“Being recently divorced, I felt like such a failure. But your marriage redeemed me. If my daughter was marrying such a handsome, upstanding man, then I could believe that at least I hadn’t failed you.” Her mother covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
Dayna bent slightly to hug her mother. “The way I’ve allowed your father to treat me…” Her mother’s muffled voice broke off in a low whine of anguish. “I know I’ve been a terrible role model, sweetheart,” she sobbed, shaking her head regretfully. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to do better; I promise.”
“You couldn’t help it, Mommy.” Dayna’s voice came out in the tiny voice of a six-year-old. “You miss Daddy and I miss him, too. But he left us; he moved on and we have to try to move on, too.” Locked in a tight embrace, the two women silently mourned their shared loss.
Drained from the encounter with Reed and feeling too emotionally weakened to attempt polite small talk with her mother, Dayna retreated to her former bedroom in her parents’ home.
Two days later, Dayna lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. She sat up when she heard her mother’s soft, hesitant knock on her bedroom door. “Come in.”
Her mother peeked her head in. “Cecily’s on the phone. Do you feel like talking?” Dayna pondered the question and decided two days of wallowing in self-pity was long enough. She nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother’s look of relief as she entered the bedroom, handed Dayna the phone, and then quietly left the room.
“Hi, Cecily.” Dayna tried to inject some sunshine into her tone.
“You stood me up the last time I invited you out, so I’m not taking no for an answer,” Cecily said, sternly. “My friend Kendrick is having another art exhibit.”
“When?” Dayna asked, wearily. “Tonight at seven.”
“Tonight!”
“Yes. We’re going; I told you I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“Okay,” Dayna agreed, surprising herself. “What’s the address?”
“You’re kidding. Are you really gonna go?” Cecily asked, sounding surprised. Her no-nonsense tone had softened considerably.
“You said you weren’t taking no for an answer. Do I have a choice?” Dayna groused playfully. She wrote down the address and promised to meet Cecily there.
To hope that she’d actually have a good time was a big stretch for a woman with limited expectations, but getting out and mingling with people was better than lying in a single bed staring at the ceiling. It was time to practice what she preached; it was time to move on.
The sun still shone brightly at seven o’clock. Black folks in all their glory filled the three-story stone house and many people were chilling in the backyard, eating barbecue and fried catfish. These people who came out to view art were as vibrant and beautiful as the oil and acrylic paintings that graced the walls on every floor.
Mesmerized by the lively and colorful setting, Dayna wasn’t quite sure where to place her focus. She’d find herself enthralled by a particular painting and then quickly shift her gaze to one of the spectators whose fashionable attire demanded attention.
Garbed in a colorful array of African fabric, men and women floated through the house with the proud carriage of kings and queens. Others, dressed to impress in a range of fashions from trendy jeans to business suits, also provided interesting and pleasant visuals as they gazed at the displayed artwork.
“I don’t see Kendrick,” Cecily said, peering through the crowd in the main room. “Come on; let’s go get something to eat. They’re grilling ribs and frying catfish in the backyard. Kendrick is probably somewhere near the food,” Cecily said, laughing.
“Go ahead; I’m not hungry yet,” Dayna said, easing closer to a colorful eye-catching painting of palm trees and blue-green water.
Cecily looked Dayna up and down like she couldn’t believe her ears. “You’re not hungry?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Cecily turned to leave and then turned back abruptly. “Are you sure you don’t want a plate?”
Dayna shook her head and smiled wanly. “I haven’t had an appetite lately.”
“I can tell. I didn’t want to say anything, but honey, your slacks are sagging something terrible.”
Looking down, Dayna examined the slacks. Both women burst into laughter. “I was shocked at how loose these pants had gotten,” Dayna admitted. She tugged at the loose waistband of the peach linen slacks. “Do I look sloppy?” she asked, worried.
“No, you don’t look sloppy; I was just playing. Look, you’re swimming in those pants, but that’s a good thing. There’s nothing wrong with dropping a few pounds.” Cecily craned her neck and squinted. “Oh, there’s Kendrick; I’ll be right back.”
Dayna watched Cecily approach the young man she’d met at the club in Manayunk. Dayna nodded in approval; Cecily and Kendrick looked good together.
Turning her attention back to the painting, Dayna approached the canvas slowly, reverently. It was a whimsical yet powerful piece, showing a man and a woman in a rowboat, the woman’s head resting upon the man’s chest. Palm trees swayed in the background. If only her life could be that peaceful. She scanned the painting as she searched for the name of the artist. AMMON 2005 was penned in the bottom right-hand corner. No last name; just Ammon. How intriguing. She wondered if Ammon were male or female. Beneath the painting was a card tacked to the wall with the painting’s title: “Serenity.” There was also an eight hundred dollar price tag attached. Whew!
The painting was calling her, seductively whispering her name, but she refused to respond. Homeless people such as herself did not purchase expensive art. Especially homeless people with limited funds in their savings account. She was about to get nauseous just thinking about her recent discovery of all the money Reed had been siphoning from her savings account.
Dayna forced herself to step away from the painting and move on to the next piece. Browsing, she admired more of Ammon’s paintings as well as the work of several other artists, but nothing struck her quite like “Serenity.”
“Oh, there you are,” Cecily called. In one hand, she balanced a plastic plate that was piled high with mounds of food; she held a glass of wine in the other. She also had Kendrick in tow.
“Dayna, you remember Kendrick, don’t you?” Cecily said, looking around for a place to sit and enjoy her food. She spotted a metal folding chair and pulled it over, plopped down, and started eating.
“I sure do. How are you, Kendrick? These paintings are really impressive. Are the artists here?” Dayna inquired.
“Yes…” Kendrick paused and looked around. “I just saw Ammon a few minutes ago. He’s around here somewhere.” Ah, so Ammon is a man, Dayna thought and found herself even more intrigued. “The other artist, Aaron Joseph, is over there.” Kendrick pointed to a light-skinned brother who was holding court near a group of his paintings. “Looks like he’s mingling with prospective buyers.”
“How’s it going?” Cecily asked.
“Good. Real good. Ammon’s work is selling like crazy.”
“Has ‘Serenity’ been sold?” Dayna asked, sounding panicked.
Cecily gave Dayna a curious look.
“I don’t think so. I’ll have to check. Are you interested?”
Dayna didn’t answer right away. “I’m not sure,” she said, feeling foolish. She didn’t want to commit to buying the painting; she just wanted to know whether or not it was available.
“You haven’t been upstairs yet, have you?” Cecily cut in. Dayna shook her head. “Well, you need to look at everything before you make a decision,” Cecily said.
Dayna nodded, grateful to be off the hook. What was wrong with her? She needed an eight-hundred-dollar painting like she needed a hole in her head.
“Well, feel free to look around. There’s plenty of food outside and drinks in the backyard and in the kitchen,” Kendrick said to Dayna.
A newly arrived couple waved to Kendrick. “I’ll be back soon.”
He bent and gave Cecily a kiss before he went to greet the couple.
“I’m cool. Handle your business,” she said, blissfully content as she shoveled food into her mouth.
“Cecily! He’s wonderful,” Dayna said quietly. “I didn’t realize you two were so…close.”
“We’re getting there, but you know the game. He’s holding all the cards; it’s his world and I’m happy to be in it. If it were up to me, our relationship would be sealed tight. We’d be married right now or at least living together, but you know how it goes. A sistah’s gotta act indifferent if she expects to stay in the game.”
“You’re doing a damn good job; you sure had me fooled. Girl, you’ve got skills.”
Cecily laughed, then turned serious. “Dayna, please go get something to eat. I don’t think it’s healthy for you to just stop eating. Don’t you feel weak?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You haven’t eaten in days and I’m afraid you’re gonna collapse if you don’t eat something. I’m sure they’re serving food that’s low calorie, low carb, or whatever it is you eat. Come to think of it, I saw a fruit and raw vegetable spread in the kitchen.”
“All right, I’ll go make a salad. Be right back.” Dayna cast a fleeting glance at “Serenity” and then drifted toward the kitchen.
Numerous large wooden bowls containing fresh fruit and raw vegetables were lined up in a long row on the kitchen counter. There was a short line of people waiting, holding plastic plates. Dayna found a plate and stood at the end of the line. Suddenly ravenous, she hoped the wait wouldn’t be too long.
When someone got in line behind her, she caught a pleasant whiff of cologne. She twisted around slightly to compliment the person wearing the scent, but she abruptly closed her parted lips when she looked up and gazed into the hazel eyes of a man with golden brown skin.
It was him! The gorgeous bartender from Carmella’s. What was he doing there? She looked down at her slacks. Not only were they much too baggy, but they were wrinkled as well. Why’d she wear linen? Damn! Looking unkempt made her feel insecure. Dayna wanted to run for cover, but instead forced her lips into a polite smile.
He returned the smile. Her pulse went crazy and the room seemed to spin. She ran an uncomfortable hand down one thigh and then the other as she self-consciously tried to smooth out the wrinkled fabric. “Have we met?” he asked with a slight lift of a silky brow.
“I saw you at Carmella’s but we weren’t introduced.” She was amazed that her words came out in a smooth melodic flow as if talking to this man of unearthly good looks was an everyday occurrence.
“Okay, I knew you looked familiar,” he said. He leaned back a little and gave her an intense look as he tried to envision her at Carmella’s. Then his face lit up with recognition. “Oh yeah, I remember you!” He nodded and gave her another smile. A big smile. Was it her imagination or did he emphasize the word you?
“I work at Carmella’s part-time. Hopefully I won’t have to stay at that gig much longer,” he said, shaking his head. His locks seemed to dance. “Yeah, I’m getting tired of waking up feeling like I just smoked a pack of Newports.” His laughter was infectious and put Dayna somewhat at ease, but she wasn’t following him. She really didn’t have a clue as to why his job made him feel like he’d smoked a pack of cigarettes.
When he noticed her puzzled expression, he quickly explained, “You know…inhaling all that secondhand smoke. It gets into your lungs, your hair, your clothes.”
“Oh!” she blurted a bit too loudly. “Oh,” she repeated in a much softer tone. Damn, she hated the way she acted around attractive men—so nervous and ill at ease.
“What’s your name?” he asked as they finally approached the salad bar.
“Dayna,” she said as she picked up a pair of tongs and dug into a bowl of mixed salad greens.
“Ammon,” he said softly. But the effect of those two syllables had the power of an electrical jolt.
Dayna almost dropped her plate. “You’re the artist?” she said with awe.
“Yes, but not The Artist Formerly Known as Prince,” Ammon said, with a burst of laughter. “I’m just a regular Joe.”
Dayna smiled. “A regular Joe you’re not. I saw your paintings; a regular person doesn’t express his inner feelings the way you do. I fell in love with “Serenity,” but I’m…uh, I couldn’t purchase it because I’m between places right now and…” Her rambling trailed off and she gave an apologetic sigh.
“Hey, I’m glad you like my work,” he said in a sincere voice that assured her there was no need for her to feel uneasy. “Kendrick promised a big crowd and the brother delivered. He’s already setting up my next exhibit.”
“That’s awesome. Congratulations,” Dayna gushed.
“Thank you,” Ammon said, and lowered his eyes humbly. He scooped up a mound of couscous. “Want some?” When Dayna nodded, he carefully shook the grain over her salad.
His gallant behavior took her off guard, and she struggled to get the surprised look off her face. Being married to Reed for so long, Dayna had no frame of reference for this simple act of kindness from a man. Reed had been charming, but never kind. A taker, never a giver.
She gave Ammon a long look. He was about six feet tall, with the chiseled features of a Greek god. Beautiful light-brown locks touched his shoulders. He was dressed in a cotton tunic and matching loose-fitting slacks, shell jewelry adorned both wrists, and a pair of leather sandals completed his majestic look. This sensual brother was the truth. A shiver ran down Dayna’s spine as she acknowledged her serious physical attraction to Ammon.
“I’m sitting outside. Care to join me?” Ammon asked after they finished filling their plates.
Dayna didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t just leave Cecily waiting in the other room. But on second thought, maybe she could. Cecily would certainly leave her at the drop of a hat to get her mack on. In fact, she’d done just that the night she met Kendrick. “Sure, why not?” Dayna said, nonchalantly.
Ammon held the door open for Dayna. She took a deep breath as she stepped out into the open air. Outside, Ammon pointed to two unoccupied lawn chairs. After sinking into the seats, Dayna and Ammon balanced the plastic plates on their laps. A part of her was aware of the festive atmosphere in the backyard as she picked up bits of conversations and heard the tinkling sound of laughter, but everything and everyone seemed distant, far away like props and background music. Ammon had her undivided attention. Ammon held center stage.
She was frightened by her sudden and powerful attraction to him. She was so distracted by worry; she could hardly keep up with his conversation. What would he do next? Would he ask to take her out, ask for her phone number? Or would he finish his plate, stand up, and thank her kindly for her time and be about his business?
Imagining the awkward silence that would hang between them if Ammon stood up abruptly after he finished his meal, Dayna began to chew quickly, racing to finish first. She wanted to be the one who said, “It was nice meeting you.” She desperately needed to adjourn this curious encounter to protect herself from the shame of being left outside alone.
Hadn’t she experienced enough shame in the last week to last a lifetime? She nodded her head in response to her silent question, picked up the half-eaten plate of salad greens from her lap, and abruptly leaned forward with the heel of her palm pressed determinedly on the wooden arm of the chair.
“You leaving?” Ammon inquired, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yeah, I, uh…have to check on my girlfriend; she’s probably wondering what happened to me.”
“Oh, excuse me. I was so concerned about losing you again; I didn’t even think to ask if you were alone.”
Concerned about losing me again! So, it wasn’t her imagination, they truly had shared a moment at Carmella’s. A moment so intense, she’d fled from his gaze and sought refuge in her car. Dayna eased against the back of the chair, relaxed her hand from escape mode, and fastened her eyes
on his.
Ammon tilted his head and asked with a chuckle, “Can I get a phone number or something?” Then his voice turned serious. “I’d like to see you again.”
“You’ll have to give me your number; I’m staying with my mother right now and I don’t…” She could have easily given him her cell phone number, but she wanted to see how he’d handle the situation. Would he offer just his cell phone number or would he give up his home number? She’d heard somewhere that a man who only gives his cell phone number is usually unavailable—a cheater. Like her no-good husband. She recalled how secretive Reed was about his cell phone; always keeping it turned off whenever she was in close range.
“No problem,” Ammon said, placing his plate on the ground while he fished around in his pocket. Clipping a business card between two fingers, he said, “Here you go. You’ve got both my numbers…home and cell.”
She felt like jumping up and down and squealing in glee, but Dayna calmly accepted the card and promised to call soon. As she quickly whisked away, she mouthed the word yes!
She walked as fast as she could as she wrestled with an overpowering urge to dance or skip…or hell, she might even start turning somersaults all the way from the backyard to the main room of the big house.
Chapter 28
The old woman had squirreled away fifty-two thousand dollars! Reed had never seen so much cash in his life.
Rolls upon rolls of twenty- and fifty-dollar bills had been tightly packed and stacked in an old rusty coffee can. The top was homemade—aluminum foil folded over the rim and secured with a rubber band.
“Look at all this paper,” he muttered in amazement. Tightly curled bills covered the kitchen table, and no matter how much pressure he used to smooth the money out, it stubbornly refused to unfurl.
Perspiring from excitement, he counted out the bills for the third and final time. Astounded by his good fortune, he shook his head and mopped his brow. Then, filled with a sense of smug self-satisfaction, he gave a loud whoop and raised both fists high in the air.
Dangerously In Love Page 18