Chance on Lovin' You

by Eboni Snoe

  “Yes. Long time ago, when I was just a little girl. The obeah man put a photograph and something that looked like hair on a table. There was also a candle with some pins stuck in it nearby. But like I said, I was really small at the time, and none of the adults knew I saw them. I was peeking through a window.” Olive made sure she had Sherry’s full attention. “The obeah man called some names and said a few other things I don’t quite remember. Then he lit the candle. All the grown folks in there looked scared. I don’t think he was calling on good when he put the mouth on that person. No, I don’t think he was. Later on, I came to understand that particular obeah man chose to call on the evil. He didn’t have to. He could have called on good just as easily. The obeah is not the way of evil; a person chooses evil or good in using it. The obeah is simply a way of power.”

  Simply a way of power. Sherry focused on Olive’s words. Jason would show her his mother’s tools tonight, and she was certain she would be able to convince him to give them to her. Jason had been right when he’d said she was drawn to power. What other way was there? Life had taught Sherry she had to have control. She had been a victim before, and that was something she would never be again.

  Chapter 26

  The jugglers and the contortionist left the floor, and a band in bright suits took their place. They played a lively set of Bahamian tunes, incorporating cowbells and conch shells. A few couples, all tourists, got on the dance floor and did their thing. Although Mr. Ashford let out a few alcohol-induced yelps, no one from their table joined the crowd.

  Professional dancers were the next performers to take over the limelight. They showed the crowd how it was really done. Sasha was impressed, and she grooved to the music. Cay appeared to be content, watching quietly. But Cynthia was the live wire of the group. She shimmied her shoulders, her breasts shaking like molds of golden Jell-O above her strapless jumpsuit.

  “And now we’re going to have a limbo contest,” the bandleader announced as the music ended. “We want everybody to participate, so we’re going to start the limbo stick out real high, make it easy for you.” He gave a big smile. “A shot of rum for half price will be available to everyone. It will give you the boost you need to get up here.” He waved his arm generously, then applauded until the crowd joined in. “This is how it goes,” the announcer explained. “Each table will be considered as a team. All it takes is for one of your team members to win the contest, and that table will receive a bottle of Dom Perignon as their prize. So I want to know what table will not be winning that bottle of champagne tonight?”

  Hands shot up around the room but were snatched down when their owners realized what he’d asked.

  “Tricked you, didn’t I?” The bandleader grinned.

  “You sure did,” Stanley Ashford shouted back. “But you can count my table in the contest, and we’re going to win that champagne.”

  “Say what?” The announcer played off Mr. Ashford’s claim. “Folks, we’ve got a challenge to the other tables from the gentleman right here. So what are we waiting for? Let the contest begin.”

  “This is going to be a riot.” Cynthia swayed her hips from side to side as she rose from her chair.

  “You can say that again.” Mr. Ashford weaved as he pushed his chair back.

  A lopsided grin appeared on Cay’s face as he rose from his seat and removed his black jacket. “After you.” He motioned toward Sasha.

  Sasha’s eyebrows rose at the spontaneity of the moment. “So you’re going to do it?” She couldn’t imagine the dignified Cay Ellis going under a limbo stick.

  “Oh, you don’t think I can?” he challenged.

  “I just can’t imagine you doing it.” She grinned.

  “Well, watch this,” he said as they left the table.

  The music started, and people from all the tables lined up. Two waiters held the limbo stick about five feet from the floor, and the first round was a breeze. Everybody went under the stick with virtually no problem. Leslie Ashford grinned like a schoolgirl once she emerged on the other side.

  “I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun,” Leslie told Sasha.

  “I can’t either.” Sasha laughed as she watched a very large man walk like a duck beneath the stick.

  The mike crackled as the announcer picked it up again. “Now we’re going to get serious,” he announced as the stick was lowered to about three and a half feet. “We’ll see who really knows how to limbo.”

  A wave of gleeful protestation bounced through the crowd. Many of the older people went back to their seats.

  Cay moved close to Sasha. “I want to make sure I’m standing out there” —he pointed to a place that had a good view of the action— “when you go beneath that one.” He clandestinely tugged at the hem of her short, tight dress.

  “I believe you have a one-track mind, Mr. Ellis,” Sasha replied softly. The evening had lightened her mood.

  “Let’s just say I haven’t forgotten last night. That was some discovery.” He blew softly in her ear. “I want to make sure that my memory didn’t exaggerate the experience.”

  Sasha moved forward with the crowd, but her body tingled. “I don’t think this is the place to talk about it.” She looked over at Cynthia, who was eyeing them with an envious look on her face.

  “I can’t think of a better place.” He moved along with her. “This is the first opportunity I’ve had this evening to say what I really want to say. I’m like Mr. Ashford, taking full advantage of the situation.”

  An “Oh-h!” rose from the crowd as Mr. Ashford nearly fell. Instinctively, Sasha grabbed Cay, then clapped when Mr. Ashford recovered.

  “That’s what I want,” Cay told her.

  “What?” She glanced at him from beneath curly lashes.

  “I want you to let go of all your reservations, do what you really want to do. I want you to come out of that head of yours. Do you think that’s possible?”

  Sasha could feel the heat rising within her. “Anything’s possible,” she replied.

  “Come on, Sasha,” Cynthia said, injecting herself into the exchange. She grabbed Sasha’s hand and gave Cay a pouty look. “Let’s show them how to really do it.” She led Sasha to the front of the crowd.

  It took all Sasha had not to pull away. She looked back at Cay as Cynthia dragged her forward.

  “I’m next.” Cynthia raised her arms over her head and wriggled her fingers. The crowd increased the volume of their clapping as Cynthia cried “Oh, yeah!” She leaned back and began to hop forward with her knees bent, contracting her midriff with jerky motions. She took her time going beneath the limbo stick, but she made it to the other side like a pro. “He-ey,” she sang out, popping her fingers and looking at Cay and Randy.

  “Come on, girl,” she called to Sasha as she stood between the two men. “I know you can do it.”

  It was an obvious setup. Cynthia wanted to either show Sasha up or get her to embarrass herself. Sasha wasn’t falling for either one. She smiled at Cay and began to move to the music as she approached the limbo stick, but instead of leaning backward Sasha squatted daintily and shuffled her way underneath. On the other side, she broke into a series of dance steps that made the crowd whoop and holler. Again she smiled at Cay, who feigned extreme disappointment, but he clapped for her anyway.

  “You wriggled out of that one, didn’t you?” he chided.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?” she enjoined.

  Randy tried the stick and fell, Leslie passed, and Cay was successful but refused to go again when they lowered it another foot. Three people lined up to compete. Cynthia was the only woman.

  “That’s going to be really difficult,” Sasha told Leslie.

  “I’d say. I wouldn’t think of trying, but of course, I’m not Cynthia.” The two women laughed.

  Cynthia shouldn’t have tried, either. She ended up on her back right away, her legs flailing in the air.

  “That’s all right, baby,” Randy called out to her. “I’ll buy you a b
ottle of Dom Pérignon.”

  “Will you, sweetie?” Cynthia pouted, got up off the floor, and walked to where Randy was waiting with a big hug.

  Still the contest continued, and another man fell, but the last one was as flexible as cooked spaghetti. He went beneath the stick with ease, and a drumroll heightened the excitement when the stick was lowered again.

  “I can’t believe this,” Sasha said. “He’s going to try it again. He’s got to be part of the show.”

  “Probably,” Leslie replied, mesmerized.

  “But how in the world can he fold up his body like that?” Sasha had to ask. “It’s nearly impossible.”

  “He’s got to get into some kind of altered state.” Leslie watched with her arms folded. “I’ve read something about this kind of thing. People like fire walkers and others who stick objects through their tongues without pain or blood.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen some of that on television,” Sasha said as she watched the man lean farther and farther back.

  Mrs. Ashford’s mouth remained open as the man folded his body like a bend in an accordion. “There’s no way he could do that unless his mind is in an altered state.” She leaned toward Sasha. “Nothing but pure mind. The body is just a vehicle. We are so much more,” she declared.

  Applause exploded in the restaurant after the performer successfully maneuvered himself beneath the two-and-a-half-foot-high stick, and the bandleader appeared at the mike again.

  “You didn’t know the contest was rigged, did you?” He stretched out his arm toward the male contortionist. “But I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to provide everyone at the young woman’s table and the gentleman’s table” —he pointed to Cynthia and the other finalist— “with a glass of Dom Perignon. How’s that?” The announcer backed away from the mike, clapping.

  “Why not?” Mr. Ashford said in a slurred voice. “I never turn down free drinks.”

  Chapter 27

  The evening was finally over, and the couples bade one another good-night.

  Cay placed his hand in the small of Sasha’s back as they walked to the horse and buggy and climbed aboard.

  Sasha laid her head against the cushioned seat of the carriage and closed her eyes. The breeze was soft and warm against her face, and her head was light because of the champagne.

  “This is heaven,” Sasha proclaimed.

  “Is it? I didn’t realize you were so easy to please,” Cay replied, looking at her relaxed features.

  “Sometimes I am. Like right now, I’m very easy. Very easy.” Sasha’s eyes were moist and welcoming when she opened them again.

  “Now you’re talking,” Cay replied.

  They studied one another.

  “You are an interesting man, Cay Ellis,” Sasha finally said.

  “Am I?” His dark eyes sparkled with light from the passing street lamps.

  “Absolutely.” Sasha’s brow furrowed. “The Ashfords believe you were their guardian angel. That you went out of your way to help them in their time of greatest need.” She twisted her head from side to side. “It’s difficult to think of you that way.”

  “How have you thought of me?” Cay asked softly.

  Sasha took a deep breath. “As this rich so-and-so who gets what he wants no matter how it affects other people.”

  “Whoa.” Cay squeezed his eyes shut as if he had been slapped. “That was a quick answer. You didn’t have to think about that at all, did you?

  “Nope.” Sasha smiled slightly. “Not at all.”

  “Do you want to know how I see you?”

  Sasha looked a little puzzled. She had never considered Cay’s perspective. “How do you see me?”

  “As this fanatically independent woman who pushes for what she wants no matter if it is in her best interest or not.” He rolled the sentence off his tongue and then took a deep breath.

  “Fanatically independent.” Sasha sat up straight. “There is no such thing.”

  “I think there is,” Cay said in a self-assured, soft tone.

  “Give me an example,” Sasha demanded defensively.

  “When a person refuses help just for the sake of refusing it. When she just wants to be able to prove she can do it alone.” He looked down at the match cover in his hand. “I think it’s a person who doesn’t believe she can count on anyone but herself.”

  “But isn’t that the way it really is?” Sasha argued. “I mean, if people offer to help you, normally they want something in return. So when you’re truly down and out, and you need someone to give you a helping hand, there’s never a soul within shouting distance. But if they’re like you” —she pointed at Cay— “have everything, don’t need anything, people just come running. They can’t offer you enough. They can’t do enough. But let some poor wretch whose life depends on their donation ask for one, they’ll be refused,” she declared.

  “You seem to feel pretty strongly about that,” Cay said, looking at Sasha’s tight features.

  “I do have strong feelings about it. I’ve been there. My mother and I both have been there.”

  “What happened?” Cay asked softly.

  “Just what I said. We were in dire straits, and no matter who we asked or how much we pleaded no one would help us without a price.” Sasha looked away. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much emotional charge she still held about the ordeal.

  “How long did you take care of your mother, Sasha?”

  “She started getting sick eight years ago, but it was during the last four years that I actually took care of her,” she said softly. “Four years of trying to get her the best medical treatment I could with virtually no money.” A tear escaped down her cheek. Sasha swiped it away. “You don’t know how helpless you feel when someone you love is slipping away from you before your very eyes and there’s nothing you can really do about it. To know that if you had a better job, or knew how to be more creative about bringing in money, the person’s burden would be lessened considerably.” She looked at him with eyes that were too bright. “But when you don’t have the money or the creativity to provide what it takes, you can only do things to buy them a little more time. Anything.” Sasha looked at her hands, in her lap.

  The carriage stopped in front of the hotel. Cay paid the driver and they entered the building in silence. Sasha couldn’t look at Cay while they rode the elevator. She felt extremely exposed standing beside him. She had shared her deepest pain with him. The words had simply tumbled out. It wasn’t what she had intended.

  Once they were in the suite Cay found a jazz station on the radio. The soothing sound eased into every corner of the room. He hoped it would help Sasha feel more at ease. She had turned silent. Cay realized it didn’t take much for Sasha to retreat into herself.

  “Want some wine?” he asked standing in front of the mini-bar.

  Sasha paused for a moment. “Yes, please.”

  He poured two glasses of wine and joined Sasha on the couch. Cay sat close, but not too close.

  “It sounds like a horrible thing to have gone through, Sasha. I’d do anything to be able to change it, but I can’t.”

  “I’m not asking you to change anyth—” Sasha revealed the chip on her shoulder.

  “Sh-sh-sh.” Cay gently put his finger up to his mouth. “I know you aren’t. I just wanted you to know that I wish I could.”

  Sasha looked down at her glass.

  “I wish that for two reasons,” Cay continued. “I wish that I had been there in your greatest time of need, and I must admit the other reason is a selfish one.”

  Sasha looked up at him, puzzled.

  “I wish that you had never experienced it, so that you would not see me as your enemy.”

  “But Cay, it’s rather hard to see you any other way. You and Guana Manor are the main things standing between me and my financial independence.”

  “Not really. It’s not over yet.”

  “So, you mean you’re not going to�
�”

  “I mean it’s not over yet.” Sasha started to interrupt. Cay stopped her. “Remember, we called a truce.”

  “But it’s very difficult not to talk about this,” Sasha insisted.

  “I understand. But maybe if we try seeing each other as two human beings who aren’t bad people, but just people who are trying to live their lives the best way they can, taking into consideration our histories and our flaws, maybe then we can find some common ground.”

  Sasha folded her arms across her chest. “I’ll give us that, but honestly, what other common ground do we have?” Her eyes sought an answer.

  “You’re not the only one who has suffered in the past. I lost people I loved as well. They slipped away from me right before my eyes.”

  Sasha knew one of the people he was talking about was Precious. Somehow she did not want to be reminded of Precious on this of all nights.

  Cay continued. “My brother, Wally, suffered tremendously. I knew he was hurting, but there was nothing I was able to do. As a matter of fact, I seemed to be a part of his dilemma.”

  “I had forgotten about your brother,” Sasha admitted.

  “And, of course, there was Precious,” Cay added softly. “And there was also my father.”

  “Your father? But Mr. Ellis is still alive.”

  “Yes, he is. But a person doesn’t have to die to be lost to you. He can be around every day, and you can feel totally outside of his plans, his thoughts, and what appears to be important to him. At this point in my life it doesn’t matter that much to me anymore, but when I was a child it mattered an awful lot.”

  “Where was your mother?”

  “My mother died right after I was born, and although I never heard anyone blame me for her death, I grew up with a sense of guilt, as if it were my fault.” Cay’s eyes became hooded. “There was this empty place in my life that hurt, but I blamed myself for it being empty. It’s kind of funny, but through the years no one ever mentioned her name. Do you know I’ve never seen a picture of my mother?”