bone at the floral shop, but she loved every damn minute of it. He got a part time job at a hardware store because the man simply could not live with not bringing in one damn dime. She told him he was working to better himself, that was enough, but Smoke was old fashioned—he refused to have ‘some woman’ supporting him, as he’d say. Furthermore, they were still addicted to the finer things in life; they suffered from bubbly champagne tastes, and the last lingering drop from a life gone by needed to be savored on the tips of their hungry, greedy little tongues. Regardless, she made it work. She got creative with her bales of hay, weaving them into freshly spun gold. She took care of all the flowers herself, but she had a little assistance. Tasha and Juniper were her bridesmaids—the two women were like sisters to her, loyal, loving, and both wanted all that was good and beautiful to come her way.