by Zuri Day
“Out of prison?”
He nodded. “Brought me up here. A whole different world from where I came from. Mr. Niko started mentoring me. Then Mr. Terrell and Mr. Ike Sr., they all helped show me what a real man looked like.”
Devante turned into the parking lot of the community center. He pulled up to the entrance, but Nicki continued the conversation. Just when she thought she’d seen it all, the Drakes found another way to impress her. “You work for one of them now?”
“I’m going to college full-time and work for them part-time running errands, driving, cleaning the center, whatever they want me to do.”
“What’s your major?”
“Criminal justice. Want to be able to help some other young guys the way Monique and the Drakes helped me.”
“You’re clearly a good man, even if you did some bad things. I’m glad the system didn’t claim you.”
“That’s for sure. It’s claimed too many. Here, let me get that door for you.”
Nicki tipped a reluctant Devante, thinking that the criminal system often punished good men like him when jerks like Vince got to walk around free. Some bad apples could do just about anything, could go anywhere they wanted. Which for Nicki would soon present a problem even more bothersome than the Ask Ashley blog.
Chapter 21
Nothing could dim Nicki’s outlook that Monday. She left the Drake Community Center feeling better than she’d felt since her date with a runaway bike. Her mood was so bright she had Devante stop at the new organic grocer. Julian had doubted she knew her way around a kitchen, but she planned to show him a thing or two. He’d arrived at the center shortly after she left, had called while she scanned fresh veggies. Told her what time he expected to arrive home. Asked what she wanted him to bring home. Her answer didn’t require him to stop anywhere. She didn’t even need tequila.
An hour later, freshly showered and changed, Nicki stepped back and admired her handiwork. Jennifer had scoffed at Nicki’s choice of black china, but Nicki’s taste often went against the grain. She liked how the dark backdrop made the colors of her simple salad pop. The dark green spinach, red cherry tomatoes and yellow sweet peppers drizzled with a creamy homemade vinaigrette. Walking past the dining room area into the kitchen, she lifted the lid of a cast-iron pot. Inhaling the mixture brought out a big smile. The Italian sausage and fresh herbs in the cheesy tortellini dish gave off a highly complex aroma. Who’d know that she’d used words like fast and easy when searching for something to show off her limited cooking skills? Certainly not Julian. If he wasn’t properly impressed with her homemade dinner, then her outfit and the dessert she planned to serve bedside would certainly raise her score.
Nicki poured herself a glass of sparkling juice, picked up her cell phone from the kitchen island and walked into the living room to catch the news. Normally not much of a TV watcher and totally uninterested in politics, she’d been drawn into the California senatorial race and watched nightly results along with every other Drake in the States. She clicked the remote and switched to a local station. Minutes into watching an editorial piece comparing Niko and the rest of the candidates, her message indicator pinged.
She tapped her phone, still focused on the announcer, who seemed to offer a balanced, unbiased perspective on those running for office. She looked down. Unknown number. The same message that had showed when Vince’s texts started up again the day she met Jennifer for lunch. Her heart sank. Please don’t let it be him. Not here. Not now. Begrudgingly, she opened the text.
So you’re in Paradise Cove with your doctor boyfriend and his rich clique. Looks like the nerd doctor has a wild side! Went online and checked out the town. Quaint, upscale, a bit on the small side. But perhaps a perfect place to get away from these fools still jocking me about the money I owe. Saying they’re now going to start charging interest. Lucky for me the timing might be perfect. If I come there will you show me around?
Nicki tossed down the phone in disgust. She’d show him around, all right. Show him the main road that led out of town. She tried to refocus on the news show. Hard to do with Vince’s words running around in her head.
“He wouldn’t come here. That party boy? No way.” Nicki’s shoulders relaxed. Easy breathing returned. Ten minutes in a place like Paradise Cove, and Vince would be bored to death.
* * *
Jennifer was known as a magician and miracle worker, able to pull off the impossible time and again. But what Julian witnessed at the community center when he crossed paths with his girl increased his regard for his mother. Exponentially. He was just about ready to put her on par with a saint. The Nicki he’d fallen in love with had come out of the dark.
He’d first noticed a change after Nicki and Jennifer’s country-club lunch date. She’d greeted him that night with a light in her eyes, an excitement that he’d only seen before when discussing her passion or just after she got hired for a Broadway show. An excitement that emanated like fire from her body that scorched and sizzled when they made love. For the first time in six years, the very first time, Julian had allowed himself to truly believe. To actually entertain the idea that his girl—the woman who stole his heart the first time he saw her dancing across campus to a song in her head that only she heard—might leave New York and move to Paradise Cove. He hadn’t felt this optimistic since...since that magical night in Times Square. That was the best time ever. Until it wasn’t. Until she clarified what her hug under the flashing neon lights meant. That she didn’t want to embarrass him, but she didn’t want to marry him, either.
As Julian entered the parking lot of the Drake Community Center and pulled into one of the reserved spaces, his joy had dropped a bit. There was room for optimism, but maybe not a dance in the end zone. Then he’d arrived at the center and saw that light in her eyes. Against his will and self-delivered admonitions not to, that optimistic belief bubbled up again.
Walking into the center, he passed the administrative offices, waved at Miss Marva and continued to Terrell’s office farther down the hall. He tapped the open door.
“Come on in, JuJu.” Terrell greeted him as he typed on his laptop.
Julian’s expression was a cross between a smile and a wince. “Cut out that bull crap. I hated when you called me that as a kid.”
“And as an adult?”
“I hate it even more.” They both laughed at that. Julian plopped into one of the leather chairs facing Terrell’s desk.
“I thought you were here for a therapy session.”
“I am.”
“With Lopez?”
Julian shook his head. “Marion, the kid from Sacramento.”
Terrell stopped typing. Swiveled his chair around to face Julian. “Marion Tucker. Moved here to live with his aunt. Real chip on his shoulder, that kid.”
“That chip is a shield. You know why he moved here, right?”
Terrell nodded. “I’m glad you’re here to help him, bro.”
“Me, too. I’m told he hasn’t been the same since his best friend got killed. And right in front of him? Stray bullet fired from an officer’s gun?”
“That’s why his aunt petitioned the court for temporary custody, to try to save his life. She’s got a difficult journey ahead of her.”
“There’s still time. Fourteen is an extremely critical age for any youth, but especially for today’s young black male. He’s a tough case. Lots of anger, sadness, pain. But it’s not too late to save him. The aunt bringing him to a smaller town from a big city was a good move. Less distractions and opportunities for trouble. Even better that she brought him here, where he can see positive male role models.”
“Speaking of role models, remember me telling you that I was going to place an ad on CarlsList for an athletic director?”
“No, I don’t remember. Doesn’t mean you didn’t tell me, though.”
&n
bsp; “Yeah, that’s right. With Nicki around you tend to not think straight.”
“Yeah, whatever, man.”
Terrell chuckled. “Well, I did. Posted it there in the hopes of attracting someone from the bigger cities—San Jose, Sacramento, even Oakland.”
“And?”
“I got interest from a big city, all right. All the way out East.”
“Really? Who?”
“Vince Edwards.”
Julian thought for a moment. “The basketball player?” Terrell nodded. “He’s living here?”
“Not yet. But he’s checking the town out as a definite possibility.”
“But he’s East Coast, Philly—hated the West Coast during his playing years.”
“I think what he hated was the Lakers and that whooping the guards put on him every time he came to town.”
“Ha! That’s probably true. I’m surprised he was looking at CarlsList.”
“Tell me about it. And even so, I’m surprised he was looking for jobs on the West Coast. Guess you have to follow the money, and goodness knows he burned enough bridges back in his playing days to need a scenery change.”
“How long has he been out of the game? Four, five years?”
“Something like that. Did a little search after the call. Read that he played a couple seasons over in Europe. Got into tax trouble with the IRS. Had to file bankruptcy. Lost that big old house featured on Ballers Got Bank. Remember that?”
“No, and from the sound of it, that’s a good thing. Damn. It’s a shame to make the kind of money he did and end up broke.”
“Without proper financial guidance, it’s the only thing that can happen. You can’t learn how to manage money if you’ve never had any.”
“Is he coming in for an interview?”
Terrell nodded. “Next week. Could be a good addition to the center. He’s been out of the league for a while, but he’s still a star to the kids.”
“A star, maybe, but not necessarily a good role model. If he was, he’d still be playing instead of being a talented but poisoned point guard no one wants to sign.”
“I thought about that, but he’s older. Wiser. Figured there’d be no better way to show what not to do than somebody like him whose questionable choices cost him millions of dollars and a career. He grew up poor, troubled, like Marion and many of the other kids this center serves. They’ll listen to someone like him.”
“You know Mom talked to Nicki, wants her to be the center’s artistic director.”
“Is that a possibility?”
“Looks like it might be.”
“I didn’t think Miss Broadway could breathe for too long outside New York’s air.”
Julian summoned up his best Terrell impression. “I’m giving her a special kind of oxygen.”
“Wow. Just say no, okay?”
Julian grinned broadly. “I did you pretty good, huh?”
“Keep your day job, JuJu.”
Julian stood and headed to the door. “Uh-huh. Call me that again, and I’ll tell Aliyah about the time down at Grandpa’s when you thought Teresa’s jump rope was a snake and peed the bed.”
“On that note, Dr. Drake, I believe your counseling session begins shortly.”
“I thought so.”
* * *
Nicki heard a car in the driveway and the garage door raising a few seconds later. She turned off the TV and, ignoring the crutches, hopped into the dining room and lit two tapered candles placed on either side of a vase of fresh sunflowers. The door from the garage opened as she reached the dimmer. As Julian turned the corner, the lights faded.
His stop was abrupt, almost midstride. “Wow.”
“Like my outfit?”
She watched the slow sweep of Julian’s eyes over her body. “I love it.”
A squiggle of excitement flip-flopped in her gut. Julian walked over to where she stood by the dimmer. Reached out and fingered the nearly sheer minidress made of silky organza. Slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close.
“I love you.”
He kissed her. Pulled back and kissed her again. Soon tongues dueled. Nipples pebbled. Sexes dewed and stiffened.
“The food,” Nicki murmured, pulling away. “I made tortellini.”
“You made it. Like, cooked it?”
“All by myself. And set a beautiful table, which you haven’t mentioned, by the way.” She swept her hand across the room. “The mood I’ve set. The romantic atmosphere.”
Julian turned and took in the plated salad. The flowers and dim light. “It’s real nice, baby, but can I be honest? From the moment I turned the corner, all I saw was you.”
He wrapped her in his arms again.
“Good answer, Doctor.” Nicki deftly escaped him and walked toward the stove. “Good tactic, too. But you’ll have to eat dinner before getting dessert.”
Dinner was scrumptious. Dessert was even better. Nicki forgot that Vince had texted. The ex-ballplayer being interviewed to work at the center never entered Julian’s mind. All on the lovers’ minds that night was each other.
But that same night, on the other side of the country, the doctor and dancer were very much on someone else’s mind.
Chapter 22
The next morning, Nicki was up before Julian. A rarity. But after waking sometime shortly after the birds, ideas for the community center’s arts program began to fuel her passion and chased sleep away. Plus, her ankle was healing. A clear cure for the doldrums. She’d put a little weight on it late last night. Not for long, and there’d been discomfort, but that she could at all was a clear sign of progress. That and the lessening need for pain medication. She’d gone the whole weekend without a pill. The haze receded, and when she went into the bathroom for a quick shower and looked in the mirror, she felt and saw her true self for the first time in weeks.
Downstairs she put on water for tea, then sat on a tall chair at the island and turned on her tablet. She started a search for nearby dance colleges with artistic programs. She and Jennifer hadn’t discussed an overall budget for the program or even specifics about what she would be paid. Even if there were no funds currently available, Nicki still believed she could find talented students in college programs willing to teach for credit and experience. She quickly found several that offered degrees in theater, dance and performance. Perfect for the artistic mediums she suggested first be offered at the center—theater, music and dance. She focused on those closest to Paradise Cove, found the email addresses to who she thought were the appropriate faculty and began formulating an introductory letter.
The kettle whistled. Julian ambled down the stairs and entered the kitchen just as she poured a cup.
“Tea?” she asked, still holding the kettle.
He walked over and kissed her forehead. “Got any with caffeine?”
“Green tea. Even better.”
“I believe it, if that’s what has you looking so perky.” He slumped into the chair next to Nicki’s tablet and suppressed a yawn. “Why are you up so early?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Working on the dance curriculum for the center has me all excited. Working with others in the art is the next best thing to dancing myself.”
He nodded toward the tablet. “Can I look?”
“Sure.” She bought the covered mugs over and set them on the table. “I’m looking for college students as teachers who might work for credit instead of pay.”
“Thinking like a true nonprofiteer, babe.”
“I’ve gone through life on a shoestring budget. Can pinch Lincoln off a penny and Roosevelt off a dime.”
Julian took a moment and read what Nicki had written so far. “Who’s this letter that you’re drafting for?”
“Faculty members at the schools I’ve chosen�
�Santa Rosa Junior, University of the Pacific and both San Jose and Sacramento State.” Nicki poured agave and lemon juice into the cups. “I’m also thinking about tapping into the community of retired artists for people who can mentor as well as teach.”
“Speaking of mentoring and teaching, guess who might be heading up our athletic department?”
“Who?”
“You might not even know the name, since you’re not into sports. A former pro basketball player named Vince Edwards.”
Nicki almost spewed out her Citrus Sunshine and wished she could be so lucky. She also wished she could respond, say something witty. Or even better, something real. Clearly this was the moment of truth. But if she told him, then what? They’d call off the interview? Which would incite what kind of reaction from Vince? One where he told Julian what Nicki had failed to disclose? She should have told him everything as soon as it happened. She realized that, but now the timing sucked.
“Nicki, did you hear me?”
“Hmm, sorry babe, got distracted. Something about a basketball player coming to the center?”
Julian swiped a finger over Nicki’s cheek as he slid off the school. “Never mind, babe. I have to get going, but we can talk later. That tea was good, but tomorrow I’ll expect the chef to serve breakfast.”
Nicki laughed as she got up and walked him to the door. “One good meal and I’m a chef now?”
“You are in my book.” He pressed his lips against hers in a quick kiss. “It’s good to see my Nicki back. Love you, baby.”
“Love you, too.”
Nicki held her poise until Julian had backed out of the driveway and started down the street. Then she let out an anguished sound of frustration, a cross between a growl and a screech. The interview must have been scheduled before he’d texted her yesterday. The community center looking for an athletic director was the perfect timing of which Vince spoke.