by Sienna Mynx
“The only bitch at the table is—”
“Sam!” Marcella snapped.
Susan kept chuckling, but finally decided to help. “Bailey,” she giggled. “Why don’t you come with me? Let me show you the funerary again. I’d like to take a few photos with you next to it for the article you’ll write.”
Bailey and Sam glared at each other while his entourage hissed their own mumbled insults. He tossed his thin chin upward and pushed back from the table, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “Fine. I need the break. It’s getting funky over here, too much fish at the table.”
Marcella grabbed Sam by the arm and dragged her up from her seat. Sam went reluctantly as she pushed her into Garrett’s office. They found him at the bar. “Why did you do that?” she demanded.
“He was being a prick, I just pointed it out.”
“What did she do?” Garrett asked.
“She insulted Bailey in front of everyone. It’s really childish Sam! How am I supposed to keep this place afloat when I’m the only one working here?”
“Calm down sweetness.” Garrett said. “Sam leave.”
“Sorry Marcella, you know my mouth,” she said walking out. Marcella placed a hand to her hip and the other to her forehead. “You can’t let her get away with stuff like that.”
“Please, Bailey lives for cat-fights. She gave him what he wanted,” Garrett said sipping his drink. He sat on the sofa and crossed his long legs.
“Tell me we don’t need him. I’ll throw him out and we’ll try to get Katchner’s showing on our own. Just say the word.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I have enough money to keep this place open with nothing but your grandmother’s antiques on the shelves if we choose. Don’t worry about it. Your job is safe.”
Marcella shook her head at his pitiful state. “We aren’t working for kicks, we’re trying to build something here Garrett.” She plopped down next to him and snatched his drink. Downing the whiskey in a backward toss, she felt the alcohol torch her throat and grimaced. “Yuck what is that?”
“Puts hair on your chest, or on your legs. When is the last time you shaved yours sweetie?” Garrett laughed.
Marcella elbowed him. “You’ve been riding me for months about the lack of sales here. You said you wanted to make a mark in the industry. Bailey Landers is the way.”
“I know,” he sighed.
She dropped her head on his shoulder. “It hurts doesn’t it?”
“I ruined my chance at love.” He confessed softly.
“No, you just haven’t met the right guy yet.”
“I cheated on him Marcella.”
Marcella’s head slowly lifted and she blinked at him shocked. “You did what?”
“I have no excuse.”
The news hit her hard. Garrett and Susan knew the shame and heartbreak she went through with Richard when she discovered his betrayal. She hated, no she loathed, cheaters. For Marcella nothing warranted betraying the person you claimed to love. She really had to wonder if love existed at all in the world. Swallowing the judgment riding the tip of her tongue she forced civility to her words, and a bit of understanding. “Did you fall out of love with him? Meet someone else?”
“No. No sweetie. It was lust. And I let it get the best of me. Lust consumed me. I hurt Bailey badly. That’s why he brought that parade of boys in here. I should have known better.”
“I thought you were happy with him Garrett? I’m trying to be sympathetic here, but… you know I hate cheaters.”
Garrett took another swig from his glass, the ice cubes clanked around emptily. “You ever want something different Marcella? Ever want the forbidden so bad you were willing to suffer any consequence?”
“God, don’t do that. You sound like Richard,” she said about to rise. Garrett stopped her. She sat back down. “Richard said his wife bored him. He said it wasn’t his fault that he lied about being married. Of course, he said a lot of things to justify cheating on her for six months, but it was all based on lies.”
“Hear me out sweetheart.” Garrett said sadly. “Isn’t it possible you could meet someone and then suddenly you get sucked in to lust so quick you lose your head? Mistakes happen, right? We’re human. It’s in our nature.”
Marcella swallowed, uncomfortable over the heated thoughts she’d had all day after a brush with Mr. Tall Dark and Sexy. However, she didn’t have a significant other, so her lust would cause no one pain. “No,” she answered.
“I didn’t think so. Sex without love is a dangerous thing sweetie, don’t ever believe otherwise.” Garrett rose and walked to the bar. Marcella watched him fix another drink. Richard sucked at commitment. A problem she and the wife he never told her about, discovered too late. Was anybody faithful anymore?
Chapter Three
“You either sign or not. The outcome is the same.”
Across from Diego Andes, in a spacious office with dark carpeting and leather furnishings, sat a shell of the man he once knew. The older man held a pen steady with his shaky hand. The chair swallowed him with large leather back and wide arms. “I want to wait for my attorney. He should be here any minute.”
“My time is valuable. If I walk out of this door…”
“I thought you were going to give me more time to raise the money. This is my life Diego.”
Diego observed the frightened man in silence.
“Mr. Andes is only here out of courtesy, either sign or we collect.” Lance said.
“And who are you again?”
“I’m Diego Andes’s attorney. I’ve been working with Richard Epstein the past weeks. He’s reviewed the paperwork. Your signature is only a formality. Sign it.”
The coffee bean importer would not give up. He leaned forward, and tried once more to connect with Diego. “I trusted your father, back in Colombia. I was kind to you when things were rough, I’m sorry about what happened to your father but that was many years ago. He and I—.” His voice faltered and his jaw tensed. Diego’s dark gaze never wavered. The man knew it all had been said before. He sniffed and blinked away the bitter tears he didn’t want to fall and signed his name. With each stroke of the pen Diego saw the face of his mother when she learned that her fortune was gone, and drew satisfaction.
Lance Davison uncrossed his legs. He rose, wearing an all-black tailored suit with diamond cufflinks that sparkled when he reached for the documents. Men like Lance didn’t come cheap, and his loyalty to Diego proved to be priceless in these matters. The deal was done.
“No worries Mr. Juarez,” Lance began. “You will be fairly compensated for your remaining shares.” He closed his briefcase and gave the old man the devil’s smile.
“Compensated? What you’re paying me isn’t worth a tenth of what I’m owed. I built this company! I’ve—”
“Cállate la boca!” Diego ordered the man to be silent, in a raspy voice. “Our business is done. Send mother my love.”
Juan Juarez gave the men a sad nod. He rose from the chair and reached behind him to take his coat. He slipped his arms through the sleeves and purposefully avoided Diego’s watchful stare. “I’ll send for my things, I don’t want my employees to see me escorted out.” Juan picked up his fedora and situated it on his head. He stepped around the desk, but stopped next to the chair where Diego Andes sat. “Ruego a Dios perdona tanto nos,” he said softly then left, closing the door.
Lance frowned. “What did he say?”
Diego glared at the empty chair Juan had vacated. His enemy offered him God’s blessing, and hinted at their need for forgiveness. The underlying message in the words he uttered was clear. “Juan Juarez has surrendered to me.” Diego mumbled. He rose from his seat and walked around the desk of the man who had murdered his father. He’d travelled a long road out of squalor to see this day, to have his revenge, and justice. “How long before this business is done?” He asked.
“Six or seven weeks at the most.”
Diego sighed. “Then we will remain in this
city until every trace of Juarez is wiped clean. I want this building named after my father. See to it immediately.”
Lance slipped out.
Diego’s gaze lowered to the market place and he remembered the brown beauty with the large round eyes, and considered the idea that he needed someone to satisfy his appetite in the days to come. A smile formed on his face.
What a difference a new day made. Marcella turned over under the cover of her blanket with a smile on her face. Muted sunlight greeted her through the wall of windows surrounding her bed. She’d left the drapes pulled back in hopes that her favorite moon would return. The cloudy sky foreshadowed another winter rain would sweep the city.
Last night’s dinner wasn’t so awful. Garrett eventually loosened up after three shots of the hard stuff. Bailey and Sam found a way to co-exist. Susan didn’t get drunk. And before the night was over she had a verbal agreement for Bailey to do a piece on the Egyptian funerary with the added promise that if they got Edward Katchner to do his unveiling at their gallery, he’d get the first shot at an exclusive interview with him. Yes, she was pleased. She carried that contentment into her dreams, and over to a late waking morning. On Saturdays, she and her cat, Ginger, who slept lazily at her feet, didn’t wake before ten.
Today would be no different. Marcella stared out at the grey sky. She had hoped for a sunny day to match her mood. She sighed in disappointment. Ginger’s head popped up. Her kitty crawled toward her and curled near her body. She stroked her baby girl behind the ear. “Mama can spend the day with you inside and finish that book I keep meaning to read.” Marcella had three books collecting dust on her shelves, and six in her e-reader she hadn’t bothered to begin.
There were two knocks to her bedroom door before it slowly opened.
“Come in,” Marcella yawned. Susan sashayed in. She wore designer jeans that tastefully outlined her trim figure and a green turtleneck to complete her look. Her stylish brown haircut shined and framed her face, reaching just past her shoulders.
“Thanks for letting me crash here tonight.”
Marcella rolled her eyes. “I need to take my key back or start charging you rent.”
Susan grinned. “You wouldn’t dare. Besides, I always stay here to keep an eye on you after a late night at the gallery. You need me.”
“Right.” Marcella chuckled.
“No rain today Marcella, I checked the weather report, so don’t you stay in bed. Besides the gallery is closed today, you can do whatever you want.”
“Where are you headed? I thought we were going to do some shopping and celebrating?”
“Nope, got a breakfast date. I wanted to wear your green pumps with the four-inch heels. You know the ones you wore to Sierra’s opening. Please?”
“Have at it,” Marcella said. She dropped back on her pillow. “How is it you have a date for every day of the week and I’m the one left with a closet full of shoes and nowhere to go?”
“Cause you’re stuck up.” Susan called out from the closet.
Marcella grinned. “True.”
“Okay, truth or dare,” Susan said, strutting and striking a pose.
“Dare,” Marcella said.
Her best friend’s brows lifted. She rarely took a dare.
“Dare you to get up, get dressed, and get out of the house without me. Oh and buy some fresh salmon and spinach. Pick up a bottle of Pinot Gris, then meet me here for a movie night tonight.”
Marcella turned over, putting her arm behind her head. “Sounds interesting.”
“Don’t stay in bed, Marcella. That’s an order! Get out. Promise?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Now the shoes. Truth?”
“They look better on your feet than mine.”
“Yeah, I thought so too,” Susan said with her hands to her hips. Marcella grabbed her pillow and threw it at her friend, who jumped out of the way just in time.
“Seriously, if you don’t get out and start dating again, I’m going to put you on one of those hookup sites.” Susan gave ‘jazz’ hands. “Beautiful, single black female. Talented, creative, can give good head.”
“Ewl! Is this my ad or yours?”
Susan clutched her chest. “Please tell me you’ve sucked someone off before!”
“Not everybody is as oversexed as you.” Marcella chuckled.
“But they should be. They should.” Susan blew a kiss and flounced out. Ginger jumped down and followed her.
“Traitor!” Marcella yelled after the cat. She shut her eyes tight, deciding on sleep. Maybe she’d go out. Who knows, she felt like some fresh air today.
Diego slipped out his timepiece, flipped it open and checked the antique black dials on the white porcelain face. The watch worked again. The tiny minute hand ticked on and on, never breaking time. He dropped it once more to the front pocket of his vest, the 18kt gold chain keeping it pinned in place. A small smile curled the corner of his mouth.
“That’s the last one. Not for export though. It’s probably one of his little hideout spots to get away from your mother. We found it buried under the secretary’s name.” Lance opened the leather binder on his lap. “There’s a boat as well.” Diego accepted the photograph of a boat parked at some marina. The side of the hull had his mother’s name written across it. He frowned tossing the image back at Lance. He returned his gaze to the passenger window. “Take me back to the restaurant.”
Lance gave the order to the driver. The traffic, a stop and go cranky crowd, lurched westward in spurts and after twenty minutes he arrived at El Jay’s. Lance handed over the key to the office above. Diego stared out at the restaurant remembering Juan’s sadness and fear when he had to give it up.
Lance walked around the car and stopped at his side. “I have the key.”
“You want me to wait?”
“Send the car back.” He reached for the doorknob and paused.
Her.
An unexpected vision emerged out of the streams of people walking along the sidewalk. He’d seen her before. Over a month ago she bumped into him in the restaurant, a flustered sight of soft femininity. Their collision had stayed with him for several hours after. She was quite striking, with her medium brown skin and jet-black hair that seemed to have a natural curly wave pattern to it. He distinctly remembered wondering about her figure under her coat. Today, she wore a leather waist jacket, and jeans that made her walk even more pleasing. Diego studied her for a moment.
“Something wrong?” Lance asked.
The breath grew hot in his lungs. She had a quiet beauty that drew him in. Sure her face was pretty enough, but it was the graceful way she moved along, stopping to look into a store window, and then smiling at others she passed that told him more of her gentle nature. She was taller than he remembered, but it was an evident lift provided by her thin-heeled boots. Her legs were toned and seductively tucked in a pair of ink black riding boots that were snug to her muscled calves. His gaze leveled on her shapely thighs then made a slow climb to her backside when she turned away. On her head, situated to cover her left brow, she wore a crotched black beret. Her long tresses hung evenly on both sides of her face, lifting in the wintry breeze. Her aura burned brightly. Then she reached the doors of El Jay’s. She looked down at the menu on the sidewalk sign and he waited to see her intentions. As he hoped she went inside.
“No. Nothing’s wrong. Send the driver back for me.” Diego ordered then stepped out of the car.
Chapter Four
Marcella entered and scanned the establishment once more. In Port Delgado the Latin influence could be felt in everything from the Spanish inspired architecture to the music and shops. Along the boardwalk the South American themed restaurants were a favorite of many of the residents. She’d never visited El Jay’s before Richard summoned her here.
A young man greeted her this time. He politely escorted her to a booth near the window. Marcella hadn’t seen or spoken to Richard since the day he picked up the check for his client from her office. He
looked ashamed over his behavior with the kiss and she was relieved when he didn’t mention it. Even now she wasn’t sure what brought her back to this place. Maybe she was so drawn to the culture, because part of her felt so removed from it without her father to help make the connection. Despite his absence, her mother’s unwavering love for him kept parts of him ever present. Marcella had always been fascinated to understand more.
“We meet again.”
A voice thick with an accent spoke above her. Deep and sensual it sent ripples and awareness of his presence through her, settling in the pit of her stomach. Her gaze lifted from the wine list the server had provided and snagged on the handsome face of a man who looked familiar. It was him. For weeks she couldn’t get the brief encounter with the tall stranger out of her mind. Even though he wore shades and had left before he gave her his name, she knew him.