Scandalous

by Murray, Victoria Christopher

  Stepping inside, I waited a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimmed light. And then I saw him.

  “What's up, sweetheart?”

  I smiled and walked right into his waiting arms.

  “Hines! What are you doing here?”

  He kissed my forehead, sat down on the velvet love seat, then reached for my hand to pull me down next to him. We snuggled, though we didn't do it on purpose. It was the way the soft velvet love seats were designed--like bean bag chairs--our bodies didn't have any choice but to kinda meld together.

  Not that I minded. Hines was one of my best “dates,” sexually and monetarily. And if he'd called me here to Foxtails to get down, then I would just have to give up my quest to be a virtuous woman on my wedding day. Because right about now, I could use a piece of this man.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I didn't even know you were in L.A.”

  He leaned back and unbuttoned the jacket of what I was sure was at least an eight-hundred dollar suit. He put his arm around me. “I'm still moving around, from here to there.”

  “So, no more football at all? Ever?”

  He shook his head. “They were serious when they kicked me out the league,” he said, as if it was no big deal that he'd lost his multi-million dollar contract with the Los Angeles Raiders. “I'm banned for life.”

  It may not have been a big deal to Hines, but it was major to all the football fans who'd been thrilled beyond measure when the Oakland Raiders had deserted the North and migrated to the South, bringing their star rookie running back with them. Hines Gifford was a sensation who had broken all kind of records at Florida State and was expected to do the same with the Raiders. The talk on the street was that the Raiders wanted Hines so bad that when he said he would only play if he could be in L.A., they moved the entire franchise. It had been hard for people to believe that one player--a rookie at that--could have that kind of pull. I didn't believe any of that myself, until Hines and his boys had come into Foxtails one night.

  Foxtails was known as a place where the big spenders liked to drop their dollars, so I was used to the kind of money that Hines was tossing around. But it was what was beyond the money that impressed me. Hines had a confidence that was definite, but not cocky; a strut that was self assured, but not prideful. It was just clear that he knew what he wanted, and whatever he wanted, he was gonna get.

  Then, in Hines's second year, the news came out that he was involved in some major league trouble.

  I said, “I still can't believe that anyone would really think that you were in the mafia. I mean, what kind of proof did they have?” I only asked that question because I was in a curious mood and really wanted to know if Hines was going to confirm anything or deny everything. Not that I needed him to say a word; I'd pretty much made up my mind, like the millions of other people in this country. Hines Gifford was all up in that mess. He'd been linked to the Adamo family, second only to the Gottis in organized crime. According to all the stuff I'd read in the Star and National Enquirer, even while Hines was playing football, he and his boys were running the mafia's L.A. sports operations, everything from scalping tickets to shaving points. And it was rumored that he had “taken care” of a few people here and a few people there when he received orders from the Adamos to do so.

  The rumors and accusations were rampant; no one knew what was fact or what was fiction. Then suddenly at the beginning of Hines's third year, he was cut from the Raiders. The thing that was so heavy, though, was that they were still going to pay him his contract, which was unheard of in the NFL. It was the lead story on every channel, on the front page of every newspaper, and on the tongue of every DJ. It was nothing but a thrilling mess.

  Hines said, “I didn't come down here to talk about all my troubles.”

  “You don't look like you got any troubles.” I let my eyes roll over all of his Denzel-esque fineness. I wasn't going to initiate it, but all he had to do was ask me once and my panties would be gone.

  He chuckled. “Trust me, I got a-plenty. But today, sweetheart, it's all about you.” I took a breath; I was ready to stand up and pull my dress down. “Buck tells me you're getting married.”

  It had been at least a year since I'd seen Hines, but the thing was, I'd been engaged to Kenny for a year and a half. “You knew that I was going to do that.”

  His nod was slow and steady and his eyes bore into mine like he was studying me hard, making my temperature rise. “So, you're really gonna marry the ol’ dude?”

  “Yeah,” I said, as if he should have known that I was going to keep my word.

  Hines wasn't the only one of my “dates” who knew about Kenny. I’d read once in Essence magazine that when a man cheated, he never told the woman he loved about 'the others,' but 'the others' always knew about the one he loved, as if secrets were only kept from those you cared about. It seemed like twisted logic to me, but hey, it was from Essence so I went along with it, figuring that the same equation should work for women.

  So everyone knew about Kenny…and Kenny knew about no one. My proof that he was my one and only. The men I danced for and dated may have had their hands on my body, but Kenny held my heart.

  I said to Hines, “I told you a long time ago that I was in love with Kenny.”

  Hines did his slow nod once again as his eyes became clearer, like he was finally believing me.

  “So, this is why you came down here? Just to ask if I was really getting married?” I was pissed with myself for letting my mind take me to that other place. Hines didn't want to sleep with me, and now I was going to have to find a way to dispose of all this sexual stress he’d built up in me.

  “Yeah,” he said. “To ask you that and to give you this.” He slipped his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a black velvet box. “This is for you, sweetheart. Sort of a congratulations, going-away present.”

  His words gave me chills and sent a thrill through my body. Hines had given me lots of gifts over the years that I'd known him, but a girl never got tired of getting something new. When Hines flipped back the top of the box, my eyes got as big as the diamond that shined in front of me. I hadn't seen a ring this beautiful since Princess Diana's engagement to Prince Charles a few years back.

  “What is this?” I whispered, as if I couldn't tell it was a ring.

  Without a word, he lifted my left hand and glanced down at the engagement ring that I wore. For a moment, I wanted to snatch back my hand and hide what was on my ring finger. But then, I lifted my hand higher, like I was proud of the diamond chip that Kenny had given me.

  I was proud. My baby had done the best he could. And once we were married and I was really able to get him moving in his career, I would be getting an upgrade--believe that.

  But my pride didn't mean a thing to Hines. He chuckled, then before I could say anything, slipped the chip off my finger and replaced it with the rock.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, raising my voice. Even though I had lots of questions, it wasn't like I tried to stop him, though. I just let him put that ring on my finger.

  He laughed. “Don't trip, Pepper,” he said, calling me by my stage name. “I'm not trying to marry you. I ain't that kind of cat.”

  Well, I didn't want to marry him either. Not really. “So what's up with this ring?” He kissed my forehead. “Like I said, it's a good-bye gift for the best dancer…and date…this side of the moon.”

  I glanced back at the ring. It was beginning to feel heavy (it had to be at least four carats) on my finger. There was no way that I could keep this, could I? I mean, what was I supposed to tell Kenny?

  As if Hines could hear the questions turning over in my mind, he said, “I don't expect you to wear it. This is just something special between you and me. Just to make sure that you'll never forget me, 'cause I'm sure 'nuff always gonna remember you.” He tucked the junior achievement ring Kenny had given me into the palm of my hand and stood up.

  “I gotta go, sweetheart. Gotta make things happen.�
�

  I was still kinda frozen in place, weighed down by the ring and my thoughts. I didn't move until Hines took my hand and lifted me from the couch. He held me in a hug for just a moment, and then flicked a card between his fingers. “I just want you to know that I'll always be here for you. If you ever need me, if that man doesn't treat you right, call me.”

  He pressed the card into the palm of my hand. I watched him strut out the back door, the private entrance and exit for the biggest and most discreet celebrities. I stood alone and looked down at Kenny's ring in one hand and Hines' card in the other, then spread my fingers to appreciate the diamond that Hines had given me.

  It was a shame I would have to hide this ring away, but I didn't have to do that right now, did I? I mean, I wasn't getting married until tomorrow and no one was gonna see me today. And really, what would it hurt to wear this for just a few hours? I still loved Kenny, I was still going to marry him. Wearing this ring would be a whole lotta fun for a little while.

  I couldn't do anything except smile as I tucked Kenny's ring and Hines' card inside the pocket of my purse. Then I did my own strut out the VIP door.

  Chapter 4

  My temperature was rising, and it had very little to do with the ninety-degree heat wave we were having. So I paid five dollars to park my car just feet away from the ocean and strolled along the Venice beach boardwalk. I needed to cool off--in every way--and sport this ring on my left hand for at least a few hours. The walkway was thick with Los Angelenos even though today was Friday. Friday, in any other part of the country was a weekday, meaning that it was a workday. But not in the place I called home. In L.A., weekends began on Thursday, sometimes even Wednesday evenings. So today was just another weekend in August in Venice, California.

  Cheers rose in the air as I passed the paddle tennis court where two couples competed, dressed in typical--at least for L.A.--paddle tennis attire: bikinis for the women and Speedos for the guys. No matter how many times I saw this sight, I still had to shake my head. Yes, I took off my clothes for a living, but you were not about to find me jiggling all up and down anybody's court, giving a show for free.

  I strolled past the shops where T-shirts sold three for five dollars, and tattoo shop owners shouted to all who passed by about the glorious benefits of having ink blazed into your skin. On the other side, a crowd gathered around a steel band. Just feet away from that show was the guy who juggled a tennis ball, a bowling ball and a chainsaw like it was nothing.

  I ignored it all. I didn't come down here to be entertained. My purpose was to cool off and calm down before I headed to the hotel. Then, I was going to luxuriate--yes, luxuriate--for the rest of the afternoon and into the night in the splendor of the new Ritz Carlton hotel.

  It had been my idea to have our wedding at the Ritz. I just couldn't see getting married in a church. It was more than my past that made me want to stay clear of any altar; I just didn't have any kind of relationship with any church. I'd only been in a church once since my mom's funeral, and that was only because Kyla made me stand up for her at her wedding. I didn't see any reason to hang out in God's house after He'd let me down and taken my mother away.

  Of course, my father and Kyla weren't happy with the fact that I would be exchanging vows before a judge instead of God. Both of them had tried to get me to agree to let their pastor officiate. But I wasn't feeling that Jheri curl-sporting, leisure-suit wearing Pastor Davis my father loved so much. Especially not after I saw him one night in Foxtails tossing dollars on the stage faster than anyone else. Pastor Davis saw me, too, though he ducked out of the club right after we made eye contact. But I wasn't worried about him slithering away and saying anything. If he kept his mouth shut, I would too. Of course he sealed his lips; he had far more to lose than I did.

  Then Kyla's pastor, Pastor Ford…well, that lady just gave me the heebie-jeebies. Whenever I saw her, she always greeted me with kindness and a smile, but she would hold my hand and then look at me like she was seeing right through to my soul. Sometimes I wondered if God was telling her all my business. And if she did have it like that with God, then, I didn't want to stand before her…or Him.

  Standing before the judge would be just fine.

  I'd chosen the Ritz Carlton for one other reason, too: it was the only way to at least keep up a little with Kyla and Jefferson's wedding. Theirs was an extravaganza that didn't make any kind of sense. First, they had packed the church to standing room only, and then the Carringtons had rented out one of the biggest yachts in the marina and the two hundred and fifty guests sailed and ate and drank and danced the night away as we floated on the peninsula.

  It was a celebration that--I hate to admit--had made me jealous. Don't get me wrong, I loved me some Kyla Carrington Blake. But it was hard not to feel just a little bit of envy toward her and the way she'd grown up, and all the money that her parents had. I had to have a wedding that didn't make me feel inferior.

  Of course, there weren't going to be as many attending my wedding, and my guests were going to keep their feet on dry land, but I was determined to have my fifty guests oohing and ahhing. This wedding was costing me a small fortune: from my designer dress, to the bridal suite for the weekend, to the ceremony and the reception on the Ballroom Terrace of the Ritz, I was spending close to seven thousand dollars. It was the last of the money that I'd had from my days at Foxtails. But that was cool. In a way, I felt good about that. Not good about starting off my marriage broke, but good that there would be no Foxtails money between me and Kenny once we exchanged our vows.

  And though my bank account would be empty after this weekend, I would still have a few things to hold onto. Gifts, mostly jewelry. Especially this ring. The Foxtails men had set me up; it would be a long time before I’d be broke-broke.

  I held my hand out straight in front of me and the sun beamed down on the clear stone, making every color of the rainbow dance across my fingers. This oval cut diamond had to be one of the prettiest rings I'd ever seen.

  “Jasmine!”

  Turning to where the shout had come from, I saw the next best thing to this ring: a fine looking man. It took me a moment to realize where I was--right in front of the real reason for my trip to the beach. Yeah, I could deny it, but I wasn't into lying. At least not to myself. I knew exactly who and what I wanted to see when I'd made that left turn on Venice Boulevard and headed toward the ocean.

  But even with those thoughts in my mind, I widened my eyes like I was surprised.

  “Roman?” I said his name as though he was some kind of apparition I couldn't believe that I was seeing. I stepped onto the grass, moving closer to the weight pen known as Muscle Beach.

  Roman sat on the edge of a bench, his biceps bulging as he held a barbell. But even though he was my focus, my eyes wandered to the others who were lifting weights behind him. There was nothing but hard bodies, muscled bodies, sculpted bodies, gorgeous bodies. All of those men, black, brown, yellow, and white, it didn't matter - they were all fine as the high noon sun glistened and moistened their skin. It was a woman's paradise.

  But my eyes didn't linger. I turned my gaze back to the one who really had my attention.

  Mr. Chocolate grinned as he secured the weight back on the stand, then strolled to the side so that the two of us could be up close and personal.

  “What's up?” he said.

  “Just you.”

  “I see you decided to accept my invitation and come on down to see me.”

  “No. I was just strolling on the beach and forgot that you worked down here.”

  He chuckled as if he knew I was a liar. “So,” he finally said, “where's your husband?”

  “I'm not married yet.”

  Now he laughed outright, as if I'd told a joke. That pissed me off. “Don't worry, you'll get to meet him,” I said, as if that was a threat. “Once we're married, I'll bring him down here.”

  “Why isn't he with you now?”

  “'Cause he's a working man.” I paused and
looked Roman up and down. “And, since he had to work today, I decided to take a stroll.”

  “Oh, okay,” he said and laughed some more.

  What was up with that? Was he laughing at me? He didn't need to get all cocky about anything. It wasn't like I was chasing him. “No, really, I just came down here to cool off.”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  Oh, see, now he was trying to play me. That was fine; he was making this easy. I was just gonna take my butt straight over to that hotel. There was plenty of air-conditioning at the Ritz. “Well, you have a good workout,” I said, already walking away. I curled my fingers into a wave and turned my back on him.

  “Wait! Wait! Jasmine, wait!” he yelled after me.

  But I kept on walking. In less than a minute, though, Mr. Chocolate was by my side.

  “Didn't you hear me calling you?” he said, though I could hear the laughter inside his voice.

  “I didn't hear a thing,” I responded, not even looking at him.

  “Come on, now. Don't be like that. I was just playing.”

  I still didn't say a word. Just kept on walking. And he kept up with me.

  “It was just a joke. I was just glad to see you, that's all. I'm sorry…maybe I said the wrong thing.”

  I stopped, and glared him down the way only a soul sista could. “Yeah, you did,” I said, giving him major attitude.

  “I'm sorry.”

  I crossed my arms and pursed my lips.

  “What?” he said, shrugging a little. “You don't believe in forgiveness?”

  “Oh, I believe in it all right.”

  “Then,” he said, and took a step closer. It was hard to do, since we were already almost pressed together by the masses strolling past us. “Then, please forgive me.”

  He was back to using that voice he'd used to capture me last night. His stage voice, the one that was meant to get a woman to drop her panties. And his eyes…those green eyes.

  “Do you forgive me?” he asked. His bottom lip quivered, but not in the way it would if he'd been upset. No, this was more like a hypnotist's trick--getting me to stare so long and so hard at his lip that all I wanted to do was gently suck it between my teeth. I had to fight to keep my balance, to keep my reason. “All right,” I said, kind of shyly, though I had no idea why that sweet, soft sound came out of me. This was not my personality.