Anya forced a smile. The time on the yacht was almost all but forgotten. It was what followed that played in her mind.
“What did you guys do?”
“It's a secret, but we do have some news to share,” Braxton smiled.
“Now there's my other grandson,” Madear said, as she ambled back into the living room. Braxton returned her generous hug.
“He was just about to tell us some news,” Donovan said.
“Well, you're already getting married,” Sasha said gaily. “So you must be pregnant!”
Quiet fell as Madear stared at Sasha.
“Hush your mouth,” Madear said, as if she were speaking to a two-year-old.
“No, I'm not pregnant.” Anya rolled her eyes at her cousin.
“What's the big deal?” Sasha looked around the room.
“We've set a date,” Braxton said hurriedly. “We're getting married in June.”
“Praise the Lord!” Madear exclaimed, as she took both Anya and Braxton into her arms. “I have been praying that you would jump the broom before the Lord called me home.”
“Madear, you ain't going nowhere. You'll be here to see even Donovan get married,” Anya teased.
Donovan held up his hands and laughed. “Don't cast those words toward me. I'm not getting anywhere near marriage, at least not for a few years.”
With a slight smile, Madear tisked and shook her head.
“I don't blame you,” Sasha huffed. “Marriage stinks!”
“Thanks for the support, cuz,” Anya kidded Sasha, while she eyed Madear.
“Sasha, nothing's wrong with marriage,” Madear said. “Not everyone will mess up the way you did.” Before anyone could respond, Madear lightly slapped Donovan on his arm. “Don't listen to Sasha. You need to settle down with a good Christian woman, and have those Mitchell babies. Anyway, I am so happy. Let's celebrate—it's time for us to eat!”
As Braxton and Donovan followed Madear down the narrow hallway into the dining room, Sasha lingered behind and grabbed Anya's arm.
“See how she treats me?” Sasha whispered.
Anya shrugged, but remained silent. There was something wrong; she'd talk to her grandmother later. Anya put her arm around Sasha's shoulder and led her down the corridor, lined with more photos of the Mitchell grandchildren.
The aroma of the Sunday dinner had wafted a bit into the living room, but once they stepped into the dining room, it hit them full force. Laid out on the long antique buffet was a spread that would make any Black family proud—fried catfish and chicken, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, candied yams, rice with brown gravy, and, of course, corn muffins. Moans of pleasure filled the room, and none of them had yet seen the peach cobbler and sweet potato pie hidden in the kitchen.
Anya shook her head. “Madear, I don't know how you do it.”
“I've been doing this all my life.”
“I'm going to pack on those pounds I just got rid of,” Donovan said, patting his stomach.
Madear beamed. These weekly dinners had become more like monthly ones, but she was always thrilled when her grandchildren came by, and she would cook as much as they wanted. “Stop talking and eat,” she admonished them. “Remember, we're celebrating the upcoming wedding.”
The room filled with the clatter of silverware hitting plates, as everyone worked to get their fill. They laughed as they compared dishes, teasing Donovan whose plate was piled high. But by the time they sat down, it was decided that there was a tie between Braxton and Donovan.
“You leave my grandsons alone,” Madear scolded Anya and Sasha, as they teased Braxton and Donovan. “They're growing boys. By the way, Carlos called to check on me and I invited him, but he and Michele had other plans.”
“That means more for us!” Braxton chuckled and Donovan high-fived him.
When they settled at the table, they waited for Madear to take her place. Madear rested her arms on her chair, and took her time, looking at each of them. Anya and Braxton sat to one side and Sasha and Donovan sat at the other. Then, she spoke like she did every time they got together.
“After God, my family is the most important thing in the world to me. It fills my heart to be here when there are so many in this world who have nothing. I thank God for every blessing, including each of you.” She took Anya and Sasha's hands, a signal for the others to do the same. “Now, let's bow our heads.”
As Madear said the grace, Anya wondered if her grandmother realized that she spoke the same words each time. And every time, fresh tears came to Anya's eyes.
When Madear lifted her head, they attacked their plates as if they hadn't eaten in days.
“Madear, I asked Anya to marry me so that I could ensure my place at these dinners,” Braxton said, just before he put a spoonful of macaroni and cheese in his mouth and shook his head in delight.
Madear smiled, stood, and with a serving spoon, packed another heap of macaroni and cheese on Braxton's plate. “I don't want any food left. You all hear me?”
They nodded, though everyone knew that would be impossible. Even after forcing care packages on them, Madear would be eating leftovers for a week.
Conversation flowed as the food on the plates dwindled, then filled up again. Everyone talked about what they had done since they'd last been together, and Braxton filled them in on the completion of his latest book, Kiss and Say Goodbye.
“Man, I love that title,” Donovan said, before he started a falsetto rendition of the 1970s Manhattans song.
“Oh, please, brother dear. We're trying to eat.”
They laughed and Madear turned to Sasha. “I am so happy you're here, honey.” She put her hand on top of Sasha's. “I don't see you often enough. I've never forgiven your father for moving to Chicago.” Madear chuckled, but everyone knew she meant what she said. “Anyway, did you enjoy church this morning?”
“I didn't go.”
The fork, filled with yams, was halfway to Madear's mouth but stopped in mid-air, as her eyes fluttered.
“Madear, I suggested that Sasha rest this morning,” Anya said quickly.
Sasha pointed her fork at Anya. “Don't lie,” she said boldly. “I decided not to go to church this morning.”
Madear glared at Anya. “This is what I was worried about. You lied to me,” Madear said indignantly. “Is this what I can expect now? You acting just like her?”
Sasha's eyes flared. “What is that supposed to mean? I didn't tell Anya to lie!”
“But she felt she had to.”
“So it's my fault?” Sasha dropped her fork onto her plate and looked directly at Anya. “I told you, I can't win with this lady.”
“Who are you calling ‘this lady’?”
Anya held up her hands. “Wait!”
Sasha slammed back in her chair, while Madear tapped her fingers along the table. Both Donovan and Braxton sat quietly, neither sure of what to say.
“Madear.” Anya looked at her grandmother. “I'm sorry I lied, but I knew telling you would lead to something like this.”
“And she knew that if you thought it was her idea, it would be fine,” Sasha added, her voice raised slightly. “But as soon as I said that I decided not to go, it's a major sin. What is it about me that ticks you off so much?”
“First of all, young lady,” Madear said through clenched teeth. “Don't speak to me that way. I am your grandmother.”
“And I am your grandchild! Why do you hate me?” Sasha cried.
“Sasha!” Madear slammed her hand on the table and stood. Her petite frame loomed much larger than she was.
Sasha lowered her eyes, but kept her arms across her chest. Silence had replaced their joyful noise.
Madear's cheeks were flushed with fury and, holding her head high, she stared at Sasha. “I don't know how you can say that I hate you.” Her words were tight. “I love you, but I don't like your ways. You've been trouble since you were little. You wouldn't mind your parents, you played around in school. Nothing was serious to you. And
nothing has changed. You're not even thirty years old, and you've destroyed your marriage …”
Sasha's head snapped up. “I should have stayed with a man who cheated on me?”
“Well,” Madear paused and sat back in her chair, “if you had been taking care of business at home—”
“I told you it was a mistake for me to come here, Anya,” Sasha said, her eyes now filled with tears. She threw her napkin across the table, then ran from the room.
Donovan pushed his chair back, but Anya put up her hands. “I'll get her.” She turned to her grandmother. “How could you say those things?”
Madear's chin jutted forward. “We told her not to marry that man.”
Anya shook her head. She stood and said to Braxton, “I'm going to take Sasha home.”
He nodded solemnly. “But we need to talk,” he whispered.
“Not tonight, Braxton.” She kissed him. “I'll call you tomorrow.”
She glared at Madear, who sat stiffly in her chair with her eyes straightforward. “Good night, Grandmother.” Anya turned away before Madear could respond.
They were sprawled across the bed in Anya's bedroom. The Sunday night soulful sounds from KJLH softly floated through the room.
“What is it about me?” Sasha asked for at least the fiftieth time.
“It's not you,” Anya repeated what she'd been saying for the last hour. “Madear said that she loved you and was happy to have her grandchildren with her.”
Sasha pulled the last tissue from the box sitting in the middle of the bed.
Anya continued. “I'm going to call her tomorrow and find out what is the problem.”
Sasha shook her head. “I don't want her blaming me for coming between you two.”
Anya didn't respond, already knowing what she was going to do.
Sasha rolled over and put her feet on the floor. “I don't want to keep you up all night with this.”
“Why don't you drive me to the office in the morning; then you can have the car and go shopping? That always does it for me.”
Sasha smiled for the first time since they had left Madear's. “That sounds good.”
They hugged.
When Sasha left the room, Anya reached for the phone, then pulled her hand away. She would have that talk with her grandmother but it had to be face to face.
Sasha looked at the clock and wondered if it was too late. Probably not, he was an actor and didn't they keep late hours? Before she could change her mind, she reached for the card in the corner of the mirror. She curled up on the bed, then dialed the number quickly.
“Hi, Hunter? This is Sasha.” The pause on the other end told her that he didn't recognize the name. “Anya's cousin. We met yesterday.”
“Hey, Sasha. How are you?”
Madear's words flashed through her mind. “I'm doing great.”
“I hope you're calling to take me up on my offer.”
“Your offer for what?” she said in the most seductive voice she could gather.
“To show you …the city,” he chuckled. “But, I don't have to stop there.”
Sasha leaned back against the bedpost and smiled. Her husband left her for a younger woman, and her grandmother didn't love her, but now, she was on the telephone with the hottest man in Hollywood. She was not a failure and Hunter Blaine was just the man to help her prove it.
Chapter 16
The man squeezed his vehicle into the mall space blocked a driveway. His eyes darted up and down the street, then hack to the two-story duplex. He trotted up the steps and, before he raised his hand, the door opened.
She leaned against the doorframe, one hand above her head, the short red negligee barely covering her curves. “I've been waiting for you,” she said huskily. Her voice was deep for a woman. “What took you so long?”
He walked past her without a word, and moved through the darkened apartment, until he stood at her bedroom door.
She swaggered toward him. “You're in a hurry tonight.” They were standing so close that he could feel her breath.
grunted, and she moved into him, forcing his body into the room. With a gentle push, she lowered his body onto the brass bed. “Since you're in such a hurry.” She remained standing with her hands on her hips and a wide smile on her face.
His eyes roamed over her, from the brown curls that framed her face, past the curve of her neck, down to her legs that were spread wide, arched in stiletto heels.
Slowly she brought the spaghetti straps of her gown from her shoulders, pushing the thin material past her hips, until it slid down her legs and fluttered around her ankles. She kicked the material away. In the bright light, she stood, totally naked. He closed his eyes.
“What's wrong?” he heard her say.
He opened his eyes. “Put that back on,” he whispered, motioning with his head toward her gown.
She smiled. She loved hearing his voice, but he'd been quiet tonight.
Before she had the gown completely on, he closed his eyes and brought forth his vision. Then, he pulled the woman into him and moved his hands to her chest, squeezing as tight as he could.
“Ouch!” She swung around, facing him, her face twisted in pain. But, then, she licked her lips. “It's going to be like that, huh?” She kissed him, softly at first, then pushed her tongue into his mouth. A moment later, he pulled away and pushed her onto the bed.
She laughed, too loud. “Come on, baby, come to Mama.” She uttered the words that he had taught her to say.
In one move, he unzipped his pants and fell on top of her. She began to gyrate beneath him, but he stopped her—holding her still. Then he pounded away, causing her to moan. The louder she became, the harder he pushed into her. His eyes were closed tightly and he could see her. It was Anya holding him. Anya moaning for him. Anya wanting him.
Within minutes, he was standing, straightening his clothes.
“That was different,” she said, as she stretched on the bed. “Now you'll have to take off your clothes.”
“I'm not staying the night,” he said simply.
Her disappointment showed on her face, then she forced a smile. “It's your party.”
He took three twenties from his wallet and threw them toward her. They floated in the air, finally resting on the sheet next to her.
“Hey—”
He turned and left, leaving her front door wide open. As he jogged to his car, he shook his head in disgust. For six months, he had wasted his time coming here. Well, he wouldn't anymore. It was time for him to be with her.
Chapter 17
David caught his reflection in the glass top of his desk, held the somber gaze, then watched his lips curl into a smile. Since his bonding with the Pacific Ocean yesterday, he hadn't heard any voices. Even the visions were gone—except for the one of Anya.
The clock chimed and David looked up. It was still early; he could get some work done. He pulled papers from his fax machine, resumes from the headhunting firm. Spreading the dozen sheets across his desk, he glanced over them casually. He would select the best, then review those with Anya.
His eyes wandered when he thought of her. He had never spent time with her before, knowing that his secrets were safer in the office. He smiled as he thought about the day before and his rewards for casting caution aside. He couldn't get her out of his mind.
He shook his head sharply. It didn't matter where his imagination drifted at home but at the office, he had to thrust all thoughts of her away—except the most professional ones.
He closed his eyes and remembered the plum-colored dress she'd worn. It fit her perfectly, providing a flawless silhouette of her shapely form. He liked that she wasn't model-thin. She was a real Black woman, with all of the parts that came with that genetic blessing. Just the way he liked them—
“Stop it!” he scolded himself. He returned to the dozen names staring from the resumes but, minutes later, his thoughts reverted to Anya. He sighed. The woman monopolizing his brain space was his engaged boss. In a
ll his working years, he'd never mingled with anyone from the office. So why was he thinking about Anya this way?
The creak of the front door tugged him from his fantasies. Good thing; he couldn't spend the day daydreaming like a forlorn teenager.
“Good morning, David.” Alaister and Geena stood at his door.
This was the third time he noticed the two coming in together, and he wondered if there was something going on. Big problem— Geena reported to Alaister. He'd talk to Alaister later.
“How was your weekend?” David asked them.
“Fabulous!” Geena's grin at Alaister aggravated David's suspicions.
“Great.” David smiled back at them. “There's a lot to do before we go to Linden. Alaister, do you have those numbers?”
“Ah, no. Last night… I got busy.”
“We'll need them as soon as possible.” David smiled, but the message was received and Alaister moved with urgency toward his office.
Turning back to the resumes, David sorted through the pile. But before he got past the first one, the front door opened and, this time, the voice made him stop. For several moments, he listened to the chatter. Then he stood and walked to his door. He would just say good morning.
He casually strolled to her opened door and tapped lightly. She was standing behind her desk and, when she looked up, David was pleased by her immediate smile. “Good morning.”
He bowed his head, suddenly feeling like a shy schoolboy. But he'd only taken two steps into her office, when he stopped abruptly.
“Oh, excuse me.” He hesitated, taking in the woman sitting on the couch. “I'll come back.” He retreated toward the door.
“David, I want you to meet someone.” Moving to him, she took his hand. “This is Sasha, my cousin.”
David's eyes assessed the woman expertly, the way a man who truly appreciates the female form would. His wandering gaze drank in her attire, and he noted her skirt was as short as her legs were long.
“Nice to meet you.” Her voice was strong as she held out her hand.
“Ah, David Montgomery.” He realized he was still holding Anya's hand. He dropped hers and took Sasha's. “Nice to meet you.”
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