Nappily in Bloom

by Trisha R. Thomas

  Vince walked me out though he was going back inside to finish a couple of orders. No matter how much I pried, he insisted this was the best time of his life, which meant he’d erased the previous one from his memory. Or he’d spent his prime in solitary confinement. There was no other way to explain his thrill with working for me in daisy land.

  “If Jake knows how much this guy is getting on your nerves, why’s he let him stay?” Vin rested his sturdy hands on my car door.

  “He’s a bleeding heart, always has been. Why do you think he puts up with me?”

  “Ah, you’re not so bad.” His crooked smile showed a missing tooth on the upper right side. Teeth had a way of telling the story of one’s travels. There’d been a rough patch for Vince.

  I pulled out of the lot and realized I would be late picking up Mya. The more time I took to get home, the less I’d have to spend worrying about Legend.

  I hadn’t noticed the light had turned green. I checked my rearview mirror and wondered why the car behind me hadn’t honked. I stepped on the gas pedal but not until the light had already turned yellow. The car behind followed, ignoring what was now a red light. Only when I gained a little distance did it dawn on me. It looked like the same car from earlier, the one sitting in front of my house. I eased on my speed and switched lanes. Calm down, who would be following you?

  I hadn’t found myself in any precarious situations in quite some time. In fact, I’d prided myself on the drama-free existence I’d led over the past year. No run-ins with the police, as seen on TV by the local gentry when Jake was held hostage in a sound studio by a gunman. I’d nearly run over Atlanta’s finest with my car to get to him. Let the record show there was nothing I wouldn’t do for my husband, including mowing down a few good men. Luckily no one got hurt.

  The only consequence was being on the authorities’ radar screen. Jake believed once you were in the system for anything at all—regardless of guilt or innocence—you were first on the list of suspects for the smallest to the biggest crime. Maybe even under constant surveillance.

  I drove slow enough for the other car to pass me. No such luck. The car merely stayed on my right bumper, matching my turtle speed.

  At the light, they pulled up behind me. For the second time, I let the light go from red to green then back to red. I sat there staring in horror through my rearview mirror as the two shadows simply sat, too, with nowhere to go.

  Oh God, this is really happening.

  I stepped on the gas full force. My wheels spun faster than I could move, sending up a puff of smoke from the rubber tread. I pushed the steering wheel button to get an open phone line.

  The phone hadn’t rang yet and I was already talking. “Someone’s following me. Someone . . .”

  Jake answered. “Baby . . . wassup?” His voice was sweet relief and music to my ears.

  “. . . I’m not imagining it. I already know what you’re going to say. I’m telling you. They’re right behind me.”

  “Wait,” he said calmly. “Tell me where you are.”

  I checked the rearview mirror, anticipating the flashing color from the unmarked car, now that I’d actually been caught speeding and running lights. When I looked up, there was no one there. No gray car with two dark mysterious figures. I slowed down.

  “I’m on Peachtree. But they’re gone.” I released a breath that turned into a cry.

  “Babe, relax, take a deep breath. Where’s Mya?”

  “At school.” I fought the shakiness in my voice. “I was on my way to pick her up when I saw this car. The same car I saw outside our house yesterday morning.”

  “You saw someone outside our house yesterday morning? Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I don’t know. It didn’t seem so strange then; now it adds up. They were definitely following me.”

  “Come home.”

  “But I have to get Mya.”

  “Come home. I’ll get Mya. Come home,” he said again, with no room for negotiation. “Now.”

  I wiped my eyes and began to drive again, watching the rearview every few seconds. I simply had to calm down. Whoever they were already knew where we lived. They already knew where I’d dropped Mya off yesterday morning, so evidently they’d know exactly where I was heading now. I was a sitting duck whether I was moving, speeding, running lights or not.

  Knowing this didn’t stop me from hitting the gas hard. I wanted to get home and find out what Jake knew. I could hear it in his voice. He hated uncertainty, he hated not knowing every detail of a story, yet he asked me nothing. Come home, was all he said. I slammed my fist on the steering wheel. Everything had been going so well. He promised. Was there some law in the universe that said, Thou shalt never be happy?

  I’d worked too hard and sucked up too much dust in my life to let it all be destroyed now.

  Shallow Past

  Behind those clear thoughtful eyes and intellect was the scary truth that if you couldn’t do anything for him, you were wasting his time. No one held this honesty against him. He couldn’t help the internal clock as it ticked time down to the smallest unit, wondering how much longer was needed to get the deal signed. Wasn’t that what life boiled down to—agreements and contracts, verbal, written, or otherwise implied?

  He was about to enter the most important contract of his lifetime: marriage. He hadn’t planned to act on the attraction between Keisha and himself, but there was no denying its existence. And then less than seven days after he’d taken her to his bed, he found himself on bended knee. “Will you marry me and make me the happiest man in the world?” Her sweet lips had answered, yes. She had cried. All his life he was brought up to be hard, stoic, stern, and cold. If you want something, you must go after it—holding nothing back.

  His heart was softened the minute he was touched by Keisha’s love and affection. Knowing that she was worth potential millions didn’t hurt either. After his own family had lost their fortune, he’d kicked into full gear, working his ass off. Was there anything wrong with choosing a woman based on her worth? Women did it all the time. Pretty young women married the older, less attractive men because of money and status. He was just being shrewd, combining both love and security. And by God, Keisha was beautiful, so he’d essentially hit the bull’s-eye.

  He paced as he watched the digital clock move to ten past the hour. He opened his office door. The solid gold letters SHARK BOYD & ASSOC greeted him from across the hall. The law firm specialized in sports and entertainment management, and had recently been covered on 20/20 for winning a scandalous battle for a baseball player who’d used illegal steroids.

  Nikki, the thick island beauty, sat in an oval station of deep cherrywood. She pushed her accent harder these days, curling her thick glossy lips around the L’s and sharpening her I’s. “No sign of her, Mr. Hillman.”

  “Call her again.” He hated tardiness. He hated wasting precious time. Though Trevelle was one of his biggest clients and soon to be his mother-in-law, it didn’t give her the right to waste his time.

  “I’ve already dialed three times. I left messages each time,” Nikki countered, as if defending her ability to do her job. She checked her watch. “I have to go. I’m meeting Keisha for her gown fitting.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, Mr. Hillman, you mean your new fiancée doesn’t tell you of her every move?” She sneered.

  “Don’t leave until Trevelle shows up.”

  He closed the double doors of his office. Nikki was getting out of hand lately. He’d grilled her about the so-called prince. She claimed there was no man in her life, expect him.

  He sat on the edge of his desk. Women quickly got out of control if you didn’t keep a close rein. He would deal with Nikki. Right now he had to concentrate on Trevelle. He knew what she was doing, making him wait—think too hard, contemplate, and come to his own conclusion. Trevelle wanted him to fear her, but why should he? He was genuine in his heart and emotion. Keisha was the type of woman he’d dreamed about as a boy, th
e kind you cut out of the Jet magazine and glued to the wall. The sexiest of them all, with a smile that could light up the world and a body that could shut it down.

  “Ms. Doval is here. Shall I show her in?” Nikki’s voice sailed over the intercom.

  “Please do.” Gray stood up and smoothed his hand down his tie. He adjusted his slacks and took a comfortable seat behind his desk as if he hadn’t been pacing the floor.

  “Can I get you coffee, or anything to drink?” Nikki offered as she led Trevelle in.

  “Thank you. No. I’m good.” His future mother-in-law was flawless as usual. Her ocean blue suit fit with class but still showed off healthy curves and the long firm legs she used to strut across the stage during her ministries.

  “I could use a double espresso.” Gray’s lilted voice was soft compared with his male counterparts. He never tried to deepen it. The kind of voice that offered to keep their secrets and promises. Lately he’d noticed it had lost its effect on Nikki. She gave him a look that said she wasn’t asking him, but she’d bring it anyway.

  “Always a pleasure, Trevelle. So glad you could grace us with your presence.”

  “Wish I could say the same.” She took a seat, crossed her legs so her fitted skirt slid upward to the highest part of her thigh. One more inch to glory.

  “Uh-oh, what did I do?” His eyes feigned cluelessness.

  She bellowed a haughty laugh then stopped abruptly. “You’re a piece of work. First you decide to marry my daughter like some thief in the night, then you don’t do your job.”

  “I’ll ignore the first part. The second accusation needs some clarification.”

  “With all of this going on with Airic and his public atrocities, you didn’t bother to call.”

  “I’m your lawyer, not his.”

  “Well, if you’d focused on your work, instead of rushing my daughter to the altar, you’d know this mess needs to be handled. On top of that my book tour was canceled.”

  Gray’s honey-colored eyes closed slightly under the weight of his smile. “Look, this is not the end of the world. You’re so much stronger than what a little book tour and promotion could offer.”

  “So you did know.”

  For a minute there, he thought she was going to get up and slap him. If looks could kill.

  “What’s important is defining a new strategy. You’ve told me time and time again, ‘Define yourself or someone else will.’ Well, here is a perfect opportunity. Trust me, this is small in the grand scheme of things.” He was prepared for her anger. He had his own issues with the way things were handled by the publisher. But more important, he needed to get her on his side. “So let’s talk strategy.”

  “I already have one, you need to postpone this wedding and focus on the job at hand. Obviously, you can’t do two things at once.”

  He shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

  “I need time to take care of all the drama in my life. Right now I don’t stand a chance in being a part of my only daughter’s ceremony while trying to put out all these fires that you should’ve been handling.”

  His laughter was more a defense mechanism. “Oh, I tell you. You missed your calling. Trevelle, you should’ve been a comedienne.”

  “You think that was funny. I have another one for you: If you don’t postpone this ceremony, I will.”

  His perfect lips surrounding perfect teeth quickly met in a line. No more smiling for effect. He was angry. “Every week there’s a new story about you and Airic fighting in public, making a spectacle of yourselves. Ford Motor Company sent a memo regarding your spokesperson deal. The one you were supposed to get one point two million dollars for to pose in front of a couple of SUVs for all of an hour. Well, guess what . . . they’re currently putting a hold on all diversity marketing. Translation, they don’t like the publicity your domestic spat has been getting.” He leaned back in his chair. “I worked hard on that deal and you blow it up in a matter of seconds. Now you want me to drop everything and focus on you. I find that very ironic.”

  “I don’t give a damn about sponsorship deals.” Her hand tossed the notion aside. “Don’t try to throw me off with that mess.”

  Gray tapped the pen he was holding. He knew the sound annoyed the hell out of her. “Okay, here it is. I suggest you clean up your act. For the good of you and your well-being, take the high ground and stop marching around town with your emotions on your sleeve.” He was winning the war. He could see her crumpling under his admonishment. She may have thought she was coming here to give him an earful, but it was he who was pissed. He hated cleaning up messes. What he hated even more was giving back money.

  The Ford deal had a nice clause in small print that gave them the right to cancel the contract for any negative public standing. Trevelle was a money train he hated to see derailed for more reasons than he could count. If no one else would tell her, it was up to him. “So, like I said, we need to be discussing strategy. When you’re ready to stick to business, let me know. Right now I need to meet my lovely fiancée and hopefully catch her final bridal gown fitting.”

  She shook her head. “I thought we had an agreement.” Her voice went low and unsettling. This is what he’d been waiting for. Her gaze was almost past him or straight through him, he couldn’t tell.

  “I’m the one who brought Keisha to you. Had I known I was delivering my daughter to the devil’s door—what did I do to deserve your wrath?”

  “Wrath? Isn’t that one of those damning phrases like ‘seeking to destroy.’ Baby, it’s not that deep. You weren’t even on my mind when I got on my knees and asked Keisha to marry me.”

  “What would Keisha say if she knew?”

  It had been two years since their last encounter, but time didn’t make past actions go away or disappear. Even now, being in her presence—just the closeness—caused a swelling between his legs. Part thrill, part fear. She had a primal skill he remembered very clearly as her distinct gift, a natural. The woman knew how to work her magic. So it was a lie when he said, “Thankfully she doesn’t remind me of you at all.”

  They’d been working too closely, too much sniffing distance. A relationship was not what he would’ve called it. More like a distribution of benefits equal and fair. No one got the best of the other. When the transactions stopped, there was no discussion.

  “We’re all adults here.” He pushed away from his desk. “This little charade is taking up way too much time. I’ve got to tell you, this is a shock. You coming in here talking about us as if—” He shook his head. “Look, right now it’s all about damage control. Trevelle Doval, the priestess of gospel, must put herself back together again. Your image has to be one of a strong black woman who is holding her head up during adversity. So let’s concentrate on that for now. Shark and Boyd only manages top clients, and right now, you mean a great deal to this firm.”

  “I know who you really are, Gray. The more I think about it, the more determined I am to stop this wedding. You’re not marrying my child. It’s not going to happen.”

  “The wedding will happen. You will be there, and you will be happy for us.”

  “Don’t do this. Let her find a man who really loves her, who adores her. Keisha deserves that.”

  “Okay, we’re through here.” He had a look of indignation. The alarm had sounded in his head. Time’s up. He was tired of playing with this woman. “You know what, you’re right. I’ll tell her tonight, explain that we rushed in to things, that her dear sweet mother she’s known all of fifteen minutes seems to know what’s best.”

  “I’m going to be the one doing the telling. Trust me, you will lose.” She stood up.

  He opened his arms. “If that’s the way you want to play it, I’ll tell her you want to keep me for yourself. Our brief and not-so-wondrous affair made you delirious with jealousy, and you came in here and threatened to tell her everything. So I decided to tell first.” He paused. “What do you think, how does that sound? Good enough?”

  “Stop it. Li
sten to me. You are messing with the wrong person. Do you hear me?”

  “Why don’t we reconvene next week, after nerves have soothed a bit? Then we can discuss real issues, like the sponsors.” He walked the length of his expansive office and opened the door. “Nikki, make an appointment for Ms. Doval for next Friday.” He held up a hand to beckon to Trevelle. “Good to see you as always, Mom.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek, knowing he wouldn’t get far.

  “That won’t be necessary, Nikki. I won’t be back. You’ll receive your discontinued service via messenger.” She said to Gray. “We’ll see if you’re still in consideration as partner when they learn you lost them their biggest client.”

  A smirk of laughter left his lips, though he was uncomfortable with the damage she could inflict. “Right.” He managed to say, “You have a great day, Ms. Doval. See you at the wedding.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  If I could be so lucky.

  “So can I go now?” Nikki asked with almost as much disdain after Trevelle had gone.

  “Yeah, get the fuck out of here.”

  House Arrest

  After putting Mya to bed, I’d showered for nearly an hour, scrubbing and sudsing from head to toe. All I wanted to do was wash away the memory, the fear I’d experienced. “Do you think it was the police?” I came out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around my body and another drying my hair.

  “First of all, it could’ve been a coincidence.” Jake fell back in the lounge chair in our bedroom. He rubbed his chin and shook his head. “You need to stay home for a few days until I can figure out what’s going on.”

  “I have a business to run. I have that huge wedding of Judge Hawkins’s daughter. Not to mention everyday orders that have to be filled. I can’t do it from home.”

  “Vince has got you covered, right? Your big boy likes making things pretty over there. He’ll be cool.”

  “Don’t you talk about Vince, not even a little bit, do you hear me? I can’t stay home—that’s all there is to it. I’m not going to be a freakin’ prisoner.” I pulled the wet towel off my head. I felt as out of control as my hair. “I’d rather take my chances out in the mean streets of Atlanta before staying in the same house all day with Legend.” Either one was a high-risk situation. Someone was bound to get hurt.