Déjà Vu

by Suzetta Perkins

  “I understand you were no longer living with Ms. Reardon at the time of her death, but just now you stated that she invited you to stay with her. What prompted you to leave her so soon?”

  “Well, the modeling job that Donna promised me turned out to be quite the opposite of what I was expecting.”

  “What do you mean, it wasn’t what you expected, Ms. Barnes?”

  “Detective Michaels, the job Ms. Reardon wanted me to pose for was for a gay magazine. There is nothing gay or lesbian about me. I was asked to pose and participate in a scene that was tasteless and not part of my lifestyle.”

  “What do you do for a living, Ms. Barnes?” Detective Michaels continued.

  Angelica looked at Ari for support. “I’m a dancer.”

  “What kind of dancer?” Michaels asked, giving Angelica a real once-over.

  “An exotic dancer.”

  “I see,” Detective Michaels said. “But you never told me why you no longer were living at Ms. Reardon’s residence.”

  Angelica licked her lips and sighed. “Donna became upset when I told her that I wasn’t participating in her photo shoot. She told me that if I wasn’t going to work, then I would have to get out of her house—that night.

  “And what did you do?” Michaels pushed.

  “I left.”

  “What time did you leave?”

  “It was…”

  “It was six-fifteen,” Ari replied. The detectives looked at Ari with amusement, but he was not amused. “I’m a doorman, for God’s sake,” Ari said, shaking the smug looks off the detectives’ faces. “I ought to know when the residents come and go.”

  Detective Michaels spoke up, “You remember the precise time of each and every resident as they come and go?”

  “Well, some of them come and go like clockwork. I can set my watch to their movement,” Ari said smugly.

  “So what made you remember that Ms. Barnes left the building at precisely six-fifteen?” Detective Michaels asked Ari.

  “Because I had offered to give her a place to stay, and at that precise time, I loaded her things in my car to take to my house.”

  “So, is it your presumption that Ms. Reardon was alive when you left the apartment building?”

  Ari was getting perturbed with Detective Michaels. He had come to question Angelica, but somehow he was caught up in the dragnet and was answering all of the questions. “Yes, I believe Ms. Reardon was alive. She and Ms. Barnes had arrived at the house approximately a half hour before Ms. Barnes and I took off. Ms. Barnes got her things together, and I met her downstairs.”

  “She slammed the door on me,” Angelica jumped in, not wanting to be upstaged by Ari. “I got the hell out of there, thankful for Ari’s offer to stay with him.”

  “Well, do you know, Ms. Barnes,” Detective Michaels continued, “who would want to kill Ms. Reardon?”

  “Although she was my husband’s cousin, I didn’t know her well. I was even surprised by the invitation to come to New York, thinking my bad luck had turned to good. I met a few of her friends my first few days here, but all of them seemed to adore her.” Angelica made a face.

  “What was the face for, Ms. Barnes? Did they or did they not adore her?”

  “I think they were all lovers. They kissed each other on the mouth like they were, like, I can’t find the word for it. It was nasty and disgusting. I can’t stomach females kissing females or men kissing other men. It’s not right. If God meant for it to be, he would have made Steve out of Adam’s rib instead of Eve. Get my drift? I don’t think any one of them had a murderous bone in their body, though.”

  “What about you, Ari, keeper of the door?” Detective Michaels asked.

  Ari wanted to punch the detective in the mouth. “It could be one of a number of people,” Ari snapped. “Ms. Reardon was a happy woman. She liked to party. I never heard her argue with anyone or throw anyone out of her apartment. I wasn’t on duty when this horrible thing happened to her, and in my heart, I wished I had been. The perpetrator might have been found by now. I truly cared for Donna. She was like family to me.”

  “You seem to know a lot for being a doorman,” Detective Michaels said as he shot Detective Henderson a glance.

  “I’ve been invited to some of Ms. Reardon’s parties,” Ari offered. “Some of New York’s elites would attend. I mostly observed, enjoyed the music, danced every now and then and enjoyed the eats—nothing more.”

  “As an observer, did you ever get a sense that some of the folks on the invite list did not like Ms. Reardon?” Detective Michaels asked.

  “Not once. Of course, I only attended a handful of her parties.”

  “Ms. Barnes, tell me, what state would you say Ms. Reardon was in the last time you saw her?”

  “Detective Michaels, I believe she was glad my ass was out of her house. I barely cleared the doorway before the door was slammed, as I said before. I was happy to be out of there, but I would never wish anything ill toward Donna.”

  “You got all of that, Henderson?”

  “Yep.”

  “Don’t think about leaving the city any time soon,” Detective Michaels said. “I’m sure you’ll see our faces again.” He nodded. “Let’s go, Henderson.”

  Angelica and Ari watched them leave the house. She dropped on the couch and let out a big sigh. It was mind-boggling, but she was glad the interrogation was over.

  Angelica looked up. “Who do you think did it, Ari?”

  He came and sat next to Angelica. “I wish I knew. They will have to answer to me. If the police don’t find the killer, I will.”

  There was something about the woman who sat so close to Ari. He had been with some of the most exotic women in the world, yet there was something about this caramel-colored diva that made his insides erupt. It could be in the way she switched her hips when she walked or the generous curves of her body that rippled in all the right places. Such things would make any man fall to his knees and beg for her attention and then some.

  For a moment, Ari imagined Angelica dancing with a pole, caressing and teasing it with her body, while a room filled with men craved what they couldn’t have, letting their imaginations run wild and keeping their aroused groins in check. Ari reached over and pulled Angelica close. The fragrance from the lilac scrub she used when she showered oozed from her body. He inhaled her fragrance once more and brought his lips to her neck.

  Her head flipped back as Ari’s lips dotted every inch of her neck. Angelica pulled her ponytail out of the way so that his lips wouldn’t miss a spot. She turned slightly to the right so that she faced him.

  Lifting Angelica’s legs, Ari placed them over his. He lowered his face to hers and sealed her lips with a kiss. She responded in kind, linking her arms around his neck. Savoring the flavor of Angelica’s lips, Ari moved again to her neck while her body pulsated with every touch. Her hands caressed his head like she was creating a master watercolor piece—slowly and gently. His thick lock of hair twisted this way and that as her body answered to the touch of his lips.

  “Let’s go to your room,” Ari said in a whisper, not wanting to interrupt the mood.

  Angelica seemed to hesitate, but before she could answer, his lips were on hers and his hands wandered over her body, exploring her, making her testify to the power of his touch. She sat up, and Ari scooped her off the couch and headed for her room.

  With his foot, Ari pushed open the door to Angelica’s room. It was simple but inviting. A mahogany bed and double dresser with an attached mirror took up most of the room. An old, yellowish quilt covered the bed. Ari gently laid Angelica on it and sat next to her, unbuttoning his shirt. Unable to peel his eyes away from her, he pulled his shirt off and reached down and kissed her again.

  Angelica responded to his advances, helping Ari to take off her shirt. He nibbled at her ears and planted kisses on her chin, snaking along her neck until he fell into the bottom of the ravine that lay between her twin mountains. He breathed in her scent and languished in
the ravine as if he’d been given a potion to make him sleep. She lifted his head and pouted her lips, and he kissed her again, passionately.

  Wasting no time, Ari removed the rest of his clothing and helped a helpless Angelica remove hers. His breathing became labored as he stared at her nakedness, his head moving up and down her body, stopping to analyze a small mole adjacent to her navel like a person with a trained eye.

  Angelica looked up and smiled at him, her arms lying lazily by her sides. She could feel the heat from Ari’s body as he continued to X-ray every inch of her, and immediately she knew she wanted to feel him, all of him.

  “You are beautiful, Angelica. You have the body of a twenty-year-old—perfect in every way.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly, accepting Ari’s compliment.

  Ari kissed Angelica and felt her muscles contract as he explored her twin peaks, kissing and squeezing as if he held the controls of a brand-new PlayStation game. Then down the slopes of Aspen he continued, kissing and feeling his way through the sweet terrain until he descended upon the Bermuda Triangle that sucked him under without remorse. Unable to wait any longer, Ari filled her well to the brim with his throbbing manhood.

  Angelica shuddered and shook violently—her head turning from side to side—her body a volcano erupting from the pleasure that Ari gave her. She looked like a flight of geese flapping their wings, excited about the flight down south. Then, from the belly of Ari’s soul came a blood-curdling yell, his own body giving up the ghost after the ride of his life.

  His body collapsed onto hers, sweat glistening on his back. Angelica’s toes were curled tight as if they had latched onto something they didn’t want to let go of. Moans of pleasure and satisfaction enveloped the room, chasing away the stillness of the morning. Both enjoyed the tender moment and lay in each other’s arms for the next hour.

  Finally, Ari lifted his head, finding Angelica asleep. He kissed her gently and then rose, taking his clothes with him before disappearing from the room.

  Angelica stirred—the weight of Ari’s body now gone. She opened her eyes and focused them, letting out a little sigh when she realized where she was. She closed her eyes again and relived the last few hours in her dream. Ari was a wonderful lover, and she found herself wanting him again.

  27

  Jefferson walked back and forth, pushing his walker in front of him. Being cooped up in the house with nothing to do was getting the better of him. His livelihood—the business he had built from the ground up, the business he had cultivated and grown to be the premier minority business in the city of Fayetteville and which had garnered him the title of Black Businessman of the Year, was no more. Myles and Associates had been sold to another up-and-coming black businessman.

  Jefferson pushed the walker from the kitchen to the window in the family room. He pulled back the drapes and looked out. He dropped his eyes, and then the drapes, at the sight of what was once Blake and Linda Montgomery’s house. Old wounds he’d rather leave dormant tried to resurface.

  He had thought very little about Linda or Blake since going to prison. He felt some responsibility for Blake’s death, although it was police Lt. Hamilton Barnes who had orchestrated his murder and was still in Central Prison paying the time for the crime. And Linda…Linda was a mistake that he would probably have to pay for the rest of his natural days on earth.

  He had thought having someone new in his life would invigorate him. Linda was at the right place at the right time, ready, willing, and more than able. But in the end, Linda betrayed him because she couldn’t deal with the ghost of her dead husband. Little did Jefferson know that his brief romance with Linda would unleash a holy war against him—a war that caused people to be killed, igniting headlines with a scandal that would rock Fayetteville for years and years to come, and that would cause him to come close to losing the best thing that ever happened to him. This war eventually sent him away to prison for twenty years but, by the mercies of God, he had gotten out in five.

  Looking away, Jefferson wondered where Linda had gone. A new set of neighbors inhabited the house next door—people who were unfamiliar, people who he could not boast as friends.

  Jefferson looked at his watch. Margo should have been home over an hour ago. Maybe she stopped to pick something up for dinner or was showing another house to a client. He wanted her near—near enough to see her, near enough to smell her fragrance, and near enough to feel safe, believing that their lives were destined to be intertwined forever.

  A twinge of reality made Jefferson slump down in the nearest chair, toppling his walker over as he did so. He had been home over a week, but he had yet to make love to Margo. Pain and guilt engulfed him, and he knew that it was going to take more than a thousand I’m sorry’s to heal the hurt that he had inflicted upon her.

  Something was not right. Jefferson could feel it deep in his gut. Malik seemed estranged, distant, like he was trying to avoid him, and Malik’s not showing up for the welcome home party didn’t help. Jefferson simmered on that thought, letting his mind wander, pushing away thoughts that he didn’t want to entertain.

  “I believe Malik has feelings for Margo,” Jefferson said out loud. He didn’t like the sound of what he said as his words vibrated against the walls. Jefferson balled his fists and struggled to stand up straight, bending over to pick up his walker while holding onto the edge of the chair. “He better not touch Margo,” Jefferson said, his nostrils flaring. “He better not touch her.”

  Not sure what to do next, Jefferson walked toward the door. Maybe it was time to pay Malik a visit. Jefferson picked up his wallet and his keys from the coffee table and headed for the door. He was about to open it when he heard the key turning in the lock. He backed up before the door opened.

  “Were you on your way out?” Margo asked, surprised.

  “Yeah, I need some fresh air,” Jefferson lied.

  “Why don’t I get you something to eat, and then we’ll take a ride? You’ve been cooped up in here all day. Sorry I was late, but I’m poised for another sell. Gotta keep the money coming in.”

  Jefferson relaxed and then tensed at her statement. What was Margo trying to say—that she had to work extra hard because he wasn’t able to support her? Yes, he was a felon, but he had paid his dues to society and, somehow, he was going to land back on his feet.

  “Margo, we need to talk.”

  “What about, Jefferson?” she said hesitantly.

  “Us, sweetheart, us.”

  “Jefferson, you’ve got to give me some time. I know this is about us not being able to make love…”

  “Whoa, Margo. Let’s not get excited. Yes, things are a little tense right now and, yes, our not being able to make love to each other is one of our problems, but I was hoping to share my feelings with you…and get an understanding of what you’re feeling.”

  “What brought this on, Jefferson?” Margo asked accusingly.

  “Baby, I’m not used to sitting around doing nothing. I hate that I’m not taking care of my family the way I should be, that…that you’re the one who is getting up every day, going to work, and paying the bills. I can’t go on like this.”

  Margo reached out to Jefferson. “Let’s talk.” She dropped her purse on a nearby chair and helped Jefferson sit on the couch before sitting down herself. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “I feel like I’m losing you,” Jefferson began. “I can’t put my finger on it, but since I’ve been home, you don’t seem to be the same person who was eager to see me.”

  “I’m trying, Jefferson.”

  “I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I prayed every night I was in that jail cell that, if God returned me to you, I would love, cherish, and take care of you until the day I die.” Jefferson grabbed Margo’s hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Please say you won’t leave me.”

  Margo pulled her hand from Jefferson’s and stood up. “Why would you say that?” She sighed. “I do love you, Jefferson. I’m hav
ing a harder time than I thought possible.”

  “Is there someone else?”

  “Someone else?” Margo shot back, stuttering on the two words.

  Jefferson looked deep into her eyes. “Yes, someone else? It’s been five lonely years, or has it?” Jefferson pinched his lips together and then sighed. “I’ve asked myself over and over again why you seemed to be turned off to me. A couple of things popped up in my mind, but the overwhelming thought is that there’s someone else.

  “I know five years is a long time to wait, especially since I hadn’t been the ideal husband before I went to prison. My thoughts were only on making this right, and I thought you felt the same.”

  “I do want us to be a family again. Lord knows I prayed long and hard for you to come home,” Margo said.

  “Then what is it, Margo? Tell me so I can toss these negative feelings I’m having in the trash.”

  Margo let out a deep sigh. She circled her waist with her arms and paced as she contemplated what to say.

  “You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet,” Jefferson said, not taking his eyes off of Margo.

  Margo sat down, tension written all over her face. “I have not been with anyone, Jefferson. Had not thought about it…”

  “Until recently?”

  “Are you trying to put words in my mouth? I wanted you to hold me, I wanted to make love to you as soon as you came through the door, but thoughts of the past—you and Linda, you and Angelica, washed over me and I couldn’t erase the images of you being with them. You’ve got to believe me, Jefferson. I’m not as strong as I thought I would be. I…”

  “Is it Malik?” Jefferson continued to stare at Margo.

  “Malik? Why would you say Malik?”

  “Why not, unless it’s someone else?”

  “You’ve got some nerve. After all the dirt you’ve done!” Margo shouted.

  “Seems like I struck a nerve,” Jefferson said calmly. “I’m only trying to understand what the rift is between us.”

  Margo stood. “You have too much time on your hands, sitting around conjuring up these fictitious stories about me and Malik. I’ve been a one-man woman all the years we’ve been married, even when things were rocky. I’ve been doing a balancing act, trying to maintain a household that we had become accustomed to while you were serving time, and the weight of the world has been on my shoulders. Can you understand that, Jefferson? You changed the nature of my life, but I’ve dealt with it, so excuse me if I have some reservations when it comes to giving my whole self to you again. You’re still my husband; I’m being cautious. Can’t help it. I’ve gone through so much.”