by Girard, Dara
“Nothing wrong with waiting for a god.”
“And as you wait I hope you’ll meet a man who’ll shoot you down to Earth.”
***
Once Brenna reached home, she pulled a book down from the shelf hoping to drown out her brother’s hurtful words. She knew she’d been an embarrassment to her family. That was why she’d worked so hard to become somebody. And she had. Love by Design had been written up in Essence and Caribbean Times as a great alternative to online matchmaking services and speed dating. It was a classic hands-on approach to finding love. She was performing a great service and making a lot of people happy plus earning a decent income. She traveled, ate wherever she wanted and bought clothes when the mood struck, however these were limited luxuries because she had to stay within her budget. But beside these small treats, there were those few moments of loneliness. And when they descended, she’d slip into the lives of one of the fictional heroines in her books and life would return to order.
She was halfway through a delicious suspense novel when the phone rang. It was her friend, Bette. They’d recently become reacquainted two months ago thanks to her mother. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood before Brenna’s parent’s divorce forced her to move away. After a few letters they’d lost touch. Until now. Bette was great company, very affectionate and kind.
“I need a break,” Bette said.
“Me too.”
“We could go to the Ride Club.”
Brenna frowned. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“That’s okay. They have live entertainment and great food.”
“Sounds perfect,” Brenna said ready for a diversion although she wasn’t a club person. She’d talked about taking risks; she might as well take one now. “Come by tomorrow.”
***
The next day Stephen came to her office as she put things away. “I thought I’d take you out to dinner,” he said.
Brenna knew he was feeling guilty about their last discussion. She patted him on the shoulder. “That’s okay. I’m going out with Bette.”
“Oh, yea. How is she doing?”
“She’s still single. Very cute. You might like her.”
His eyes hardened. “I’m with Fiona.”
She held up her hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay.”
“So where are you going?” Pauline asked curious.
Brenna snapped her briefcase shut. “The Ride Club.”
Stephen’s lip twitched.
Pauline stared. “The Ride?”
Brenna nodded. “Yes.”
Stephen burst into laughter. Pauline bit her lower lip. “Oh, Brenna.”
She looked at them confused. “What?”
“The Ride.” Stephen fell against the wall doubled over in laughter.
“What is wrong with you?”
Pauline touched her sleeve looking worried. “The Ride is a lesbian club.”
“No, it’s not.”
Stephen said, “I dare you to go and find out. Or ‘come out’.”
Brenna wadded up a ball of paper and threw it at him. “Be quiet.” She turned to Pauline. “Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“But why would Bette invite me to a gay bar? We’ve been going out for over two months, having such a great time. She said Mom gave her my number and...Oh no. She wouldn’t.”
Stephen saw her face and burst into fresh peals of laughter.
“Shut up!”
“What?” Pauline asked.
Brenna picked up the phone. “Let me make sure. I may be wrong.”
“I don’t think you are,” Stephen said, wiping away tears.
Pauline looked at them confused. “Wrong about what?”
Brenna picked up the phone and dialed. She waved a hand for quiet as her mother picked up. “Hi, Mom. Yes, I’m fine. I have a question for you. Did you know that Bette was gay? Uh, huh. I see. Yes, yes. Right. No. Bye.” She hung up.
Pauline and Stephen stared at her.
“She knew Bette was gay. She said she wanted to cover all bases and if you start laughing again little brother I swear I’ll write your name and phone number in the first gay bar I see.”
Stephen straightened his face.
Brenna fell into her chair. “This is awful. What am I going to do? She’s so nice.”
Stephen smiled. “You could take a risk. You never know.”
She glared at him. “I may just risk murder charges.”
“You’ll have to tell her,” Pauline said.
She stood and grabbed her briefcase. “Follow me home,” she told Stephen.
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to help me come up with something.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Will you relax,” Brenna said as Stephen looked around the apartment corridor. “I’m the one with the problem.”
“I hope that woman doesn’t come out of her cave.”
Brenna gritted her teeth. “Don’t worry. I didn’t see her tiger outside.” She stopped in front of her apartment and searched for her key. When the door next to them opened, Stephen moved to Brenna’s other side.
Tima popped her head out and smiled at them. “Hello you two.”
“No time to talk,” Brenna said. “I have a mini crisis.”
“What is it?”
“She’s dating a lesbian,” Stephen said.
Tima blinked. “Oh, I didn’t know—”
“Apparently neither did she.”
Brenna nudged him. “I’m not a lesbian. There was a slight misunderstanding.”
Tima nodded. “I see. Would you two like to come in and discuss options?”
Stephen took the keys from Brenna and opened the door. “We’re fine thanks.”
“Are you sure?”
He gently pushed Brenna inside. “Very sure.” He closed the door.
“That was rude,” Brenna said as he tossed her keys aside. “She was trying to be helpful.”
“We don’t need her help.”
“I think we do.”
“If you invite her over, I’m leaving.”
She put her hands under her arms and made chicken noises.
He frowned. “Do you want my help or not?”
She let her hands fall. “Fine, fine. Do you have any ideas?”
He pulled on his goatee pensive then snapped his fingers. “I could chaperon.”
Brenna narrowed her eyes.
“Or tell her you had an emergency.”
“Maybe. Let’s think some more.” They sat at the table trying to come up with various ideas. A few moments later, the doorbell rang. They stared at each other.
Brenna glanced at her clock. “She’s early.”
“Make her wait.”
“For how long?”
“Until we come up with something.”
“That could take a while.” She went to the door.
He grabbed her arm. “Wait.”
“What?”
“Ask who it is. It could be Amazonia.”
Brenna sent her brother a look of disgust then opened the door. Bette stood there with a ready grin, dressed in a short black skirt and paisley blouse that complemented her petite build.
Brenna opened the door wider. “You look great.”
“Sorry I’m early,” she said. “But I thought we could drive for awhile too. I love the spring. It’s a soft feminine season.”
Stephen folded his arms. “And you like all things feminine, right?”
“You remember Stephen,” Brenna said, giving her brother a sharp look.
“Yes, you’re all grown up.” They shook hands.
“Do you mind if I just use the bathroom before we go?” Bette asked.
“Sure.”
Stephen watched her leave then said, “You should go out with her.”
“Why?”
“She’s cute. Of course you’d be the butch in the relationship.”
Brenna’s response was a silent one, but when Bette came out of the bathroom, s
he saw Stephen hopping around on one leg. “Is something wrong with him?”
“He walked into my cane,” Brenna said without sympathy. “Could you sit for a moment? We need to talk.”
“Sure.” She sat on the couch.
Brenna smoothed out her trousers. “I’m not the best at being subtle. I try, but fail many times.” She paused. “I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve spent together.”
Bette’s face fell. “You’re breaking up with me. I can tell.”
Stephen grinned. “She didn’t even know she was dating you.”
Brenna turned to him and whispered. “One more word and I’ll aim higher than your knee.”
He sat.
Brenna turned back to Bette and said carefully, “The truth is I like you very much.”
“But it’s not working, right?” She nodded. “I knew there was something missing. I didn’t want to believe it because I like you too. But something has to click and it didn’t with us.” She stood and went to the door. “It’s been fun.”
“Yes.”
Bette stepped outside and saw Tima putting a picture on her door. A watercolor of a spring scene. “Hi,” Tima said.
Bette stepped closer to the painting. “That’s beautiful.”
“Thank you, this is my favorite season.”
“Mine too.”
“But since you two are heading out, don’t let me keep you.” She winked at Brenna. “Have fun,” she said then went back inside.
Bette widened her eyes, her voice in awe. “She’s gorgeous. You are so lucky to live next door.” She smiled. “I get it now. You want a chance with her. I saw that special look you gave her.”
Brenna started. “No, it’s not—”
“Don’t worry, I’m not upset. Wish me luck tonight.”
Brenna watched her skip down the stairs. “I don’t believe it. She thinks I’m a lesbian and attracted to Tima.”
Stephen draped an arm on her shoulders. “That makes Tima a little more interesting.”
“What does?”
“That she attracts lesbians. Though I’m not surprised.”
Brenna elbowed him in the ribs. “You’d be a lot more attractive if you kept your mouth shut.”
He rubbed his side not offended. “You know that was one of the best breakups I’ve ever seen. I wish I could break up with women like that.”
She looked at him hopeful. “You could practice.”
His face grew serious. “Do you want me to pay for dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Then shut up.”
***
Hunter stared at his grandfather across the fine china plates and sterling silver cutlery as they sat at a large dining table in his grandfather’s estate near Maryland’s Eastern Shore. He could hear the wind rising up from the bay and the rain hitting the roof. He hadn’t had a choice in attending. The dinner invitation was—in fact—a summons. Orson Randolph, a hulky man of eighty with sharp eyes and a booming voice, expected everything he said to be obeyed. “Doran’s already made me a great-grandfather,” he stated once the main entree was served.
Hunter nodded.
“When are you planning to?”
“In due time.”
“I don’t plan on living forever.”
“That’s a surprise.”
“Hunter,” his grandmother warned. It was the first time she’d spoken since they’d been seated. A quiet woman with refined features and few opinions, Audrey Randolph liked to blend into the background.
“Oh, let the boy talk,” Orson said, his Georgia accent penetrating his words with more country crass than Southern charm. “He isn’t one to keep opinions to himself.” He pointed a fork at him. “It isn’t a close tie.”
Hunter frowned. “Tie?”
“Between you and Doran. Doran’s certainly ahead of you. It isn’t fair, but business isn’t about being fair. He projects the right image. And business is all about image, isn’t it Lewis?” he said to his butler, a solidly built black man of indeterminate years who stood quietly in the corner.
“Yes,” Lewis said.
Hunter glanced at the man he’d known most of his life and winked. Lewis ignored him. “I know, Grandfather.”
“Then why aren’t you married yet?” Orson demanded.
“Things haven’t gone quite as I’d planned.”
“Hmm. Yes, you make a lot of plans. I like that, but you don’t have time for that right now. Get yourself a woman. There are plenty of them out there. Good ones too. Get yourself a good, sturdy woman that will give you some babies. Don’t be too particular.” He leaned forward dropping his voice. “You’re not looking for love are you?”
“No.”
He sat back relieved. “Good. You couldn’t afford that.”
“I know.”
The remainder of the dinner conversation dipped into mundane chatter then soon ended. It usually did once Orson had said his peace. He didn’t like to sit around and chat. Fortunately, neither did Hunter. Orson walked him to the front entrance, his arm on Hunter’s shoulder. “You realize you can have a woman on the side as long as nobody knows.”
Hunter slipped into his jacket. It was against his nature to cheat, but he wanted to be in an agreeable mood. “Yes, sir.”
“The board wants to see you married.”
“I know.”
“You know, but you haven’t done anything about it. What are you going to do at the banquet?”
“I have a woman in mind.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
His grandfather’s face spread into a grin. He gave Hunter a hearty slap on the back. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I hoped it would be a surprise.” Hunter opened the door.
“You’ve made an old man happy.”
Hunter shook his head. “Don’t try to fool me. We both know you plan to live to a hundred and thirty.”
Orson laughed. “Hundred and fifty.”
“You’ll outlive us all.” Hunter nodded farewell then raced to his car, huddled against the rain. Orson watched him drive away then suddenly turned and marched down the hall leaving Lewis to close the door and keep the rain from soaking the foyer. He joined his wife in the sitting room. He clasped his hands together with pride. “So he has himself a woman.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. I have to keep my eye on him.”
“You’ve kept an eye on him his entire life. Hasn’t he proven himself to you yet?”
“Don’t speak in code Audrey. If you want to say something say it straight out. The good Lord won’t strike you dead for being honest. “
“He’s a good man. Don’t be too hard on him because of...circumstance.”
Orson’s voice became harsh. “Are you going to sit there and tell me what to do? Who’s the head of this family, woman? I know what I have to do. I’ve always known. My gift is knowing what to do and who to watch. He’s a dark horse. Got some of his mother still left in him. Enough to cause damage if I’m not careful.”
“He’s a Randolph first.”
“No harm in reminding him of that every once in a while.” He poured himself a drink. “I wonder what this woman is like.”
“I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Do you?” He looked at her. Really looked at her. He hadn’t done so in so many years he was surprised to see how much older she looked. The fine lines of her brown skin, thinning gray hair expertly curled, even the gaze looked older. He didn’t usually feel the years creeping up on him; he only felt them when looking at those around him like his wife, his sons and grandchildren. They reflected that time was running out for him. He had to make sure things went smoothly in his absence. That his bloodline and all he’d built continued to live on. He turned away from his wife’s simple face. “Yes, you would.” However, he wasn’t so sure. The banquet would prove to be interesting.
***
Brenna stared at the woman in front of her with a sense of ho
pelessness she hadn’t felt in years. Helen Voltanz had wide gray eyes that could be considered attractive if the look of desperation had been replaced by a more serene expression. Nervous fingers tugged on the strap of her handbag. She seemed harmless, except she was so desperate to get married and start a family that she terrified every single man who crossed her path. Unfortunately, Margaret O’Hanson, Brenna’s on-call dating consultant, had pegged Helen as a lost cause and refused to do anymore sessions with her.
“Just give me another chance,” Helen begged. “I know where I went wrong. I’m thirty-two years old. You’re my last hope. My fertile years are whittling away. I’ve already passed twenty-five, which is a woman’s peak fertile years and now my eggs are shriveling up and most of the men my age are dating younger women and—”
“That’s the attitude that is getting you into trouble,” Brenna cut in. “You want to get married now. So you’re ready to marry the first guy that looks at you. That’s not healthy. I’m thirty and feel there’s time.”
“But you’re different.”
Brenna let the comment pass. She clasped her hands together and rested them on the table. “If you want a baby there are many ways—”
“No,” she said firmly. “I want to get married.”
“Marriage is a partnership. You’re thinking about all that you want, but what do you have to offer?”
“I’ll be a wonderful mother.”
“How about a wife?”
Helen nodded quickly. “Yes, that too.”
Brenna bit back a groan. She wasn’t sure of that anymore. “I don’t think I’m the right agency for you.”
“Oh, but you are. I didn’t mean what I said about you being different.”
“Listen, Helen, it’s nothing personal, I assure you. I just think you deserve a service that will address your needs. Think about it. There is certainly an agency out there that can help you and will see you go down the aisle in no time.” Brenna doubted it, but wanted to offer her hope. “I’ll see where I can refer you.”
“Thank you.” Helen jumped to her feet and shook her hand. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Brenna smiled, relieved the meeting was over. She discreetly pulled her hand away flexing the fingers that had been enthusiastically crushed. “Yes, you’re welcome.”
Once Helen left, Pauline entered the room. “Did you drop her?”