Passion by the Book

by Pamela Yaye

  “Why don’t you come with us to the birthday party? It would be nice if you finally met Jayden and Jordan’s friends and some of the other parents.”

  “But I want to spend time with you, alone,” he argued, lowering his mouth to her neck and playfully nipping at her earlobe. “Ever since you started at Friendship House we hardly see each other. Sometimes it feels like we’re two ships passing in the night.”

  Simone laughed. “Baby, quit being so dramatic. We made love a couple days ago.”

  Marcus felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. Dropping his hands from around her waist, he slumped back against the leather couch. “Is that what you think? That the only reason I want to spend time with you is so we can have sex?”

  “I don’t know. Isn’t it?”

  He was so stunned by her words, so bewildered, he couldn’t speak.

  “I’m beat,” Simone said, patting back a yawn. “I’m going up to bed.”

  Marcus swallowed the lump in his throat and forced a smile. “I’ll be up in a minute. Thanks again for tonight, baby. The food was delicious, and my friends had a great time.”

  “I love hosting parties, but your friends wore me out with their incessant chatter. They’re worse than Jayden and Jordan, and those two talk nonstop!”

  Marcus watched his wife slowly climb the spiral staircase. Long after Simone left and disappeared into the master bedroom, he sat slumped against the couch, thinking about what she’d said. Feelings of sadness engulfed him, and it didn’t matter how many times he told himself Simone loved him and was committed to their marriage, he still felt a suffocating ache in his chest. He felt alone, empty inside, like a man who’d lost his one true love. And the worst thing about it was, Marcus didn’t know what to do about it.

  Chapter 15

  A dramatic cold front brought snow, ice and golf-ball-size hail to the Windy City the first week in November. And when Simone woke up on Monday morning and heard the wind whacking tree branches against her window, she considered staying in bed until the storm blew over. The room was drenched in darkness, but she heard the familiar chug of city snowplows, shovels scraping against sidewalks and the buzz of rush-hour traffic.

  Simone swallowed a yawn. Marcus had his arms wrapped around her, and his scent was so clean, so refreshing, she felt a deep sense of peace. He stirred, tightened his grip on her waist. These were the moments Simone loved, the moments that were ingrained in her heart and mind. When Marcus cradled her to his chest she felt safe, secure, and although things had been tense between them ever since she had started her new job last month, Simone wouldn’t trade this quiet, intimate time for anything in the world.

  Last night, she’d had his favorite meal waiting for him when he’d returned home early from work. After putting the boys to bed, Simone slipped into an itty-bitty negligee and sauntered into the living room with a saucy smile on her lips and a bottle of Shiraz in her hands. Their lovemaking had always been passionate, but last night was arms-flailing, heart-throbbing, toe-curling good.

  Simone didn’t know if the sex was better because of her newfound self-confidence or because she’d taken her mother-in-law’s advice and quit nagging him, but their lovemaking was sizzling. And after the third dizzying round, the living room lamp lay in pieces on the carpet and cushion stuffing was floating in the air like snow drifting down from the sky.

  Welcoming the memories, she felt a smile explode over her face. Urgent kisses, urgent hands, urgent strokes. The soft, angelic voice of R & B singer Faith Evans ushering them into a lover’s paradise. A light breeze gliding through the window. A star-rich sky christening the living room with its tender light.

  That’s why Simone wanted to play hooky from work today. She wanted to spend the day with Marcus, in bed, doing nothing but talking and cuddling and making love. Isn’t that what life was all about? Doing things that made you happy. That’s what Jaxson Stafford preached during their weekly sessions. Ever since Simone started meeting with the famed attorney slash therapist, she felt more relaxed and less stressed out.

  One afternoon a week, inside his chic downtown office, Simone unburdened her heart. They discussed her marriage, the kids, the pain of not knowing who her father was. Jaxson Stafford asked poignant questions, ones designed for soul-searching, and every week Simone left his office with no intention of returning. But she did. And arrived early, too! They had an appointment scheduled for Wednesday morning, and Simone was going to ask Marcus to join her. It was time they worked together to improve their marriage, and she had a feeling her husband and the charismatic attorney would hit it off.

  Simone glanced at the alarm clock. Still plenty of time to luxuriate in bed. In an hour, she’d get up and make breakfast, and over coffee she’d tell Marcus how much she was enjoying her sessions with Jaxson Stafford. Then, they’d drop the boys off at school and spend the rest of the day hanging out in the city. But when Simone remembered that she had three home visits scheduled for that afternoon, and mountains of paperwork on her desk, she slipped from between the covers and left the comfort of her husband’s warm arms.

  Cursing Old Man Winter, Simone dragged her sleep-deprived body out of bed just as dawn was breaking over the horizon. Careful not to wake Marcus, she showered, dressed in her favorite Chanel business suit and packed her briefcase. Slipping out of the room with the stealth of a cat burglar, she closed the door and tiptoed down the darkened hallway.

  A quick check in on the boys, a cup of cappuccino and Simone was ready to face the day. And those treacherous Chicago streets. The drive across town was a long, nerve-racking journey, but when Simone pulled into the Friendship House parking lot and saw that no one else was there, a frown burned her lips. The streets were bad, but not that bad.

  Simone shouldn’t have been surprised. Friendship House was the busiest nonprofit center in the city, but it was badly understaffed and the employee turnover rate was ridiculously high. Employees called in sick on a weekly basis and often quit at a moment’s notice. Most of the veteran staff members were biding their time until they got a “real job” in the cushy, downtown office overlooking Millennium Park. Well, everyone expect Simone. She loved the inner city, loved the strength and courage of its residents, and couldn’t imagine working anywhere else.

  After unlocking the door and disabling the alarm, she flipped on the lights and opened the cranberry-colored blinds. The exterior of the building was in need of an extreme makeover, but the reception area was a wide, colorful space filled with green leafy plants, vibrant artwork and padded armchairs.

  Simone put on coffee, jacked up the thermostat as high as it would go and strode to the back of the building. Inside her cramped but functional office, Simone sat down at her desk and turned on the computer. Before she could type in her password, the telephone rang. It’s probably someone calling in sick, she thought, pressing line one. “Hello, Friendship House.”

  “Is, ah, Mr. Gladstone there?”

  “I’m sorry. He’s not in. Would you care to leave a message?”

  After a lengthy pause, the woman blurted out, “My son is missing.”

  Before Simone could advise the caller to phone the authorities, the woman broke into tears. Cried so loud Simone had to move the phone away from her ear. “Ma’am, you—”

  “He’s been missing since Friday,” she said, between deep, racking sobs, “and if I call the police they’ll take him away from me. I need my boy here to help me take care of his younger sisters.” The woman sniffled, coughed like she had a bad cold. “He’s seventeen and for the most part a good kid, but ever since my husband died last year...”

  Filled with compassion, Simone listened quietly as the caller spoke fondly about her teenage son. Making brief notes on her notepad, she prayed that Mr. Gladstone would arrive soon and help this distraught mother find her missing son.

  “A neighbor spotted him at
Rupert’s Café. Said he was smoking and everything. I wanted to go down there to look for him, but I didn’t have anyone to leave my other kids with.”

  Simone raised an eyebrow and gripped the receiver tighter. What’s a seventeen-year-old boy doing at Rupert’s Café? Rupert’s, as the locals called it, was a popular hangout spot for drug dealers, con artists, hoodlums and the like. “Ma’am, is your son in a gang?”

  “No. Never.” Despite her anguish, her tone was strong, resolute. “Things have been tough ever since my Charlie died, but I’m doing the best I can for me and my kids.”

  Her words touched Simone deeply. She was a mother, too; she understood. Simone didn’t make it a habit to enter gang territory, and she knew Marcus would kill her if he ever found out she went to Rupert’s Cafe, but she couldn’t sit around and do nothing. “What’s your son’s name?”

  “Lester, but everyone calls him—”

  “Hoops,” Simone finished, lowering her ballpoint pen. Everyone in the neighborhood knew who Lester “Hoops” DeWitt was. And not just because he stood head and shoulders above his peers. Dubbed “Hoops” after he had shattered every basketball record in the state, Lester had not only led his team to the state championships last year, but also brought back the first-place trophy. “Ms. DeWitt, I’m not going to make any promises, but—”

  “You’re going to go out and look for Lester? You’re going to bring my baby home?” Her voice rose hysterically. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

  Simone took down Ms. DeWitt’s phone number and promised to have someone call her within the hour. Clipping her badge on her jacket, she walked out of her office and into the now-bustling reception area. Bonita Guerrero, the perky secretary who had aspirations of being a reality TV star, was sitting behind her desk, trolling online gossip sites.

  “Is Isaiah in?” Simone asked.

  “No, not yet. He’s visiting a family on the Lower East Side.”

  “Any idea how long he’ll be?”

  “Shouldn’t be too long, why?”

  Simone told Bonita about her conversation with Mrs. DeWitt, then handed over her contact notes. “Do you mind phoning Isaiah and letting him know what’s going on? Since he’s already on the South Side, he can go speak to Mrs. DeWitt in person and then look for Hoops.”

  “No problem, Mrs. Young. I’ll get right on it!”

  The rest of the morning was long and uneventful, and by the time eleven o’clock rolled around, Simone was ready for a break. She’d spent the past four hours chained to her desk, filing out reports and filling paperwork. Meeting with the clients on her caseload and finding solutions to their problems was the highlight of her day. Doing paperwork was not. That’s why Simone had the radio on, the blinds drawn and a large bowl of chocolate almonds at her fingertips.

  Simone needed a pick-me-up, someone to make her laugh, and she thought of Marcus. As she reached for the phone to dial his private number, it rang. “Hello. Simone Young speaking.”

  “Why, hello, Simone Young. This is your drop-dead gorgeous husband, Marcus Young. How are you doing this morning, beautiful?”

  A smile overwhelmed Simone’s mouth. “You’re crazy.”

  “Only about you.”

  “Well, aren’t we full of compliments and sweet words today?” she joked, leaning back and resting comfortably in her chair. “You have great timing. I was just about to call you.”

  “I would hope so. What’s up with sneaking off this morning without giving me some loving? You know doing you is my favorite way to start off my day.”

  “You looked so tired this morning, I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Excuses, excuses,” he scoffed, chuckling. “I’m going to make you pay tonight!”

  “I look forward to it....”

  “Awww, sookie, sookie, now!”

  The couple shared a laugh.

  “Are you still coming with me to the mayor’s luncheon on the twenty-ninth?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I was just checking,” he explained after a brief pause. “You just started your new job and I didn’t think you’d want to take time off so soon.”

  “We go every year, and I enjoy meeting all your friends and business associates.”

  “Cool. I was hoping you’d say that!”

  Simone heard the smile in her husband’s voice, knew that he was wearing the biggest, widest grin. “How’s your day going?”

  “Rough. I’m down to one towel boy, and the men’s changing room looks like a pigsty. Hey, how do you feel about me hiring Jayden and Jordan part-time?”

  Imagining the boys scurrying around Samson’s Gym, picking up after burly muscle men in spandex, made Simone laugh. Thinking about her kids reminded Simone of her early-morning conversation with Mrs. DeWitt, the widowed mother looking for her teenage son. An idea sparked in her mind, one that made her so excited, she shot up in her chair. “Hey, I know someone you can hire! He’s a star athlete who could use a strong male influence in his life. You know, someone smart and successful and intelligent like you.”

  “God, I love when you stroke my ego.”

  “Just your ego?”

  “Baby, don’t start something you can’t finish.”

  “Okay, I’ll save the explicit talk for the bedroom.”

  “Good idea.” His voice turned serious. “What’s the name of the kid you want me to hire?”

  “Lester DeWitt.”

  “The high school basketball star?”

  “Yeah, that’s him. He lost his dad last year in a tragic car accident and has been running around with the wrong crowd ever since.”

  “Poor kid. That’s terrible. I’ll talk to Nate, but I’m sure we can find something better for him to do than just collect towels. He’s one hell of an athlete, and from what I’ve read about him, he’s smart, too.”

  “Thanks, baby. You’re the best!”

  “I know, that’s what I keep telling you!”

  Simone giggled.

  “Let’s watch a movie later, just you and me.”

  “No,” she quipped, rolling her eyes, “you mean me, you and your beloved cell phone.”

  “Nope, I’m going to leave it in the bedroom.”

  “Better yet, don’t even bring it into the house!”

  Marcus chuckled, a deep, rumbling laugh. “Put the boys to bed early tonight and meet me at the door in those black stilettos I bought you in Manchester,” he ordered, in a smooth, take-charge tone. “I can’t wait to have you, baby. Been thinking about it all day, kissing you, tasting you, thrusting myself so deep inside you that you scream my name.”

  A shudder passed through her, caused her temperature to soar like a rocket. His words sent waves of desire through her, aroused her, made her feel so sexy she could hardly handle it. Under her blouse, her nipples hardened, grew so sensitive, Simone felt the urge to touch herself. Only Marcus could do this to her. She wished he was there, in her office, making good on his promises.

  “I’m going to do you on the staircase, the washing machine, and the—”

  “Baby, that’s risky. You know Jordan is a light sleeper.”

  “Are you turning me down?”

  “Never,” she purred, coiling the phone cord around her index finger. “I just don’t want one of the boys catching us in the act and telling our family and friends about the encounter!”

  “I don’t know if I can wait until tonight,” he rasped, his voice a throaty whisper. “Maybe I should swing by your office for a little visit.”

  Simone shook her head, giggled like a tween when he promised to make it the most memorable lunch break of her life. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

  “No, I’m trying to make you come....”

  “Ummm...” she breathed, wishing they were h
ome, in bed, making sweet love on their soft, satin sheets. After making love, they’d talk and cuddle and discuss their day. She always loved that time. Loved when it was just the two of them, alone, sharing their deepest feelings and thoughts. Simone stared at the clock, calculated the hours until she’d see her husband again. I was thinking of taking Jayden and Jordan to Pizzapoplis tonight but some things are more important than eating overpriced pizza and playing video games, she decided, a smirk tickling her lips. Like spending quality time with my busy husband.

  “Oh, snap!”

  Simone shook free of her thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

  “The Bodybuilding and Fitness Championships starts tonight, and I’m on the judging panel,” he explained. “A reminder just popped up on my phone.”

  Disappointment filled her, stealing her smile and the joy she’d felt only seconds earlier. She wanted to beg Marcus to cancel, to just come home and spend the night with her, but she rejected the thought. She had to stop using Marcus to fill the void in her life left by her father and basing her happiness on what he did or didn’t do.

  “Sorry, baby, but I’ll have to take a rain check on movie night.”

  “That’s fine,” she lied, wishing it was. “I’m tired anyways. I probably would’ve fallen asleep during the previews!”

  “So, you’re not mad?”

  “Why would I be mad? You have to work. That’s life.”

  * * *

  Marcus stared down at the phone receiver, his eyes wide with wonder. Did Simone just say what I think she said? These days, nothing seemed to faze her. She was more patient with Jayden and Jordan, didn’t trip when he had to work late and was even getting along better with his mom. That, in and of itself, was a miracle.

  “I’m going to make this up to you, baby, you’ll see.”

  “That’s what you keep telling me.”