Seasoned with Grace

by Nigeria Lockley

  Ethan decided that now would be a great time to shout out, “Objection, Your Honor. She’s badgering the witness.” Managing his emotions and speaking plainly about them had never been Ethan’s forte. Now he was going to have to figure out how to win this trial, even though the jury had reached a verdict before he had the opportunity to issue his opening statement. He’d begun working with Grace with the hope of advancing through the ranks and opening his own boutique law firm. Now she’d sucked up so much of his life, he couldn’t even manage something as simple as claiming the blessing that God had clearly sent his way.

  “Well?” she said, prodding, tapping his foot with hers. “How am I supposed to trust you, Ethan? Sorry isn’t enough.”

  “If you weren’t interested in working this thing out, Candace, why did you come here?”

  Her tough girl facade began to crack like the exterior of a prewar brownstone. Reaching across the gulf of empty space between them, Ethan delicately scooped her hand into his, took a full step backward, and perched himself on the edge of his desk. He studied her eyes and waited for them to respond before her mouth. No words came. Only love and longing seemed to radiate from her eyes and penetrate his skin. The combination of her sultry eyes and pouty lips sent a surge of heat through his body. She couldn’t bring herself to say, “I’ve forgiven you,” but her body spoke to him. Candace dropped her hip and curved her body toward him. Her arms were no longer stiff but hung loosely at her sides. This takeover would not be hostile.

  Parting his legs, Ethan pulled her in closer. He was ready to bathe in the warmth of her body. He wanted to nestle his head in the center of her chest.

  “How do I know that after my hair goes back in a bun, I take off the Spanx and the lipstick, and I lose the smoky eyes, you’re still going to look at me with those same goo-goo eyes?” she sputtered, halting his efforts to craft in his mind’s eye a picturesque reconciliation.

  “Here’s the long and short of it.” He looked down at his hands as he squeezed hers tightly, then began to confess. “She was vulnerable, and I was weak. My flesh was weak for her, but in that moment I learned something.”

  “What?” she groaned, dismissing his remarks before he’d made an admission.

  “When Grace is around, my head aches.” Ethan dropped Candace’s hands, placed his hands on her waist, and looked up at her. “But when you’re not around, my side aches. I don’t feel good without my rib,” he admitted, collapsing onto her chest. In her arms he felt at ease and free from the burdens that came along with managing someone like Grace.

  Candace hesitantly stroked the back of his head. The first stroke was heavy handed and awkward, like she was just looking for a place to rest her hand, but as Ethan secured a position in the groove between her breasts, she continued stroking his head, eventually finding a rhythm that soothed him and reminded him of what was important in life.

  With each stroke, he clung tighter to Candace’s waist. His heart was beating faster than Usain Bolt could complete the two-hundred-meter dash.

  “Ethan . . .” Candace spoke softly to him. “What do you want from me?”

  He looked up into her soft brown eyes, which were wide with expectancy. She expected an answer. She deserved an answer. Only, he hadn’t prepared for this line of questioning. “Do you think we could discuss this over dinner?”

  The corners of Candace’s mouth began to fold, indicating her displeasure. There hadn’t even been time for him to compare the pros and cons of this relationship and think this thing through logically and systematically. He’d thrown his decision-making system out the window when the firm tossed Grace his way, and now he was deeply buried in a pile of mess.

  “I still have to secure a meeting for Grace with the director of this film ASAP and . . .”

  “And you don’t know if you could be my Adam or I could be your Eve? Well, you better figure it out this evening, busta.” She touched him on the temple playfully, then turned and headed toward the door, a smile on her face.

  “I thought love is patient,” Ethan replied, following behind her and extending his reach to grab her hand. He kissed the back of her hand tenderly.

  “You’re right. Love is patient, and God is love. However, I, Candace, have not yet been perfected. So you better come correct and come quick,” she quipped before slipping her fingers out of his hand and stepping out the door.

  Chapter 27

  Ethan hummed “What You Won’t Do for Love,” filling Grace’s condo with remnants of what must have been an evening well spent with Candace. The wash and glow of love had adorned him when she’d opened her front door for him at 7:00 a.m., and it had not dissipated after an hour of waiting on her. Grace wanted to be happy for him, but she couldn’t bring herself to be happy under these circumstances. He’d shown up at her doorstep, chipper and ready to hand deliver her to Javier Roberts, as if she were a trinket that could be written off as damaged.

  Not only had this realization stunned her, but it had also left her utterly incapable of making a single decision. She’d taken off her wig at least three times, unsure whether it made her look too youthful or too sexy. Grace didn’t want to stimulate Javier’s visual senses in any way. Actually, she planned on showing up there looking disheveled and lost, hoping that he’d back out and release her from her obligation. The slightest hint of disarray was a turnoff for Javier Roberts, and she planned on playing on what she knew to get out of this deal. Ethan’s reunion with Candace was supposed to be enough to absolve Grace. Apparently, that aspect of it was an epic failure. Their reunion must have spurred a new focus and sense of vigor in Ethan—landing him on Grace’s doorstep.

  “Grace, you’re not preparing for a fashion show. You know that, right? This is just a sit-down. So hurry up and come down,” he shouted up the steps.

  “Yes, Ethan,” Grace whined into the air like a teenager talking back to her crabby father.

  With the pressure on her, Grace settled for a slouchy tee under a pin-striped blazer, a pair of distressed boyfriend jeans, nude pumps, and a maroon fedora. She paused in front of her full-length mirror and smiled at her reflection. She’d managed to pull together a funky and fashion-forward look without brazenly flaunting her sex appeal. The rawness of her skin tempted her to put on a splash of makeup, but her inner voice prompted her to appear at this sit-down barefaced. Javier won’t be the least bit interested in you when he sees all your imperfections, she thought.

  Sunlight cascaded through the rectangular sunroof of the conference room of Javier Roberts’s studio, causing the square, open-centered conference table to gleam like brass. The brown table and the clean white lines indicated that Javier was still in his purity phase. Grace couldn’t recall how long after she’d started working with him that he transformed into this purist and wanted everything in a natural and untempered state.

  Staring at Javier through slits for eyes, Grace took measured sips of the kombucha tea Javier’s assistant had placed in front of her when she arrived. It was a wee bit cold, mirroring how she felt inside as soon as he entered the room with the producer and took a seat across from her and Ethan at the conference table.

  “I think you’re a bit underdressed for this meeting,” Ethan whispered into her ear as Javier and the producer took their seats.

  “Ethan, what do you want me to do now? Go home and change?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no time for your diva antics today. Javier and Dalton Dally didn’t request a sit-down before allowing you on the set to play around.”

  “Well, then, let’s get this over with,” Grace insisted, rolling her neck and raising her voice slightly. “Make sure everything is legit, and spare the small talk,” she said, pursing her lips tightly. The plan was to not utter a word. It had been a long time since she’d sat in Javier’s presence, and she didn’t know whether or not she’d be able to maintain her composure when she saw him. Every time Grace even thought about his name and this little stunt he was trying to pull, nothing but cuss words f
illed the cavities of her mind. There were a few times when she envisioned laying hands on him, and not in the biblical sense. Now she had to keep it together or forget about ever getting close to Horace.

  Nothing is guaranteed. You could just walk away from this now. Walking away from the sit-down before it began seemed like the only logical thing to do, but with Ethan seated to her right and that huge vein pulsating in his temple staring at her, this was virtually impossible. Furthermore, the chance to experience even a sliver of love outweighed whatever torture was bound to be wrapped up in this film.

  After shuffling through some papers, Javier clapped his hands together, signaling he was prepared to begin this meeting. Grace directed her gaze to the wing-tip shoes Javier was wearing, instead of to his face, as she listened to what he had to say.

  “It really, really is an honor to have Grace make her big-screen debut in my film. I can’t imagine what took so long to get you here, but I hope that you’re fully prepared to star in a Javier Roberts film.” His shrill voice bounced off the walls of the abandoned factory he’d converted into his photography studio and office.

  No words came from her mouth. Grace had disseminated her fair share of lies and had labeled them storytelling while she was growing up, but right now saying she was fully prepared to tackle this role was a fable that not even Mother Goose would write.

  “Is everything all right, Ms. King?” Dalton Dally, the film’s producer, asked, placing his folded hands on the table. “We’re prepared to do all that we can to accommodate your schedule so that the filming doesn’t conflict with your other obligations. However, I cannot waste any more money holding up production, waiting for you to get it together,” he stated, squaring up his chest like a bull preparing to pounce on a matador.

  Grace glanced at Ethan from the corner of her eye and elbowed him, prompting him to be her voice today.

  Clearing his throat and adjusting his tie, Ethan chimed in. “Please excuse Grace’s silence. She’s delving into the role right now.”

  “Is that what this fresh-faced look is all about?” Javier asked, winking at Grace. “I love it.” He shifted slightly in his seat to face his partner. “I told you she would be excellent for this role.”

  Grace chewed the inside of her cheek. Her plan had backfired: her appearance had only made Javier more excited about reenacting his violation of her temple on the silver screen.

  “We don’t plan to waste any of your time. Grace is ready to work and is prepared to be on the set as soon as you need her to be.”

  Javier drummed his bony fingers on the wooden table. “We’ve already begun shooting the scenes that we don’t need her in. So, here’s what I’m thinking . . .” Rising from his metallic swivel chair, Javier traveled around the conference table and sat down beside Grace. “I’ll e-mail you a revised version of the shooting schedule this afternoon. I think we can carve out some time for you to begin shooting next week.” He rested his palm on her shoulder and massaged it gently.

  Grace tightened her body under his hand. It felt like she was being stabbed with a thousand t-pins. “That sounds fine,” she said quickly, trying to get out from under his grip and put an end to this meeting.

  “We’ll begin with the most difficult scenes first, just to get the gory stuff out of the way.” Javier brushed the apple of her cheek with the back of his hand. “Let’s take a look at the storyboards for the film, just so you have a visual to work with until you’re on the set. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds great,” Ethan said, smiling while backing his chair away from the table. “I’ll head back to the office and get the PR machine pumping.”

  Grace grabbed his arm and whispered through clenched teeth, “Don’t leave me alone. Please.” She dug her fingers so deeply into his flesh, she could feel some of his skin rip as her nails cut into his arm. Her arm shook as she held on to Ethan’s. Leaving her alone with Javier would be disastrous. He’d greedily undressed her with his eyes the moment he sat down beside her, and his hand was now slowly traveling from her shoulder to the center of her back. If left alone with him, Grace was sure that what had happened before would happen again.

  Hold on to me. I will cover you with my feathers.

  Grace shook her head, trying to shut out the voice she’d heard.

  Hold on to me. No man is able to pluck you out of my hand.

  She studied Ethan’s lips and disregarded Javier’s traveling hand. His lips weren’t moving, but she was sure she had heard something. “Ethan, what did you just say?”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t say something about a hand?” Grace asked, still clutching his arm both for safety and for clarity.

  “I’m sure. But I was about to say, ‘Let go of me, Grace.’ You’re squeezing the life out of me.” Ethan pulled his arm close to his body and investigated the scratches.

  Javier cleared his throat and rested his palm on the center of her back. “You must have heard the voice of God, Grace. His hand is all over this. My dreams and my visions—I mean our dreams—will be on the big screen soon.”

  The devil is a liar. God’s hand is not in this perversion, she thought, recalling a Sunday school lesson on how the devil had caused lightning and wind to destroy Job’s children’s home, but those who saw the event said that fire had fallen from heaven. Furthermore, she reasoned that even if God’s hand was in this, when He spoke, it wasn’t to people like Grace.

  Chapter 28

  “Clearly, she’s still in character,” Ethan said, fudging in order to fill in the gap in the conversation. “Let’s have a look at the storyboards. Together,” he added, eyeing Grace.

  His look and words were exactly what she needed to move to the next phase of this meeting. Javier shuffled out of the room to get the storyboards, and Dally excused himself to attend another meeting.

  Ethan reclaimed his seat beside her. He must have sensed her continued discomfort, because he whispered, “I got you,” directly into her ear and locked hands with her while they waited on Javier to fetch the storyboards.

  Javier reentered the conference room with a black stand in his hand on which to mount the storyboards. Several storyboards were under his arm, and a twinkle of delight was in his eyes. Grace wondered what made him tick, what made him think that what he was doing was fine, what made him think that he could get away with defiling her for a second time. While the flames of rage rallied within her, threatening to scorch anything in her line of vision, her memory dulled the fire. Her father’s words cooled her and settled her. “You have played the harlot,” and “I will laugh during the time of your calamity,” he had said to her repeatedly. There was no one in this world—God or man—who was concerned with what happened to a harlot.

  The Word of God confirmed the verbal beatings her father had bestowed upon her when he discovered what she’d done with David. He’d pick up the Bible she cherished, the one she’d received after her baptism. It was a teen study Bible, with her name embossed in gold on it. The youth leader, Pastor David, had given it to her. He’d said it was “God’s love letter to her,” but her father had shown her that like Israel, God had written her a letter of divorcement for having tainted herself.

  The gasp that escaped from Ethan’s mouth brought her back to the present. Grace followed his eyes to the storyboards Javier had placed on display. Javier stood in front of the storyboards, smiling and waving his arms up and down in front of them like Vanna White did before revealing a letter on Wheel of Fortune. The handcrafted black-and-white drawings were clearly Javier’s handiwork. Each panel vividly portrayed part of a rape scene. Detailed drawings of the photographer mounting the young ingenue while ripping her shirt off sat before them. Buttons bounced all over the storyboards. The drawings seemed to be three-dimensional.

  The room began to spin like a Cracker Jack prize, just as the studio set had the first time it happened. Javier’s onion breath crept up Grace’s nostrils, and her skin began to crawl as
her eyes followed the story being played out in front of her eyes.

  “Stop!” and “I don’t want to do this!” tried to climb out of her throat, but her eyes landed on the storyboard in which he’d wrapped one hand around her throat and the other around her mouth. The words reneged on her. Her throat closed and seemed to cave in on her.

  “This is so graphic . . . so . . .” Ethan paused. The images on the storyboards had paralyzed him as well.

  “Raw. I was striving for the same kind of grit that Monster’s Ball had. A story that was pure and rife with . . .”

  The sound of Javier’s voice bounced off the walls and shook Grace up so much that the contents of her stomach—a bran muffin, blueberry-pomegranate juice, and kombucha—were suddenly all over Ethan’s side, and she was barely able to sit up straight in the chair. Perspiration descended from the pits of her arms like the water in Niagara Falls.

  “I’m sorry, Ethan,” she gasped, using her fedora as a fan.

  “Oh my God!” Ethan shrieked. Panic engulfed his face and took his deep voice hostage. “Grace . . . Grace,” he repeated before turning to Javier.

  At that moment Javier was standing at the open door and screaming, “I need a cleaning crew in here immediately!”

  “Javier, this is not going to work. If just these images can traumatize her like this, she can’t do this role,” Ethan declared.

  Relief swelled in Grace’s chest. Maybe she wasn’t going crazy. She was protected and covered by the Lord.

  “She was born for this. This type of visceral reaction is necessary and will register with audiences and with the academy instantaneously.” Javier snapped his fingers. “Can you imagine what’s next for her, and what’s next for you after helping ink the deal that got her in this film? You’ll be golden, Summerville. Golden.”

  Grace couldn’t make out the rest of the conversation the two shared. Based on Ethan’s smile and the pats on the back that Javier gave him, she knew there was no turning back from here on out. This left Grace to wonder, Lord, where are you in all this?