by Donna Hill
He listened to her and Grant compare notes about the places they’d been in Europe—she as a student, he while on his tour of duty in the air force—places he’d only heard about or seen pictures of.
Grant entertained the diners with heroic stories of Desert Storm, of being under enemy fire. Briefly, Quinn wondered if it was anything like being shot at by a rival gang. Did you get the same rush, have the same fear?
Nikita’s mother just fell all over herself making sure that Grant had anything he needed, and had elected herself chief moderator to keep up a steady flow of “remember whens” any time conversation began to lag.
Finally, the ordeal was over. Quinn stood off to the side watching them all say their goodbyes.
“It was good to see you again, Nikita,” he heard Grant say. “I’m glad to see that you’re looking so well.”
Nikita smiled. “Thank you. It was good to see you, too, Grant.” And she really meant it. She hadn’t realized just how deep her feelings had been for Grant Coleman until he’d walked into the room and she was in his presence again. She repeated her mantra, “That was behind her now.” She had Quinn.
She turned, sensing him watching her, and her heart nearly broke. He looked so lost, almost as if he’d stumbled into the wrong party and wasn’t quite sure what to do. It wasn’t in his manner, or his unaffected stance. It registered in the hollowness of his eyes.
How different they were. But maybe they weren’t. How comfortable would Grant be in the midst of Quinn’s world?
“I really have to go, Grant. We have a long drive.”
“I’ll walk you to the door. I wanted to say goodbye to Quinn.”
Grant stuck out his hand. “It was nice meeting you. Take care of this lady.” He smiled, looking at Nikita. “She’s something special.”
“Yeah. She’s somethin’. You ready?”
Nikita nodded.
“Later,” he said to Grant.
“Take care, Grant.” She walked behind Quinn to the door.
“You too, Niki.”
“I hope you see what I mean, Grant,” Cynthia said, sidling up next to him as he stared at the closed door. “She has no business with…that, that…thug.”
Grant blinked away visions of Nikita and turned his attention toward her mother. He smiled sadly, putting his arm around Cynthia’s narrow shoulders. “Let’s leave it alone, Mrs. Harrell. Whether you want to accept it or not, Nikita is happy.”
Cynthia puffed up her chest. “She’d be happier with you. I know she would. And you do, too, Grant.”
“Niki will have to figure that out for herself.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for a lovely evening. And Happy New Year. I’ll be leaving day after tomorrow for Virginia to finish up my tour.”
“And then what? You’ll be back, won’t you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think so, Mrs. Harrell. Not this time.”
Quinn couldn’t get home fast enough to get out of the monkey suit. He felt like a model in a catalog ad.
Never again. The last place he would ever set foot in was her parents’ home. He didn’t give a damn how important it was to Nikita.
Nikita didn’t know what to say. Should she apologize? Should she ask if he enjoyed himself? No. That was a stupid question.
She wanted to say something—anything to break the tension-filled silence. Quinn hadn’t uttered a word since they got in the car.
They shouldn’t have gone. She should have never subjected him to “them.” And then Grant showed up. But all she’d wanted to do was show him off. Show her parents that she made the right choice, that Quinn was about something. All of her energy and input over the previous months proved what she’d known all along—Quinn Parker could be somebody.
“Can I turn on the radio?” she asked, her voice a thready whisper.
“Whatever.”
She reached over and pushed the on button. Soft jazz wafted through the speakers. She sat back and tried to relax.
Quinn reached over and pressed the scan button until it locked onto his favorite rap station. Then he pumped up the volume until he could hear nothing but bass, not even the sound of his own restless breathing.
Nikita opened her mouth to say something, looked at his scowling features and changed her mind. She’d save whatever it was she’d decided to say until they got home.
By the time they pulled to a stop in front of their door she had a booming headache, intensified by the relentless blast of the music. She opened her door, grateful to get out. Quinn’s voice stopped her.
“I’ll see you later.”
She turned. “What?”
“I said, I’ll…see…you…later.”
“You’re going to leave? Just like that? I think we need to talk, Quinn.” Her heart started pounding in concert with her headache.
“I don’t think so.”
She stared at him, her mind scrambling for something to say, something to make him stay.
Nothing.
“You’re letting all the cold air in,” he said without looking at her.
She pressed her lips together, grabbed her purse and got out.
Before she even set a good foot on the sidewalk he’d sped off down the street.
He knew if he’d stayed it would have been something. He would have said something that he might regret later. He needed a clear head when he talked to Nikita. If she had been any other woman, any other person, he would have truly lost it. But even though there was no respect given to him, he’d tried to maintain it, even if that meant leaving, now…and in the future.
Maxine stretched out her hand and looked at the perfect little diamond on her ring finger.
If you turned it just right it picked up all kinds of light, making it look as if there were truly a rainbow inside. She smiled.
Engaged. Hot damn. She was getting married. Maxine Martin. Hmm. It would take some getting used to, for sure. Maybe she’d hyphenate her last name or something.
She could just see herself now, walking down the aisle, in a white dress, of course, with everybody boo-hooing because she looked so beautiful.
She’d never planned a wedding before. Matter of fact, she’d never even been a bridesmaid. She was definitely going to need some help. They hadn’t set a date yet, but hey, it was never too early to start preparing.
She plopped down on her bed. She needed somebody to talk to. Val was out of town. She’d called her mother already with the news, and Dre had to drive up to Philly to see his family and wouldn’t be back until New Year’s Eve. He’d begged her to go, but she wasn’t quite ready to “meet the folks” yet.
Now, she wished she had gone. Damn. She didn’t feel like being alone. Not on Christmas. Not on the biggest day of her life…so far.
She reached for the remote control on top of the headboard and aimed it at the television. The doorbell rang in time with the volume.
She couldn’t imagine who it was. Everybody that she knew was away, or otherwise occupied.
She pushed up from the bed and walked, barefoot, down the hall.
“Who?”
“It’s me, Q.”
She opened the door, but her heart was beating so fast she just stood there with her hand on the doorknob. God, she’d missed him.
“Hey, Max. Merry Christmas.” He kinda smiled at her, the same smile she saw in her dreams.
“Hey, yourself.” Her eyes ran up and down his long frame.
“You…busy?”
She blinked. “No. Come on in.” She patted her hair and stepped aside.
Maxine followed him down the hall and into the living room.
He took off his full-length black shearling coat and folded it across the back of the couch, then sat down.
Maxine just stood there looking at him, trying to figure out why he’d come. And where was Nikita?
“Can I get you somethin’…hot? I know that wind and snow is kickin’ out there.”
“Naw. I’m cool.”
She sat do
wn on the love seat and tucked her feet under her.
“Long time, Q,” she said, with a tinge of regret in her voice. “How you been?”
“Hangin’ in. I just wanted to stop by and see you…for the holidays. You know…with Lacy being gone and all…you’re like family.”
Family. She wanted to scream. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” She took a breath and put a smile on her face. “So how was your first live-in Christmas?”
“Nothin’ like what I expected.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Depends.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I didn’t come out in all this freezin’ snow to talk about me.” He grinned. “What’s been happenin’? How’s business?”
Maxine leaned back and began to chat on about everything, from the kooky customers at the bank to her booming business. She had Quinn rolling with her anecdotes and longshoreman lingo. He hadn’t felt this good, this loose, in months…since…the last time he saw her. The realization hit him with a one-two, tempering his laughter. What was happening to his life? Where had it gone?
“Q? You okay?”
He blinked and focused in on her. “Yeah. Just thinkin’. Glad to hear everything’s working out for you, Max. Real glad, ya know.” He swallowed and took a breath. “So, how’s André?”
For the first time since Quinn stepped through the doorway, she remembered André.
Maxine took a quick breath. She couldn’t hide it from him, and really there was no reason to. He was just a friend. A friend with a woman in his life, just like she had a man.
She proudly stuck out her hand, the diamond twinkling in the light. “I’m getting married.”
Time suddenly came to a screeching halt, then spun blindly backward. In his mind’s eye he saw Maxine at each stage of his life. Always there. Always there. Until now.
The words felt as if they were sticking in his throat, but he forced them out, anyway.
“That’s phat, Max. Congrats. Where’s the lucky man?”
“He had to go to Philly to see his folks.”
Quinn nodded, not really hearing, struggling to put the right words together. “So…When’s the big day?”
“We haven’t set a date yet.”
He nodded, then stood up. “Hey, I better get rollin’.”
She watched him put on his coat, straighten his shoulders, then look at her.
Her heart thumped wildly. What was it that she saw in his eyes? Everything seemed to be moving in some sort of slow motion. She saw him coming toward her and stand there looking down into her face. The very essence of him wrapped around her. Hypnotized, she watched his finger extend and run along the line of her jaw. The corner of his mouth quirked upward—sad almost, she thought.
His voice came to her, then, low, private, personal. “I knew some lucky man would snatch you up. Be happy, Max.”
She swallowed and reality slipped back into place. “I will.”
He leaned down and dropped a featherlight kiss on her lips. A shiver ran through her.
He pressed just a little harder, his lips slightly parting against hers. And then he moved away.
“Take care, baby.”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “You, too.” She moved back and looked at the floor, clasping her hands behind her back.
Quinn started moving down the hallway, with that slow, easy walk.
She took her time following him. She didn’t know what she was going to do when she got to that door, but she knew he’d better cross it to the other side before something jumped off that they couldn’t handle.
He pulled his coat collar closer to his neck, turned and smiled, those dimples going full blast.
“Later, Max. And have a good New Year.” He looked at her a minute and shook his head. “Gettin’ married…I’ll be damned. See ya.”
She waved because she couldn’t say anything, then shut the door behind him.
What in the hell had just happened? She wasn’t imagining things. Two minutes ago she would have bet her last dollar that Quinn wanted to be with her, really be with her. Then, next thing she knew, he was grinning as if everything were just lovely.
But everything is lovely, fool. You and your man are getting married. You were just readin’ somethin’ into that kiss that wasn’t there. That’s all…that’s all.
Quinn drove through the snow-white streets of the city. Twinkling lights hanging from rooftops, in windows and on doors cast kaleidoscopic colors across the brilliant white night.
Looking outward, with the city wrapped in purity, the bleakness, grit and grime were temporarily camouflaged, turning what looked like a war zone most of the time into a Hallmark card.
The windshield wipers swished hypnotically back and forth, pulling him under their spell, tossing his thoughts back…and forth.
He was glad for her. Really. Maxine deserved all the happiness. André seemed like a nice enough brother.
Then why did it feel like he’d lost another something special in his life that mattered? First his mother, then his sister, now Maxine. All in different ways, but the end result was the same.
How long would it be before Nikita was gone, too?
Where was he with that? Part of him wanted to grab on to everything he could from his relationship with her, not take for granted that it would always be there. The way he had in the past.
Then there was that other part, the part that had taken the full force of his hurts. That part told him, “Keep it close to your chest. Don’t let go, ’cause when you do, you lose.”
Yeah, that was the unwritten rule of the street, the code of survival, what had kept him safe. And every time he strayed away from that clear, cool, irrefutable logic, he paid the price.
He went home that night and buried his confusion, his fears and his pain deep within Nikita, for those moments washing them all away.
And Nikita knew he loved her with every movement of his powerful body, every moan, every utterance of her name. Even if he never said the words.
They never spoke of that night again. Because everything was going to be all right.
Chapter 24
Just Like That
The club was quiet after rehearsal. Everyone was packing up to leave. Nick pulled up a chair, sat next to Quinn and plopped the cassette tape in his hand.
“You did some fantastic work, man. We’ll be going into the studio in about two weeks. I want this as part of the album.”
Quinn looked at the tape in his hand and then at Nick. “You sure?”
“Hey, listen, I told you in the beginning you had talent. All you’ve done is used what you knew and blown it up. So, yeah, I’m sure.” He smiled.
Quinn looked at Nick, the moment of disbelief slowly dissolving into acceptance. His work was actually gonna be on an album. He grinned. “Thanks, Nick. For everything, man. Really.”
“You did it.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll work out all the financial details to something that we’re all comfortable with. I’ll have my attorney draw up the agreement papers for you to take a look at.”
Quinn nodded.
“In the meantime, I’ll be working out the recording schedule. I should know something definite by next week, so you’ll have time to adjust what you have to do.”
“No problem. Whenever. I’ll be there.”
Nick stood. “This could be the start of something big for you, brother. Just hang in.”
“Yeah. I will.”
“Later. I have to run. See you Wednesday night.”
Quinn sat, immobile, digesting what had just happened. Sure, Nick had said he wanted to use his work, but a little twinge of doubt had had him thinking otherwise. Maybe the doubt didn’t have anything to do with Nick coming through, but with doubt in himself.
Hey, this was real. His music—the music he’d only heard in his head—was going to be heard by millions of people. Him. Quinten Parker. He wanted to jump up and shout. He’d done it. He’d actually done it.
He picked up his jacket from the ba
ck of the chair and headed for the door.
Some celebrating was in order.
Nikita tried to keep her mouth from gaping open as she listened to Lillian.
“I’m planning to retire at the end of the year, Nikita.”
“But why? What are you going to do about the magazine?”
Lillian sat down, took off her glasses and put them on top of a stack of papers on her desk. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. And I’d like to make you an offer.”
Nikita’s stomach started to jump. “Me? What offer?”
“I’d like you to buy the business from me.”
Nikita blinked. “Buy the business—”
“I know you can handle it, Nikita. You’ve done a remarkable job during the past year and a half. Sales are up. Circulation has expanded. You’ve hired an excellent assistant. The issues look wonderful. The entire business is running more smoothly because of you. You have vision, Nikita, a strong will, and determination that is rarely seen in someone so young. I have no doubt that you’ll continue to do a fantastic job. And most of all, I trust you. If you don’t buy it, I’ll just let it go.”
She swallowed down the knot in her throat. “That means a great deal to me, Ms. Ingram. I wanted to do a good job.” She sucked on her bottom lip, slowly shaking her head. “But I don’t have the kind of money to buy your business from you.” She looked at Lillian with sad eyes, the brief moment of elation vaporizing.
Lillian smiled. “I’ll sell the business to you for a hundred thousand dollars.” She stood up, crossed the semi-carpeted floor and took her wool coat from the brass coatrack by the door. She turned to Nikita. “You’re a resourceful young woman, Nikita. You’ll think of something.”
Nikita tapped her ankle-booted foot against the wood floor, while her recently French-manicured nails tapped out a beat on her desktop.
Her thoughts raced around in her head, keeping a steady pace with her heart. One minute her spirits soared when she envisioned herself as a publisher. A real live publisher! She looked toward the wide plate-glass window. This was her dream. She was here. She’d made all the right moves, all the right choices, and she’d gotten what she’d desired.