Geneva stared after Pamela when she closed the door. Pamela just confided in her. Amazing.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Congratulations,” Justin beamed as he waltzed into the dressing room after Geneva collected her trophy and cash prize for winning the talent piece.
“Thank you,” Geneva said sadly. “I feel a bit empty though.”
“Are you hungry?” Justin asked.
“Yes, I think so, but I wasn’t talking about that kind of empty,” Geneva said, looking down at her self. She had changed into a wine red slip dress that emphasized her shape flatteringly and gave her complexion a glow.
“You look a bit like Halle Berry and what’s the name of that girl who acted in Fresh Prince of Belair?” Justin said admiringly. “Let’s go get something to eat then. I am going out with a potential queen, a very talented potential queen.”
“Pamela said I should wait for her here,” Geneva said regretfully, her belly rumbling with hunger. She had been banned from eating anything much at lunchtime.
“Leave her to me,” Conrad said, scurrying around and packing up. “Just don’t eat any fatty foods,” he shouted after her as she trailed behind Justin toward the exit.
Justin stared at Geneva as they sat in his car. He fumbled with his keys to start the car and she glanced over at him.
“Didn’t they start wars over you in the place where you used to live?” he asked suddenly.
“No. I was… I am the don’s girl. No one in their right mind would look at me twice.” Geneva adjusted her seat belt and her full breasts strained against her dress.
Justin groaned loudly. “I can’t think when you do that.”
“Do what?” Geneva asked incredulously.
“Breathe,” Justin replied and pulled out of the Hilton Hotel's parking lot. “Dressed like this, we should both go to a fancy restaurant.”
“No thanks,” Geneva said quickly. “I'm tired of fancy food. Some good old junk food would do me good.”
Justin laughed. “Pamela will not give up on your re-socialization, especially now that you’ve won the talent piece at the show.”
“I know,” Geneva sighed, “I'm almost sorry I filled in for Melody.”
“And not get your comeuppance?” Justin laughed. “I was sitting near Pamela when you started playing you know. To say she was shocked would be an understatement. She had her mouth open the whole time, and the fan in her hand fell limply in her lap. It looked, suspiciously, like she was crying.”
They drove up to a fast food restaurant in New Kingston, and Justin was lucky enough to get a parking space beside the establishment. They settled upstairs to eat and look over the street toward The Asylum Nightclub.
“Our first date and we people-watch,” Justin complained. “Anyway, Gen, I just wanted to say sorry for the assumption I made at the pool-side last week. I don’t know what came over me.”
Geneva bit into her burger and sighed. “I forgive you.”
“Just like that?” Justin asked incredulously. “I was prepared for groveling and vowing to mend my crooked ways, you know.”
Geneva squinted at him mockingly. “I hate groveling.”
“Thank goodness, me too,” Justin said and laughed. Then he looked at her seriously. “I really like you, Geneva. I know that we haven’t known each other long and that you are probably still hung up on the guy downtown… I mean your ex-boyfriend.”
“He is not my ex; we are still together, even though I haven’t…” Geneva didn't get to finish her sentence. Froggie was heading over to their table. He looked taller and more muscular than when she last saw him. He had grown a mustache and sported a neatly trimmed beard, which gave him a neat appearance with his corn-rowed hair. He looked smooth and handsome.
He stopped at the table. His liquid brown eyes were somber. “I sat over there for two whole minutes before I realized that it was you,” Froggie said, looking her over thoroughly. “You look amazing.”
“Th—thanks,” Geneva muttered, feeling tongue-tied. She glanced over at Justin. He could sense that something was wrong. He looked from her to the man who had a possessive look in his eyes, and he figured it out for himself.
“You must be Froggie,” Justin said, but neither Geneva nor the man by her side seemed to realize that he was still there.
“Er… Sorry… Froggie, this is Justin, Justin, Froggie,” Geneva babbled.
Both men nodded.
Froggie looked speculative. “Justin Greenwood, from The Greenwoods who own the bank?”
Justin nodded. “I guess you see my dad on television a lot.”
“Yes,” Froggie mumbled. Then he stared at Geneva again. His eyes seemed to ask, Is this him?
Geneva looked away and swallowed.
“It’s been a week, Froggie,” Geneva said, her voice faintly accusing. “I entered the Miss Jamaica competition and I couldn’t get through to you.”
“I went to Ocho Rios to stay with my aunt before she left to go back to the States,” Froggie replied, frowning. “I am thinking of selling the bar and the club and moving on.”
“Where are you going?” Geneva asked with fear in her eyes. “There are people who can’t do without you. What about your mother?”
“The people in the community will accept Eagle as the leader, and my mother is willing to come with me wherever I go.” His voice sounded slightly accusatory as if he was telling her that she wouldn’t do the same.
“What about me, Froggie?” Tears unexpectedly popped into Geneva’s eyes.
“You have him,” Froggie pointed to Justin and walked away. “Enjoy the food.”
****
Froggie almost jogged down the stairs. He couldn't believe it; she looked beautiful and sleek. Way out of his league now. It would be best if he just disappeared. He wondered how he would bear it when he heard news on the television that she was to marry Justin Greenwood of the Greenwood dynasty, or read in the papers that they were expecting their first child.
It was his fault; he should have kept her in the ghetto, where she had no one but him. He should have kept her barefoot and pregnant and needy. Then he remembered how she looked tonight, and he ached. She said she entered Miss Jamaica. She would win; she was beautiful and intelligent. She had always been that way; he had sensed that she was different when he had first seen her in the nightclub—she was just a part of his environment for a while.
He couldn’t compete with her newfound wealth, or the new polish he could detect in her manner. He was going to be left behind. It was better for him to face that now, than to sit around waiting for Geneva to come back to him.
****
“Stop thinking,” Justin said for the fourth time that night. They had left the restaurant in silence. Geneva seemed to be cloaked in deep thought, and his efforts at dragging her out of her melancholy had been futile. When he invited himself to sit with her at the pool-side she had barely registered his presence.
“I think he dumped me,” Geneva said pained. “He said he was leaving and that I had you. I never broke up with Froggie. I told him last week that I was confused when we kissed.”
Justin went over to her side and hugged her. “I don’t want to see you in such pain, but I can’t help but feel as if Froggie gave up on you long ago.”
“No,” Geneva whispered.
“So why didn’t he try to see you for the past couple of weeks.”
“He said that he wanted me to adjust to the life here. He didn't want to interfere.”
“He doesn't want you anymore, Geneva. You will just have to deal with it. And when you do, remember I am right here waiting. I don’t care whether you are rich or poor, or whether you are from uptown or downtown. Isn’t that what you are looking for, someone who will accept you for who you are?”
“I can’t.” Her voice wobbled and he clutched her tighter. “I need to face Froggie once and for all and find out what is going on.”
She shrugged from Justin’s embrace and went to her room. She didn’t f
eel like talking to her sister, who was dying to hear how the talent show went.
Geneva knew she didn't want any of the Walters' money if she couldn't have Froggie. Even winning a pageant and performing before hundreds of people didn't compare to having him. She hid her face in her pillow and cried. In her eyes, it all came down to the question of materialism or love. Why should she have to choose? Justin said he did not care if she was rich or poor, but she wouldn’t have met him when she was poor now, would she?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Melody,” Geneva whispered to her sister in the dark. It was early in the morning, almost five o’ clock, and she had not slept a wink. The events of the competition kept spinning in her mind like a broken record. She closed her eyes and she could see Cynthia’s smirking face as she declared, “You are the bastard child of a wealthy man, and you are from the ghetto.”
She kept seeing Froggie’s face after he saw her and Justin together at the restaurant, the sadness in his expression, the stoop to his shoulders when he said, “You have him.”
As the sheets twisted and twined their way around her, she weighed her options. If she went back to the ghetto then she would lose the money from her father and would be in the same position she was before, working hard to eke out a living. All her ambitions and aspirations would be much harder to attain.
She wanted to live the dream; she wanted to go to university and get a degree in accounting. She had always liked that area of study. She wanted to travel to anywhere in the world without the hassle of trying to scrape together her airfare.
But what was her dream costing her, the ever-present corrections by Pamela and the snide remarks made by their acquaintances? Her self-esteem was assaulted daily, and often she wasn't sure where she belonged. Where was her place in the world? New clothes and expensive surroundings and unending wealth didn't make her happy. What was the one thing in the world that could make her happy?
She had struggled with the question, in her feverish quest to fall asleep, and the answer that popped into her head, over and over again, was Froggie. She couldn't be satisfied living without Froggie, even if she had wealth to help her forget him. Justin was charming and ridiculously handsome, but he was not Froggie. Geneva sat on Melody’s bed and watched as her sister struggled to open her eyes.
“Melody,” she said, shaking her again, her resolve strengthening. She knew what she was going to do.
“Hmmm,” Melody said and smacked her lips together before burrowing deeper under the sheets.
Geneva whispered close to her ear. “I am going home.”
“Wha... a... at?” Melody asked, opening her eyes and squinting up at her sister.
“I am going back to Froggie,” Geneva sighed, “I'm going today.”
“Back to the ghetto?” Melody asked and shifted into a sitting position. She rested her head on the headboard and closed her eyes. “Let me get this straight,” she slurred. “You are going to visit your friends, just for the day, right?”
Geneva shook her head, realizing that Melody was still almost snoozing and had her eyes closed. “I'm moving back to the ghetto.” She rubbed her arms and stared out the window at the hulking trees in the darkness of the garden.
Melody didn't answer for a long time. She wiped her eyes and stared at Geneva. Her foot was throbbing and she gently moved it under the covers.
“Okay,” she finally responded.
They could hear a cock crow in the distance and the rustling of tree leaves from a gentle wind. Geneva moved to the window and bunched the curtains in her hands, waiting for Melody’s explosion.
“You are not going to tell me about reneging on the competition, or giving up the money?” Geneva asked.
“Nope,” Melody said and slid back under the covers. “What’s the sense in arguing? Obviously you have thought this through already. You will still be my sister wherever you live. We can meet and talk over the phone and catch up on each other’s lives. Aunt Ida will be a rich woman when she gets the bulk of Dad’s estate. If I complained about that, I would look petty. Besides, you are turning your back on all of this just for love… and hunger… and uncertain living.”
“Froggie said he was giving up the don man thing and moving to Ochi,” Geneva said uncertainly. “I saw him last night.”
“He came to the competition?” Melody asked warily.
“No, I had a meal with Justin at a restaurant and he was there.”
Melody grunted. “So what about Justin? Don’t you like him anymore?
“Justin will get over me. He doesn’t know me the way that Froggie does.”
“When are you going to move?”
“Today,” Geneva responded with a lightness she didn't feel. There was a voice telling her she was crazy. What if Froggie rejected her when she showed up on his doorstep? Or declared that he didn’t love her anymore?
“I would offer to help you pack, but I'm useless,” Melody said nonchalantly. She didn't want to sway Geneva one way or the other, but she was fairly sure that Geneva would come to her senses; poverty had a way of shifting one’s focus from love to practicality. Her sister was crazy though, giving up a life of ease to go back to a situation that was fraught with danger.
“Remember I told you about Dad’s friend Ronald, who he confided everything in.”
“No,” Geneva said and looked at Melody suspiciously.
“Well, he’s coming to Jamaica today, and I was wondering if you wanted to question him about your mother. If any one knew what Dad was up to, it would have been Ronald.”
“I have to clear up my life first,” Geneva said and ran her fingers through her hair. “My mother was a drunkard who couldn’t take care of herself. I want to prove that I'm different. Will you miss me when I am gone?” Geneva asked as she sat down beside Melody on the bed once more.
“Of course,” Melody said, her voice hoarse. “You are my only sibling. I had fun with you while you were here. Believe it or not, I learnt a lot about myself just being with you.”
“What will happen to the competition?” Geneva asked weakly.
“They will give the girl who came second place your position and will continue as usual,” Melody whispered. “I heard that you fought Cynthia?”
“Yeah,” Geneva said, nodding. “She insulted me.”
“I wish I could have seen that,” Melody sighed. “The pain pills knocked me out by the time you came home. I guess I'll have to wait until another time to hear the blow by blow account.”
Geneva nodded. She wasn’t in the mood to tell her anything when she came in last night anyway.
“What will the lawyers do?” Geneva asked.
“Mother will hold them off as long as she can,” Melody said and snuggled deeper under the sheets. “When you come back to your senses, then we will carry on as if nothing happened.”
“I am in my senses,” Geneva exclaimed. A part of her was happy that Melody wasn't as nonchalant as she appeared, and she was hoping that this was a whimsical pining for Froggie and not a serious decision.
“Night, Gen,” Melody said and closed her eyes. “Call me and tell me when you are coming back home. I will be here waiting.”
“It’s morning,” Geneva said, smiling.
She left Melody’s room when she heard her sister’s gentle snores and continued down the corridor to her room. The comforter was on the floor, and she picked it up and put it back on the bed. The place looked as if she had been having a wrestling match during the night. She took her case from the closet and donned the blonde wig she had hidden inside it and put on the clothes she had managed to hide from Pamela: a short skirt with a belly-baring top. She would have to make do with one of her new shoes. She pushed her feet into them and went downstairs. She looked at the paintings, the fine furnishings, and the vastness of the halls and paused with her hand on the front door. Should she go or stay? Froggie was worth it, Geneva reasoned as she opened the front door.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The taxi man didn't
want to take Geneva as far as Black Lane. He left her at a bus stop and she had to walk through the empty business district of downtown Kingston toward Black Lane.
“Sweet girl,” a fierce looking young man leered at her from the side of the street. He bared his yellowed teeth at her, his eyes glossy and heavy with sleep. “A you me want.” He stood up and started to trail Geneva. She ignored him, confident in the knowledge that no one in the area would dare mistreat her once she identified herself.
“Stop,” ordered the young man, smelling of tobacco and urine, and standing close to her neck.
Geneva stopped and looked at him. The scent of an unwashed body and the dirty grime and debris on the street almost made her gag. This was what she was used to, she told herself. A few weeks in the hills of St. Andrew should not have changed her.
The young man grinned when she looked at him without any fear in her gaze.
“Take your fingers from my skin,” Geneva said scathingly.
“What?” he asked confused.
“Take your fingers from my skin,” she repeated, doing her best Pamela imitation.
“How much do you charge?” he asked, smacking his lips as he ogled her naked belly and her long legs, keeping his fingers clamped firmly on her arms.
I won the talent piece for the Miss Jamaica competition last night, she felt like yelling at the boy. How can you mistake me for a prostitute?
“What’s your name?” she asked him instead.
“That doesn't matter.” He looked as if he was salivating.
“It will,” Geneva growled, “when I tell Froggie that you were touching his woman.”
Fear replaced the lust in the youth’s eyes and he backed away from her slightly. “Froggie,” he laughed and cleared his throat. “I don’t care what Froggie thinks.” He dismissed the fear easily and came closer to Geneva and pressed his body to hers. “I am from Fourteenth Street. Sparky rules there, I don't care bout no Froggie.”
New Beginnings Page 6
