Nappily in Bloom

by Trisha R. Thomas

  Delma snatched the keys out of his hand. The car door remained locked. She wasn’t letting him in until he gave her the satisfaction she was after. “Well . . .”

  “Well, what? That doesn’t prove the boy is an axe-murderer. Baby cakes, you’re just scared ’cause you think you’re losing your only child. She’s always going to be your child, even when she has babies of her own. Even when she’s fifty and you’re a hundred.”

  “Watch it.” Delma poked him. “Don’t get hurt. I’m only fifty-four.” When she’d found baby Keisha dehydrated and near dead, she was a young woman, barely thirty years old, and from that day forward, she’d lived every day for that child. Every single day.

  Hudson drew her in for a long hug. He rested his narrow chin on her head. “I know it’s scary. Nothing’s going to change. She will always love you.”

  “It’s not just that, Hudson. You know I’m not that selfish.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I know. I say we give the boy a minute to prove himself. Give him the honor of being innocent until proven guilty. That’s what we do. That’s how we handle every man, woman, and child—with fairness and objectivity.”

  “We’re not in a court of law, Hudson. This is my life, Keisha’s life. No one is objective when it comes to their own child. You know that.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. You have my word on it. Keisha is important to me, too.” He was so protective. Hudson was her knight in shining armor, even if Delma was the one who’d rescued him, giving him a job as her law clerk even after finding out he’d lied on his application about having a degree when he’d barely earned a GED. After growing up without a father or even a big brother, it was something that quickened the heart of a woman, when a man could wrap his arms around her and make everything all right. He cared for her when she was sick, softened her when she became too hard, and stopped anyone in their tracks who meant to cause her harm.

  “Thank you, Hudson,” Delma said, finally satisfied. All she’d wanted was to know she wasn’t crazy. That it wasn’t her imagination or fears making her lose sleep at night. Now that Hudson had noticed the strange behavior of Gray Hillman, she felt relieved.

  Gray leaned against the door as if he needed a place to rest, but really he was listening, doing his best to eavesdrop on Trevelle and Keisha’s conversation. There was no real cause for alarm. Trevelle had been bluffing—all bark and no bite. She wouldn’t dare jeopardize her relationship with Keisha after it had only just begun to take off.

  “Looks like someone found Jesus.” Nikki’s voice penetrated his eardrum. “What happened to you last night?”

  He put his finger to his mouth to shush her. Then he put a gentle but firm hand around her waist, escorting her away from the door. “I got held up at the Sirena Lassiter screening.”

  “You could’ve called to tell me.” Nikki folded her arms around herself. She was losing patience with his neglect. He’d made promises, but only to stall her from trying to get away. Gray planned to end their clandestine relationship, but it would be on his terms, not hers, and he damn well wasn’t handing her over to another man so easily after he’d taught her every trick in the book. She was his till he said otherwise.

  “Yes, you’re right. I should’ve called.” He pushed his lips out for a distance kiss.

  She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Whatever, Gray.”

  “What’re you doing here anyway? You’re supposed to be at the restaurant, organizing the engagement brunch.”

  She tilted her head like a punished puppy and batted her silken lashes. “I’m not at your beck and call. Tomorrow I fly to Trinidad for my mother’s birthday. Remember that. Don’t look for me to be waiting on you and yours hand and foot.” She opened her purse and pulled out her cell phone, which was ringing. She silenced it before putting it back. “I’m not your housemaid while you treat your bride like a princess. When I get back, things are going to change.”

  “Who was that calling?” Gray felt like snatching the phone out of her hand, ignoring every single thing she’d said. The phone, like her, belonged to him, so he didn’t really want to hear what she would and would not do. He would’ve hoped she’d learned her lesson the other night. As he reached toward her, “I told you—”

  Keisha came out with Trevelle close behind. “Hey, girl.” She hugged Nikki, who smiled over her shoulder.

  “I enjoyed the service very much. And you, Miz Trevelle, you are a wonder, such a blessing. I feel so honored to have heard you sing.”

  Trevelle nodded. “Thank you, Nikki. It’s always a pleasure to see you.” She cut her eyes in Gray’s direction. “If you ever need to move along from Shark and Boyd, I can use a good assistant.”

  “Miz Trevelle, I’d hoped you and Gray would resolve—”

  Gray interrupted. “Nikki, you need to get to the restaurant and make sure everything is set up.”

  “Right.” She pushed back her wild Tina Turner hair. Everything about her was the opposite of Keisha, and he liked it that way. She was short and thick. Keisha was long and lean. Her skin was berry chocolate, and Keisha’s was warm mocha. He felt like a man who had everything, the perfect combo. He’d even fantasized about having them both in the bed with him at the same time. The ultimate wish. Though he’d experienced it a few times, he knew nothing could top having it with someone he loved.

  He reached out and took Keisha’s hand. “More important, your mother is waiting at the restaurant.” He adjusted his cuff-linked sleeve to peek at his watch. “You know her better than I, but something tells me she doesn’t like to wait.”

  Trevelle winced with the mention of Delma—just the reaction he was looking for.

  “You’re right, yes.” Keisha leaned into Trevelle. “I can’t wait for you to see the dress I picked out.” They kissed and hugged.

  “You know, I’d love to come to the engagement brunch. I realize you hadn’t planned on one more, but I promise not to take up too much room.”

  Keisha looked to Gray for a confirmation. He had no choice but to agree. “I don’t see why not.”

  “Great. I’ll ride with you all.”

  “Probably be best if you met us there.” Gray nearly shivered with the thought of her in his backseat. He’d never been stupid enough to turn his back on a enemy, and he wasn’t about to start now.

  “Fine, I’ll meet you there.”

  “Nonsense, you can ride with me,” Nikki offered.

  “Ladies.” Gray nodded at Nikki and Trevelle before they turned away. He looped Keisha’s arm through his and said a small prayer. Having Trevelle in an intimate setting with Nikki wasn’t that much better than having her in his car. He prayed they didn’t exchange any stories. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to have Trevelle at the engagement brunch?”

  “Gray, that’s why I asked you.”

  “You didn’t ask me. What you did was put me on the spot.”

  “Well, it’s time we stop dancing around the issue. My mother is going to have to accept Trevelle, and vice versa. I’ve had enough of being caught in this tug-of-war.”

  His phone started vibrating as soon as they hit the outside of the church. His heart raced. Sunday calls were never good. They were usually the result of one of his many clients who’d run into trouble the night before. Caught on camera doing something they wished they could take back. His only advantage was that most of his clients were African American, and brown skin didn’t fetch as good a price as white skin in the tabloids, regardless of their status. So whatever was caught on tape stayed on tape and hardly ever made it to public viewing. He looked at the number and pushed the ignore button.

  “Who is it?” Keisha was leaning on his shoulder as they walked.

  “I don’t know. They’ll leave a message.”

  “I just wish everyone could get along.” She picked up right where they’d left off before the interruption. Keisha could talk when she felt like it. Most got the impression that she was quiet and reserved. He knew better. She was funny, to
o. Not in a goofy kind of way, just sometimes the most ironic twist of words got him deep belly laughing. “We haven’t even thrown your family into the mix. I think we should order a metal detector for the chapel door.”

  He found himself cracking up in spite of the mood the phone call had just put him in. “Yeah, I can already see it, all the little church ladies throwing their Gats in the security tray. You know what?” He tapped the unlock button on the sleek BMW 745. “We should just go ahead and call VH-1, see if they want to film this thing. Hot Mess Wedding Drama, ten P.M. on Wednesday nights.”

  Her smile was all he was after, but her sweet laugh sealed the deal. “You’re too much.”

  “So I’ve been told.” The buzz signaled that a message had been left on his voice mail.

  He couldn’t resist. He listened to the first few seconds. “It’s Ronny, don’t make me call you before you call me, you know what I’m sayin?”

  Gray squeezed the button until the phone powered off. He knew exactly what Ronny was saying. Criminals. Dealing with the unsavory came with his profession. He was a lawyer who specialized in clients with too much time and money. With money came power, which nine times out of ten led to trouble.

  Ronny was a music producer who financed his first label with drug money. Most liked to believe that a shiny new profession could turn the dirty clean, but Gray knew better. If you played in the mud, the dirt didn’t wash off easy. Ronny needed someone like Gray, who could be the fresh clean face on a business deal.

  “We’re here,” Gray said casually. “I’m going to let you out, then go park.” He and Keisha kissed before she got out.

  He wasted no time pulling out his phone and dialing before he’d found a parking spot.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Speak,” Gray said with a deeper voice than most of his associates knew he was capable of.

  “You speak, and you better start talking fast. I told you last night: I’m losing my patience.”

  “Look, nothing’s changed since twelve hours ago. It’s Sunday. What do you want me to do on a Sunday? Besides the fact that I don’t know a damn thing about hidden bank accounts. I’m not involved. I’ve explained this to you.”

  “Then you better start speaking a language I can understand, ’cause I’m not getting it.”

  “The man is dead and buried. What am I supposed to do, dig him up and shake some answers out of him?”

  “You know what, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe you need to join Byron Steeple in the ground.”

  “Wait, wait a minute. Calm the hell down. Byron Steeple was working alone. I don’t have any idea where your money is. How many ways do you want me to say it?”

  “See, that’s where I’m havin’ the problem. You’re the one who hooked me up with ’em. You said he could be trusted. Now you don’t know nothin’. Now you aren’t involved. I want my money. You owe me.”

  Gray leaned his head against the leather rest, then popped up. “How many ways do I say I’m sorry?” He felt like laughing for sounding like a Hallmark card. Keisha would’ve got the joke. He pushed the air-conditioning up to its coolest temperature and cursed under his breath, feeling perspiration spreading to his expensive suit lining.

  “Find my money. Find my damn money. If you don’t, I’m going to start speaking a language we both can understand.”

  The dead air was all that remained between them. Gray powered down, this time tossing the phone in his glove box for safe measure. He didn’t want to even see it again until Monday morning.

  Tell My Story

  “I’m a guest of the Stantons’,” I told the guard. “The birthday party . . . ,” I added, trying to keep my voice from cracking. The entire time, I couldn’t take my eyes off the rearview mirror.

  “The party is at two, ma’am. The Stantons aren’t accepting guests until that time.” He eyed Mya in the backseat. “Hey, pretty girl.”

  “Well, not in our case. My daughter is the birthday boy’s best friend, so she has permission to come early.”

  “Your name?”

  “Venus Parson, and this is Mya.” I handed him my ID as I’d done a few weeks back when Jory and Mya had a playdate. Neither of his parents had been home, leaving me to chat with Greta, the German nanny, who couldn’t keep her eyes or her hands off my hair. “You no afford to fix? Your employer no pay you enough money. I know a good family to work for.” It took me the entire afternoon to convince her that my untamed ’fro was a choice, not a situation that needed rectifying. Making her understand I was Mya’s mother and not interested in joining the union for disgruntled nannies was the least of my problems.

  I watched him pick up the phone and face the opposite direction. He returned, holding my ID. “Two o’clock. If you’d like to park in the waiting area in the shade, you’re more than welcome.” I followed his eye to the shaded parking spots on the wrong side of the ten-foot-high gate.

  “Please, can I just pull in? I won’t go to their house until two P.M., but I really need to come inside. Isn’t there like a park or something? She needs to go to the bathroom.” I gave him my most endearing “Please.”

  “The clubhouse is open. She can use the restroom in there.” He leaned his hands on his knees. “I don’t see any harm long as you promise not to make any trouble.” He winked.

  “Trouble, me? No.” The gate slowly rolled open. Relieved to finally feel safe. I checked my rearview mirror one last time.

  Up ahead I saw the clubhouse but turned in the opposite direction. I didn’t care if the party started hours from now. We were headed to the Stantons’. I had one goal: to get Mya and me to a safe place.

  The palatial home flanked by pillars now had balloons billowing from each side over the front door. “Mya, sweetie, wait.” She’d already taken off sprinting across the perfect lawn and cutting through the small boxwood hedge.

  She could barely reach the doorbell, thank goodness. I got beside her in time to make sure she pressed it only once.

  “Well, hello.” Holly Stanton held on to the doorknob. One hard pink curler was rolled at the top of her head. The rest of her hair hung straight past her narrow shoulders. “I . . . thought I explained to the guard, the party starts at two.” She looked us both thoroughly over.

  “I know. But Mya really is anxious to see Jory. She wasn’t going to let me go all the way back home. I got the time wrong.”

  “Someone’s here.” Jory must’ve heard the doorbell. He peeked his head underneath his mom’s elbow. His face lit up when he saw Mya. “Come in,” he welcomed, and then took her hand. He certainly didn’t get his manners from his mother. The little picture-perfect duo was Benetton-advertisement ready, Mya with her wild mop of hair and Jory the spitting image of a baby Brad Pitt. They dipped underneath her arm, which still held fast to the door, and darted off inside.

  While we stood in our awkward silence, the kids’ glee and laughter receded as they raced down the marble-floored hallway. “I guess you’d like to come in,” she finally offered.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I’m still getting ready. You can wait out here. Help yourself to the snacks.” She disappeared after leading me into the large enclosed veranda. The house was infinitely large. I could hide there, which was exactly what I’d planned to do. Snacks. I’d call it a full spread with shrimp kebabs and a cheese and fruit platter that rivaled any wedding I’d attended.

  I popped a couple of grapes in my mouth and took a wedge of watermelon to the couch. I was famished. I dripped all over myself and kept looking at my cell phone, waiting for Jake to call me back.

  “Well, hello there.” Mr. Stanton stood in the doorway. Senator Robert Stanton was hardly your everyday-looking politician. His glossy bronze hair was tousled and hung long enough to push behind his ear. “Venus, right? How you doing?” He put out his hand.

  “I’m good. I’m sorry I came so early. We were in the area.” My fingers were sticky from the melon, so I gave him a pinkie.

  “Are you kidding?” He took my hand in his,
then brought it to his nose like a Southern gent. “We could shut this whole thing down right now since Jory’s got Mya here. It’s his day. Let ’em enjoy the hell out of it.”

  I was relieved. His easy spirit made up for his uptight wife. I’d learned most relationships were like good cop–bad cop scenarios. In my relationship, I would definitely be classified as the bad cop. Jake always gave at the office, the one with the open mind, offering the benefit of the doubt—except when it came to Airic. Every superhero had to have an archenemy, I guess, even the perfect ones.

  My phone began to buzz. I was hoping it was Jake. But speak of the archenemy, I saw Airic’s name pop up and couldn’t help my disappointment.

  Robert Stanton smiled. “You need to get that? I’ll go round us up a sangria, perfect early-afternoon pick-me-up.”

  “Venus, I’m here at your house. Where is Mya?” Airic was irate, but what else was new. “We agreed on this Sunday. I’m not going to stand for this. I’ve already missed two of my visits.”

  “Listen, I completely forgot. I’ve got a lot going on. Not to mention Mya had a birthday party of her best friend from school that she was not going to miss.” I shook my head like a petulant child, my best imitation of our daughter—or maybe she was constantly imitating me. I’d often caught her staring at me intensely with those big bold eyes, studying my inability to be reasonable. Then I remembered my promise of a kinder, gentler Venus. “I apologize, but I’m not going to bring her all the way back to the house. The party won’t be over until four at the earliest.”

  Airic proceeded to yell in my ear. “I don’t want to get the authorities involved, Venus, but I will if I have to.”

  “Don’t you have enough on your plate? Why are you pushing this?”

  “Tell me where you are, and I’ll pick her up from there,” he demanded.

  Before I could scoff at the ridiculousness of Airic’s attitude, Robert Stanton returned with two tall glasses filled with ice drowned in the punch. He set one down on a coaster in front of me. From his expression, I could tell he could hear Airic’s loud bark over the phone. He sat directly across from me and gave a sympathetic raised brow.