by A. C. Arthur
Adamantly, she shook her head in the negative. “No. Definitely not.” Even as she answered she wondered how truthful she was being.
Taken aback by her response, he stifled the disappointment coursing through him. “Why not?”
“Marriages don’t last,” she said simply.
“Some do,” he countered.
Her eyes remained steady on his. “Mine wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” she answered, hoping that would be enough.
“Because what?”
She should have known he’d be persistent—payback for her inquiry into his personal life. Figuring it didn’t matter one way or the other, she answered, “Because my mother can’t seem to stay married, so why would I be any different?”
“That’s stupid.” Pushing his glasses up on his nose, he frowned at her.
Offended, she tried to remain calm. “Why is it stupid?”
“Because you and your mother are two different people, and maybe your mother just hasn’t found Mr. Right yet.”
“There’s no such thing as Mr. Right. You date people, you sleep with people, and you marry people. Then you argue, you fight and you get divorced. That’s the way the world turns.”
“That’s the way your world turns. If my dad were still alive, I’ll bet he and my mother would still be married.”
“Then they would have been the exception to the rule.”
“What makes you so sure you won’t be the exception to the rule?”
She wasn’t so sure, not anymore. “Because I don’t intend to play the game,” she quipped.
“Chicken.”
She frowned. “I am not a chicken.”
“Then what do you call it? You’re afraid that if you commit to marriage it’ll one day end in divorce. So what? Then you pick up and start all over again, because evidently you picked the wrong person.”
The wrong person—that was an understatement. A few weeks ago she’d thought the wrong person was the one sitting across from her giving unsolicited advice. “Well, you asked me what I wanted and I told you. It’s not open for discussion.” She fidgeted, because she now saw the foolishness of her own thoughts, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him—not yet anyway.
He sensed her mood shifting and wasn’t quite ready for her to shut down completely, so he changed his line of questioning. “So what about that dude you went on a date with the other week? Does he know you don’t want to get married?” This was very important to him. How serious was her relationship with this guy? Maybe it was nothing at all. Maybe it was just like she’d said: You date, you have sex, then you get married. Maybe she was just omitting the marriage part. He doubted that. Leah wasn’t the type to take anything lightly—least of all sex. So was she just dating for the hell of it? That didn’t make too much sense to him, considering his dating scheme had a purpose.
“Who? Leon?” Rolling onto her back, she stared at the beamed ceiling. “Leon and I have been seeing each other for a couple of months now. He’s cool.” She wondered why it had been so easy for her to categorize Leon as just ‘cool’ when off the top of her head she could come up with at least ten adjectives to describe Terrell.
“Oh, he’s cool, huh? Cool enough to sleep with?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Then he realized he hadn’t wanted to stop them. He wanted to know if she planned on sleeping with Leon. He needed to know about his competition.
She’d rolled onto her back, and he’d watched her breasts spill across her chest. Visions of stripping those clothes from her, glimpsing her complete nakedness, teased and tantalized his senses. At the same time, alarm about whether or not she was already sleeping with someone spoiled his fantasy. When her head snapped in his direction, he stared at her intently, clearly expecting an answer to his question.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I haven’t slept with him.” Bringing her arms up to cradle her head, she went back to staring at the ceiling.
“Why not?” He prayed his sigh of relief hadn’t been audible and figured as long as she was answering questions, he might as well get them all in.
How much of the truth should she tell him? “Because I wasn’t ready.” Which was really weird because she’d known Leon for months, whereas she’d known Terrell for only a few weeks, and if he touched her right now she’d be putty in his hands.
It wasn’t any of his business, still she felt the need to expound on her simple statement. “See, I have this system.”
“A system?” He thought of the piece of paper in his back pocket with his criteria for a wife. She couldn’t possibly have something as ludicrous as that in her pocket, too. As tight as those jeans were, it didn’t appear anything could fit in her pocket.
“Yeah, a system. Relationships have steps, just like I said before.” She used her fingers to count them off. “Step one is the second date. Step two, the second through fifth dates, which mean you really like this person. Step three is sex and step four is marriage. I try to stay on the first step as long as humanly possible.”
“And where’s the logic behind that?”
“No logic, just my system. I wasn’t ready for step three with him, so I…I ended it.”
“You what?” Terrell almost choked on his water.
“I explained that I just didn’t see any romantic involvement between us and he said something about waiting, taking things a little more slowly.”
Waiting wasn’t going to do him any good. Now that she’d admitted she had no romantic interest in Leon, it was on. He’d have Leah Graham for his own, it was just a matter of time. Sorry, Leon, you snooze, you lose.
“Yeah, I think he’s a good guy.” He’s just not for me.
Chancing another glance at her chest moving rhythmically with each breath she took, he shook his head. But not nearly good enough.
* * *
Rosie sat in the Blue Wave Restaurant, waiting patiently for her date. Donald had left the cabin two hours earlier, telling her to meet him here at six. It was now six-fifteen and she was seated at the table he’d reserved for them, but he was nowhere to be found.
Finally she admitted to herself what she’d been denying since yesterday morning when Donald had walked into her living room and told her of his plans to move to Jamaica: Something strange was going on with Donald. He’d been distracted from the moment they boarded the ship. Last night, he’d suggested that they stay in the cabin, continuing to enjoy the amenities offered, but he’d spent most of his time closed up in the bathroom with his cell phone. When he’d finally come to bed, she’d been restless, wondering what was going on. She’d broached the subject, only to have him brush her off. Before she could bring it up again, he was kissing her. And then the kissing led to other things, which ultimately took her mind off the way he was acting. Which, she thought now, was probably his plan.
This morning she’d awakened to a wonderful breakfast on the balcony. They ate in silence as the waves slapped against the side of the ship. The sky was a pale blue backdrop with a few puffy white clouds. Rosie enjoyed the scene and pretended there was nothing wrong with the picture she was a part of.
After staying in their cabin the better part of the day, Donald decided he wanted to hit the casino for a while. Knowing that Rosie detested gambling, he opted to go alone and meet her later. Rosie wondered if that hadn’t been his plan all along, to get out of the cabin without her. But why?
A little voice in the back of her head had been yelling warnings from the moment Donald had waltzed into her house talking of Jamaica. She’d known when she met him how he’d started his business, how he’d once been a big time drug dealer. He’d sworn to her that that part of his life was over. And when the police had investigated him, she’d watched him leave town and come back a totally different man. When they first started dating, he’d told her his past was behind him. She’d believed he was on the up and up.
Then the strange cars started appearing in the sho
p’s lot. Donald began getting a lot of calls on his cell phone and their time together had become less frequent. The marriage proposal had come as a shock to her, especially since she hadn’t seen him at all that entire week—he’d been away visiting relatives. Relatives she now doubted existed.
Okay, it was now six-thirty and still no Donald. He was testing her patience and that was something she would not tolerate. Oh yeah, it was definitely time to find out what the hell was going on. She wasn’t about to marry a man who was so obviously hiding something from her. Pushing her chair back, she stood to look around the elegant room one more time. No Donald. Snatching up her purse, she walked out the door.
She didn’t have a clue where she was going. All she knew was Donald was somewhere on this boat. Somewhere, she thought, with a small fist of hurt clutching her heart, doing Lord only knew what. She opted to go left, the direction of the casino. Maybe he was on a roll and had lost track of time. For that, she’d only torture him slowly.
There seemed to be an awful lot of people in a hurry to get to the casino, Rosie noted. “Idiots,” she said to herself. Like they hadn’t spent enough money on the cruise itself. Now they were eagerly giving it right back.
Slot machines whirled and chimed with winners, dice rolled across the green felt-covered tables, and a money wheel clicked incessantly before stopping at a number. Scantily-dressed women moved from one end of the room to the other, carefully balancing trays full of drinks, and stopping occasionally to pass one to a thirsty gambler. People were everywhere, and it made her hunt for Donald difficult. Still, she searched each row of slot machines and each aisle of gaming tables.
Half an hour later, she was back at the entrance and still alone. She hadn’t seen Donald anywhere amongst the crowd of people eagerly giving away their money. Glad to get out of that negative surrounding, she began her search in the opposite direction.
An hour later Rosie was both exhausted and thoroughly pissed off. She’d searched everywhere she could think of and hadn’t seen Donald. She’d even gone back to the restaurant to ask if he’d shown up, which he hadn’t. Fuming now, she began to make her way back to their room. If he was there, she vowed to forego the slow torture she’d thought of earlier. Now she was ready to kill. She didn’t know what was going on but she was going to put a stop to it—tonight!
Since she was closer to the stairway than the elevator, and they were only on the floor directly below the restaurant, she decided to take the stairs. After the first few steps, she stopped a moment to rest. That was when she heard Donald’s voice.
Plain as day she could hear him talking. He was saying something about meeting the man in Negril. What man? And why was Donald planning to meet him? He was supposed to be wrapping up a business deal and then showing her around the island. Leaning over the railing carefully, she could see two men standing on the landing beneath her. One was Donald and the other she had never seen before.
“Was the money in the account?” the other man was asking.
“I haven’t been able to get through to the bank yet. I tried all last night. I’m not getting a real good connection on this damned boat,” Donald told him.
“Well, as soon as we hit land, you check it out, and then we go see Rohan. If my money ain’t there, I’m killin’ that bastard.”
“Just chill, Cable. It’ll be there and then this will all be behind us.”
She should leave. She should go back to the room and wait for him. To hell with that! She was going to get her answers, and she was going to get them right now! Anger and fear of what this situation really meant stirred inside her and she started down again. When she reached the next level, two pairs of shocked dark eyes focused on her enraged features.
“I know you better have a damned good reason for standing me up to talk to some man on the stairway.” Hands on her hips, her big chest heaving more from anger than exertion, Rosie glared at Donald and waited for his reply.
Still shocked to see her there, Donald couldn’t find any words. Cable spoke up instead.
“Hello, ma’am. My name’s Cable McDaniel.” The man extended his hand and quickly snatched it back as Rosie ignored it. “Um, I just met Mr. Donald, and we were talking about some business ideas we both had, and were thinking about getting together once we’re back on land. I understand this is your first trip to the islands.”
She didn’t believe this shady character for one minute, not any more than she was believing her fiancé, who still hadn’t said a word. “Donald, tell your friend I’m not interested in words from him. All the answers and explanations I want need to come from you.”
Dragging his hand over his mouth, Donald cleared his throat and prepared to speak. Something in her eyes stopped him. He knew that whatever he said had to be good. Rosie wasn’t going to believe just anything and, not that he hadn’t tried, but Cable’s little recitation had only angered her more. So, instead of explaining right there on the staircase, he decided it would be best to get her alone. That way if she hauled off and hit him, which was exactly what she looked like she was ready to do, he wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of his friend.
“Rosie, come on, let’s go back to our room. I’ll explain everything there.” Keeping his back to Cable, Donald gently placed his hand on Rosie’s elbow.
“Oh, now you want to go back to our room?”
From behind him Donald heard Cable say, “Yeah, that’s a good idea, Donald. I’ll catch up with you later. It was nice meeting you, ma’am.” The last was muttered as he quickly made his way through the door.
Folding her big arms across her chest, Rosie stood perfectly still. If he thought he was going to shuffle her off to their room and talk his way out of this, he had another thought coming.
She could no longer ignore the fact that something was definitely wrong. She was looking at the man she loved, the six foot, three inches, two hundred and eighty-five pound man she’d fallen madly in love with, the man she was about to marry. The gray slacks and gray button-down shirt looked the same as they had when he’d left her in the room earlier this afternoon. His hair, thin graying beard and mustache looked the same. Dark eyes she’d spent long nights staring into were still there, only hooded by something she couldn’t quite fathom. He was the same, yet he was different.
* * *
“Innovations.” Loosening his tie, Marty Blum stared at the elegant script on the window of the beauty salon. “That’s a fitting name, don’t you think?”
Jeffrey Tobias slowly sipped hot coffee from a Styrofoam cup. “How so?”
“They’ve certainly come up with new and innovative ways to smuggle drugs into the U.S.” Marty chuckled at his own wit.
Rolling his eyes, Jeffrey turned his attention from his goofy partner to the building they were staking out. “We haven’t seen or heard from Douglas in a few days now. I think something’s going down.” Watching as two young women unlocked the door and walked into the building, Jeffrey flipped through a manilla folder.
“That’s Nicole Ayers and Keesha Jones. They normally work from eleven in the morning to around ten at night. They have a steady clientele. Nicole lives in Woodlawn, Heraldry Square Apartments, alone. Keesha lives in Randallstown, Liberty Apartments, with her cousin Jasmine Johnson. They’re both single and pretty hot, if you ask me,” Marty rattled off between bites of a Boston cream donut, courtesy of the Dunkin’ Donuts across the street.
Confirming Marty’s recitation with the information in the file, Jeffrey continued to flip through his papers. “Been doing your homework, I see.”
“That’s my job.” Marty smiled. “Rosetta Pierce, hasn’t been in for a few days. When was the last time we heard from Douglas?”
“We talked to him on Sunday night. He said the drop was scheduled for Tuesday and things were expected to go smoothly.” Rubbing the stubble of beard that had begun to grow at his chin, Jeffrey sat back against the seat, thinking intently. “That was the last time we heard from him. I knew we should have put a tail on him
.”
He’d been heading up this investigation for the Bureau for the last four years; it was time to bring it to an end. The pyramid of players was complete, pinned up on the wall in his office in D.C. They knew every one of them from the kingpin to the delivery guys. All they needed now was the big bust and he’d be on his way to Special Investigator.
But Douglas was becoming a glitch in the plan. A couple of months ago Jeffrey had begun to notice something different about the man. His comings and goings remained the same but his actions had changed.
“You think she’s with him?” Marty pulled another donut from the bag.
“I don’t know.” Staring into the window of the building, he conceded that he’d been thinking the same thing himself, but he didn’t dare verbally agree with Marty. His younger partner was cocky enough as it was. He wasn’t about to add to his already-inflated ego. “Let’s go talk to them.”
“You sure? It might tip them off.”
“Something’s going on, I can feel it. Douglas is gone. His senior stylist is gone. A million dollar deal was supposed to go down three days ago, but we haven’t heard a word. Yeah, something’s going on.” Stuffing the file between the seats, Jeffrey checked the weapon holstered just beneath his left shoulder blade and, with a glance, advised Marty to do the same.
Cramming the uneaten portion of his donut back into the bag, Marty quickly wiped his hands on a nearby napkin and checked his own weapon. Getting out of the car, they both pulled their jackets closer around them and crossed the street.
The door swung open, setting off a jangling melody. Glancing above, Jeffrey spotted a wind chime made of miniature blow dryers and other hair salon equipment. Frowning slightly, he made a quick scan of the room. The waiting area was currently empty, the radio blared Baltimore’s most popular R&B station, and the two women sat at their stations chatting about this and that. The other four stations were empty.
“Good morning, ladies.” Marty’s voice cracked just a bit at the sight of the women up close.
