by J. D. Mason
“Wassup?”
“Have you seen Lola?”
“Nah,” he said indifferently. “She ain’t been open all day.”
Omar drove to her house and rang the doorbell. He had no idea if she’d overheard his conversation with Brewer, not that he’d said anything wrong, but he wanted to make sure that nothing from that conversation could be misconstrued to be anything other than what it was. He stood there for five minutes ringing the bell, but she didn’t answer. He tried her phone again but got nothing. That look she gave him as she left the bar didn’t sit well with him. She looked as if she’d come to some kind of conclusion about him and he desperately needed to know what that was.
CHAPTER TEN
The odds were heavily stacked against Lola. They had been from the beginning and she’d been fighting a war on her own that she was never supposed to win. Seeing Omar with the mayor earlier that afternoon just drove the point home that Omar Reid still had a deal to close. He’d been sweet and he’d been romantic, and yes, he may have been genuinely interested in Lola, but he had an agenda, and that was to get that superstore built on the lot she barely owned.
Lola had been packing up what was left of her inventory for hours. She glanced at the clock. It was well after three in the morning and Lola was exhausted. She’d known since they’d come back from Galveston that she was going to accept the offer from Star Industries. Omar had been right, that something was better for nothing. Lola had no idea where or even if she could open up her shop again, but she needed that money to help pay off all the debt she’d incurred from trying to keep this place.
The smell of smoke didn’t get her attention at first. Lola finished packing another box before the smoke began to burn her eyes.
“What the—?”
She walked over to the door, reached for the knob, and immediately jerked her hand back. The doorknob was too hot to touch. Lola slowly backed away and saw smoke billowing up from underneath the door, quickly filling the room.
“No,” she said in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. Lola’s heart started to race and panic rushed over her. She started to cough. Her store was burning!
“Jesus!” she said, looking for something to use to open that door. It was her only way out, but she had no idea what was on the other side of that door. Tears filled her eyes, from smoke and fear. Her purse was in the other room with her phone in it. “Oh, God! Oh!”
Lola found a pack of paper towels that she tore open and wrapped around her hands. She stood behind the door as she slowly pulled it open, letting in a wall of smoke into the room.
The sounds of sirens whirred in the distance. She was trapped in here! Lola could hardly breathe. She couldn’t see.
“Somebody’s inside!” she heard a man’s voice say.
“Help me.” Her voice trailed off into violent coughs.
She couldn’t breathe! Lola couldn’t stand, she …
* * *
A rush of cool air washed over her and filled her lungs. She coughed again, opened her eyes, and stared up into the face of a paramedic. “Can you sit up, miss?”
She did sit up, but immediately wished she hadn’t. Lola’s mall was enveloped in a billow of smoke. Flames shot through the roof.
“No,” she gasped.
“You need to sit still, Miss,” he said to her.
Lola ignored him, managed to get to her feet, and stumble toward her boutique, until a policeman grabbed hold of her and stopped her.
“You need to get back!” he demanded. “Get her out of here!”
Lola was in shock as someone pulled her back away from the scene. It was gone! It was all gone! She had lost everything. Just like that, everything she’d worked so hard for, fought so hard for was gone.
“Lola!”
She started to shake when suddenly someone grabbed hold of her arm, and turned her away from the burning building. Lola looked up into the face of Omar.
“Are you all right? Were you in there? Was anyone else inside?”
What was he doing here? Lola stared at him as if she were seeing him for the first time.
“Are you all right, baby?”
Her thoughts flashed back to him sitting with the mayor, two old friends having beers, talking about her—her property, getting her out of this place, and then this happened.
“What happened?” he asked.
Lola didn’t even think about it before her hand landed on the side of his face. “You did this,” she snarled.
He looked stunned. “What?”
“You fuckin’ did this, Omar!” she shouted hysterically. “You did—” Lola slapped him again, and then again.
“Lola!” He grabbed her by the wrists. “I had nothing to do with this!” he shouted, stunned by her reaction to him.
“You wanted me out! You wanted me gone, Omar!” she cried. “You wanted this place.” She pointed back at the smoldering property. “Now you have it!” Lola broke down sobbing. “It’s gone.” She shrugged. “Everything I had is gone.”
She jerked away from him, and walked away, staring helplessly as her building burned to the ground.
* * *
In a small town, news travels like fire, and Omar received a call that Green Groves strip mall was on fire. He’d called Lola, and when she didn’t answer, he got into his car and came here. There was no saving this place. Lola was beyond consoling, and she’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested in being consoled by him.
“Was anybody else inside?” he asked one of the firemen.
The man shook his head. “Just her.” He motioned toward Lola. “A few more minutes and we’d have lost her.”
She’d been inside that building? Her car was parked outside that building, not in the back, but in the front. Omar suddenly had a bad feeling about all this. He suspected that Lola had that same feeling, only she blamed him. This fire was too convenient to have been an accident. And the fact that she’d been inside just made this whole thing seem even more suspicious to Omar. He needed to talk to her. Maybe she’d seen someone. Spoken to someone.
“Lola,” he called out to her as he approached.
She shook her head. “Stay away from me,” she cried.
Omar felt helpless. “Lola, I’m trying to help!”
She shook her head and walked away.
“Lola!” A young woman climbed out of a car and rushed over to her. “Oh, my God!” She covered her mouth with her hands as she stared at the building. The fire was out, but the property still smoldered. The woman came over to Lola and hugged her. “I’m so sorry, Lola.” She started crying, too. “I’m so sorry!”
He’d seen her before. Omar had seen her at that poetry night event he’d gone to a week ago.
Lola sobbed as the woman held her. “I’m so sorry, Lola. I’m sorry.”
Eventually, the young woman convinced Lola to leave. Firefighters inspected the site one last time before gathering up their equipment and finally driving away. Reporters and photographers came and went, and as the sun slowly set in the sky, Omar found himself standing alone in that parking lot. She was right. Omar had wanted this property for a long time. All that was left now was a pile of burnt rubble and an empty parking lot. The developer would still have to pay her for the land, but the current offer wouldn’t stand. If they bought it from her now, they’d be doing her a favor, and Lola would come out on the losing end of this whole thing.
Omar had lost, too. She blamed him. He’d give her time to deal with the shock of her loss and try to talk to her again, but for now, she was convinced that he’d personally taken a match to the place. He had a strong feeling that she was half right. Someone had set this fire, and they’d set it knowing that she was in that building.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lola showered, then tossed and turned most of the afternoon until she eventually fell into a restless sleep. By the time she woke up, or gave up wrestling with her bed, the sun was starting to set. She got up and made herself a cup of tea and sipped it slow
ly on the back porch of her house. It was over and everything she’d worked so hard for all these years was gone. Timing couldn’t have been worse. Lola had just made up her mind to sell the place and now this.
She hoped that the insurance company would pay something, but not enough to matter. Once Lola paid off all the debt she’d incurred from trying to keep Green Groves, she’d be broke with nothing left to start over. It was her own damn fault, though, for being pig-headed and prideful. Good timing had never been her strong suit and Lola had blown the only chance she’d had to at least keep her business going, if not in Green Groves, then somewhere else.
Omar knocked on the door for a good long while before Lola decided to answer it.
“I called,” he said before saying hello.
He stood there like he expected to be invited inside, but that wasn’t happening. “What do you want?”
“To see if you’re all right.”
Lola shook her head. “Are you serious?”
“Physically. Were you hurt?”
Lola was numb, emotionally, physically. But she saw no reason to tell him those things. Omar was impressive. He was a convincing man with the powerful ability to make people actually believe that he truly gave a shit about them.
“Lola,” he said, feigning concern. “You should’ve gone with the paramedics to the hospital.”
“You got what you wanted, Omar,” she said abruptly. “You. The mayor. That damn company. You got what you wanted, so why the hell are you here?”
“I didn’t want you to get hurt. I didn’t want this happen. I know you think I had something to do with this, but I didn’t, Lola. You ought to know me better than that.”
“Why? Because you bought me a drink? Dinner? Gave me a ride to Galveston? I don’t know you, Omar. You tell me one thing, but what are you telling Randall Brewer?”
Now, he looked uncomfortable. “Yeah. I saw you with him yesterday. What were you talking about? Me? How to get me out of my place?”
He just looked at her because he knew he couldn’t deny it. Of course that’s what they were talking about. That’s what they were always talking about.
“Somebody found a way to make that happen,” she coolly concluded.
“And you think it was me?”
“You might not have lit the match, but you surely poured the gasoline even if it was only figuratively.”
He stood there like a statue, expecting her to do—what? To forgive him? To excuse him? It wasn’t going to happen.
“Don’t come back here, Omar,” she said, closing the door.
He put his hand in the doorway to stop her. “You’ve suffered a great loss,” he said sternly. “I understand that this is a terrible time for you, Lola. But I’m not a liar and I have never misled you. I told you what I thought was the best option for you and I’ve fought for it.”
“You can say what you want, Omar, but that doesn’t make it true. Sell, Lola, sell. You’ve been singing that song since the beginning, and when it looked like I wasn’t going to do it, all of a sudden, my store burns to the ground, and you win. So, I don’t know how you did it. I don’t care, because everything I’ve fought so hard for is gone. And you’re gonna get your superstore, just like you’ve been wanting.”
“I’ve been wanting you, Lola.” Omar’s tone caught her off guard. “I thought I’d made that clear.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “No. No, you can’t just do this, Omar.” Lola stared at him with tears surprisingly filling her eyes. “You can’t just change up on me like this. Not now. We’re talking about the store.”
“I’m talking about you.”
Lola was tired. Her chest hurt from all that smoke she’d breathed in and there was too much to think about, to do. She wanted to go back to bed and just sleep some more.
He pushed her door open and then came inside without being invited.
“You need to leave,” she said, starting to cry. Lord!
“You need me,” he insisted, reaching for her waist.
Lola slapped his hands away from her, but he wouldn’t stop. Omar took hold of her by the waist and pulled her to him and she was too tired to stop him … to fight …
He wrapped both arms around her and held her pressed to his chest, and Lola fell apart in his arms.
“I would never hurt you like that, Lola,” he murmured in her ear. “You know me better than that.”
She continued to cry.
“Go ahead and cry, baby. I’m here. I’m right here.”
* * *
Lola lay on top of Omar as the two of them stretched out on her sofa.
“You sure you don’t want to go to the hospital and have them look at you?” he asked.
“No, I’m good,” she softly assured him.
“You kind of sound like Barry White.”
She chuckled. “I think it’s sexy.”
“I think it’s a little creepy.”
Unfortunately, Lola decided to get off of him and sit up, adjusting the top of her robe, just before things got good. She sighed. “Well, I can’t lie around feeling sorry for myself forever.” She looked at Omar. “I guess I’d better figure out what to do next.”
“You file your claim with the insurance company?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
“They’ll have to investigate before they pay you.”
She nodded.
“That could take some time, Lola. Are you going to be all right in the meantime?”
She forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”
“If you need anything—”
She just looked at him. “I do have my pride, Mr. Reid. If I need anything, you’ll probably never know.”
“That’s what bothers me.”
“Why does that bother you?”
“Because I like the idea of coming to your rescue.” He smiled.
“Oh, really?” She cocked a delicate brow.
Omar was dangerously close to saying things he’d swore he’d dole out slowly. Saying the things he wanted to say, too soon, could scare the woman off, but damn he was aching inside to say them. He was aching to show her how he felt about her. Lola was vulnerable right now, and the good sense in him kicked in and reminded him of that. When and if he ever did make love to this woman, he needed her to be present, physically, mentally, and emotionally. And now was not the time.
“I should go,” he said, standing up.
Lola followed him to the door. “I’m glad you were here, Omar,” she said.
He turned to her, put his hand underneath her chin, and raised her lovely face, then leaned in and kissed her lips. “If you need anything, Lola, and I do mean anything, please, call me. Please?”
She nodded and managed a smile, but she hadn’t said yes. And he knew that she wouldn’t.
“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” he promised.
Lola nodded. “You do that.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
It had been a week since the fire and this was the first time any of them had gotten together since before it happened. Ciara, Tito, Mr. Brown, and Ciara’s boyfriend, Jamal, sat around her kitchen table eating sweet potato pie that Ciara had gotten from Lola.
“People been dropping off food like Lola’s husband died or something.” She chuckled flatly.
Nothing was funny lately. All of them had lost their businesses, their livelihoods, and the thought of starting over was more daunting than any of them wanted to think about.
“I haven’t spoken to her,” Mr. Brown said regrettably. “Left her a message, but she didn’t call me back.”
“She’s taking it hard,” Ciara said. “Lola tries to act tough, but she’s really pretty soft inside, and right now, the woman is devastated.”
“So, what happens next?” Jamal asked.
Tito shrugged. “The insurance company’s got to finish their investigation and then I guess they cut her a check.”
“Y’all get any of that money?” Jamal spoke up again.
�
��Some,” Ciara said. “Not a lot, though, and Lola won’t get to keep much of it either. She took out a lot of loans to keep the taxes paid on that place.”
“She should’ve just let it go,” Jamal said.
Ciara wished he’d shut up. For someone with no vested interest he had a whole lot to say.
“Wasn’t nobody going to that old mall,” he said, then looking at Ciara as soon as he’d said it, “Except for open mic night,” he quickly added.
“Even that wasn’t enough to make a difference,” Tito said. “That just kept the rent paid and coffee flowing. She’d have sold it sooner if we’d all left.”
“And go where?” Mr. Brown asked. “Lola’s place was the cheapest place in town to rent out.”
“It wasn’t worth staying, though,” Ciara said. “People don’t go there anymore, which is why we weren’t making any money, and let’s face it. The only reason any of us stayed in that place was because of her.”
“And because we couldn’t afford to go no place else,” Brown chimed in again.
“Mr. Brown, you could’ve done what you do out of your living room,” Tito argued. “You didn’t need to rent that space and you know it.”
“I needed a store,” Brown argued.
“Well, you damn sure need one now,” Jamal said.
Brown huffed irritably and shot a glaring look at Jamal.
“How long do we have to wait?” Tito asked, frustrated.
“Wait for what?” Brown probed.
“I need to get my business open. The longer I wait, the more I risk losing my regulars.”
Mr. Brown looked stunned. “You found a place?”
“We think so,” Ciara responded. “There’s a spot opened up over on Eighth near that old roller rink.”
“It’s perfect, man,” Jamal said, grinning. “Got huge floor space, spot for a DJ, and big parking lot. We’re gonna party up in that joint.”
“That’s crazy,” Brown grumbled. “You get a place that big people are gonna talk.”
“Let ’em,” Tito shrugged. “It don’t matter.”