BOMAW 7-9

by Mercedes Keyes

  Deidre's hand rose and rubbed the place where he'd only seconds before, held her.

  "I love that fragrance you're wearing. It's taken a while to get it out of the room you uh, occupied at my place." He couldn't resist saying.

  "Thank you, I think." She glanced down from him, feeling awkward, yet - undeniably attracted to him. She glanced up, smiled, a soft laugh erupted, feeling that they both needed a distraction, she asked, "Do I, sound and look, like an ungrateful, spoiled rich shrew?"

  "I wouldn't go quite that far." He returned.

  Charlie was coming out of her room on her way to the bathroom when he replied, she heard and said in her witty quickness, "I would - but that's okay Dee-Dee, that's yo'job! Stomp your foot! Flip that hair back over your shoulder! Do that, "Ack!" Like that, we'on mind." She said closing the bathroom door laughing her low dirty laugh.

  Deidre had to hold still, not to stomp her foot, flip her hair, while sucking in the gasp that would have come out as an, "Ack!" Standing as a witness to it, Jeremiah could not hold back and roared with laughter. That did it, Deidre did all three in an instant, turned and stomped off to her room to get dressed. Jeremiah was still laughing when Samuel came in with her coffee and paper. When Charlie came out of the bathroom.

  "Charlie why can't you behave and quit calling her Dee-Dee?"

  Laughing, Charlie answered, "Why? Don't she look like a Dee-Dee? Look like a Dee-Dee to me."

  Her smile was quickly removed when Samuel commented, "This from Charlene." He said to Jeremiah but was looking right at Charlie.

  "Was anybody talking to you? Did you hear me say anything to you? Did you hear him say anything to you? Ain't nothing funny; don't get into no habit of calling me no Charlene, do I look like a Charlene to you? I hate that name, Charlene - you better stop laughing."

  He stopped long enough to ask her, "If I don't, what you gonna do? You gone make me stop laughing? Wanna come and try?"

  Jeremiah shook his head, left them to argue with each other and strode down the short hall to Deidre's room knocking, "Hey, I wanted to give you a heads up on my talk with Shawn, I've spoken to him." He stated through the door.

  The door opened, she was wearing her robe, nothing else underneath, holding it together. "Well? Get in here and tell me what happened, what'd he say?" She ordered letting him in and then going directly to her bedroom dressing screen.

  Jeremiah walked in, "We didn't actually talk long. I was going to make arrangements to go there when he informed me that they'd all be coming here. The whole family, so your daughter can visit with you."

  "Really? When? Oh Jeremiah, wait until you see her, she is my most crowning achievement! Ohhh, I just hope you get to see her before you lay what's going on - on him. In fact, wait until after we have a nice visit, then tell him."

  "I met her while you were in the hospital, remember?"

  "Oh... yeah, I've forgotten about that." She murmured from across the room.

  Continuing where he left off, "I don't know if that will be possible, because I told him enough to make him aware that something is happening, I get a feeling he's going to want to get right to the point."

  She groaned behind the screen, then called out to him, "Jer'miah...?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Can you uh, pass me those things on the bed? I rushed back here so fast, I didn't grab them."

  Those things were her lacy underwear, stockings, pants and blouse. Smiling Jeremiah strode to the bed, picking each article up, laying them across his forearm, he stepped to the screen and laid them gently across it.

  "Thank you." She called softly from behind.

  "You're welcome. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, I get a feeling he's going to want to get right to the point. So - I think I will get him away to lay it on him, this way, you can visit with your daughter before the heat is on."

  "If he's bringing them all down, you'll get to meet his wife as well." Deidre stated thoughtfully.

  "How do you feel about that? Him bringing his wife?" He asked curious.

  "It was bound to happen sooner or later, wasn't it?" She asked coming from behind the screen, buttoning the last few buttons on her blouse. Walking to her vanity where she sat down, picked up her hair brush and began brushing it with vigorous strokes.

  "No remnant remains of what once was?"

  She paused, she could see him standing a distance away from her in the reflection of her mirror. Laying the brush down, she turned around on her stool, gazing at him across the room. He was dressed for work. Suit and tie. He was a very GQ looking black man. Everything about him was made to be on the front of Business Weekly, Forbes or in the pages of a Lands' End catalog. Looking at him she knew, that everything he wore was of expensive tastes. He was like Shawn, a bit older than her. She couldn't help but remember when they were much younger, and she'd dared to kiss him.

  "Still that unsure?" He asked in reference to her question.

  Ignoring that, she asked him instead, "You haven't tried once, to kiss me. Aren't you attracted to me - at all? To white women?"

  Jeremiah was taken back by the question, and with the lift of his brow, answered. "I don't make it a habit, of coming on to women still in love with other men."

  Chapter 208

  L.A....

  Deidre couldn't believe that he still thought that. She knew now that her feelings were certainly gone for her ex-husband. Oh, she would always love him, no doubt about it. Difference was, the way she now loved him; to keep him in mind, she had to really focus hard on doing so, otherwise, his face became that of another. Dark skin. Deeper eyes. An Armani Suit.

  "That's wise; I can certainly see the need to follow that." She stated, standing and then made her way slowly over to him. "Yet, that is not what I asked you. The question was, why aren't you attracted to me? Or is it, that you're just not attracted to white women?"

  "Fact is, no - I'm not attracted to white women."

  Deidre sucked in stunned.

  "You, on the other hand, I need to be careful with. Not sure what it is; maybe it's that you're this fetching damsel in distress and I'm falling victim to that syndrome."

  "I see. Well, not exactly sure what it is I'm supposed to say to that. Is it because of what my father may have done to your mother; that you're not attracted to me?"

  "You're not to blame for that; I'm not the sort of man who would hold you accountable for it."

  "Good. I asked him you know." She made him aware.

  "Asked who, what?"

  "My father. I asked him about your mother. I asked directly, did he kill her? Have her killed."

  "You didn't really expect him to be honest about that did you?"

  "I just wanted to see his reaction. It certainly threw him."

  "I bet he denied ever speaking to her."

  "Actually, he admitted being in love with her."

  "What?"

  "That's right, he stated that he loved her, has loved no one since her. He stated that she blackmailed him for money and that he gave it to her. Continued to give it to her. He says that he doesn't know why she committed suicide."

  "My mother wouldn't have done such a thing! She wasn't like that! To blackmail him? There's no way she would have taken those kinds of risks knowing she had us to take care of. I don't believe him."

  "I believe that he was in love with her. Something about him when he said it, I think it's true. As for the rest, who knows."

  "Who knows, who knows... I know! He's an evil, twisted bastard that is guilty of more things than we could ever imagine."

  "Perhaps."

  "I find it hard to believe that you were able to persuade him to confess what he did, how did you?"

  "Maxwell."

  "Maxwell? You brought Maxwell up to him?"

  "Yes I did, at first he tried to deny him and when I ran a few means of proof by him, he caved and admitted all that I'm telling you."

  Jeremiah turned away, walking towards her window to look out. Next thing he knew, she was there with him.
He was looking out, she was looking up into his face, studying him.

  "Penny for your thoughts?"

  He smiled and looked down at her, joking he replied, "Surely you can afford more than that?"

  A bright smile lit up her face, her eyes twinkling. "I suppose it depends on the thought."

  "My thoughts are pretty simple Deidre. Finding out what really happened to my mother and what really happened to you that night, who was behind it."

  "Considering all you've done for me, I would say your services are filled. By rights, I should be writing you out a check and handling things on my own from here on out. Maybe, like hiring on a P.A. and look into getting myself another attorney. One that, well - I have no personal... ties to."

  Jeremiah looked down at her. "You ready to be rid of me?"

  "No, not at all. In fact, I find the opposite to be true. Only thing, I don't want to hold anyone to me that would rather be somewhere else."

  "I think you should leave that to me to worry about. When I'm bored of your doorstep, you simply won't find me there anymore."

  Deidre sighed, backed away, turned around and went back to her vanity to finish her make-up leaving Jeremiah at the window with his thoughts.

  His thoughts were, that he needed to be very careful with her. Yes, he was attracted, very much so. However, they were totally different. He was rich, she was a billionairess. She was a Wherrington. One of them, had killed his mother. Yes, unfortunately, he had to be very careful. There was no sense in even considering a relationship, they had too much history between them and perhaps, the wrong kind.

  "I better get my day started." He stated walking back across her bedroom stopping at the door. "I'll talk to you later?"

  Deidre nodded.

  She was out and about now looking for a place to open her herbal store, with enough room to have at least four treatment rooms. She would offer things such as Reflexology treatment, hypnosis therapy, and a wellness spa for the release of tension and promote relaxation. They had three more locations to check out and then they would call it a day.

  Her mobile phone rang, she knew that it was Jeremiah.

  "Yes?"

  "He called, they'll be here Sunday afternoon. There will be eight of them."

  "Eight of them? I see, he must be bringing all. Can you please see to it that there is a car there to pick them up?"

  "I mentioned this to him, he's not keen on the idea Deidre."

  "No, I wouldn't imagine that he would be. It's quite possible that we may end up having them tailed and watched, do you think that would work?"

  "We'll make it work. See you tonight."

  "Sure, bye."

  "All right Dee-Dee, this is all good and things with one problem, we need to be out looking for you a new place. Somewhere more secure than where you are. What about that?"

  "I don't wanna think about that right now Charlie. One thing at a time okay?"

  "Look here, I'm just going to lay it out for you okay? This business shit you trying to plan for, can wait! Ain't like you need the money! You got plenty of time for this! We need to look for you a home. A secure one. Well protected, hard to get in to! Don't have me pull rank on you! You cannot continue to live where you are." Charlie reminded her for the second time that day. She was trying to give her space, however, they were playing with fire.

  "Can it wait until after my daughter's visit?"

  "Hell - no! Are you crazy? Look, we need to get you situated. We need to get you set up, on property with certain things in position to keep you safe! That is my job! You are hindering me from that end. Now I say, we leave off of this business search and get started on finding you a new home."

  Deidre sat back and with a sigh, she gave in. If she didn't, Charlie would not give her a moments rest. One good thing she had to look forward to and that was seeing Jeremiah tonight. She missed having him around and hated that he had to report in to his other duties. Part of her wished that she could just hire him on as her lawyer. If it wasn't for the fact that he would never work for her, she would do it in an instant. He, Jeremiah, had too much pride. He would never work for her as in she being his employee, even though he would be her attorney. He was a man of his own right, who'd risen above, against the odds and was a success. Her money, was putting him off, as well her name. Just as it had done with Shawn. The thought brought Deidre down, she suddenly felt depressed as it occurred to her, that perhaps, her money - would forever stand in the way of her ever being in a happy, lifelong relationship.

  She shook it off, she wouldn't worry about that just now, her daughter was coming home. Automatically she thought about finally introducing Angela to Jeremiah. She really wanted Angela to like him, since she liked Sylvia so well, surely that meant well for Jeremiah. She couldn't believe it, in two days her daughter would be home and not even her fear of facing Shawn could dim the light of seeing Angela's smiling face again. The last time she'd been laying in the hospital, drugged to her eyeballs with pain killers. Now she was clear of mind, and once she was here, she would spoil her rotten for the time they would have together.

  "Hey Max man, come here."

  "What's up Dex?" Maxwell asked. They had been in and out all morning and stopped for a break, cleaning up the moving van. This was a slow day because someone screwed up the bookings for scheduled jobs. Because of that, they were hanging around, trying to find things to do to still get paid.

  "That limo been sitting there for most of the morning. Just sitting there."

  "So what man, what's the big deal?" Max returned.

  "I saw it when it pulled up. Nobody got in, nobody got out. It parked and it's just sittin' there. Why?"

  Curious, they both walked outside wearing their moving overalls. Max had his open to the waist, pulled off his upper body to hang down behind him. Underneath he wore a muscle tank top, showing his upper body off. He was fine, his body looked good, he worked out, pumped up as he was, one had to exhibit the fruits of their labor. That was what he always told Dexter and the other's anyway.

  Both men stood, fingers gripping the chain link fence that surrounded the truck yard, staring across the road at the limousine.

  "Dex man, walk over there and see what the heck is up."

  "Man, Maxwell you must be out yo'mind! Man that could be a goddamn car bomb!"

  "Nigga please! That's a limo, they don't rig up limo's!"

  "Nigga how the hell you know!? Might be Bin Lauden's ass trying to figure out how to hire us to move his ass o'som shit!"

  "What? How you sound? How ridiculous is that?" Max asked.

  "Look dawg, you explain to me, why it's just sitting there? Goddamn car bomb that's why! Nobod'yll suspect a limo, shit, they don't care nothing 'bout blowing up no limo' when they'ah blow up they damn-self! Shit, a man that'll blow up his damn self, will blow up any thang! Don' tell me shit! I'm going back inside, 'cause if it blow up, my ass gone be in the back, eatin' my lunch!"

  "Gone then chicken-ass-jive-nigga, ain't got nothing but some bologna sandwiches no way."

  Dexter flipped Maxwell off and headed back through the garage to do as he stated.

  Maxwell stood a few minutes more, peering in direction of the limo. Staring into the tinted back seat window where he assumed someone must be sitting.

  Oscar T. sat staring at the man that he knew was his son. He leaned with a stance that most black men were known to do, one hand cupping his privates. His hair was a light color, even from across the street, Oscar T. cold see the sun picking up highlights of blonde in it. He wore it in a wild curly natural afro. His skin was a stunning tawny color, his body thick, very muscular, strong arms. He'd been watching him all morning. Suddenly, he did a shift in his posture and started making his way across the street towards the limo, dipping and dapping as they did. Oscar T. watched him approach. The middle window between him and his driver opened, "He's coming over Mr. Wherrington, what would you have me do?"

  "Nothing. My privacy please."

  The middle window went ba
ck up.

  Maxwell had to wait to cross for cars going by, but soon, he was at the window, tapping on it. "Hey, m'man, something we can do for you?"

  Oscar T. watched him up close for a moment as he bent down, put his hand up against the window to look in, that's when Oscar T. hit the auto window switch to roll it down.

  Maxwell was about to ask again, if he could be of service, when he realized who he was staring at. The same like eyes, stared back and forth between each other.

  Wisconsin, early Friday...

  Christine lay in bed, stretching as it promised to be a warm day. The sun's ray, already carrying a bit of heat with it, shone into their bedroom window. She rose. Laundry to do, windows to clean and other things on her list to see to. It was Friday, bowling night. She and Quincy always went bowling on Friday nights. The boys had always gone with them as long as she remembered, even to their current ages, bringing their girlfriends along. Benjamin and Gail, Kevin and whomever he was currently seeing. Kevin wasn't into steady dating, like Benjamin.

  Stepping out of the shower, she wondered how long Benjamin would keep this up; staying in Chicago. She wished he would get over this nonsense already and come home. She was missing him. Missing the fun they usually had as a family on the weekends. Dressed now, combing through her wet hair, she started gathering all the wet towels from the bathroom floor where she always found them, thanks to her sons and Quincy. She came out of the bathroom just as Quincy was about to enter it.

  "Mornin'." He greeted her.

  "Mornin' hun." She returned, dropping the towels on the floor, getting ready to gather all the laundry. She walked down the hall a bit to Benjamin's room, tapped on the door just in case, waited, nothing. She opened it to search his room for possible dirty articles only to come to a halt in the center, looking around. The room looked like a vacant hotel room. Bed, dresser, empty bedside tables all except the lamp. Walls were clean of pictures, posters, photography work he'd done. Bed was stripped down to the mattress with the sheets piled on the floor at the end of the bed to be washed. No cologne or pictures on the dresser, no jewelery hanging off the side of his mirror. No shoes beneath his bed, no basketball, no football, no trophies, no stack of art work and photography magazines in the corner. His sliding closet doors were open, nothing hanging inside...nothing.