In the Light of Love

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  Leila grabbed Talisa’s hand and pushed it upward, waving the bid paddle in the air.

  “I have five hundred dollars, do I hear six?”

  “What are you doing?” Talisa said under her breath.

  “Winning you that doctor. You can’t get him if you don’t bid,” Leila hissed back.

  “I don’t have that kind of money, Leila.”

  “Well, I do, so don’t worry about it.”

  Talisa was prepped to give her friend a tongue-lashing when the emcee gestured in her direction.

  “I have six hundred dollars. Will you give me seven? Do I hear seven?”

  “Seven!” a tall, redheaded woman called out from the other side of the stage.

  Talisa’s eyes widened in disbelief as Leila pushed her hand up again. “Eight,” her friend called out from behind her.

  The room erupted in noise. Jericho grinned excitedly in her direction.

  “Eight hundred dollars. I have eight hundred dollars for a day with Dr. Jericho Becton. Do I hear nine? Someone give me nine. I have eight hundred. Eight hundred going once…eight hundred going twice…”

  “One thousand dollars,” a voice sang out from the back of the room and every head turned to see from where it had come. Women were rising from their seats to catch a glimpse of the woman who’d offered one thousand dollars for time with the beautiful black man who stood before them, an expression of surprise painted across his face.

  Talisa watched as the woman made her way closer to the center of the room, her gold-trimmed bid paddle raised high in the air. She was exceptionally tall, a long-legged blonde with pale green eyes and skin the color of whole milk. Before Talisa realized what she was doing, her own paddle was sky-high, her bid rolling off her tongue. “Two thousand dollars.”

  Behind her Leila laughed. “That a way. Go get your man, girlfriend.”

  Talisa could feel a sudden wave of embarrassment drop over her. She glanced from Jericho, to the other woman who was eyeing her with obvious annoyance, to her best friend, and back again. Jericho was nodding his head in her direction, a wistful expression gracing his face. The room had gone quiet as everyone watching waited to see what the two women would do.

  The auctioneer was waving his gaze anxiously from one to the other. “Do I hear two thousand, five hundred?” he asked, his excitement spilling past his words.

  The blond woman nodded, lifting her bid mask high into the air. “Twenty-five hundred,” she answered, her voice loud and clear.

  Leila poked Talisa in the back, hissing into her ear. “Do not let that woman get your man, Talisa. Bid!” she commanded, her breath hot against her best friend’s neck. “I’ve got you covered. Go ahead and bid!”

  Talisa’s voice was much less assured as she rose to her feet, waving in the auctioneer’s direction. “Three thousand.”

  Jericho beamed, the glaze in his eyes fueled by Talisa’s obvious interest. He pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his silk slacks, the easy gesture meant to hide his obvious nervousness. As he leaned his weight back against one hip, the motion made his six-foot-six stature appear comfortable, the pose accentuating the lines of his firm body. It caused every woman in the room to gasp and Talisa suddenly found herself fighting for oxygen. Jericho’s gaze was still locked with hers, his stare piercing right through her heart and when he smiled, the sweet bending of his lips calmed her and Talisa felt herself smiling back.

  “Twenty thousand dollars,” the blonde called out, tossing Talisa a look that dared her to top so generous an offer. The sudden silence in the room was deafening as all eyes turned to see what she intended to do. The moment was surreal as Talisa’s gaze moved from Jericho’s face to her opponent’s and back again. Talisa blew air past her full lips as if she’d been punched in the stomach, clearly deflated by the turn of events. She dropped her paddle against the table and shook her head as the auctioneer turned to see if she would counter. She suddenly found herself fighting a rush of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

  “Twenty thousand dollars once…twice…twenty thousand dollars three times…sold to lucky number six-seventy-four!” The man slammed his gavel against the wooden podium top. The women cheered, fueled by the excitement they’d all just witnessed. Through glazed eyes, Talisa watched as her opponent turned to give her a quick nod. Clearly defeated, Talisa smiled a faint smile and shrugged her shoulders, gesturing half a salute in the woman’s direction. The blonde turned, sweeping her long hair over her shoulders and gave Jericho a quick wink before heading in the direction of the checkout counter. On the center of the stage, Jericho stood stunned, his eyes still locked on Talisa’s face, the line of his smile pulling toward the floor in a deep frown.

  Chapter 5

  “Can you believe she paid twenty thousand dollars for the man?” Mya exclaimed as they rode home, the bright lights of the hotel dimming in the distance behind them.

  Talisa shook her head, then changed the subject, not wanting to be reminded yet again of her loss. “What I can’t believe is that you bid on an evening with that anchorman and that you won.”

  “The way those women were acting I consider myself lucky. For only five hundred dollars my date was a bargain.”

  “Your date is going to be a nightmare. The man is an ass.”

  Mya rolled her eyes. “Don’t hate.”

  Talisa shook her head at her friend. “Why am I dropping you off at Kenny’s house?” she asked, pulling her car onto Interstate 285. “I would think you’d want to go home to bask in the light of Charles Barrow on the eleven o’clock news.”

  “Kenny misses me. He called today and invited me to come hang out with him.”

  Talisa laughed. “I forgot. It’s the first of the month. Kenny paying the rent this time?”

  Mya laughed with her. “He better. I do not intend to endure bad sex for absolutely nothing. Besides, the last time I broke up with him, he didn’t send me anything. He needs to make up for that.”

  “Just because he’s sent you a check the last four times you cut him off doesn’t mean he’s going to keep doing it. The man may have grown a backbone.”

  “When that happens I will definitely be through with him. Until then, I plan to bait him along just enough to keep my checkbook out of the red. The relationship works for us. Don’t hate the player, just hate the game.”

  “Personally, I think he’s gay. He’s just not ready to admit it.”

  “That’s his problem. My bills are mine. If he can’t fix anything or keep my car tuned up, then he needs to just keep coming up off the cash. Then he and I will be just fine.”

  “So what about your anchorman?”

  “What about him? I’ll play him just like I play all the others. I’m sure he’ll be useful for something.”

  Talisa laughed. “I know this is ugly to say, and Lord forgive me for it, but that’s one man I think will deserve any game you run on him and then some.” She pulled her car onto a tree-lined street, large old oaks adorned with Spanish moss cascading overhead. At the fifth house on the left, she pulled into the driveway and shifted the engine into Park. “Stay safe, Mya. Please. I don’t have time to be worrying about you.”

  Her friend smiled. “Don’t worry about me, girlfriend. I’m going to be just fine. You need to worry about yourself. When’s the last time you had a man? High school or junior high?”

  “It hasn’t been that bad.”

  “It might as well be. I suggest you spend more time hanging out with me and less time down at that foundation. You need to devote more time to you and having yourself a good time. Life is too short and that do-gooder stuff you keep doing isn’t going to keep you warm at night.”

  “I love working at Wesley. You know that. And knowing I’ve done something good for someone else more than warms my heart.”

  “Sure you do. But trust me, you and that warm heart of yours will love a little Saturday-night Johnson much more.”

  The two women laughed as Mya kissed her cheek then lifted h
er petite body out of the passenger seat. Talisa watched as her friend eased her way inside the house, turning to toss her a quick wave as she did. Pulling out of the driveway, Talisa couldn’t help but notice as Kenny Davis greeted her friend excitedly, pulling the woman into a deep kiss in front of the home’s large bay window. Talisa suddenly thought of Dr. Jericho Becton and wondered what a Saturday night with that man might do for her.

  It had been a long time since she’d last had a date. Dating had never been easy for Talisa, feeling more like a chore than an event to look forward to. Talisa had always been more comfortable volunteering her time for some worthy cause than trying to make polite conversation with a man over a meal she was too anxious to eat and enjoy. It didn’t help that the few men she had dated had not met her mother’s approval, each having some moral flaw or imperfection Mary London found fault with. Insult to injury was Mary’s quickness to point these flaws out with such sheer venom that it caused Talisa to question and doubt her own judgment.

  As Talisa maneuvered her car toward home, she heaved a deep sigh, her gaze dancing between the road and her rearview mirror. Reflecting back on the evening’s events, she was suddenly appalled by her behavior. What had she been thinking to bid thousands of dollars for a date with some man? Dollars she knew she didn’t have no matter what her dear friend had promised her. Talisa shook her head. Jericho Becton had made her lose her mind. Talisa had been so enamored with the prospect of seeing him again that she had allowed the possibilities to sap every ounce of common sense from her head. If her mother ever found out there would never be any peace between them, Talisa thought, imagining the ranting that would ensue if Mary ever gained knowledge of her daughter’s actions.

  Talisa was suddenly dismayed. Obviously the interest had not been mutual, she thought. After the auction, he had made no effort to find her, hadn’t even bothered to seek out her company, if only for a few minutes. The man barely knew her name and didn’t have a clue how to reach her. Clearly, she mused as she pulled into the driveway of her home, getting to know her wasn’t something Jericho Becton was interested in doing.

  The young man’s silence had begun to wear on her nerves and Irene Becton said so. “What is your problem, Jericho? You’ve been pouting since before we left the hotel. And you were downright rude to Shannon Porter.”

  Her son cut his eyes in her direction, his large palms gripping the steering wheel of his father’s latest acquisition, a steel-gray Jaguar XKR sportscar. The vehicle accelerated ever so slightly, the tires spinning over seventy miles per hour in a fifty-five mile per hour zone. The movement was not lost on his mother.

  “Slow down before you wreck your father’s new car and I have to hear about it. Besides, you don’t need to be getting any speeding tickets. Did you drink tonight? Good Lord, that would be all this family needs, you being stopped for a DUI. Slow down right now, Jericho!”

  The man pursed his lips, biting his tongue as he pulled the car into a parking space in front of the Corner Bakery Café. Shifting the car into Park, he turned off the engine. Still refusing to meet his mother’s gaze, he could feel her stare boring a hole straight through him. “I need a cup of coffee,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped out of the vehicle, pretending not to really care if his mother heard him or not.

  Irene slammed the car’s door as she made her exit and headed into the café behind her son. Taking a seat in an empty booth she watched as he headed into the men’s room before returning to take the seat across from her. Jericho focused his attention on a menu, still pretending to ignore her presence.

  Irene smiled. “If you were three I’d have smacked that behind of yours already. Now, I’m not going to take but so much more of this foolishness. You’re almost thirty-four years old, Jericho. So, act like it. Tell me what has you so upset.”

  Jericho allowed his gaze to rest on his mother’s face. As they both studied each other, he heaved a deep sigh, filling his lungs with air. “I’m sorry,” Jericho said, the beginnings of an apology painting his expression. “I’m just irritated that Shannon did what she did. Why didn’t you warn me she was coming?”

  “Because I didn’t know Shannon was coming. But if I had, and if I had told you, you would have refused to participate.”

  “You’re right. I would have. I may still not participate.”

  Irene shook her head. “Shannon is a sweet girl and she adores you. She comes from an excellent family. We have been friends with her parents since before you two were born. I don’t understand why you treat her the way you do.”

  Jericho rolled his eyes, then gestured for a waitress to come take their orders. A small girl with a large bustline smiled eagerly as she made her way to the table.

  “Are you ready to order, sir,” she said, her grin as wide as her full face.

  “Two coffees, please, one regular and one decaffeinated. And I’ll have an apple pastry.”

  “How about you, ma’am?”

  Irene returned the girl’s smile. “Just coffee, thank you.”

  Reaching for the menus the girl promised to be right back, then headed toward the kitchen.

  “What happened between you and Shannon?” Irene persisted.

  Jericho tossed her a quick glance, then shifted his gaze across the room, avoiding his mother’s stare for a second time. He shrugged, driving his shoulders skyward before responding. “Shannon is desperate for a husband and I’m not interested in the job. She seems to be having a difficult time accepting that, though.”

  Irene sensed that there was much her son wasn’t telling her. She nodded her head ever so slightly before responding. “Well, she made a very generous donation to the hospital tonight. You don’t have to marry her but you do have to spend a day with her.”

  Jericho shook his head. “That’s what irritates me the most. Shannon knows full well that I have no interest in spending any time with her. To make matters worse, things were so crazy with her following me around that I didn’t get a chance to catch up with Miss London. I really wanted to get her telephone number. Now, I don’t know if I’ll even be able to track her down. What if she’s not from Atlanta?”

  “Are you talking about the other young woman bidding against Shannon?”

  Jericho nodded, noting how his mother rolled her eyes in response. “What?” he asked, his annoyance resurfacing in his tone.

  Irene laughed. “If you want her telephone number all you have to do is ask. You seem to forget that she had to register so that she could bid. I should have her contact information in all that paperwork we packed in the trunk of that car. But, how do you know she’d even want you to have her telephone number?”

  Jericho grinned, a sudden rush of hopeful anticipation filling his face. “I just know, Mom. If I’d had half a chance, I’d have given her mine. And thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”

  His mother waved her head from side to side, reaching to rub her palm against the back of his hand. “I think I do, but if you keep acting up like you were before, you’re not going to be very happy with me. You will see the back of my hand on your bottom and then some, and I don’t care how old you are.”

  Chapter 6

  Mary London pulled the ringing telephone to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, hello. Is Talisa London available, please?”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “Jericho Becton.” The man’s voice was a deep bass, a rich tonality that would have resonated nicely over the radio.

  “Are you a friend of Talisa’s?”

  “She and I met last week, ma’am, and it’s very important that I reach her. I’ve tried calling her a couple of times before but I don’t know if she’s been getting my messages.”

  Mary stood with one hand resting on her hip, the other clutching the telephone receiver. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Well, Talisa’s not home at the moment. But I will tell her you called.”

  “Thank you,” Jericho said, following with a heavy sig
h.

  Mary could hear the disappointment in the man’s voice. The sadness of it echoed loudly in the tone of his voice as he gave the woman his contact information, repeating over again how anxious he was to make contact with Talisa. As Mary dropped the telephone receiver back onto the hook, her husband came through the kitchen door, waving hello as he entered.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself,” Mary responded. “How was your day?”

  The man shrugged, not bothering to respond as he took a seat at the kitchen table and reached for the lacings that bound his leather work boots.

  “Don’t take them boots off in my kitchen,” Mary scolded, fanning her hand in the man’s direction.

  “Why you got to start the minute I come through the door?” her husband responded. He paused, his hands frozen in midair in front of him as he gazed up at her.

  “I’m not starting anything. I’m finishing this. Take them boots out of here. I just mopped this floor clean and you come in here ready to kick trash on the floor. I’m not having it.”

  Rising from his seat, Herman swore, profanity filling the air with his annoyance. That was all it took before the duo was arguing bitterly back and forth, the moment turning uglier with each comment that passed between them.

  As she came through the front door, Talisa could hear the two of them bickering loudly. Her mother’s voice had risen four octaves, the older woman screaming unintelligibly and her father yelling back just as loud. She shook her head in disgust as she entered the room to stand between the two of them. Her presence was greeted with silence as one parent eyed the other, vile stares racing between them. Her father suddenly turned away from the two women, plopping back down against the thinly padded chair, reaching for his bootlaces.

  As Talisa shook a finger at one and then the other, she couldn’t help but think she should be used to the ugly that frequently passed between her folks. During the course of their forty-two-year marriage, Herman and Mary London had forever walked a fine line between love and hate for one another. Since Talisa had been three years old she knew she would never understand how two individuals with such an abundance of love for her and everyone else, could totter so precariously from one side of malevolence to the other side of devotion when it came to the relationship they shared with each other.