by Joy Copeland
“There’s a groove here?” Zoie asked in a mocking tone. “I forgot.”
They both laughed. The two had been friends since their days at Boston University. Though their lives had diverged, they stayed best buds. Tina got her Harvard MBA the year before Zoie finished Columbia Law. Then after years in business in a series of high-profile, high-paying positions, Tina just dropped out. She jettisoned the corporate rat race and the daily grind. Call it a crash, a burnout, or a nervous breakdown—the result was the same: no more pinstriped pantsuits and martini lunches. She’d managed to squirrel away enough to extend her affluent lifestyle beyond what her new career—yoga instructor – could support.
“No groove. That’s bad,” Tina said.
“Yep. Really, though, for now I want it that way. I could be out there ripping and running, especially with Nikki out of town, but I’m not.”
“By the way, how’s my goddaughter?”
“Nikki’s fine,” Zoie said unconvincingly. “I’ll have to catch you up on the puppy saga.”
“You’re getting a puppy?”
“Not if I can help it,” Zoie answered quickly.
“Oh, I see. So what have you been doing?”
“Reading, working…getting upset at Elliot.”
“Yeah, you told me about that thing with Elliot on the phone. You said something about a new wife. You said, ‘He’s back!’”
“Please. You sound like my grandmother.” Zoie’s eyes narrowed.
“Okay, no Elliot talk. Now you just have to replace all those hours you used to work with something different. Something fulfilling.”
“Well…I have been seeing this guy,” Zoie said with a sly smile.
“Girl, you’ve been holding out on me. Who is he? What’s he like?”
“Let’s see. How should I describe him?” Zoie drummed two fingers on her lips as she thought. “The word edgy comes to mind.”
“Edgy, like in freaky?”
“Noooo. Different. A little intense. Sometimes funny. Just someone I thought I’d never go out with. Not my usual type.”
“Oh, a brother,” Tina said with a smirk.
“Yes, for a change. And he’s smart and interesting.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And he has dreads and…empty pockets.”
“What a riot! You with someone with empty pockets? Well, good for you.”
“I don’t know how good it is. Elliot had money. But if you remember, he didn’t spend it on me.”
“Yeah, I forgot about that ridiculous arrangement you two had,” Tina said.
“Well, with this one, on our first date we split the tab. But overall it ended rather badly,” Zoie sighed. “He had a serious run-in with a kid.”
“Define run-in,” Tina said with a furrowed brow.
Tina was all-ears as Zoie recounted the incident at Uptown Theater.
“My, my…the brother has a temper,” Tina said.
“Tina, I’ve never witnessed anything like it. When he had this kid by the throat, it was as if he were in a trance or something.”
“Were you scared?”
“Only scared he was going to hurt the kid. Scared he was going to be arrested.”
“A wild one, huh. Sounds like a Jekyll and Hyde situation,” Tina said, taking a sip of her iced tea.
“But he didn’t harm the kid. Those kids were way out of line, putting gum in his hair.”
“You know that I’m not a violent person, but if some kid put gum in my hair, I might’ve slapped him myself.” Tina fingered her natural short curls. “Sounds as if you’ve got past that incident.”
“Pretty much. There’s certainly still a question mark there. Still, there’s a lot about him that’s so compelling.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for one thing, he’s gorgeous,” Zoie said with a sly smile, looking to the ceiling for more inspiration. “He’s funny and dynamic. He’s performing a worthwhile service to the community. And…”
“And what?”
“He’s not bad in the sack.”
“My, my…you’re a goner.”
Zoie played with the napkin near her glass of ice tea. “But the theater incident keeps replaying in my mind. It’s as if I were waiting for this Hyde character, as you called him, to reappear.”
“Well, keep him away from movie theaters. And from teens.”
“Yeah,” Zoie said, laughing.
“So what’s this community service?”
“Advocacy for the homeless. He operates a shelter. You might have seen him on TV or in the newspaper.”
“You know I watch TV as little as possible. And my copies of the Washington Post just pile up unread. In fact, I’m about to drop my subscription.” Tina played with the pink paper on her package. “So where’s this thing with this guy going?”
“Who knows? I walked away disgusted after the movie incident. Maybe that should have been the sign that it wasn’t right. But then I’ve been seeing him again. And speaking of signs, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’ve also been receiving messages from this homeless guy.”
“I leave you to yourself for a few weeks, and you go off the deep end,” Tina said with a smile.
“Tina, listen to this. This stuff is right up your alley. This homeless man saved my life. I was about to step into the path of a car, but he stopped me.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Actually, there’re two of them. But the one guy in particular, whenever I see him, he passes me a message on a scrap of paper, like the ones in fortune cookies, only handwritten.
“And?” Tina’s interest was piqued. She got excited whenever their conversations turned to the mystical, which wasn’t that often.
“So I get a message and sure enough something happens to me or around me that’s in line with the message.” Zoie explained the series of events where the messages had proved to be true, starting with the day she won the office pool.
“Zo, that’s wonderful. It’s the universe sending you messages.”
“Literally. At first I thought the whole thing was just repeating coincidences.”
“But, Zo, you know there’s no such thing as a coincidence. Everything happens for a reason.”
“Believe me that I believe it now.”
“The stars have lined up and are pointing in your direction. The universe is telling you something.”
“The question is, what?”
“No, the question is, are you listening?” Tina said. “Because if you are, you’ll know the what.”
The waitress returned, ready to take their orders. Tina, a vegetarian, ordered the fettuccini with squash, basil, and goat cheese. Zoie couldn’t decide between the salmon and the soft-shell crabs. At the waitress’s suggestion, she ordered the crabs.
“So tell me more about this job of yours,” Tina said.
“Oh, the Foundation.” Zoie lowered her voice. “After a big law firm, the place is a little lame for my tastes.”
“Are we surprised? We already know you’re a New York snob,” Tina said with a snicker, “even though you were born here in Chuck Brown Town. No DC firm is ever going to live up to your hard-driving standards. Anyway, it’s a nonprofit. No money to be made.”
“No, it’s not that.” Zoie explained some of the weird goings-on, like the fact that a grantee could get a payout ahead of schedule, and the disturbing happenings around the reading program’s grant. “I can’t go into more detail. All I can say is that things happen there without procedures.”
“Hmm. You’re being nice. I smell a lawsuit,” Tina said, sounding sure of her judgment.
Tight lipped, Zoie shrugged. Perhaps she’d already shared too much.
“Obviously, you’re not going to explain. I understand,” Tina said. “At least now this Foundation has you to keep it out of trouble.”
“I’ll do my best. I do believe the members’ hearts are in the right place.”
“But you know what they say about good intentions,” Tina sai
d, stroking her frosted glass.
“That road to hell thing. Exactly,” Zoie said.
“Zo, be careful. Watch yourself. Listen to your gut.”
“These days I’ve got more than my gut telling me stuff.” Not wanting to delve deeper in her client’s business, Zoie changed the subject. “Tina, when are we going to do something fun?”
“Speaking of fun, I’ll be out of town for a month. Maybe longer.”
Zoie was surprised and a little sadden by this news. “Where are you going?”
“Fort Lauderdale.”
“Florida? In the summer? You have all the sun you could ever want right here in DC.”
Tina smiled. “Yes, I could sit out at the mall and get my vitamin D, but the reflecting pool is hardly a beach. Plus, I’ve met someone—someone who’s going to produce and direct my latest endeavor: a video I’m calling Yoga for Seniors.”
“Fort Lauderdale? Wow! A video?”
“Walt’s got a particular seniors group in mind. Plus, he lives there. Walt is the backer and the filmmaker. I met him at a yoga conference. He liked my idea, and so here goes nothin’.”
“Just like that? Wow. That means I won’t see you for the rest of the summer,” Zoie said somberly. “I thought we could hang out. You know, before Nikki returns.”
There was a long silence. Even Tina, normally upbeat, looked sad.
The waitress showed up with their orders. Zoie was glad because she was hungry; the crab, covered with some light-brown sauce, looked wonderful.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Tina said, picking at her pasta plate. “Why don’t you come down to Fort Lauderdale with me at the end of the week? I’ve reserved a little efficiency not far from the beach.”
“Fly to Florida for the weekend? I don’t know.”
There was nothing really stopping Zoie. And what else was she going to do this weekend? Jahi hadn’t called.
Zoie thought about Carmen Silva, the defunct Crayton Foundation grant officer, whom Regina had talked about. Supposedly Carmen had relocated somewhere near Fort Lauderdale. Going to see Tina could be the opportunity to pay the woman a visit, her chance to get the real scoop on Ray Gaddis and the situation at the Foundation—that is, if this Carmen person would talk to her.
“Okay, okay. This may work out,” Zoie answered. “There’s actually somebody in the Fort Lauderdale area I need to look up.”
“Not Elliot’s aunt?” Tina asked. Tina knew all about the Benjamin family condo in Fort Lauderdale.”
“Please. No, this person is work related. I can’t say anymore.”
“You’re investigating something, and you’re doing it on your own, aren’t you? The company’s not asking you to go see this person.”
“Bingo.” Tina was very perceptive. Sometimes Zoie felt as if Tina could read her mind.
“You’re bored, so you’re snooping around to spice things up.”
“I never thought of it that way. But I just need to follow up on something I heard.”
“Now see, Zo—you were fated to go to Florida, and I just happened to provide the opportunity. I told you, the universe sends you things right when you need them. Everything happens for a reason.”
“If you say so.”
Chapter 19
Dog Days
Zoie’s Delta flight from Reagan Airport to Fort Lauderdale bumped down and glided to a full stop. Pausing for a second, it turned and then moved slowly toward what everyone aboard thought would be the gate. So engrossed in her inch-thick brief, Zoie hardly noticed that she was now safely on the ground. Her ability to focus on dry material, no matter the distractions, had been her edge through law school. Others had found uncanny her ability to wall off personal worries while focusing on the law. This ability had seen her through more than one tough exam, even as her mother lay dying miles away.
“We’re twenty minutes early,” said the confident voice of the pilot, over the plane’s loudspeaker. A few minutes later, his pronouncement was followed by a disappointing update: “Unfortunately, we’ve got to wait here. You may use your electronic devices, including cell phones, but I ask that you remain seated with your seat belts fastened until we arrive at a gate.”
Flying fast didn’t count when no gate was available.
The pilot’s message brought a chorus of groans from the captives on the crowded plane, Zoie among them. With a punctuating sigh, she looked past her two row mates, whom she’d barely acknowledged the entire trip, to view the scene on the busy runway. Baggage carts sprinted back and forth like Disney World trams, and thin plumes of steam rose from the tarmac, looking like miniature volcanoes. She was going into a Florida steam bath. Florida in August. Ugh.
Zoie pulled out her cell phone to check in with Celeste Benjamin. In the rush to leave town, she’d neglected to inform the woman entrusted with her daughter that she’d left DC.
“Celeste, it’s Zoie.”
“Oh, Zoie. This is a terrible connection. I can barely hear you.”
“Sorry. I’m on a plane. I’ve just landed in Florida,” Zoie said in a raised voice, which brought a grimace from the passenger next to her.
“Oh,” said Celeste, responding flatly.
Perhaps Celeste’s “oh” simply meant she was surprised. When it came to interpreting conversations with Celeste, Zoie’s mind was forever on hyperdrive—each word was analyzed and then reanalyzed for hidden meanings.
When Zoie was fifteen and announced that she wanted to be an attorney, her grandmother sounded relieved. “Hmm. I thought you were headed for private investigator,” she said, referring to Zoie’s super-inquisitive nature and tendency to analyze the hell out of things. “You’re going to turn everything inside out until you make two and two come out five.”
“Isn’t that what attorneys do?” she asked her grandmother.
Celeste broke the long silence. “Are you on business?”
“No, I’m here for the weekend to visit a friend. I wanted to make sure you had this number, in case anything came up.”
“According to the caller ID, it’s your cell phone,” Celeste confirmed. “Not to worry. Things are fine.”
“Just checking,” Zoie replied with a snap to her voice. No matter how nice she tried to be, there was always something irritating in Celeste’s tone or at least in the way Zoie heard it.
From her aisle seat, Zoie could see other restless passengers with cell phones to their ears. Their collective conversation plus the plane engine’s drone and the fact that Zoie’s ears hadn’t cleared further strained the already-tense conversation. “Is Nikki around?” Zoie asked at a volume meant to overcome the noise. It took every ounce of control for Zoie to restrain from asking whether Elliot and his new lady had departed as planned.
“Nikki’s next door with my neighbor’s kids. They’re having a Lion King movie marathon,” Celeste responded with a hint of glee in her voice.
“Good.” Zoie knew what Nikki’s movie marathons were like.
“Zoie, do you want me to have her call when she returns?” asked Celeste, sounding more like Nikki’s personal secretary than the child’s grandmother.
“No,” Zoie answered, hesitant. In the four weeks since Nikki had gone to Ohio, Zoie hadn’t missed a night of talking to her daughter. A twinge of guilt tried to make her change her mind. Then in an instant, she convinced herself that not talking to her daughter for one night wouldn’t make her a bad mother. Confident in her decision, she said, “No, that’s okay, Celeste. Tell her I said hi and that I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“Whatever works for you,” Celeste said, her tone cool.
Zoie ended the call and bit her lip. She turned away from the annoyed glance of the passenger next her.
Though Zoie loved hearing her daughter’s voice, this time she was relieved. It would be good to have a day without Nikki’s detailed rundown of puppy activities. And what was more, she could use a day without being hit with Nikki’s perpetual question: “Mommy, when are you going to make the decision
about Biscuit?”
The child’s whine had become almost unbearable. Zoie’s pat answer—“I’m still thinking about it, sweetie”—now lacked credibility. Paralyzed by parental cowardice, she couldn’t bring herself to tell Nikki that there would be no Biscuit residing at their Connecticut Avenue apartment. However, to delay telling Nikki the truth was only prolonging the agony. Zoie knew that each day Nikki grew more attached to the animal, which only increased the magnitude of betrayal Nikki would feel when Zoie finally delivered the bad news.
Recently Zoie had been using her last best excuse: “Nikki, I have to check with the building’s management.”
“Why?” the child asked, using the one-word questioning method she’d adeptly developed as a toddler.
“Because the apartment management makes the rules, and sometimes the rules say people can’t have pets.”
“But, Mommy, everybody had dogs when we lived in New York.” The child was right, or so it seemed. On the Upper West Side, dog owners were usually out in force, often juggling two leashes with one hand and a pooper-scooper and plastic bags with the other. Living in an apartment didn’t prevent pet ownership. Purina relied on it.
“We don’t live in New York anymore, sweetie. I don’t know what this apartment building management will allow.”
But the building-management decision was a delay ploy. Zoie had made up her mind after considerable thought. She’d never owned a dog and had no interest in owning one. At the same time, she tried to be thorough in her analysis of the situation, for Nikki’s sake. The cons couldn’t be denied: dog hair, chewed furniture, and guilt about having a large animal penned up in an apartment, not to mention leaving the poor creature alone all day. But then there were ways around some of those cons. Other people managed to own dogs. She could manage her way through all the impediments with money, extra cleaning, and proper dog training. Yes, everything about owning a dog was manageable—until it came to the walks. It was there that Zoie’s decision solidified. Morning walks would be difficult since mornings were already mini-ordeals: racing to comb Nikki’s hair, to fix her breakfast before school, and to get her dressed. Then, of course, Zoie had to get herself ready for work. Night walks would be an equal challenge. She pictured herself in the dark, the rain, and the cold, toting a pooper-scooper and plastic bag, with an animal on a leash. Nikki would have to stay inside, asleep and alone upstairs. No, it wouldn’t work. The negatives outweighed any positives. In fact, she couldn’t think of any positives, except for maybe her daughter’s happiness.