"Yep, and I am also concerned for you, man. Give me some credit." Tony cleared his throat. "Another thing, I don't think you should set yourself up for heartbreak either, by going to Amoy Gardener's classes."
"So you heard that too?" Slater sighed.
"Yup. That lady wants you to commit emotional suicide," Tony grunted. "The Amoy Gardeners of this world are not for men like you or me. And I am not being jealous or anything, I am just saying...her first husband was an old rich dude."
"And I am a young poor dude." Slater nodded. "I already know it's impossible."
"It's facts, man." Tony turned into the palm-lined driveway of his grandmother's house and then glanced through the window. "Alex is here; there is her Merc."
Slater saw a car parked slant across the garage doors.
"Who is Alex?" He knew Mrs. Perry had a host of grandchildren. Her living room was a gallery dedicated to them.
Slater glanced at him incredulously. "Alexandra Perry. Let the name sink in a bit, man."
Slater shook his head. "Doesn't ring a bell."
"She's Uncle Dexter's daughter, the one who acts on the popular soap opera Sunrise. The one that everybody is talking about."
"Sorry." Slater shrugged. "Your Uncle Dexter is which one again?"
"Dude, seriously!" Tony shook his head. "You've been here for what, two years? Uncle Dexter is the oldest son for Grandma. She must have mentioned him when she invites you to tea."
"Tea?" Slater chuckled. "She does invite me in for a drink now and again after I finish the lawn. Your grandmother has eight children and so many grandchildren I can't really keep up. If you didn't come around so often I would be asking Tony who?"
"Good point." Tony stopped the vehicle in front of the pool house. "So I'll see you by weekend? I'll have your pay by then."
"I'll be here." Slater got out of the vehicle.
"I am going to have a look in on Grandma. I'll tell her about your situation," Tony offered. "And thanks again for filling in for George."
"Wait." Slater shook his head. "Don't tell Mrs. Perry. I'll tell her."
Tony frowned. "What are you afraid of, dude? You need to start now to get that reading thing on. If George goes overseas, which he is threatening to do, I am gonna need you. And I am gonna need you to be able to read."
He backed down the driveway and then stopped, pushing his head out of the vehicle. "And dude, I am gonna need that tux tomorrow. I have to return it."
"I'll leave it with Mrs. Perry when I am heading to work."
"Good." Tony tooted him and went down the winding driveway to the house at the front.
Slater watched as the taillights disappeared and then let himself into the pool house. He was alone with his thoughts again.
It felt like such a relief. He could think about Amoy. Or he could think about what her friend Eugenia said about him and the possibilities that being able to read could open to him, or he could just sit in the dark, reliving his first paid gig as a musician.
It had been his dream ever since he could remember, even as a little boy growing up in one of the ugliest places in Kingston.
He could just listen to music and he was no longer a boy in a dark, ugly place, filled with cussing and violence and uncertainty; he was somewhere else, anywhere he wanted to be. He just had to close his eyes and visualize the notes.
He loved to play. He loved to take up an instrument and coax tunes out of it and listen as the once inanimate object came to life and watch as the rhythm affected people. He could easily and without effort play any instrument he got his hands on, even Edwin and Mrs. Perry's old church organ.
It had taken him some time but he had mastered it. That's why he still showed up at their church. They needed him to play; there was no one around that understood the majestic old organ like he did.
After his first time playing it, Mrs. Perry had offered to sell him her little-used baby grand piano. And she had offered it to him at a really low price. A token really, because it was in almost brand-new condition.
And he had played at several church weddings so far, voluntarily of course. It gave him more joy to play for people than it actually was for them to listen.
Tonight was his biggest gig with Tony's band. He didn't have any ambitions of being a part of a band though. He liked the camaraderie of Tony, Rick and Mike but he preferred working alone.
He was a loner by nature. Always had been. It was only for his survival when he was a boy that he had banded together with the other street boys—society's rejects and runaways.
Even back then he had been very careful not to get too close to anyone. He didn't trust easily. He had learned the hard way that people were not always trustworthy.
His mother's boyfriend, Willie, was a gang member, and he had unwittingly befriended an undercover cop. When they came to arrest him in their cramped quarters, Willie stupidly grabbed his girlfriend and used her as a human shield, shooting at the police like he had not a care in the world.
He had seen it all from his hiding place under the bed. It was October ninth, the day after his eight birthday.
He had watched as if in slow motion as his mother first fell, her big bulk sinking slowly to the ground as shot after shot pelted her body. Then Willie, his eyes red and blazing, scared witless, and realizing how close he was to death, had let her go like yesterday's laundry. Then he looked around, panic in his eyes as the noise of the bullets ricocheted through the one-room dwelling, searching for him to use as another human shield. But Slater had been well hidden under the untidy bed. And he hadn't made a sound.
It wasn't long before Willie met his end under a hail of gunshots, slumping on top of his girlfriend with his gun still in his hand and his eyes wide open.
Slater could still remember the images and the sounds—and the final ringing silence when the law enforcers realized that there were no more answering shots.
The thump of the boots as they entered the place. He could still remember the muffled conversations, the haunting finality when they took the bodies away. He had thought himself paralyzed because he couldn't move for hours after that, until the fear had melted.
His mother, his only link to any family, had left him. Not that she had been around much. He had spent early years away from her in another ghetto and she had come back for him when he was five.
It was only when he met Edwin that he had any concept of what it meant to have family.
The Wilsons, his foster parents, never understood him but they had introduced him to music. And for that he was grateful. He had access to their piano and after he mastered that Mr. Wilson had been impressed enough to show him how to play his old saxophone and guitar.
He sat before the piano now and ran his fingers lightly along the keys. It was his only possession of value. He was a man without any ties to this world, really, but he was alive and he was grateful for that.
What Eugenia said tonight was true; he should try to read again. He found learning to read difficult but that was years ago; maybe it wouldn't be bad now. Maybe things would make sense now.
And he would force himself to stop thinking of Amoy Gardener. The fixation that he had on her for the past two years had to stop. He would find himself a girlfriend, somebody he could relate to, somebody more in his class, and he would satisfy himself with that.
He got up and closed the blinds but could see that the pool lights were on. He heard Tony's voice and then another. Maybe it was his cousin Alexandra. He had work tomorrow so he dared not turn on the lights in the pool house; he didn't want to be invited to join them.
He felt bone tired and a bit melancholy, like he always did whenever he gave himself the lecture about letting thoughts of Amoy go. He stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes and forced himself not to think about her.
He must have slept.
There was a knocking on his door. Slater blinked his eyes. It was still early in the morning. He was still in the rented tux. He got up groggily and groaned out loud.
He stumbled to the door and opened it slowly.
Mrs. Perry was standing there, her face creased in smiles.
"Mr. Slater," she greeted him in her proper tones. Mrs. Perry was old school, elegant and refined.
She still ate with a knife and fork and said an elaborate grace over every meal and refused to call him just Slater. She said it was undignified.
"Yes, Mrs. Perry." His voice was hoarse and he cleared it.
"The answer is yes. Yes I will teach you," she said, nodding her bright purple head; he could see today she was in her usual uniform of floral dress and her sensible flat brown leather shoes that she claimed helped her with her posture.
He opened the door wider and blinked at her. The day was overcast and feeling unusually cool for…what time was it? He glanced back at the clock... seven o' clock.
"But I..." he cleared his throat again, feeling a little embarrassed. What had Tony done, gone over to his grandmother and announced his problem in his flippant way?
"Yes, Antonio told me," Mrs. Perry said, her voice soothing, "and I am happy he did. I think this was an answer to my prayers. I have been carrying a burden about you for months now. I think this is why."
Slater slumped at the doorway. He didn't know what to say.
Mrs. Perry smiled at him reassuringly. "We will start at six this evening. After the initial tests I will see how regularly we need to work together."
"Thank you, Mrs. Perry," Slater said hoarsely. This time his voice was choked up with emotion, not with the remnants of sleep.
Mrs. Perry nodded and then turned away. "Have a good day, Mr Slater, and take your umbrella. The weatherman said that it will rain this evening."
"Thank you." Slater was about to close the door when he saw a flash of red, a tall leggy girl who had long honey-blond hair and was in a swimsuit. She waved to him and then arranged herself in one of the lounge chairs at the side of the pool.
"That's Alexandra, one of my youngest grandchildren," Mrs. Perry said, turning to him. "She'll be here for a while."
Slater nodded and closed the door.
****
Slater literally hauled himself through the day, only perking up when he got the packages to deliver to Lee Chang and Dubois. There was a new receptionist at the front. She introduced herself as Lydia. She was filling in for Tessa because the last receptionist, Terri, got married to one of the bosses. "Why do some girls have all the luck?"
She is going to be chatty, Slater thought, looking at her vaguely as she collected the boxes and the packages and signed for them.
He looked around for Amoy but she wasn't there. Her office door, which was in view of the lobby, was firmly closed. He imagined her in there, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her computer, intently staring at the screen, thinking about intelligent things that he could not even fathom, working out people’s problems...
"Where is Amoy?" he asked without thinking. It was automatic. His vow not to think about her was going to take a while to kick in.
Lydia looked at him as if he had asked for the queen and had not used her title.
"You know Miss Gardener?"
"Well, I..." He sighed. "Not really."
"Hmmm." Lydia gazed at him with one eyebrow up in speculation. "Miss Gardener is in a meeting right now. Would you want me to arrange a meeting with her for you? I could tell her secretary."
"No." Slater gave her a half-smile. "Thanks, though."
Lydia lowered her voice and beckoned for Slater to come closer.
He went reluctantly.
"Listen," Lydia whispered, "these lawyers do not represent ordinary poor people. If you want a lawyer, there are several legal aide ones downtown."
Slater looked at her and repressed a smile. "Thanks for the tip."
"Anytime." Lydia straightened up. "I think myself a good judge of character and somehow you don't strike me as a criminal. But there have been some really good-looking monsters in this world..."
"No, I am not a criminal." Slater smiled. "I just wanted to know if Miss Gardener was here."
"But why?" Lydia was shaking her head in consternation.
"She… ah," Slater heaved a sigh.
Lydia was not letting him go until he explained why he was enquiring after Amoy. She clutched the clipboard for the delivery signatures to her large bosom, looking at him unblinkingly.
He couldn't escape. He needed that clipboard. Lydia waited for an explanation for his interest. It had not occurred to her that he could be asking after Amoy because he liked her.
If he said that, she would probably roll on the floor with laughter. He wasn't in the mood to be mocked. He wasn't in the mood to be told that he wasn't good enough. He knew that already.
"I wanted to know if she was still doing, er, classes at the church."
"Oh," Lydia smiled benignly. "Her volunteer work. You are one of her adult students?"
The phone rang and she snatched it up, handing him the clipboard as she did so. He didn't wait for her to answer. He left the building at a half run.
Lesson learned. No more asking for Amoy Gardener.
Chapter Four
Amoy listened half interestedly as her father yammered on and on about the Al Jerza account.
She was one of twelve sitting in the board room. The only one of two females, the other being her father's secretary, Constance. She was four months pregnant. She watched as Constance studiously typed the highlights of the meeting. She was fascinated with pregnant women these days, almost manically so. All the females in the firm seemed to be getting pregnant, one after the other.
Was it paranoid to think that they were taunting her with their fertility? First there was Tessa, their receptionist, then Rosalie in HR and Carmen, a fellow attorney who was in the office beside hers.
Carmen was forty-six and hard as nails; even judges quaked when Carmen entered court. Amoy was sure that her father would consider Carmen for partner over her. She had more testosterone than some of the men in the boardroom. It was shocking for everyone when Carmen had announced that she was pregnant and had looked excited about it.
"What about your career?" Amoy had asked, shocked.
"Don't care," Carmen had said flippantly. "This is something I have always wanted, a child of my own. Law can't replace this. My biological clock wasn't ticking, it was howling. My hubby and I think this is a miracle!"
Then she had laughed in that hearty way of hers and Amoy had joined in, even though she did not find it funny. It was one more reminder that she was not the one who was pregnant.
That was six months ago, and Carmen was now on leave for an undetermined period of time, because her doctor told her to take it easy. Amoy sat in the dry-as-stale-bread meeting, wishing that she was in Carmen's shoes, at home heavily pregnant with her feet in the air, binge watching Desperate Housewives.
She opened her file folder and looked at her handwriting. She had jotted down in bold letters on a blank page Amoy's Plan To Conceive. Sperm bank had more cons than pros, at least for her. Did she really want her child to be born via an anonymous person with numerous siblings floating about the stratosphere? Just looking at the Scarletts was a headache. Peter Scarlett was not an anonymous sperm donor and yet he had children scattered around who didn't know anything about him or each other.
She tapped the sheet of paper in tandem with her whirring thoughts. Option two, a kind friend. Maybe Wilson; his wife Cindy just had a baby. Wilson had always had a crush on her. She jotted down his name and then crossed it off. He wouldn't have a child and not want to be involved, and Cindy would never allow it. She jotted down Yuri Scarlett and hurriedly crossed it out as well. That fantasy should long be put to rest, and then there was Jaylon Best the second, fellow lawyer, college sweetheart, first lover. They once had a pregnancy scare when they were in final year.
She must be desperate to consider Jaylon though; their breakup had been acrimonious, to put it mil
dly. He had gotten a full scholarship to Harvard Law; she had been less than enthusiastic about it because she was going to miss him.
He thought she was being jealous and resentful. They had both applied for the same scholarship, after all, and maybe there had been some jealousy there but her main feeling had not been rabid jealousy. His success had driven a rift between them that had never healed. And now he was back in Jamaica for the past year, still single. She saw him occasionally at various functions but realized that there was no feeling there. Could she have his child and not have him interfering? That was not going to happen. Jaylon was competitive. He would stake a claim on the child just to compete with her.
There was a no-go area. She wanted a baby, not a war.
Option 3 did not bear thinking about for long. But she toyed with it anyway. Slater. Slater. Slater. She wrote his name several times across the page. She needed to know more about him before she...what... used him?
"Miss Gardener," her father's voice intruded on her thoughts. "The Scarletts are yours until Zack gets back from his honeymoon. You have so far been their defacto attorney. It will continue to be so."
Amoy slapped her folder shut.
All eyes were on her; she wondered how long ago they had stopped talking about Al Jerza. She and Zack had already done the Scarlett handover. This news was nothing new. Zack had also told her to contact his new detective John Sauce for some new information on the ongoing investigation. She had that on her list of things to do next week.
Her father broke into her musings once more. "Carmen requested that you be the one to deal with the government lawyers on the environment case."
"Sure!" Amoy nodded. The rest of the lawyers started murmuring because it was a popular case. Lots of television time too, and it had no end. Carmen's clients were an international company intent on acquiring government lands. Dealing with government took a long, long time. Carmen's baby would probably be a teenager before the case was resolved. All she'd need to do is sit in on one or two negotiations while Carmen was away. The partners were mumbling because they wanted to be on television.
Scarlett Love (The Scarletts Page 3
