Besides, she wanted to see Marva again before she went home to Detroit. Tre’s mother was unconventional and meddlesome but she had a huge heart. She only wanted what was best for her son.
He should be at home at this hour. He usually was. Feeling nervous and more flustered than she was willing to admit, Jen stood in front of 5B. She raised a hand, prepared to knock and then tucked it back into her pocket. She stood for a moment taking deep breaths and composing herself before raising her hand again. This time she managed a tentative knock. No answer. Should she try again? Was it worth it? She’d give it one last try. This time she folded her hand into a fist and gave a resounding rap.
“Just a minute,” a female voice called.
She exhaled and tamped down on her disappointment, then reminded herself that because Marva had answered it didn’t mean Tre wasn’t home.
The door flew open. “Oh, child, it’s so good to see you. I’ve been after that son of mine to try to set something up. Maybe a dinner or something, but you know how that goes. Men just aren’t good at following through. Come in.”
Marva stood aside to let Jen enter. “Are you alone?” she asked, looking around for signs of Tre.
“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. Tre had to run some errands then he was off to the gym.”
“Do you have lunch plans?” Jen asked impulsively.
“My plans are with the refrigerator in there.” Marva gestured toward the kitchen.
“Then let me take you to lunch.”
“I’d love it.”
“Just give me a few minutes to freshen up and I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes. Will that give you enough time?”
It seemed to work for Marva. Jen left her, glad that she’d taken the initiative to make contact again. For some strange reason it was important that Tre’s mother liked her, she couldn’t figure why.
At the appointed hour, Jen waited in the attractive lobby with its marble floors and mirrored walls. Pastel-colored sofas held plump pillows and were grouped around chrome-and-glass tables. The circular marble desk, behind which security presided, held two glass urns filled with calla lilies and ferns.
Marva came strolling out of the elevator wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, matching purse and what was becoming her signature—another wild-print dress. Spotting Jen, she advanced.
“It’s so nice to be getting out with someone other than Tre.”
“I thought you were friends with Ida. At the reception the two of you seemed to be getting along quite well.”
“We are, and we do, but it’s still nice to be with someone young and energetic. So where are we going?”
“That depends on what you’d like to eat.”
Marva thought about it as they walked outside. “To tell you the truth, I’m sick of seafood,” she announced. “What I’d like is food that sticks to the gut. I’d like a good meat loaf, maybe a couple of pork chops and some juicy ribs.”
“I know just the place,” Jen said, linking an arm through Marva’s. “It’s not very fancy, though.”
“I don’t need fancy.”
When they were in the Miata with the top down, Marva said, “So have you seen Tre recently?”
Jen was careful to school her face from having any reaction. “Not since our day in the sun. I guess he’s been busy.”
“His radio station’s up for sale,” Marva confided. “I think he’s worried.”
“Worried that he might not have a job?” Jen asked carefully.
“No, they assured him his job is safe. He’s one of the more popular DJs around. His ratings have been phenomenal—at least that’s what he tells me.”
“So why is he worried then?”
“Well he’s pretty much committed to buying his apartment, but now he’s thinking this might be a good time to start looking around. You know, while he’s hot. Tre has always dreamed of New York City. To him that would be the ultimate. It would mean he’s arrived. He’d consider L.A. although it doesn’t have the same cachet as New York, but it’s got a huge urban population.”
There was a knot in the pit of Jen’s stomach as she pulled in to the parking lot of Tante Ann’s.
“Let’s find someone to seat us,” she said, “then we can continue to talk.”
They were led to one of the banquettes and handed a menu.
“Service is slow but the food is good,” Jen warned.
“I don’t have any place to be. Do you?”
“No.” Just hundreds of letters needed to be answered. Chere, consumed by her new health-and-fitness kick, had started slacking off again.
They perused their menus, placed their orders and sat back to wait.
“Getting my lemonade sometime soon might be nice,” Marva muttered, looking around at the primarily African-American crowd.
“I warned you. So what do you think Tre will do?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.
Marva shrugged. “Hard to say. He’s always been ambitious, unlike my other son, constantly in and out of trouble with the law. That child left home at sixteen and never returned, which is just fine with me. Let him be somebody else’s problem.”
Jen had no idea Tre even had a brother. Now she realized she knew very little about him.
“What about Tre’s father?” she asked.
“What about him? He’s not around if that’s what you’re asking. He’s never really been around. We were married only long enough to have two children, then he took off.”
Their lemonades finally arrived.
“Thank you, Jesus,” Marva said to the waitress. “I could have dropped dead of thirst.”
“And you raised two children single-handedly,” Jen continued after the young woman had left.
“As best as I could.”
“You’re to be admired.”
“I did what any mother would do.”
And finally the food arrived. So far still no mention of the e-mail or photo she’d sent. Marva had to have recognized her. She obviously read the Dear Jenna column unless she’d thought it was a joke. Maybe she’d thought someone was goofing with her and had scanned the photo right from the newspaper. There was always that possibility.
Marva ate her pork chops, greens and mashed potatoes with relish, then set her knife and fork aside. She ordered the sweet-potato pie, then told the waitress she hoped it wouldn’t take as long as the main course did.
Turning her attention to Jen, she said, “So what are you going to do about my son?”
The question blindsided Jen.
“Sorry, I don’t understand.”
“You do, too. Don’t give me that.”
Marva folded her arms over her ample bosom and waited.
“Tre and I really don’t know each other that well,” Jen stammered. “We’re pretty much just next-door neighbors.”
“I’ve seen you two together. It doesn’t appear that way to me.”
Curious to hear what Marva thought, Jen asked, “What were your impressions?”
“What I saw was a lot of tenderness. I saw two people very interested in each other but afraid to make the first move. That boy had me worried for a moment, if you know what I mean. He was showing no signs of settling down. He had taken to wearing these hip outfits and that diamond stud in his ear. Well, that bothered me.”
Jen felt a compelling need to come to Tre’s defense. “He’s a radio personality. He has an image to maintain.”
“As long as it’s just an image. Anyway, the two of you need to work out your situation and get on with it. Whatever it is. You’ve got my blessing.”
“I don’t think Tre is that interested in me,” Jen admitted, not adding that he hadn’t called her or tried to make contact since that night.
“I think you’re wrong. The mistake most of you young women make is that you still wait for the man to declare himself and that’s just not going to happen. We’re dealing with the fragile male ego here.” She held a hand up. “Now I’m not suggesting you get pushy or anything but t
he secret is to make them think it’s their idea. Plant a seed in their heads and let them take it from there. But you know that.” Marva sat back looking at her.
Was that a shot? It certainly sounded like the type of advice she’d give someone who had written to her. But there was still that matter of Tre not knowing who she was and his reaction when he found out. He might very well feel deceived and decide he wanted nothing to do with her.
But he hadn’t initially told her who he was, either. She’d found that out by other means, although his reasons for omitting mentioning who he was, were different than hers. He hadn’t intentionally set out to deceive her the way that she had set out to deceive him. He’d just wanted to make sure that it was he she was really interested in and not the radio persona.
Marva’s eyes sparkled but her tone was deadly serious. “Put your Dear Jenna hat on and follow her advice.”
They smiled at each other.
Chapter 20
The ballots had all supposedly been counted and the Flip-Flop Momma had lost. The majority of Flamingo Beach’s residents were fired up and accusations were being hurled. A recount was being demanded. There was talk of stuffed ballot boxes and dysfunctional voting equipment as well as voters being turned away and told they were ineligible.
WARP was flooded with phone calls. It was all that most people seemed to want to talk about. Tension could be felt in the streets and there was even talk of rioting. All of a sudden the sleepy little haven had come alive and emotions were running high.
Tre of course took advantage of this. It kept his program popping and an audience glued to the radio. Now people didn’t seem all that interested in hearing from Dear Jenna and Doctor Love. He suggested to the program director that they move the debate to another week and he agreed.
Meanwhile Marva’s two weeks were close to coming to an end but she showed no signs of wanting to go home. He wasn’t sure what to do about that, either. And he still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do about Jen. He’d already let it drag out way too long. Going for a long tiring run might very well help clear his head. Then he could decide how to proceed.
Tre had just returned from a five-mile run. Breathless and weary, he limped to the apartment. His mother greeted him with the wave of a thick courier package.
“Can you take this next door?” she asked. “I signed for it because there was no one at home.”
She’d been in the apartment practically all day. Enough time to ensure the package was reunited with its owner.
“Set it down on the table. Whose is it anyway, Camille Lewis’s, Ida’s? I’ll grab a quick shower and I’ll run it over, then we can decide what we’re doing for dinner.”
Marva didn’t respond, which was unusual for her.
Freshly showered and dressed, Tre returned to the living room to find his mother leafing through some real-estate pamphlets she must have picked up on one of her walks.
“Are you thinking of buying property here in North Florida, Mother?” he joked.
“As a matter of fact I am.”
Oh, lord, his world was closing in around him. “So that means you would consider selling the house in Detroit?” The house he had cosigned on and helped her buy.
“I like Florida living,” Marva admitted.
“I may not be in Florida very long,” Tre warned.
“That’s okay. I make friends easily. Look at the friends I’ve already made here. Besides if you leave you’ll need someone to watch over your apartment. You are still planning on buying it?”
Over his dead body was he going to leave his mother unsupervised in Flamingo Place stirring up all kinds of trouble. “I’m too far in the process to back out now,” he replied.
She shook the envelope at him. “Don’t forget this needs to be delivered.”
“Okay, I’ll take it. Where to?”
Marva smiled gleefully. “It’s Jen’s in 5C. I will presume you know your way over.”
Tre glared at her. Why did he feel this was some sort of setup or he was being conspired against? He might as well get it over with. He needed to talk to Jen anyway. Tre accepted the envelope, tucking it under his arm.
“I’ll only be gone a few minutes,” he said. “By the time I get back you should be ready to go.”
“We’ll see.”
Tre felt himself tense up as he stood before Jen’s door. He’d allowed almost a week to go by and he wondered how she would react upon seeing him again. He on the other hand was looking forward to seeing her now that he had a clearer head. He’d thought things through and realized there was no reason to panic. He did not have a stalker on his hands or a weepy woman, calling him a hundred times a day to determine what happened.
They were both adults. He could admit he liked her, more than liked her. But she’d made it clear that she wasn’t necessarily looking to get involved and there lay the problem. He’d tried to convey he was over casual flings and recreational sex. They served no useful purpose that he could see. He needed to start thinking about having a family, regardless of whether Florida continued to be home.
Sucking in a breath, Tre pressed the buzzer. He balanced the courier-delivered package on his open palm. Something made him take a look at the address label. Why was Jen getting a delivery from The Flamingo Beach Chronicle? He examined the address closely. Yes, the package was meant for Jen St. George but why did it say, Re: Dear Jenna?
He didn’t like the thoughts that were beginning to formulate in his head. Impossible! She couldn’t be. But then again, it made sense. It would explain her evasiveness when he’d tried to pin her down about her career. It would explain her presence at those high-profile affairs, and it would even explain the T-shirt she’d given his mother.
And she’d made a fool of him. A red-hot anger flooded him; anger that he’d worked all his life to control. To think he was just starting to care for the woman. He was tempted to drop the box in front of her door and simply leave. No wonder she didn’t need a man. She had a decent job giving advice to trusting fools. She was the one who’d coached his mother and encouraged her to follow up and place some stupid personal ad on the Internet. Just the thought of it made him more enraged.
The door of 5C slowly opened up. “Tre,” Jen said, her smile warm and welcoming. “What a nice surprise. Come on in.”
Grim-faced he entered and handed over the package. “This arrived today. My mother signed for it.”
Jen accepted the box, barely glancing at it. “Please thank Marva for me. How are you? I was beginning to think you moved,” she joked.
“I’m doing quite well, thank you.”
He was over the small talk already, sick to death of it. How could this woman he’d made love to like there was no tomorrow stand there with her eyes sparkling, pretending that she was glad to see him?
“Aren’t you going to open your package, Jenna?” He made sure to enunciate the name. Tre waited for the expected reaction. She did not disappoint him.
As what he’d just said sank in there was a visible reaction, a slight jerking of the head, a quick blinking of the eyes, then she composed herself.
“You know?” she said. “How long have you known?”
“You might want to check the name on the label of that package.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
He refused to let those innocent hazel eyes distract him. He was over being conned. And even though she was standing there looking lovely, and vulnerable, he just wasn’t going to be taken in again.
When the silence dragged on Tre felt compelled to say something.
“To think I let you play me. This was all a game for you. The whole thing, befriending my mother, pretending you had an interest in me…sleeping—”
“Hold it…”
But he was not about to hold it. His temper erupted. He let loose on her with both barrels.
“You’re supposed to be an advice columnist, able to read people, an expert on human dynamics. Where�
�s your sensitivity? Do you have integrity or ethics? You spout the rhetoric, but when it comes time to walk the walk you’re just not capable.”
“If you’d allow me to explain—”
“What’s there to explain? You were trying to prove something to yourself. You used me. You used my mother.”
“I did not.”
Then he remembered the photo his mother had been trying to hide on the Internet, and his fury spiraled out of control.
“You’re pretty damn shameless,” he shouted, totally losing it now. “You’d stoop so low as to sleep with me so that you could prove to my mother that your advice works. Anything for that damn column of yours!”
“That’s just not true,” Jen shouted back.
He needed to regain control of himself. Take a few deep breaths and cool down. All those months of classes working on his temper were rapidly going out the window.
“Then why do it to begin with?” he shouted. “What were you trying to prove, that you could seduce me?”
“Who seduced whom?” she screamed. “You showed up at my door and the idiot that I am, I let you in.”
“Puh-lease. You wanted to make love as much as I did. I told you I would be by later to finish what I started. So let’s not pretend it wasn’t consensual.”
A splash of something ice-cold hit him in the face. Tre swiped away at the drops. He hadn’t seen that coming. Where had she gotten that glass from?
“Why you little—” He advanced on her, prepared to remove the water from her hand should the need arise. A loud banging on the front door stopped him midstep.
“Security!”
Jen looked at him. He looked at her.
This time the rapping was louder and more insistent.
“Security, Ms. St. George, are you okay? We’ve had a report of a loud disturbance.”
Jen’s fingers now worried her forehead. She’d simmered down a bit. “Just what I need.”
Flamingo Place (Mills & Boon Kimani) Page 16
