by Emery, Lynn
“Those ladies seem nice. Real friendly.” Jayson waved to them. The women waved back with enthusiasm.
“Yeah.” Monette waited until he looked away, and then shook a fist at the women. They laughed and made more crazy faces.
Five minutes later they were at Jayson’s garage. He pulled under an aluminum awning near a side door. When they got out, a stocky, older man who bore a resemblance to Jayson came out He had more gray hair and was a few inches shorter.
“This is my brother Lionel. This is Monette.” Jayson spoke to his brother as though saying her last name wasn’t necessary.
“Right, the famous lady.” Lionel dipped his head to her in a gesture that was both a greeting and a show of respect “Nice to finally meet you. Jayson has told us about your book. We all listened to Jayson on your show. My wife and sister listen every week now.”
“Tell them thanks for me. Nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you, too. Jaida and Francis look forward to meeting you soon,” Lionel said with a sideways glance at Jayson.
“Bye, Lionel,” Jayson said tersely with a slight frown at his brother.
“Bye now. Y’all have a good time.” Lionel gave Jayson a good-natured pat on the back. “See you bright and early Monday morning.”
Jayson led the way inside the garage. The first thing that struck Monette was how neat it looked inside. Most of the garages she’d been in back in her old neighborhood had been dirty places with piles of greasy auto parts everywhere. A set of huge double doors wide enough to allow cars to drive through was closed. He flipped a switch that started a large fan. Air circulated to cool the interior.
“We do oil changes and tire jobs over here.” Jayson pointed to their left “More complicated jobs that take time over on this side. If you want to see the diagnostic equipment, I’ll show it to you.”
“Sure.” Monette tried not to sound like she was being polite. Her expression must have given her away, because he laughed.
“Basically we can hook up a car or truck and the machines tell us what’s wrong. Nowadays cars have so much computerized equipment there is no such thing as a shade tree mechanic. I had to borrow money to buy it all, but it’ll pay for itself in another year.” Jayson put both hands on his waist and gazed at the equipment with pride.
“Must have been expensive.” Monette became more interested as she looked at the dials, wires and levers. “Most small businesses have trouble with financing.”
“Especially minority businesses in the ’hood is what you mean.” Jayson fussed with a tangle of wires dangling from one machine. He tucked them into a compartment with care.
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I mean. I’m not trying to pry, though.” Monette walked around two waist-high red metal cabinets with about eight drawers each.
“Wasn’t easy. My bank turned me down twice. Then I learned how to develop a business plan.” He pointed to a small room. “My other brother, Jerald, built me a waiting area for customers. He works construction, mostly commercial buildings.”
Monette went inside the waiting room while Jayson stood outside the door watching her. Half the wall that faced the garage had a wide window so customers could see into it. Three black plastic chairs with cushioned seats were lined against one wall. A television sat in one corner. A low white plastic table with outdated magazines sat in the middle of the floor. Spartan and distinctly bland, there was no hint of a woman’s touch. Either he had no current girlfriend or he did not welcome advice on how he handled his business.
“Nice. Then the bank gave you a loan?” Monette came out again, and they walked side by side toward his offices.
His answering laugh held no bitterness. “No. I finally got help from the Small Business Administration. A guy there helped me a lot. I switched all my checking and savings accounts to Liberty Bank & Trust. A year later I got an SBA loan through them.”
“I gotcha. Liberty is the only bank in Louisiana owned by African-Americans. You supported them and they supported you.” Monette went into his office after he unlocked the door. When he turned on the fluorescent lights, she was surprised at how large it was. A gray metal desk faced the door. Burglar bars covered the windows.
“Something like that. Don’t get me wrong; I expect them to handle my money with the same level of service as any other bank. They in turn expect me to make my payments. I just feel like they understand what I’m up against. You know?” Jayson gestured toward a chair.
Monette sat down on the Mack vinyl seat Pictures of vintage cars and trucks hung on the walls. In one old black-and-white photo, a handsome Mack couple stood in front of a Buick, their arms looped around each other’s waists.
“I sure do. Makes a difference if the person on the other side of a desk has been in your shoes.” Monette saw another photo of the man alone. He stood with three boys around him. The man held a little girl in pigtails perched on one hip.
“My daddy. That’s Lionel, Jerald, Jaida—our baby sister—and me. She lives in Port Allen with her husband and two kids.”
“Good-looking family. Your mama took that picture, huh? Sweet.” Monette wished she had such warm family pictures to put in frames.
Jayson smiled fondly as he looked at the photos. “Yeah. Mama’s hobby back then was taking pictures. She even won a few prizes back in the seventies. She died four years ago. Breast cancer.”
“I’m so sorry. She was a beautiful lady.” Monette heard the catch in his voice.
“Thanks.” Jayson picked up a framed picture from his desk. “This is my pretty girl, Lenae Anitra. My mother’s name was Anitra.”
“Lenae is a doll alright.” Monette took the picture from him. Lenae grinned into the camera as though she knew a joke but wouldn’t tell. She had Jayson’s dimples. Her eyes were the color of honey. Her thick hair was styled in cute cornrows that hung to her shoulders.
“She’s my heart walking around on two legs. Well, that’s it. Not much else to say about me.” Jayson accepted the picture back from Monette and carefully put it back on his desk. “Hey, sign my copy of your book.”
“Sure thing.” She felt a flush of pleasure that he’d taken the time to find Ticket Out, much less read it He pulled her book from a drawer in his desk and handed it to her, along with an ink pen. Jayson stood close to her as she signed it. Monette hesitated and stared at the blank page as the scent from his skin captured her. A hint of sandalwood and lemon pulled at her like a magnet. She had visions of being wrapped in his strong brown arms as they reclined in a lush garden bathed in sunshine. His arm brushed against hers, and Monette let out the breath she’d been holding.
“It’s J-a-y-s-o-n,” he said in a mellow voice.
“Right, right.” Monette blinked her way back from dreams of a paradise filled with passion. She struggled back to the reality of a dreary, damp Saturday afternoon. “Thanks for sharing so much with me. I got a lot more than a tour of your garage.”
“My family is all up in my business as you can see,” he replied with a grin. “Can’t talk about one without bragging on the other. Your family live around here?”
“Some distant cousins live in Baton Rouge. I’m not close to them. I grew up in a little place called Rougon in Pointe Coupee Parish.” Monette fidgeted. The less said about her relatives the better. What struck her was how different their lives had been. Jayson seemed to have been surrounded by love all his life. When she thought of her family, the words that came to mind were confusion and disappointment.
“I’ve been through there. My father took us fishing on False River when we were kids. He has friends in Pointe Coupee. Maybe he knows some of your people.”
“Not unless he hung out at some old broke-down juke joints.” Monette glanced at the dapper man. She imagined he was a deacon in his church.
“Uh, I don’t think so,” Jayson said in a diplomatic tone. “He mostly went over to fish or visit friends in their homes.”
“Then he wouldn’t know my rowdy kinfolks. I have three kids but
never got married. I’ve got four brothers and two sisters. We’ve got three different last names between us. Mama didn’t stick with one man for long. Two she married. Neither of them was my daddy. My last name is the only thing I got from him. I guess you get the picture.” Monette tried to make her description sound like a comic ghetto story. Neither of them laughed, though.
“Sounds like you had it tough,” Jayson said quietly.
“I thought so until I got to prison and heard some of the other inmates talk about their families,” Monette said and meant it. “I don’t spend a lot of time feeling sorry for myself.”
“Being away from your kids must have been hell.” Jayson glanced at the picture of Lenae.
“A lot of the mistakes I made were hell on my kids. My youngest daughter, Alisa, lives with a wonderful family. I couldn’t have asked for better. They’ve been good to her. Karl is the oldest. He has his own family now and he’s made a nice life for himself. He had problems, but that’s behind him. My oldest daughter, Talia, lives with her husband in D.C. She’s a big-time political consultant.” Monette glanced at the clock and stood.“It’s almost five-thirty.” Jayson looked at his watch. “I hadn’t noticed how much time was passing.”
“I’m sure you’ve got places to go. Thanks for the inside look at a successful small business.”
Monette felt like an idiot. What did she think, that looking at grease stains would kick-start a fine romance? All the talk of family brought home the fact that they were from different galaxies. The best thing she could do was give the guy an easy way out.
“You’re welcome.” Jayson sat on the edge of his desk.“The callers really got a lot out of all the information you gave us. So did I. You know, I was reading about the ways people get scammed on car repairs. Even guys get taken these days because cars are so complicated.” Monette heard herself chattering on. She couldn’t seem to stop. As she talked, she opened the door to signal they could leave. Jayson stood and followed her.
“True. Guess you’ve got plans for later.” Jayson tugged on Monette’s hand gently as a way to stop her progress toward the nearest exit.
“Uh, well. You know.” Monette shrugged. She was caught between wanting to be with him and needing to escape. When she faced him, she had to look away from the intensity in his gaze.
“No, I’m not sure I do. Is that a no or a ‘Yes, but I’m willing to change them’?” Jayson bent down from his six-foot-three-inch advantage to get a good look at her expression.
His scrutiny, even with the teasing smile, made Monette more self-conscious. She’d bared her soul to the world, yet this guy had her fidgeting like a little girl. A breeze from the fan above reminded her of his scent, a tangy citrus flavor with a hint of spice. Monette stepped back to get away from it and from him. Fast-talking players she could handle. Slick opening lines were no problem. Jayson’s brand of good-guy wholesomeness was an entirely different thing. Off balance and running scared, Monette tried to make her tongue roll out excuses.
“Can’t maybe another time,” was all that made it out.
“Maybe another weekend.”
“This isn’t right,” she blurted out. Hell, she wasn’t into being a nice Southern belle. “Look, we’ve got nothing in common.”
“Like?” Jayson smiled at her as though he knew what she would say.
His smart-ass answer ticked her off. “Your family is a real-life version of the Huxtables, my family is an in-the- ’hood version of messed up. I’ve been to prison. You’re so clean you squeak. You’re conservative and I’m … not.” Monette huffed. “Listen, let’s stop the list of reasons we shouldn’t be together while we’re both still young.”
“I see. So you think I’m too good for you.” Jayson nodded as he stared out into the gray evening.
“Hell, no. That is not what I’m saying. You think you’re too good for me?” Monette put both hands on her hips and glared at him.
“Definitely not. We have a lot in common. If I didn’t think so I wouldn’t ask you out to dinner, believe me. I think you’re smart, funny and strong. I enjoy being with you. I’m not put off by your past, because you’re more than your past.” His words came out with quiet sincerity.
“Thanks.” Monette blinked as if she was dazed. His velvet-glove manner disarmed her. She’d gone from growling like a tigress to purring like a pussycat.
“My pleasure. Now I’ll take you home.” Jayson smiled at her as he locked the door to his garage.
Monette had resisted temptation more than once. Now this man had come along with his courtly manners and punched her buttons in a big way. Monette had met so few genuinely good guys. The cynic inside her said he wasn’t for real, and if Jayson was real, then he wasn’t for her. He kept talking, and Monette made history by being practically speechless. They were back at the halfway house in less than five minutes, and she hadn’t figured it out.
“So next Saturday is fine?”
“Yeah,” she muttered, her thoughts all twisted up like the vines that covered the fence that surrounded New Beginnings.
“Great. Next Saturday it is, then.”
Monette blinked rapidly and tried to remember accepting his offer. “Saturday.”
“See you later. Can’t wait.” Jayson grinned at her.
“Right. See you.” Monette could have stopped him. She should have told Jayson she’d made a mistake. Instead she smiled and waved goodbye.
Chapter 11
Monday morning Monette plunged into her day at the radio station. She worked in her office for an hour before the show. The director of Second Chances was to be her guest. Nikki had helped Monette do an Internet search on issues related to teenagers. From that Monette had drawn up a list of provocative questions she hoped would trigger a lot of calls from listeners. By the time Danica arrived at the station, Monette was pumped and ready to go. She met the director in the lobby.
“Hey, girl. Come on back. We’ll get you a cup of coffee.” Monette gave Danica a quick hug.
“Decaf, please. I don’t need anything that will make me even more jumpy than I am now.” Danica gave a nervous laugh as she followed Monette.
“Please. I’ve seen you in action. Once you start talking about the program, all you’ve accomplished and your goals, you’ll forget to be scared. You talk to civic groups and do fund-raising speeches all the time. This is the same thing, just multiplied by a few thousand,” Monette teased. “Now relax.”
“Oh, great. That really eased my mind.” Danica looked around with what seemed like a mixture of anxiety and interest.
“You’ll be fine. Here. Have some of our wonderfully fresh brewed coffee. We even have flavored non-dairy creamers.” Monette poured coffee into a shiny mug with the station logo on it.
“No sugar, but I’ll take some of the vanilla-flavored stuff.” As Danica poured in the creamer, she stirred, sipped and nodded with satisfaction. “So, I know how this works. Just give me a warning when you’re about to pull something controversial out of your hat.”
“Why, whatever makes you think that I would generate controversy on purpose?” Monette gave her an impish grin. When Danica snorted, Monette laughed. “Okay, okay. Listen, when you started Second Chances there was drama.”
“Just a little. Before we had our own building I had the girls meet at my house. A couple of the girls helped themselves to my neighbor’s car. Lord, that was a mess.” Danica gave a shudder at the memory.
“There were other problems, too. Look, just be open and talk about how you survived those first few bumps in the road. The folks who call are nice and like hearing about an underdog who beat the odds.” Monette lifted her mug as if giving a toast, then took a sip.
“Right. Like the way you fought back and won,” Danica replied.
“Yeah, well I’m still on the battlefield,” Monette said, thinking of Winn Barron and her pardon hearing. “Anyway, the clock on the wall says it’s time for us to hit the airwaves.”
“Oh, Lord,” Danica said and let
out a slow breath.
“Take it easy, sugar, ’cause I got your back.” Monette hooked her arm through Danica’s as they walked.
Moments later they were set up in the studio. Irvin did his part to put Danica at ease. Then he darted back to his seat just as a commercial advertising a local deli ended. He played a hip-hop beat that led into Monette’s show.
“Morning everyone. This is Hot Topic, and I’m your host, Monette Victor. We talk straight and sometimes we get upset, but it’s all good. Today my guest is a dynamic young woman who had a dream and made it into a reality.”
Monette went on to give a short description of Second Chances. Then she asked questions that got Danica talking about the program and how she’d created it from the ground up. Just as Monette predicted, Danica’s anxiety dissolved as she spoke about the needs of young girls at risk. The first ten minutes of the show went by quickly.
“Listen, we have to pause and hear from our wonderful sponsors. When we come back, Danica is going to talk to us about the juvenile court system and its problems,” Monette said, then sat back as a snappy donut shop jingle played.
“Say what?” Danica blurted out.
‘This is your chance. I heard you talk about how we need a juvenile drug court and more services.” Monette nodded. “My boss tells me my show is reaching a lot of ears in city and state government offices.”
“Maybe this is my chance to put my big foot in my mouth. I still have to work with those people, you know.” Danica shook her head. “No way I’m going to tug on Superman’s cape.”
“C’mon. That’s how you shake things up.” Monette lifted a shoulder.
“Humph,” was Danica’s reply. She was about to say more, but they were back on.
“Okay, here we go. Welcome back to Hot Topic.” Monette winked at Danica and introduced her again.
