“Sure. What time?”
“Whatever time you’re available. I should be there around nine a.m.”
“I’ll be there at nine-thirty, then. Should I bring in some coffee or orange juice?”
“No, no, no . . . we always supply coffee and doughnuts for the volunteers. Just bring yourself, that’s all we need. Well, thank you and I’ll see you Saturday morning.”
Mrs. Riverton cleared her throat. “By the way, I trust you’ve taken to heart the conversation we had on the veranda?”
Nikkie blushed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. I’m glad that’s behind us. I’ll see you on Saturday.”
Mrs. Riverton was right, the work was boring. By 11 a.m. Nikkie figured she’d stuffed five hundred envelopes. There were about thirty other people in the small campaign headquarters, and Mrs. Riverton was so busy supervising, the two barely had time to talk, although the woman had greeted her warmly when she walked in. She looked at her watch. Almost noon. Hal had promised to pick her up at 12:30.
“Well, looky, looky! Look who’s here! What’s up, girlfriend?”
“Tina!” Nikkie stood up to give the girl a welcoming hug when she noticed the woman’s potbelly. “Tina, you’re—”
Tina rubbed her stomach. “Yep, I’m with child, as they say. Four months. It’s a boy. Ain’t that something!”
“It sure is. Congratulations!” Nikkie sat back down. “This is really a surprise. What are you doing here?”
“Same as you. Doing volunteer work. Or are you a paid campaign worker?”
Nikkie shook her head. “No. Volunteering. Rachel’s mom got me involved.”
Tina took the seat next to her. “Yeah. She’s the one who pulled me in, too. Not that it took much pulling. You know I’m down for getting the first woman elected president of the United States.” She paused. “Of course I’m also volunteering for Barack Obama. I’m down for getting the first black man elected president of the United States.” She giggled. “I’m torn.”
“So who are you going to vote for in the primary, then?”
“Hell, if I know! I’ll probably wait until the last minute to make up my mind.”
Mrs. Riverton walked over. “You’d better vote for Mrs. Clinton, Tina.” She bent down and kissed Tina on the cheek. “How are you doing, dear?”
“I’m fine. And I probably will. You gonna order pizza for us today?”
“Tina, you just got here.” Mrs. Riverton patted her on the back. “But, yes, dear, we’ll be ordering in another half hour or so. Can you wait that long?”
“Yep.” Tina fished down into her pocketbook and pulled out a bag of pretzels. “I got something to hold me down until then. I come prepared, girl.”
Mrs. Riverton laughed. “You’re going to weigh three hundred pounds by the time that baby is born.”
“So you’re pregnant. This is so exciting,” Nikkie said when Mrs. Riverton went back to her desk. “No wonder I haven’t seen you out.”
“Girl, please,” Tina said with a wave of her hand. “I be going out. I just don’t hang out with Cindy. Girlfriend don’t got time for me anymore.”
“Why not?”
“She’s mad because I got pregnant. Well, mostly because of who I got pregnant for. She’s pissed because he’s black.”
“Stop lying.” The two women looked up to see Rachel.
“Cindy could care less that he’s black,” Rachel said as she pulled up a chair next to them. “She’s disappointed in you because he’s a dope dealer.”
“Whoa!” Nikkie’s head jerked back in surprise.
“That’s not his fault.” Tina’s nostrils flared. “He’s just doing what he’s gotta do to survive.”
“Uh-huh, okay. Sure.” Rachel snorted. “If you say so.”
Tina turned to Nikkie. “You guys don’t seem to understand what the black man goes through in this country. If they can’t get a job, what are they supposed to do? Starve? I mean, I ain’t crazy about the fact that Russell’s slinging, but I’m not going to dump him because of it. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
Lord, Tina’s Ebonics are worse than ever, Nikkie thought. “And your Russell’s got to deal drugs, huh? I mean, even if he can’t get a job on Wall Street, he could get a job at McDonald’s rather than deal crack.”
“For your information he doesn’t deal crack, he sells heroin.”
“Oh, and I guess that’s so much better,” Nikkie said incredulously.
“I didn’t say that, so don’t be putting words in my mouth. And so I guess you think it’s okay that a black man has to sling hamburgers to make a living?” Tina demanded.
“Know what, Tina?” Nikkie put her hands up in front of her chest in the form of surrender. “My name is Wes, and I’m not in this mess.”
“You should stop the crap, Tina,” Rachel snapped. “There’s plenty of black men out here who have good jobs, but you just wanted to hook up with the most street guy you could find. And as far as supporting his family, you’re supporting him.
Remember, I know! And even with all that, he’s still out there
dealing. That speaks to lack of character, not survival.”
“You know what? I’m not even having this argument.”
“Fine. I didn’t want to have it, anyway. But don’t go around lying about Cindy. That girl has a lot of things wrong with her, but don’t go around saying she’s prejudiced against blacks.”
“You guys are so whack.” Tina stood up and scooped the bag of pretzels from the desk back into her pocketbook. “Tell your mother I had to go home because I don’t feel good. I’m not going to just sit here and listen to this crap.”
“No problem.” Rachel shrugged. “In fact, you can tell her yourself. Here she comes.”
“Girls, I want you to meet a good friend of mine. Tyrone Bennett, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, Rachel Riverton, her friend Nicole Jensen, and this”—Mrs. Riverton put her hand on Tina’s shoulder—“is Tina Ludwig.”
“How do you do.” The man extended his hand to Tina, but the young woman rudely pushed by him.
“I gotta go, Mrs. Riverton. I’ll see you later,” she said over her shoulder.
Mrs. Riverton looked first at Rachel and Nikkie with questioning eyes, then took after Tina. “Tina, dear, wait. Is something wrong?”
“Mother’s going to have a fit when she finds out that I’m the one who ran Tina off,” Rachel grumbled.
But Nikkie wasn’t listening. She was looking up at the dreamiest eyes she’d ever seen; and to her delight, they were looking at her with what she hoped was the same interest.
The man cleared his throat. “Well, it’s nice to meet you beautiful ladies,” he said in a soft baritone while still not taking his eyes off Nikkie.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Mr. Bennett,” she said breathlessly.
“Please call me Tyrone.”
“All right, Tyrone. And I hope you’ll call me Nikkie.” He wasn’t handsome. He was gorgeous. Joseph was six-five, and this man was a little shorter, so she supposed he was about six-three. Maybe two hundred firmly packed pounds, judging by the huge biceps that were accentuated so nicely by his navy blue fishnet T-shirt. He wore a blue Yankees ball cap on his head, but the hair on the side that it didn’t cover was short and neatly trimmed, as were his moustache and goatee—which had a shock of white going straight down its middle. His complexion and skin were Hershey’s milk chocolate—smooth, dark, and creamy. But those eyes. Oh, those eyes. Framed by dark bushy eyebrows, they were shaped like those of a doe, with long, thick eyelashes to boot.
“Tyrone Bennett? I’ve heard Mother talk about you. It’s good to meet you,” Rachel was saying. “Won’t you have a seat? I’m sure she’ll be right back.”
“Thanks.” Forgoing the seat Tina had just abandoned, Tyrone turned around to pull a chair closer to the two women, giving Nikkie a quick but good look at his rear. Nice.
“So Hillary devotees, are you? Do you really think
she has a chance to win?” he asked after he was seated.
“Hush!” Rachel said with a chuckle. “If Mother hears you, she’ll turn you out on your ear. She doesn’t allow doubting Toms in the office.”
Tyrone let out a melodious laugh. “Yes, your mother has already let her politics be known. She’s quite . . . quite ardent.”
Damn, those beautiful eyes actually twinkle when he laughs.
“I certainly plan on voting for her,” Nikkie said, just to insert herself into the conversation. “It would be nice to have a woman running the country for a change.”
“Well,” the soft baritone said, “I hope you’re not voting for her simply because of her gender.”
Nikkie blushed. “No, of course not. I happen to really like her politics, and her stance on a lot of different issues. I think she’s compassionate without being overly liberal, she seems to have a sharp grasp of foreign affairs, and she certainly has proven that she understands the fiscal concerns of the country.”
Tyrone nodded his head. “True. And of course it doesn’t hurt that her husband is Bill Clinton, one of the most popular living presidents.”
“Oh dear. Excuse me for a moment? The campaign manager is signaling for me to come over,” Rachel said as she got up from her chair.
Nicole was too wrapped up in Tyrone Bennett’s eyes to even notice her friend had departed. “I love Bill Clinton,” Nikkie said breathlessly.
“So do I. But then, how can you not love a man who gets up on a national talk show program and plays the sax?” Tyrone threw his head back and laughed.
“I heard about that,” Nikkie said, joining in his laughter. “I mean, I was only like eight years old at the time, so I didn’t see it. But I think that won my brother over. He’s a big sax fan.”
“Really? So am I.”
“Actually, I am, too,” Nikkie said quickly.
“Then you’ve got to make it out to St. Nick’s Pub in Harlem. All of the great jazz players—”
“So who are you supporting?” Rachel asked as she returned to her seat.
Damn. He was getting ready to ask me out. I know he was. Nikkie had to control herself from shooting a dirty look at Rachel.
“I happen to like Joe Biden, the U.S. senator from Delaware on the Democrat side, and McCain on the Republican side.”
“Are you a registered Republican or Democrat?” Nikkie asked.
“Independent.”
Mrs. Riverton returned before Nikkie could ask her next question.
“Rachel, I’m going to need to talk to you again before you leave, dear,” she said with a disapproving look on her face.
Uh-oh, I know what that means. Tina must have told her what Rachel said. Nikkie gave Rachel a sympathetic look, but her friend just winked at her in return. I guess she knows how to handle it.
“So, do the two of you work here full-time or are you volunteering?” Tyrone asked.
“Volunteering,” Rachel and Nikkie said simultaneously.
“How refreshing.” Tyrone looked at Mrs. Riverton. “And they say young people are apathetic.”
Mrs. Riverton smiled. “Well, not these young people, anyway. Come on, Tyrone. Let me introduce you to our campaign fund manager. She’d be furious if she found out I had a man of your financial ability in the office without telling her.” She linked her arm in his. “I hope you brought your checkbook. And don’t worry, we have plenty of pens.”
One of the other campaign workers, a petite copper-skinned woman with shoulder-length auburn dreadlocks, scurried over after they left. “Was that Tyrone Bennett?” she
asked excitedly.
Rachel nodded.
“I thought so. I’ve seen his picture in Ebony magazine. That man is fine, isn’t he?”
“He sure is,” Nikkie agreed.
The woman continued as if she hadn’t heard her. “He was in that feature they run, ‘Most Eligible African-American Bachelors’ or something. He’s one of the most successful stockbrokers on Wall Street.”
That’s where I’ve heard his name before! That’s the guy who went with Yanna and her fiancé to see The Color Purple!
“Actually, he’s a vice president at Merrill Lynch,” Rachel said. She then leaned over and whispered in Nikkie’s ear, “So much for Tina’s theory that black men can only make money selling drugs.”
Nikkie barely heard her. Her attention was on Tyrone and Mrs. Riverton, who had emerged from the campaign fund manager’s office and were headed to the front door. Damn. She was sure she’d seen interest in his eyes when he looked at her, and thought that if they’d gotten a chance to talk a little further, he’d ask her out, but now he was leaving. “Hey, you know what?” she said as she gathered her purse. “I’ve been here since like nine-thirty this morning. I’m going to go head home. I’ll see you later, Rachel.”
She hurried to the exit, and her timing was perfect. She reached the door just as Tyrone was opening it to leave.
“Oh. Are you headed out?”
“Yes, I’ve done my time,” Nikkie said with an exaggerated sigh. “And I’m starved. I haven’t eaten anything all day.”
Tyrone cocked his head and looked at her with those beautiful, soulful eyes. Nikkie gave him her most seductive smile, hoping he’d take the hint and offer to take her out to lunch, or at least offer her a ride home. She actually only lived a few blocks away, but saw no reason to let the dear handsome stockbroker know that. At least not right now.
But seconds ticked away, and he still hadn’t asked her. Had she been mistaken about his interest in her? Her heart sunk when she saw him pull a car remote from his jeans pocket. She must have been. But, no, a woman knows when a man is sending off vibes, and he certainly had been back in the office. That’s right, he thinks I’m white, and he’s wondering if I’m going to reject him if he tries. She was just about to drop a further hint of her interest when he gave her a warm smile.
“Well, I’d be glad to—”
Before he could finish, she felt an arm wrap around her waist. Damn her luck.
“Hey, Nikkie.” Hal bent down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I thought you were going to wait for me.”
“Hi, Hal. I forgot you were coming,” she said quickly.
“How could you forget when you just called me an hour ago?” He looked at Tyrone and stuck out his hand. “Hal Richardson,” he said in a brusque, businesslike manner.
“Tyrone Bennett,” Tyrone said just as brusquely. The two shook hands.
“Tyrone Bennett?” Hal’s face wrinkled as he tried to place the name. “Right.” A toothy smile appeared on his face. “We were seated at the same table at the roast honoring the mayor a couple of years ago. We didn’t really get a chance to talk, but I wanted to—”
“I’m sorry, I can’t say that I remember you,” Tyrone said abruptly. He turned to Nikkie. “Well, Ms. Jensen, it was a pleasure meeting you.” With that, he clicked the car remote and stepped into a shiny silver Lamborghini.
“Hmph! Was it something I said?” Hal asked as Tyrone pulled off.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that he was rude to me for no reason that I can see. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t say that I remember you,’ ” Hal said, sticking his nose up in the air and mimicking Tyrone’s voice. “Whatever it is he needs to get over himself.”
There goes the most attractive man I’ve ever seen and he’s hesitant to talk to me because he thinks I’m white, and I’m stuck with a white guy who’s crazy about me and for whom I have not the slightest romantic interest.
“Well, shall we head out to lunch? Are you in the mood for some Pakistani?” Hal asked cheerfully.
“No.” Nikkie shook her head dismally. “I suddenly don’t feel well. I think I’ll just head home.”
“What’s wrong?”
Nikkie turned to him. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m just not feeling like myself today. To be honest, I haven’t really been myself for a while now. I’ll just see you in the offi
ce Monday.”
Chapter Eighteen
March 2008
It was her second time flying in first class, and the saddest day of her life. A day that she had just never imagined would happen. Could happen.
The call had come in at 3 a.m. “Nikkie,” said a sobbing voice she barely recognized as Joseph’s, “Mama’s dead.”
The telephone fell from her hand, and it was almost a full minute before the paralysis that had spread through her body eased enough for her to retrieve it. Joseph was still on the line.
Rina was killed in a car accident, Joseph managed to tell her. She’d won two hundred dollars on a scratch-off lottery ticket and insisted on taking Peter out to eat to celebrate their fortieth anniversary, which had passed two weeks before, along with Pastor Reynolds and his wife. As usual, Peter had too much to drink, but he insisted he could drive. And as usual, Rina gave in to her husband, likely not realizing just how inebriated he was. The icy wintry roads of inner-city Detroit were too much for her drunken husband of forty years.
Peter was hospitalized in a coma. “I hope the bastard dies,” Joseph said in between sobs.
Hal called as she was on the Internet trying to find a flight out, and he insisted on buying her a ticket on the very next flight out. He wanted to accompany her, and it took her a good ten minutes to convince him to remain in New York, reminding him that she’d had an estranged relationship with her family and it would be best for her to work it out with them in private.
She cried as she packed her suitcase, and in the taxi on the way to the airport, her grief at her mother’s death compounded with intense guilt. She’d known how painful the whole passing thing was for Rina, but she’d continually comforted herself by saying that it wasn’t permanent, and that Rina would forgive her once she eventually reverted back to her heritage, but death came before “eventually.” Mama was dead, and she died believing that Shanika had disowned her race.
It was right after Nikkie buckled her seat belt and just before the stewardess asked all passengers to turn off their cell phones that Joseph called to tell her the hope he’d verbalized earlier on the phone had been fulfilled. Peter had succumbed to his wounds.
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