Healing Inc.

by Tarbox, Deneice

  Healing Inc.

  By

  Deneice Tarbox

  Healing Inc.

  Copyright: Deneice Tarbox

  Published April 2, 2012

  © 2012 by Deneice Tarbox to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities that between the characters and real persons is purely coincidental. Music and places mentioned are in no way an attempt to profit by the author. All credit is given to the artist. This book contains adult situations and language that is not appropriate for children.

  Acknowledgements

  To, Burlinda, Dawn and Dan Thanks for being my test subjects and giving me the encouragement needed to complete this baby. I couldn’t have done it without you. To my husband and son, I thank you for your patience, help and support.

  Cover by: RomanceNovelCovers.com

  Dedication

  I proudly dedicate my first novel to Mr. Phil, the best brother-in-law a girl could ever have. Although you are not here to read it, the song of your laughter forever rings free in my heart. And no… we’re not fighting.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1.

  Chapter 2.

  Chapter 3.

  Chapter 4.

  Chapter 5.

  Chapter 6.

  Chapter 7.

  Chapter 8.

  Chapter 9.

  Chapter 10.

  Chapter 11.

  Chapter 12.

  Chapter 13.

  Chapter 14.

  Chapter 15.

  Chapter 16.

  Chapter 17.

  Epilogue.

  Chapter 1

  Although the day was uncommonly beautiful for March in Oklahoma City, Tyler Moriatti wasn’t feeling it. The blessing bestowed upon his $4000 Armani suit by a bird in flight first thing this morning should have been a sign that things would not be going smoothly today. At the tender age of forty, he felt that he should be above letting a little bird shit dictate how his day would go. He wasn’t. For the third time that week he was running late on account of his daughter. He could pretend all he wanted that no woman would ever control him. Cecile knew different. She knew that as his only child she was his life and quite often used that fact to get her way with him. Lucky for him, she had turned out to have one of the biggest hearts a person could have and didn’t take advantage of him as often as she could have.

  Between the increased demands of his growing business and his personal contributions to Cecile’s upcoming birthday party, he was seriously going through it. His mood was sour. He could feel his blood pressure rising, resulting in his head throbbing. Part of his current disposition was due to his aversion to tardiness. He strongly believed that such poor behavior could never have propelled him from the days of relying on public transportation to having his very own personal driver. Waiting on others and being waited on were two pet peeves of his.

  The recent increase in dealings with his ex-wife, Abby, as Cecile’s eighteenth birthday drew nearer was more than likely another factor influencing his present state of being. He found it ironic that he had fled New York City, after she left him for another man, only to end up having more contact with her lately than he ever had during their fleeting marriage. Although when she first left he felt the sting of rejection from a failed marriage, he had to admit that he was somewhat relieved that it had happened. Within a year of marriage he had started to sense a darkness within her. He thought he might be paranoid, but his suspicions of her grew to the point where he had almost sought out the protective hands of his powerful family. Eighteen years later, those ominous feelings hadn’t completely dissipated.

  “I still can’t believe that I actually fell for a Bona fide dragon lady,” he couldn’t resist saying out loud. He closed his royal blue eyes and began rubbing his temples, thanking god for the glass between him and his driver. It kept him from having to share his mood or explain his derogatory comment.

  He wasn’t use to the present pain in his head. Being at the peak of physical fitness didn’t usually lend to such ailments. Abby had called his office, just as he was about to leave for the day, to vehemently express her disapproval of the facility he was renting for Cecile’s party.

  “Cecile tells me you’re allowing her to have her party at a bar in one of those…those neighborhoods that she should not be hanging around in,” Abby started. “Have you lost your mind? Why would you allow her to do that? She was a debutant for Christ sakes! You could have easily convinced her to book one of the halls at the club Ralph and I belong to or the least you could have done was insisted that she have it at one of your hotels!”

  “Have you even shown enough interest to ask her why she wants to have it at Chanelle’s?” he asked a little too sternly. He was allowing her dig at the small diverse community to get to him. After all these years it still didn’t cease to amaze him how out of all the black women in the world he had married one with such disdain for her people. Granted she was only one quarter black, but still.

  “I don’t know what she’s talking about half the time. She said some nonsense about a band she knows or something like that… It doesn’t matter! You, as a good father, should be trying to help her better herself instead of encouraging her to dawdle in such places.”

  “First of all, that’s a lot of unwelcomed advice considering you weren’t a part of her life until two years ago. Lastly, you need to acknowledge that she is about to be an adult, one more than capable of making her own decisions. She has her reasons for wanting this and I see no justification in not supporting her.”

  With that said, he had ended to call. He hadn’t felt it necessary to remind her that he had full custody of their daughter because it would have only prolonged the agonizing exchange. Besides, he didn’t want Abby to know that the purpose of his trip to the so called ‘bar’ was twofold. Otherwise he would have entrusted such a menial task as handling the arrangements of the birthday party to his long term assistant.

  He had heard great things about Chanelle’s from his daughter. The corporation that owns Chanelle’s used a portion of the profits gained when bands perform to aid the area homeless and those deprived souls living below the poverty line. They also gave new talent a chance to gain recognition in the community, giving those musicians who are willing to work for it a leg up toward being discovered. This potential endeavor would be well outside of his accustomed business in real estate and hotel ownership, but he was actually considering investing in it if the owners were willing.

  Few knew that as a child he had lived with a black couple, the Wilsons, on and off while his mother struggled to get her act together. They couldn’t have kids of their own and welcomed the time spent introducing him to African-American cuisine, soul music, dancing and what love is supposed to feel like. Mr. Wilson had trained to be a boxer for many years and schooled him in the sport. Tyler was always grateful when his mom would leave him there for months at a time.

  They were more like parents to him than his own mother, and presented the perfect example of what a couple in love should be like. He had hoped to one day have a love like theirs but Abby had pretty much ruined that for him. Cecile and her deep desire to save the World had revived that part of his soul that longed to give back and be more like the Wilsons. Although she knew he feigned protest when she presented him with some of her granola
ideas, he would never admit to his daughter that he was forever grateful to her for saving that part of him.

  As his driver pulled into the parking lot of Chanelle’s he noted that he was close to half an hour late for his meeting with the owner. With his head pounding and his stomach in a knot, he made his way toward the moderately sized brick building, hoping she would still be there and that she would be forgiving of his unpunctuality.

  He entered the dwelling to find the front lobby empty. “Dammit!” he cursed under his breath. He was angrier with himself than he was with Anita Vasquez, with whom he was supposed to meet, for not waiting for him. After all, she did have other establishments to attend to.

  While impatiently trying to pull his cell phone from the pocket of his long designer coat, he suddenly ceased all movement. Music made its way through the large doors to his right. At first, pure curiosity started his feet in the direction of the large room. But, as he drew nearer he could hear that it was not just music or a recording, someone was singing live. The song tickling his ears was very familiar, in fact one of his favorites, Some Day We’ll Be Together by Diana Ross and the Supremes. The way that the mistress of the voice was working the song captured him at that moment and wouldn’t let him go.

  He stood in the back of the dark room with the only available light highlighting the captivating song bird and the band that backed her. She belted out the words, throwing her wild haired head back while simultaneously grabbing the microphone stand. As she brought her luscious burgundy colored lips back toward the mic, a single tear fell from the corner of her left eye. It rolled down her beautiful high boned brown cheek unnoticed by all the others in the room. The tear, however, did not escape Tyler.

  She sang on as he stood there drawn to her every word, every movement, unable to budge. The situation was bordering on scary for him. Control was something he thought he had learned to master a long time ago. Control was power, which translated into the ability to succeed, to run his businesses efficiently and to basically get whatever he wanted. He knew that loss of control in any situation thus equated to a loss of power, and he considered that to be major sign of weakness. However, he could not control this emotion stirring within him that was alien to his being. He knew compassion, had felt it and knew this was similar. What he was experiencing now was somehow different.

  His brief paralysis was not all for naught. It saved him from what could have been a very embarrassing moment. It kept him from showing his appreciation of her talent where he otherwise would have been applauding and whistling unrestrained. Unbeknownst to him at the moment, he had walked in on a memorial service. He observed the woman leaving the stage and walking straight into the open arms of an elderly couple. They all hugged each other for several minutes, while the rest of the participants bowed their heads and remained silent.

  At the conclusion of the performance, Anita felt a presence behind her. She looked back to see a tall handsome man standing there. She recognized him from some of the magazine articles that she had seen him in.

  “Oh, you made it.” she whispered as she came to stand beside Tyler. She had been sitting in the very back booth of the room in case he showed up for their meeting. She was supposed to be listening out for the phone or him to come in but had gotten caught up in the ceremony, savoring the sound her best friend’s wonderful voice. “Why don’t we go to the office.” She turned and left the large hall with Tyler following closely behind her.

  Once they entered the office, she quietly closed the door behind them. As she turned to shake his hand he noticed that her soft green eyes were filled with emotion. He could tell that she was trying to keep them in check for the sake of the business they were about to discuss. It made him feel better to know that he wasn’t the only one who had been affected by the spellbinding vocalist.

  He couldn’t help but take in Anita’s long brown hair, which she currently wore in loose curls down her back, and naturally dark tan skin. She was no doubt of Puerto Rican origin as a hint of her accent could be detected when she spoke. Standing about five foot ten in her three inch heels, she had an attractive, healthy figure which she accentuated by wearing a high end navy blue business suit that clearly stated ‘I’m good enough at what I do to afford such attire.’

  “Hi, I’m Anita but please, call me Nita,” she said as she motioned for him to have a seat. She sat on the opposite side of the modest desk. “Pardon me for not hearing you come in. It’s been a while since I had the pleasure of hearing Evy perform.”

  “After hearing her I can’t say that I blame you. She’s good! She doesn’t usually perform?” he asked incredulous.

  “Unfortunately not,” she sighed. She caught her thoughts wandering toward her friend and immediately refocused on the task at hand. “I don’t mind meeting with you tonight. My manager usually handles the bookings but she said that you wanted to see me about another matter.”

  “Yes. But, is there any way I could request that Evy, did you say her name was, sing at my daughter’s party?” he asked, still distracted by the singer. “I know the band that will be playing for my daughter‘s celebration is more of a contemporary group, but I plan to attend and would love to hear something more mature, even if it is just one song.”

  “I’m sorry Mr. Moriatti but I have to abide by her wishes. She doesn’t do performances,” was all Nita could offer him. She knew from his reputation that he was a man who was not used to hearing the word ‘no’. Rumors labeled him as a borderline lunatic because he packed heat and could be quick tempered on occasion. His family’s reputation as mobsters didn’t help his case. However, she refused to be intimidated by him. Some of her brothers had reputations of their own, not to mention she would not allow such nonsense to sway her commitment to her friend which ran much deeper than anything this man that sat before her desired.

  A thought occurred to her, sending up a red flag. “Did you intentionally come here to ask if Evy would sing?” she managed to ask calmly, hiding the slight panic creeping up on her.

  “Ummm, actually no,” he replied with a bit of caution. Nita had asked the question gently enough but the slight change in her mannerism told him that he probably should relent.

  He put on his business face and moved on to the next topic. “I know this might sound peculiar coming from someone like me but I was hoping for a chance to invest in your establishment. My daughter has informed me of some of the things that you do for the community and I must say I find them rather appealing.”

  “With all due respect, Mr. Moriatti…”

  “Tyler,” he corrected continuing to keep his temper in check.

  “With all due respect… Tyler, such actions would have to be approved by the board. You see Chanelle’s belongs to Healing Inc., which is a very tight knit group. It is extremely rare for them to allow other members in. Although I am a member, alone I am simply the overseer or CEO, as you would have, of the corporation. My position does not allow me to make such consequential decision.”

  “Then I would like to have a meeting with the board!” he demanded.

  “Again, I must apologize. The board does not meet with the general public. I handle all their public affairs.”

  “Wow! Tough group.” He sat bewildered, yet intrigued by the mystery that surrounded Healing Inc. He had heard rumors about the secrecy of the corporation but now he was witnessing it firsthand. Nita had been nice enough to him but she had in not so many words made it clear why she wore that power suit so well. For the second time that evening he knew he needed to back off. He actually found himself full of envy toward her employers, wishing he had someone as good as her working for him.

  “I hope this doesn’t change anything as far as your daughter’s party is concerned.”

  “Not at all,” he assured her.

  The two of them sat in the office and went over the final arrangements for the pending occasion. Nita gave him more detailed information about some of the philanthropy that Healing Inc. participated in. She offered
him the option of donating to such causes out of his own pocket or volunteering at some of the places that they funded. By the time they concluded their little meeting all the other occupants of the building had departed, including the talented singer.

  Chapter 2

  Evelyn Stone, (Evy), was grateful for the way the Sunday before Labor Day had turned out. The weather was perfect, not too hot, not too cold. She started the day with her usual routine, a four mile run, practicing martial arts forms and ending it all with fifteen minutes of essential meditation. Figuring on being alone and secluded, she quickly showered, threw on comfortable clothing and headed for the shop.

  Shelly, who also managed the night club Chanelle’s, had wanted to give everyone who worked regularly in the consignment shop time off for the holiday weekend. However, she was afraid of what she would come back to on Tuesday. Evy had volunteered to cover for them. After all, today was her thirty sixth birthday. What else did she have to do? The work would be a welcome distraction and it would give her plenty of time to study for the humanities class she had just started. She already had her MBA but it didn’t hurt to continue expanding the mind, was her philosophy.