“Did he do something, change something in the plans? He’s like that. He doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just one of those men who likes to be involved.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “Come, let’s go wait in my office. We’ll talk to him when he gets back.”
“No.” Delma still was not persuaded. “I came here to speak with Gray, so I will wait for him in the lobby. I don’t want to interrupt your day. Your time is just as important around here as his.” This message seemed to ignite something in her daughter.
The same way she’d talked her into trying out for cheerleading after the girls had teased her, saying she had no rhythm. Or the way she’d pumped her up to demand a professor change her grade from a B-plus to an A. The B’s were for blacks, Delma explained, the A’s were for African American. You let him know who you are. She understood how the game worked and how those professors treated the students of their choosing. She’d lived through it all. She had indeed taught her daughter to stand up for herself. What didn’t kill her would only make her stronger, and all that, yet Delma was thoroughly afraid of giving Keisha the straight business about her fiancé. Afraid even with full knowledge and disclosure, she’d still make the wrong decision. Still choose Gray. “You’re right. Absolutely.” She kissed Delma on the cheek before heading off toward her office with her shoulders back. “Have Nikki call me after your meeting with Gray.”
Nikki left and said she was going to lunch, but Delma was welcome to wait right where she was. The only thing Delma didn’t do was growl at the hot tamale. Who dressed like that in an office? Times couldn’t have changed that much, where a red strapless fitted dress was now considered business attire. Delma checked her watch and saw the big hand closing in on 2 P.M. One hour turned into two, then three. The man sure took long lunches.
Every time the elevator doors opened, Delma got her game face on. Every time it still turned out not to be Gray, she fell into an exhaustion that made her want to ball up and cry. She knew he was wrong. Just Wrong.
There was no choice in the matter. It was close to four o’clock. She needed nearly fifty thousand dollars fast and in a hurry, or checks and heads were going to bounce and roll all over the place.
“Kellogg Lewis, this is Delma Hawkins.”
“Delma, I don’t think last names are necessary. Did you get my RSVP?” he asked solemnly. He obviously had a great deal of turmoil involved in his decision to attend but not be a part of the ceremony. The Honorable Judge Lewis still could not publicly acknowledge Keisha as his daughter without a scandal attached.
“I received it. It means a lot to me and Keisha,” Delma found herself sweet-talking. She hated wasting time with niceties, but the fact remained he was her one and only last resort. “Listen, we’ve run into a snag. The wedding costs have gotten a bit out of hand and, well, I was wondering as the father of the bride if you could spare a loan.”
He wasted no time. “Of course. Any help I can be, you know I’d do anything for her.”
Except tell the world you’re her father and walk her down the aisle with dignity.
“How much do you need?”
Delma swallowed hard. She didn’t have enough liquid assets to cover even a fourth of what was needed. Her savings was tied up in bonds and stocks for her retirement. Somehow she knew Judge Lewis had the money. He was a white man, for goodness’ sake. He and his ancestors had a four-hundred-year head start in acquiring land, property, cash, and prizes. She’d sat over enough civil family bouts to see the difference. Black families fighting over the wedding ring of their mama, needing to sell it and split the half-carat-value nine ways, while white families sued each other over million-dollar estates and tea sets from the 1800s still worth more than the house Delma lived in.
She opened her mouth and let the amount nonchalantly drop from her lips. “About fifty thousand dollars.”
He coughed. “What kind of wedding y’all planning?”
“Listen, here, you haven’t done nothing for that child, not a day in her life. I think it’s a small price—”
“Whoa, I didn’t say no.”
“Well, you didn’t say yes.”
“Give me the account. I’ll wire the money.”
Relief closed around Delma like warm arms.
“Now, can we get the record straight? Don’t ever say I didn’t do anything for my daughter, again. You hear me? Leaving her in your care was the best thing I could’ve done—of that, I’m sure. You are a great mother. You raised a great young woman, and you did it all by yourself.”
She grabbed a couple of tissues out of her purse and dabbed her eyes. “So noted,” she said gracefully, though the tears were streaming. “It’s going to be a beautiful ceremony. You’re going to be so proud.”
Catch a Monkey
by the Toe
Ronny watched as his bodyguard finished with the count. “Two hundred grand.”
“Thanks for the down payment.”
Gray had put every dime he could together, begging, borrowing, and coming just short of stealing, clearing every account he had. Cash was hard to come by in a legitimate world. Unlike his present company, he’d tried to do everything the right way.
“That’s it, all right. The only payment. I told you, this is my good faith effort to show you I’m on your side, but I’m not taking the fall for stealing from you.” Gray pushed his silk-blend jacket back and shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep his cool. “Look, let’s focus on the future. I got some hot talent waiting to blow up. You’re a creative genius, don’t forget that. You’re worth more than whatever Byron Steeple took from you. Time to stop living in the past and forge ahead.” Gray felt his dynamic speech losing ground. He was used to a captivated audience, and this wasn’t it.
It came to him in an instant. “What if I got Sirena Lassiter to step back into the studio . . . under your label, huh? Would that not be a beautiful thing?”
“Nah, she don’t like me very much.”
“Of course she likes you. She has a great deal of respect for your talent. She’s not one to hold a grudge. Just because you gave her a little shove. Don’t even worry about that. She’s a tough girl.” Gray could count on her to come peacefully, but he did have digital insurance, as he liked to call it. An entire safe filled with lovely naked images. Sometimes he was the costar, and sometimes not. It was amazing what even wonderfully talented women would do with a promise of becoming famous one day. Fame was a plague that had swept the nation like a virus, the disease everyone wanted to have.
“If you say so,” Ronny said, slobbing on his unlit cigar. “But mostly I want my money. The economy, not so solid these days. Gotta plan for the future.” His stubby fingers were covered with rings with diamonds bigger than the two carats he’d bought on credit for Keisha.
“Fuck, man, what is it with you?” Gray heard the click of the gun next to his head and cut short his rant.
“Did I say I wanted it from you?” Ronny signaled. “Put the gun down.” Slash, his right-hand man, clicked the safety in place and took a step back. Ronny continued, “I figure I pick the pockets of all involved, eventually I’ll have my five million with interest.”
Gray hunched his shoulders. “Whatever, man. If that’s how you want to spend your time and energy, what can I say?”
“Nothing. Now get the fuck out.” Ronny stood up and still had to look up at Gray. “Let me know when the meeting is set up for Sirena. I already got some tracks in mind.”
“Excuse me,” Gray had to say to the wifebeater-clad imbecile blocking the door. Criminals. He was sick to death of fools trying to attain success by any means necessary. Putting guns to heads was no way to win friends and influence people.
To think he’d put in eight years of his life for an education to be dealing with these idiots. He pulled out his cell phone before he reached his car. He had to fix the mess he’d made with the wedding account. He’d gotten the message from the bank. He figured Delma had gotten word, too. No scorn like that of a woman c
ut off from funds.
The first person he thought of who could help, or most likely willing and able, was Trevelle Doval. She answered with dread. “Yes, Gray, to what do I owe this dishonor?”
“How are you, Trevelle?
“What do you want?”
“Snap, crack, and in a hurry. I’m down with that.”
“Then be down with it and tell me why you called,” she mocked, sensing he was in need. He could almost hear her gloating through the phone.
“Not everyone gets a second chance, but I’m offering this to you based on your excellent behavior in the last few days. I’m ready to go to bat for you, persuade Keisha to let you at least attend the ceremony.”
“If . . .”
“I need you to do me a huge favor. There’s a matter I had to deal with, so I need fifty grand. By the way, it’s just a loan. I’d never take money from a woman, and definitely not from my lovely mom-in-law to-be.”
“Fifty grand.” She stayed quiet after that. The pause was unexpectedly long.
“Hey, you know what, it’s simply an offer. You have the right to refuse service to anyone,” he quipped.
“You’re an asshole.”
“Not very Christian-like,” he sang out. “Your daughter’s wedding is going to be the most beautiful event of the year. You don’t want to miss it.” He handed the valet his parking stub.
“I told you nothing good was going to come to you, Gray Hillman. Now you want me to come out of pocket, now you need me? Typical.”
“Keisha needs you.”
“What Keisha needs is the truth. I’m through. From here on out, I plan to live an authentic life. One pure in the Holy Spirit. No more pretense. You won’t need the money, because there won’t be a ceremony.” She hung up without another word.
Gray tossed his jacket onto the backseat of his car. The day wasn’t going well. He could chalk this one up as a loss—or then again. He looked up at the balcony of the room he’d just left, and came up with a brilliant idea.
He dialed the number. “Ronny, I was reconsidering our arrangement. What would you say if I told you I knew where you could get all your money, plus some. You know, like the interest you so richly deserve?” Criminals were always open for a lead. It didn’t take long to convince him. Trevelle Doval was having a public war with her husband, so it could easily be made to look like a domestic crime of passion. The woman was worth a quarter of a million dollars on any given Sunday. If she left this earth a little early, she’d be glad to see heaven.
He fingered the cross on his chest. Should anyone ever question his motives, he could answer, Two birds with one stone. He was doing the right thing. Gray started his engine. He wanted an authentic life, too. He was done playing around. He deserved every good thing he’d worked for over the years, which included a family, a wife, and all the comforts of rich in-laws, only he didn’t need the nagging mother to go along with it. So long, Trevelle. Have a nice, short life.
Should’ve Had a V8
I saw Holly Stanton waiting by the gate to sign Jory out. She wore a cream sweater over a tartan plaid miniskirt and heels to show off her long slim legs. I thought only California girls wore miniskirts past November. I kept letting people go ahead of me. I was afraid she’d see my shamed face for accepting a spa day from her very handsome husband—probably more like a warm glow, since I was still feeling as good as new.
I wasn’t going to gloat. I knew exactly what Robert Stanton was up to. I wasn’t about to be played and used for his amusement.
I turned my back to her and Jory when they passed. The tug on my sweater made me turn around. “Mya left early,” Jory said with a sad expression. “Can she come over later?”
I kneeled down to face him. “What do you mean, Mya left early?”
“Jory, did you see Mya leave with someone?” Holly Stanton got to the point. “If so, who? Please tell her mother now.”
“She had to go after lunch.” He scrunched his shoulders. Holly made a this concludes our interview face and led Jory out.
I zigzagged my way around the waiting moms and dads to the office. I knocked on the window to get the secretary’s attention. I was trying to think of her name—started with an S, Sherry, Stephanie. Forget it, the personal touch wasn’t going to put Mya in front of me. The small circle cutout was our only communication, like a bank teller’s bulletproof window. Security like Fort Knox, yet someone had walked in here and taken my child. “My daughter was taken out of here. No one is authorized to pick her up except for her father.”
“Your daughter—oh, yes, Mya Fisher.” The perplexed look disappeared. “Her father is exactly who picked her up. Let me get the logsheet.” At the same time, I was dialing Jake. He would’ve told me if he had picked up Mya. Besides, I’d seen him late in the afternoon while he was harassing me about disappearing on him, so it couldn’t have been—
“Airic Fisher picked her up at eleven fifty-five. You see.” She slid the clipboard up to the window so I could see his name printed clearly and the signature below it.
“He’s not on the consent forms, none of them. How could you just let him take my baby? Call the police, this is kidnapping.”
“I’m sorry. We checked her birth certificate on file, and his name was there. His ID matched.”
“Since when does that determine who a child’s legal guardian is? . . . Oh my God, you people, what is wrong with you?” I slammed my hand on the glass. Now I understood why she needed it for protection. Parents. Confused, frustrated, angry parents.
“Let me get the director.” She picked up the phone.
“I don’t have time for you to find the director. I have to actually find my child. Thank you very much.” I stormed out, racing to my car. I would never forgive Airic for this. He knew I would show up and lose my mind.
“Yes, Venus, how are you?” He answered without a care in the world.
“What do you think you’re doing? Put Mya on the phone, right now.” I pushed back the steam, ready to blow.
“Hi Mommy,” she said, not too happy. In fact, the sound of her voice broke my heart.
“Hi, baby, you okay?”
“I had to leave school early. Jory started crying.”
She left out the part where she’d been crying, too. Her plugged nose was a giveaway. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll see Jory tomorrow. Where are you now?”
The phone was back in Airic’s hands. “We’re having a great time. I’ll have her back to you tonight around eight. Okay, so you can relax.”
“You know this is not right, Airic. You don’t have any right to pick her up from school. How could you do this?”
“You want to talk about rights? You and your husband have denied my right to see my child for the last month. I just took matters into my own hands. We’ll discuss this when I drop her off tonight.”
I closed my eyes and calmed myself down. I pictured my lovely massage, the scent of lavender and white tea was still on my skin. I inhaled my arm, pressing it to my face, trying to stop myself from crying like a big baby. Trying to stop myself from screaming, I hate you! at the top of my lungs.
“Okay, see you tonight.” My stomach cramped into a knot. “Please be there at exactly eight.”
“Won’t be late,” he said with glee, as if he’d won this one. And he had. I was helpless to do a thing. If I called the police, he’d simply flash his court order and talk his way out of what he’d actually done. What’s the problem, it’s Friday. His visitation day just happened to be Friday starting at 6 P.M. So what he was being charged with domestic abuse and statutory rape, what did those nasty little misdemeanors have to do with him spending time with his child?
I could already hear Jake screaming in my head. My anger didn’t rank on the scale nearly so high as his would. I thought about not telling him. Maybe Airic would deliver Mya before Jake made his appearance. Seeing as how he was coming home later and later these days. Maybe this mishap would go undocumented on my list of faults. It was my fault
I had sex with Airic after Jake and I already started seeing each other. Never mind the fact that Airic and I were engaged and Jake was considered “the other man.” It was still my fault Airic existed and wouldn’t go away from whence he came. Naturally, it’s my fault the man can walk into her preschool and pick her up without a shred of doubt by the school gestapo.
I got myself in gear. I’d wasted enough time sitting there, berating myself. I’m sure Jake would take care of that later. Right now, I wanted to get home and curl up underneath a blanket and close my eyes. I started the car and turned up my music to an eardrum-damaging level. Jennifer Hudson’s song “Spotlight” spilled out loud and full. I sang along, “Just because you think I might . . . find somebody wortheeeeee.” For a minute or two, I’d forgotten to check my rearview mirror. But when I did, there was the car. The same one following me.
At the stop sign, I put my car in park and did my best to shake the steering wheel off the column. I was in no mood. Okay. I grabbed my bat and got out of the car. “What?” I walked to the car like a batter at the plate. The door on the passenger side swung open.
“Hold on, there. We’re FBI. We’re trying to protect you,” the woman said, flashing her badge.
I really wanted to swing that bat. She had no idea how badly.
“Please, Mrs. Parson, put the bat down.”
I hadn’t talked to my friend Wendy in a few weeks. Our conversations weren’t as long as they used to be, because she’d recently gotten remarried to a math teacher she’d met on a cruise. Three months married and three months’ pregnant. She expected me to come and help out once the baby was born. Our conversations were strained. She was having a baby at the age of forty-one, and I couldn’t have been more excited for her and jealous at the same time. I forced myself to laugh and carry on as if we were the same, but everything was different. I let her catch me up on Tia, her daughter and my goddaughter, who thought the world revolved around her. I let her complain about morning sickness and question her decision of marrying for love instead of money. “Having a second chance, I should’ve done at least that right. I’m too old to be pinching pennies. Girl, what was I thinking?”
Nappily in Bloom Page 20
