Amongst the reduced stack are a few personal pieces of correspondence. One in particular catches my eye because it is a red envelope and looks like an invitation.
I slit the envelope open and my stomach lurches.
On a plain white card are pasted these words:
“Slut. Find your own man and leave my husband alone!”
CHAPTER 19
My hand trembles a little as I hold the card and read it again. This couldn’t be meant for me. I’ve always had a policy of not dating married men. Plus, the only man that I’m dating is Reed. I don’t think he’s anyone’s husband. I’ve stayed over at his place and he’s stayed over at mine. If there’s a wife in the picture, she must be living elsewhere.
I think about the strange e-mails I’ve gotten in the past few days. I think about the phone calls and Reed’s reluctance to answer. I wonder if he’s living a double life. It looks as if I am going to have to have a conversation with him sooner rather than later. I tuck the card into my purse and take what’s left of the stack out with me to the car. But this really has shaken me up. I hate messy situations.
I’d been planning to call Reed and share my good news with him, but now I don’t know. Instead I decide to take a drive and clear my head. I somehow find myself driving to Long Beach.
Long Beach is the type of beach community that comes alive in summer. My friend Sophia from my corporate days still lives here. She’s single and has a partner. Sophia is one of these free-spirit types that totally believes in living in the moment. We get together maybe once a year, and in between we do some serious phone time.
I am on Sophia’s street when I pull out my cell phone. Her car is parked in the driveway and that seems strange given it’s a workday. It is short notice but I don’t think she’ll mind me popping in.
“Hey, girl,” she says after a couple of rings. “What are you up to?”
“I’m in front of your town house. Feel like a visitor?”
Sophia lets loose with a throaty chuckle. “You’re not a visitor, you’re family. Bring your gorgeous self in.”
I pull the Land Rover into Sophia’s driveway and park next to her Bauxter. She is the kind of woman that makes an impression because she is larger than life and comfortable with it. Before I can push the buzzer the door opens up and Sophia stands before me, a hand on her hip. She looks me up and down.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” I sniff. I can’t stop the tears from falling.
I am scooped into her arms before I know it.
Sophia is one of those women who will never be thin and does not care to diet. She is busty and hippy and chooses clothes that camouflage everything. She is olive-skinned with black wavy hair pulled off her face to reveal high cheekbones. Sometimes she secures the masses of hair with chopsticks or other implements that none of us would consider using. The look works for Sophia and fits her dramatic personality. Men find her incredibly sexy and her partner adores her.
Although Sophia is working from home today, she is draped in an embroidered shawl, secured by a large silver pin on the shoulder. Her wide peasant skirt skims her ankles and the toes of her bare feet sport numerous silver rings.
She squeezes me against her again.
“So what brings you to see me, Mammy?”
“I was in the neighborhood,” I say. “My car took on a life of its own.”
I get another throaty chuckle. “Don’t give me that. You’ve got man problems. We need to talk.”
I can smell coffee coming from the kitchen and can really use a cup. Sophia stands aside to let me enter the room that she has turned into an office. Two monstrous computers blink at me. She is amazingly in tune.
“Coffee?” she asks when I am seated on one of her colorful beanbag chairs. Her place is retro and tastefully decorated.
“I’d love some.”
Sophia returns with two steaming cups in hand and takes the beanbag chair opposite me. “So what’s up?” she asks.
I explain to her what’s happening. I tell her about the vague e-mails, Reed’s phone calls and now this woman threatening me.
“Can you prove where they’re coming from?”
“No. And I don’t want to sound like a whining baby to Reed.”
Sophia takes a sip of her coffee. “My advice to you, then, is to keep your mouth shut and your ears and eyes open.”
“But what if he’s married?”
“What if this isn’t about Reed? What if it’s about some woman’s insane insecurity?” Sophia counters. “Wouldn’t you feel stupid for having said anything? Your relationship is too new for you to start creating waves. Just play the wait-and-see game.”
“It’s because it’s so new that I feel I need to say something,” I whine. “If I don’t set the tone now it will only get worse. What if he does have another woman in the picture?”
“How you handle yourself and him will determine the outcome,” Sophia says. “I’d just chill.”
I grunt something. I am not used to sitting back and waiting. I like to be able to chart the outcome.
Sophia gets up to top off both of our cups.
“If you feel you have to say something, at least wait until you get back from Barbados. You’re spending five whole days with the guy and that should give you a better sense of him. How many married men can up and disappear for five days? See what happens while you’re there. You’ll be able to determine if you have one hundred percent of his attention.”
I nod my head. Sophia has always given good advice. She once confided in me that she’d been stalked by another woman and had her car vandalized. She’d had no problem having the woman arrested.
All this drama is new to me and sets my teeth on edge. My philosophy has always been if a man no longer wants me, then I walk away. What’s the point of hanging on after a man shuts down, and why even bother harassing the new woman? Scaring her off isn’t going to do you good. He’s already made his decision; a decision that doesn’t include you.
Sophia fills me in on what’s going on at my old workplace. Nothing new there. It is the usual corporate politics, sabotage, backstabbing and people hooking up. I don’t at all miss it.
I feel so much better for having spoken with her. She doesn’t mince words and her practical, down-to-earth advice is exactly what I needed. We hug, kiss and promise to get together more often. I leave, vowing to keep my mouth closed and my ears open.
Back home I call Yvette and tell her there’s something I’d like to discuss with her. She invites me over to her house for dinner. I go, leaving my cell phone behind. I need a break from the real world intruding.
Yvette on such short notice serves up a spread that has my mouth watering.
She’s made pasta and a salad. We have tomatoes and feta cheese as a side. The bread she serves is warm and crusty and we try a very nice bottle of wine. Afterward we sip on sweet, milky coffee. Jessica is, of course, nowhere to be found.
“I like this new idea of yours very much,” Yvette says. “If you market it right there is quite a bit of money to be made.”
“Actually I had new inspiration.” I explain about Carlo.
“Regardless. Now, this is what I think we should do. We need to get ahold of a directory of all the Fortune 500 businesses in the area.”
I nod my head. We are in tune, as I knew we would be. In a few short days we have become not just business associates but good buddies.
“We will design a very special and classy invitation to these companies. They must want to list with her. We will appear exclusive as if we are picking and choosing who we want business from.”
“I like the way you think,” I say, with renewed enthusiasm. “In fact, so much I would like it if you headed up this new division.”
Yvette’s jaw practically hits the floor.
“You are pulling my leg. I am brand-new. What do I really know about running a business?”
“You have insight and vision,” I say, clinking my glass of win
e against hers and then impulsively adding, “I will be taking a short vacation next week to the islands and I am going to leave you in charge of the company and the cat. You will need to hire the right people for our venture so you may want to run an ad and start interviewing.”
Yvette’s eyes light up. “You are trusting me with your company. I am practically a stranger.”
“For each new piece of business you bring in I will give you a nice commission.”
“I love you,” Yvette says, dancing around. “I will not let you down.”
Yes, I know I am taking a chance on a new employee, but sometimes a person has to go with her gut. A burst of fresh energy might be just what I need to put my business back on track. I am counting on a change of scenery to get my groove back. In Barbados I will relax and hopefully return refreshed and bursting with ideas.
I leave Yvette’s feeling content and not just from her delicious food. I am going home to do an inventory of my closets. I am going to start packing for my trip to Barbados and I am going to call Margot and set up a girlfriends’ day for us to go shopping. I’ll treat for a manicure, pedicure and facial. Yvette can run the business that day.
I am feeling upbeat and energized. My new business venture is going to be a huge success and I’ll be raking in money. I just know it.
Life is about to take a more positive turn. I can feel it.
Ten days later I am in Barbados at Reed’s friend’s very chi-chi villa in a resort. I am already three shades darker than when I left the States and I am guessing at least five pounds heavier. All Reed and I have done so far is eat and drink. We have downed copious amounts of rum punch and we have eaten flying fish and Johnny cakes, curried chicken and rice.
We are acting like a honeymoon couple. Reed can’t seem to keep his hands off me and I have difficulty doing the same. During the day we lie in chaise lounges partially covered by a huge umbrella. We’ve tried all the water sports and now I’ve decided to catch up on my reading. I have a rattan bag I bought at a market, filled with novels from my favorite authors. I just love Michelle Monkou and Simona Taylor’s work. Both are Caribbean women and can tell a good romance story.
I have left my laptop home. I do not want to think about work or a woman sending me threatening e-mails warning me to leave her husband alone. I am here to have fun and get to know Reed better.
He is over at the tiki bar getting us our standard rum punches. The staff at the resort is trying to convert us to rum and coconut water but I like my punch and so we stick to it.
“Hey, you,” a young, buff Bajan man says to me in his unmistakable Caribbean accent.
He is coffee-colored and wearing swimming trunks that skim his knees. There is not an extra ounce of flesh on him anywhere.
I lower my sunglasses and smile at him. He is old enough to be my son. He is just being friendly I decide.
The boy-man takes my smile as a welcome. He plops down in Reed’s vacated chair.
“Uh, that’s taken.”
“What’s a lovely looking woman like you doing on paradise alone?” he asks.
Oh, gawd! He is hitting on me. “I’m not alone,” I answer.
“Now, that’s disappointing.” Despite what I’ve said, he makes no attempt to leave. “What are you reading, luv?”
I show him the cover of Michelle’s book. A man and a woman are in a clinch like you wouldn’t believe. They really need to get themselves a hotel room.
“A romance novel,” my new friend says. “Bet you wouldn’t need to read dat if you were with me. I’m Brian, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Brian.” I do not offer my own name in return. I am not looking for trouble. I’m not Stella and I don’t need my groove back. I have Reed who strokes my ego and the other places that are pulsing.
“And you are?” Brian prompts.
“Ms. Ingram,” Reed says with an edge to his voice. He’s come up behind us. “You’re in my chair, by the way.”
Brian doesn’t seem that concerned but he slides off the lounger and flips a salute Reed’s way.
“You shouldn’t leave this lovely woman alone.”
The two men eyeball each other. Neither seems willing to back down.
After a while Reed shakes out the crumpled towel Brian has just lain on and spreads it out again. He shoves his sunglasses on his nose and reaches across and takes my hand. Brian is still standing there.
Reed ignores him. “Nap time before dinner, doll.”
“Okay by me.”
I wiggle my fingers at Brian and he reluctantly takes off. When he is out of sight, Reed leans over and says to me.
“Robbing the cradle?”
I laugh. Good to keep him on his toes. “He’s probably a couple of years older than Lindsay. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No one would believe you have a twelve-year-old much less a kid in college.”
I thank him and squeeze his hand. “What about our nap?”
Reed immediately perks up quickly. “Bed is something I am always ready for.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me and I swat him on the chest.
We gather our things and head for the villa that Reed’s friend loaned us. I really like Reed and I’m maybe a few crazy beats away from falling in love. But I am still mindful that I may have competition and crazy competition at that.
Inside is airy, white and the air-conditioning is humming. We start stripping off clothing the moment the front door closes. A nude Reed is at the refrigerator fetching us drinks of punch. We have a good supply stocked. I go into the bedroom. The maid has been in and the four-poster bed sports crisp clean linens. It is shrouded by a mosquito net. I climb onto the bed and position a pillow under my hips. I am already thinking about what I want Reed to do to me and how I will pleasure him.
He comes in and carefully sets our glasses on the nightstand then joins me in bed. Reed’s warm body covers mine and he begins kissing me, starting at the tip of my ears and moving down to nibble my toes. My body as usual is alive and every nerve wired.
I wrap my legs around Reed’s butt. I draw him into me. I am already moist where it counts and I require minimal foreplay. I hear the waves lapping outside, and the sun coming through the skylight bathes us in a golden light. Our bodies adjust to a comfortable pattern and we are off on a ride of our own.
I am soaring, reacting, giving as good as I am getting. My toes curl and the keening I hear is mine. I reach the pinnacle and with Reed go hurling over the top. No one, but no one, has ever made me feel so alive and uninhibited. It’s a nice feeling to soar.
Later, Reed and I have dinner in an old converted clapboard house with a wraparound porch and tiny backyard. The dining room holds seating for twenty and the menu has already been preplanned. Tonight being a Wednesday, conch chowder is being served. For the entrée there is curried goat, rice and black-eyed peas served with a fresh salad.
Lit candles flicker making patterns against the ceiling and walls. On colorful batik mats are hollowed-out coconut shells that serve as plates. The room is scented by vases of fragrant frangipani.
Dessert is a pungent black rum cake and coconut ice cream that is supposedly hand churned. At the urging of the owner we try rum and coconut water but we both agree we still like our rum punch better.
All that rum leaves me a little bit drunk. I decide maybe it’s best from now on to stick to iced water. Reed slaps down a credit card and we depart.
Outside he points to the half-moon overhead. “Let’s walk and burn off some calories.”
Liking the idea, I take off my shoes. I want to feel the sand underfoot and between my toes. Reed places an arm around my shoulders and we walk through the surf. I don’t care that the hem of my dress is getting wet. I am enjoying just being with him.
It’s day three and I haven’t once called Yvette to see how the business is doing. I have sneaked a call in to Lindsay, though. How can I not call my baby? I want to check up on her and make sure that this new man isn’t taking up all her time. I w
ant to make sure that she is keeping her promise to me and that she’ll be going to school.
We walk another ten minutes toward an old wooden pier we had spotted during an earlier journey. We sit for a while, our feet dangling but not quite touching the water. The moon disappears. Reed kisses me and I kiss him back and soon we are making out like crazy, which leads to us making love. I hope no one sees us.
It’s a wild and crazy ride, made more passionate by the thought of discovery and the fantasies playing out in my head. I am on a Caribbean island with a man who is perfect. Too perfect.
When we are done we straighten our clothing and Reed helps me up. His breath is a soft whisper against my cheek.
“Roxi,” he says, “we should talk about moving in together.”
I glance at him, but now it is too dark to see his expression.
I am truly stunned. I wonder how we got here.
CHAPTER 20
I do not commit one way or the other. The next two days pass in a blur, more sunning and swimming, drinking and making love.
Back in New York I throw myself into the plans for expanding my business. I am pushing Reed off, not giving him an answer. Things are moving too quickly for me. I tell him I am thinking about his proposal.
Yvette has done a remarkable job in my absence. She has researched companies she thinks can use our business and she has designed these elegant burgundy-and-black e-vites that she plans to whiz through cyberspace.
“I’ve done something you may not approve of,” she says when we are seated in my home office, sipping coffee and reviewing the schedule for the day.
“What’s that?” I am somewhat distracted as I sort through my personal mail.
“I posed as a customer and made an appointment to see Service Not Incidental’s operation. They don’t know me from a hole in the wall so it was easy to go through the motions.”
She now has my full attention.
“And what’s the verdict? What do we need to be doing better?”
Hook, Line and Single Page 16