by Sonia Icilyn
“Yes,” Avril said with pretense.
“And you?”
“Ready to go.”
Kesse reached a moment of extreme caution. “He has Delphine Collins. They’ve been engaged for nearly two years and together for three. Moreover,” she said sternly. “You’ve just dumped his older brother.”
“To make way for Meyrick,” Avril challenged with revenge on her mind.
Kesse schooled her eyes on her closest friend. “I’ve seen that look before,” she said, annoyed. “You always go for the tough ones.”
“Meyrick’s not tough, he’s eccentric,” Avril replied sorely. “He’s a sensitive soul, who dislikes cruelty of any kind.”
“Specifically aimed at the animal species,” Kesse reminded. “When it comes to humans, cruelty against his own kinsfolk is something he’s not going to put up with and I’d say you come under that category.”
Avril flinched at the reminder. “I wasn’t cruel to Maxwell.”
“Rick may think otherwise,” Kesse rebutted.
“Have you been talking to him about me?” Avril suddenly accused, detecting a hint of conspiracy.
“Of course not,” Kesse shot back. “I simply think you should leave any idea of winning Rick over exactly where it is, in your head.”
Avril turned her back on Kesse and glanced at Rakeem. He was standing by her side. He had remained suitably quiet on hearing her mad disclosure. It was not in Rakeem’s nature to intervene, but Avril was curious on what he thought about the recent events in her life.
“Rakeem,” she exclaimed. “Do you think I’m being silly setting my sights on Meyrick?”
He shrugged. “What do I know?”
It was an apt answer. He did not want to be involved in any girlie talk that would compromise his position with Kesse. After all, they were a handsome couple. Kesse looked radiant in an emerald green chiffon dress and a taffeta jacket of the same color. Rakeem complemented her amply in his black trousers, black jersey and emerald green linen jacket.
She had no wish to make her personal life an issue that they could potentially quarrel over later, so Avril decided to back down. “What is it like in here?” she asked, diverting the subject.
Rakeem took the bait. “Upmarket,” he reported with a smile. “Businessmen, lawyers, footballers, a select celebrity circle and lots of chicks looking for a good time.”
“Easy,” Kesse warned on a chuckle.
“Babe, I only have eyes for you,” Rakeem reassured as he dropped a kiss on Kesse’s lips.
Avril felt a surge of envy erupt inside her. Why couldn’t she find someone dependable and reliable like Rakeem? Instead, her life had been filled with nothing but lame boyfriends from the moment she’d started dating, aged fifteen. Dancers, models and wannabe actors had all failed her. She told herself her good looks had attracted the wrong breed.
In comparison, Kesse was lucky. She’d been dating Rakeem for nearly a year and in that time, Avril had never known them to argue. Rakeem’s Indian-Jamaican background was an attraction to Kesse because her own father shared a similar heritage. And Rakeem’s allegiance was plain to see. He was successful, a hard worker and committed to Kesse. When they reached the head of the line, Avril realized that what she wanted was a relationship.
Two security personnel gave them the once over before they were finally allowed into Media Plus. Rakeem immediately took charge and within seconds they were at the bar. With his wallet out, he was ready to party.
“What’d it be?” he asked.
Kesse whispered sweetly into his ear. Avril felt even more out of place and imagined herself a gooseberry about to be squashed. This was a bad idea, tagging along with two people in love. She was the odd one out. And curious observers would peer and dubiously wonder about her companionship to the couple. In modern times, that could mean just about anything.
“I’m going to go and freshen up,” she answered, squeezing her purple sequined clutch.
“I’ll come with you,” Kesse immediately offered. She turned to Rakeem. “We’ll be right back. Get Avril a rum and cola.”
He nodded.
Kesse and Avril departed. They sidled their way through the throng of human traffic, pushed their way around the crushing clusters of people from the world of television that loitered along the perimeter of the dance floor and finally caught sight of the ladies’ restroom.
“You could’ve stayed with your boyfriend,” Avril shouted above the blaring music.
“I wanted to talk to you, away from Rakeem,” Kesse returned.
Avril’s brows rose. “About what?”
“Rick Armstrong.”
Kesse pushed the restroom door wide open and ventured in. Avril followed, aware that Kesse’s tone sounded hard and edgy. She walked behind her friend until they reached the mirrored wall. Avril caught her own reflection and realized she looked like a woman about to be confronted. The telling was in her startled nut-brown eyes and the blank expression she wore on her face.
“What is it?” she asked Kesse with a hint of worry.
“I can’t believe the things that you say sometimes,” Kesse launched at her. “And in front of Rakeem, too. Don’t you have any shame?”
Avril blinked and gasped in alarm. “Kesse!”
“To think I invited you out with us tonight to show you a good time and instead, I’m hearing that you’re concocting some sort of ruse with Rick Armstrong.”
A slow flush suffused Avril’s face. “I’m quite fond of him,” she admitted, her voice breaking on an emotional crackle.
“No, you’re not,” Kesse scoffed bluntly. “The only person you’re interested in is yourself.”
To Avril’s ears, a faint note of discontent sounded in Kesse’s words. “That’s a horrible thing to say to me,” she said, hurt by Kesse’s risky candor.
“And you needed to hear it,” Kesse continued. “Don’t you think you’ve put that family through enough?”
“Enough of what, exactly?” Avril demanded in a mulish voice. “Haven’t you forgotten that Maxwell had another agenda that did not include me?”
“Avril!” Kesse blew.
“Hey, take it down a notch,” Avril cut in, aware that they were both receiving female gazes of concern from a select few sharing the restroom.
“Maxwell made a mistake,” Kesse went on in a maddening tone reduced by several octaves, “but that gives you no right to make a mockery of the situation.”
Her voice seemed to grow more venomous for being low-pitched and Avril was clearly taken aback. “You’re supposed to be on my side,” she said, weakened by the onslaught.
“We all get…feelings for someone,” Kesse explained, with sweetly fake politeness, “but that doesn’t mean you should wade right in and destroy other people’s lives. What about Delphine?”
Avril took a shuddering breath, forgetful that any retaliation would produce casualties. “All’s fair in love and war.”
“That’s it?” Kesse snorted. “That’s all you can say?”
“I owe myself the right to be happy,” Avril shrugged, not knowing quite how to answer her friend. Not even fully comprehending what she was saying.
“You’re going to steal another woman’s man?” came the countering question.
Avril’s face flushed again. “I won’t be stealing Meyrick,” she denied, watchful as several expressions crossed Kesse’s mobile face. A certain mystery was veiled behind her carefully outlined mouth and deceptively rouged cheeks that she had not seen before. “I know he cares for me.”
“You’re right, as always,” Kesse concluded, closing the subject. She turned and faced the mirror. Kesse ruffled her hair with her fingers and reached into her clutch for a stick of shimmering gloss to color her lips. When she finished and spoke again, she moved on. “We’re staying until one o’clock. Is that okay?”
Avril remembered that it was Rakeem who’d given her a ride. “Sure,” she said, stunned by the swift change in her friend.
�
�Good.” Kesse fixed her emerald green jacket. “I’ll meet you by the bar.” On that curt sentiment, she was out the door.
The last reflection Avril caught of herself was that of a woman whose mind had drawn a blank. Dazedly, she followed Kesse back into the club.
Dale Lambert was tired, but his sister had insisted they go out. On the town on a Friday night in London was not how he’d wanted to spend his evening. He would have been happier sitting in his house with his feet up on a stool in front of his open fire, drinking a glass of red wine and taking in a movie.
Instead, he’d driven all the way from Swiss Cottage where he lived into the heart of London so that Elyse could see London’s Leicester Square by twilight. Heaven only knows at what hour his head would finally reach his pillow. But he tried to smile as he parked the car by the curb and jumped out.
“Lighten up,” Elyse groaned, as she caught the begrudging look in her older brother’s eyes. “One night is all I’m asking.”
“Elyse,” he said, “any other time, but tonight?”
“I’m going back to Florida next week, remember?” she said stoically as she, too, jumped from the car. “I deserve a night on the town.”
“Yes, you do,” Dale agreed. “And I’d decided I’d take you to the Amateur Tennis Awards dinner tomorrow night.”
“That’s going to be boring,” Elyse groaned. “All those toffee-nosed people in their tuxedos, bow ties and cocktail dresses behaving like they’re white.”
“Elyse,” Dale warned. He hated it when his militant sister played the race card. “Young talent should not be ignored,” he berated. “If the black community want to commemorate their achievements by organizing a plush dinner and awards ceremony, then let’s do it. Don’t treat it as though it’s something we shouldn’t have.”
“You’re posh like them,” Elyse accused. “Me, I like the easy, down-to-earth life without all that rigmarole. I don’t even have a little black dress in my closet, so how am I going to join you?”
“Get one, by tomorrow night,” Dale immediately ordered, his brows frowning. “I’m not going to have you embarrass me there.”
“Dale,” Elyse said wounded.
“I mean it,” he warned, his brows dipping farther. “I’ll leave three-hundred pounds on the breakfast bar in the kitchen for you tomorrow morning. You can go and buy a dress then.”
“I’m not embarrassing you now, am I?”
Dale glanced at his twenty-two-year-old sister. She had just graduated from university having studied sociology and still needed to adjust to living in the outside world. Elyse’s student ethics on life were rife and blooming. Her beliefs bordered on anything ecological, ozone-free, organic and that logic extended to her clothes.
She was most often found in jeans and sweats, with sneakers on her feet. A dress of any kind was a no-no. And on family occasions, like the christening of his nephew last year to another sister in Florida, Elyse had arrived at the church, to the misery of their mother, in a plain white Egyptian cotton dress that she’d bought from a charity shop in Houston.
Recycling had been the excuse Elyse had given. He was falling for no such behavior now. Tonight, she was in an outfit to impress.
Elyse was elevated in a pair of platform shoes and wearing a was pie corset-belted red dress fastened on the tightest notch. A slash of red lipstick added a hint of maturity to her nubile features and her short cropped hair, styled in the old tradition of Halle Berry, filled Dale with mitigating relief that his kid sister seemed finally to be growing up.
“You’re not embarrassing me,” he agreed. “Tonight, I guess I’ll be holding the men off.”
“Don’t you dare,” Elyse chuckled. “I’m here to have some fun and you know,” she encouraged. “You should, too.”
“I’m too tired,” Dale moaned.
“It’s time you got yourself a girlfriend,” Elyse pressed on. “Maybe you’ll meet someone in here tonight.” She looked at the club they were approaching. There was a long line of people standing outside. “This place looks so hot, it’s gotta be smoking.”
“Tame your language,” Dale cautioned. “You’re not a ghetto chick, you’re supposed to be a slick chick.”
“You really do need to lighten up,” Elyse groaned. “Try to relax and enjoy.”
But as Dale walked beside his sister toward the line he could see ahead of them, he couldn’t picture himself having a good time. By the end of the night, he could see himself leaving—alone. His working life had become so vigorous, he simply had not found any lengthy intervals in his grilling schedule to forge a relationship with anyone.
Even Elyse, during her six short weeks at his home, had developed a wider social circle than he had forged in the five years of living in England. She was likely to be swallowed into a crowd by midnight and announce that they should move on to a late licensed club in the early hours. He grimaced at the prospect of reaching his bed by dawn.
Ten minutes later, they were inside Media Plus. Dale’s heart hardened until it almost hurt. There were so many people. Too much noise. A few familiar faces he would rather like to avoid. His spirits fell. In his case, he’d been there, done that and the night scene was no longer for him. It was almost like a blast from the past staring at the herd of human cattle, knowing he no longer wished to mingle among them.
“Drink?” he offered his sister. It was a motive to make his escape to the bar.
“Water,” she answered, her eyes lighting up as she spotted a few friends.
“That’s not a drink,” Dale moaned, digging both hands into his trouser pockets. “Don’t you want an alcoholic beverage?”
“I prefer to get tanked up on water, thank you,” Elyse quipped.
Dale shrugged and looked at his sister who had begun to wave at her friends. “Water it is.”
He made no haste toward the bar. There seemed little point when there was always a legless, tipsy dipsomaniac staggering toward him or almost tripping him over. He told himself that these were hapless people on a bender for the evening. Sure, there were pockets of hardworking people like himself there, too. Doubtless others whose lives were so topsy-turvy that getting themselves inebriated was the clear answer to their problems.
Dale Lambert considered himself fortunate. Granted, his own life was hectic, but he’d never drowned his sorrows with pints of booze. One bottle of Budweiser was all he needed. That would calm him. And he’ll stay by the bar and watch Elyse melt into conversation with her friends. Occasionally, he’ll even nod curtly at the few people he did know, but keep a respectful distance and refrain from engaging in any chit-chat. That was the plan.
With that resolve, Dale arrived at the bar and immediately froze. His heart stopped. He saw someone and the sight of her oozed silkily into his body. This was not a person he could simply throw a nod at. She was too nice and too vulnerable to receive such a flippant gesture. He would have to go over and at least say hello. It was the polite thing to do. So why did he suddenly feel nervous?
Dale needed a drink first and fast. He needed to mellow his mood to one that would be more socially acceptable if he were to speak to this woman. He called for the bartender and ordered his drinks.
“Reuben Meyer is going to offer me a job,” Avril said in a bid to make peace with Kesse.
“What will you be doing?” Kesse asked, as she cuddled up closer to Rakeem.
Avril winced at the ostentatious behavior. It was yet another reminder that she had lost all comradery with her friend. The evening had turned sour the moment they’d both left the ladies’ restroom. And now, it seemed Kesse was forcing some sort of play on her by publically displaying overt shows of affection toward Rakeem. Avril was at a loss. What did it all mean?
“I don’t know what I’ll be doing yet,” she returned while leaning her back against the bar. “Something interesting, I hope.”
Kesse giggled harshly. “So you don’t have a job?”
“I have one,” Avril promised, feeling belittled. “I’m w
aiting to be offered the job title and salary.”
Now she felt offended. She waywardly glanced around the club, clenching her teeth and glimpsing over the heads of people before her eyes caught someone. He was looking right at her. Avril ejected a shallow gasp and quickly lowered her head.
“Seen Delphine, have you?” Kesse taunted on hearing Avril’s short burst of breath.
Avril’s head shot up. “No.”
“She’s in here,” Kesse declared wryly. “Right over there with her friends.” Kesse’s head inclined toward the same direction Avril had just seen Dale Lambert.
“Is—”
“Rick here?” Kesse finished. “No, he’s not. I should imagine he’ll be at home, nursing the wound you’ve caused his brother.”
Now Avril was mad. “Step off,” she wailed at Kesse. “You don’t even know Delphine and neither do I. The first we both saw of her was on my wedding day, yet you’ve done nothing but peck at me since I told you how I feel about Meyrick. I have my reasons for what I’m doing and you’ll just have to live with them.”
And with that answer, she walked away, right into the hard chest of a tall man.
“If it isn’t Miss Avril Vasconcelos,” a voice suddenly bellowed into her right ear. Avril felt the prickle of his moustache against her right earlobe before he added, “Boy are you a sight for sore eyes.”
His name was Donavan St Clair, a former model from her heyday. They had dated twice and Avril had never expected to see him again. “Donavan,” she smiled, falsely sweet. He planted two kisses against each of her cheeks. “How are you?”
“I’m well,” he answered. “And you?”
“Fine,” she nodded in return.
“No longer modeling?” he asked.
“Wasn’t for me,” Avril responded, briefly mulling over all the drama she’d suffered.
“Me, neither.” He took a hold of her left hand. “Fancy a dance?”
“No.” Avril shook her head. “I’m having a lousy evening.”
“It just got better,” Donavan happily declared. “C’mon, one dance.”
“The lady said no,” a gravelly masculine voice intruded.
Avril’s head shot round.