Would I Lie to You?

by Trisha R. Thomas

  VENUS stopped and looked up at the JPWear building. The outside stucco appeared gray, matching the sky and her mood. She’d made it here by some strange force. She hadn’t paid attention to one exit, street sign, or stoplight. Maybe her mother was right … Regardless of what she did or believed, she’d end up where she was meant to. It was out of her hands. She picked up her cell phone and slipped it into her platinum leather bag, left unzipped for easy access. She got out and locked her car, strategically stepping around the potholes in the downtown street.

  “Hey, I was getting worried about you.” Jake Parson met her at the base of the wobbly stairs. “Double espresso, that’s two shots.” He handed her the Starbucks cup.

  “Sorry I’m late.” She took the cup from his hand, careful to avoid contact with his perfect brown fingers. “Thank you.” She was taken aback by the small gesture, pausing to stare at the cup to make sure it was real. “I guess this is to make up for waking me in the middle of the night.”

  “Absolutely. Anything I can do to keep our little project moving smoothly.” His smooth skin creased at the sides of his mouth with his smile.

  She led the way up, realizing he wasn’t going to go first. She was grateful she wore her new midlength skirt instead of the micro-mini still laid out on her bed. William and Legend were sitting across from each other at the long conference table, both on their cell phones having similar conversations.

  Jake signaled for them to hang up, doing a roll with his hand. They both closed the small black casings at the same time.

  “Wassup?” William stood up and slapped hands with Jake as if he hadn’t just seen him yesterday, or the day before. “This is the deal. Arista is going to let us license the picture of Lila from her new CD for the T-shirts. We’re going to do a test market, see how those sell with a close net distribution in D.C., Atlanta, and of course NYC. We get the numbers back on that and we got proof that the deal is profitable.”

  Venus looked between the two men. “Proof?” She chastised Jake with her eyes.

  “Actually it was something Legend wanted to pursue, and I didn’t think it was a bad idea.”

  “It makes sense to get some real numbers on paper, Venus. You know that more than anybody,” Legend said with a calmness that made Venus want to hurl her coffee toward him.

  “Real numbers? The fact that she sold a million records in five weeks, that’s proof. The T-shirt thing is going to tip off every manufacturer and distributor in the business. We’re going to have a bidding war on our hands. It’s a waste of time, and money.”

  Legend stood up and walked to the other side of the room to make his point. “By the time the competition even knows what we’re doing, our line will be off and running.”

  “So you intend to run the T-shirts with Lila Kelly’s face when we don’t have a shred of communication between her and us.”

  “It was your great idea to base this entire launch on one woman; now you don’t even know if she’s coming aboard.” Legend’s words came out accusatory. “Aren’t you supposed to be the great rainmaker?”

  “Wait a minute … calm down.” Jake moved between the bickering couple. “This is getting a little out of hand. Table this until cooler heads prevail. Venus is right about one thing, the risk of launching a test campaign without any communication with the Kelly management might not be a good idea.”

  “We’ve got Arista’s permission,” William interjected.

  “But we’re trying to work directly with Lila Kelly for the entire line. That’s like going to her father for her hand in marriage first and asking her second. Women just don’t play that anymore. We’re talking about getting her directly involved, then we go around her back? Come on.”

  Legend’s tone was intact but his face showed signs of defeat, something he would never get used to. He excused himself while Jake and Venus continued the conversation. William followed, like a child caught in a divorce war.

  The studio was airy and empty on the main floor. Now that it was just she and Jake in the room, she let the sadness override her. Jake came and stood by her side. “Don’t worry. Lila Kelly is not going to pass this opportunity, I can feel it.”

  Venus stared down at the cell phone she still held tightly in her hand. The blank face screamed at her, no missed calls, no message from her father. “I’m not worried about that. I mean, I am, but …” She plopped into one of the Martian-shaped chairs by the corner window, feeling exhausted. The small battle with Legend had depleted what little energy she had left. She wanted to know what was going on. Her heart would burst and roll away if something were to happen to her mother. Cancer was such an ugly word, something people dealt with every day. But this would be a first for Venus, first for her immediate family. She couldn’t think of anyone down the family tree who’d had cancer, a lot of close calls, but never the actual demon. Her uncle Gordon had some lymph nodes removed from the inside of his throat from a tobacco-chewing habit, but as soon as he had the scare he gave up the dirty business and that was the end of it. There’d been sickle cell for one of her cousins, the exact same age as Venus—well, who would have been if she hadn’t died six years ago as soon as she hit the thirty mark. She’d been fighting the disease all of her life. Jenie.

  Venus put her hands over her face. Death was an inevitable part of this life, but it never made it easy. Her many aunts and uncles were starting to pass away in old age. It was inevitable. But not her mother. Not now.

  “Hey, hey … what’s going on?” Jake walked away, coming back quickly with tissue.

  Venus wiped, and blew. “It’s not about you, JPWear. I’m dealing with some other stuff right now. I’m sorry about the outburst.”

  He pulled up a chair and sat down. “You want to talk about it? I know I’m not honey, but I can still listen.” He remained quiet, waiting in vain for the humor to set in.

  Venus peeked at him from her bloodshot eyes. “No, this is pretty bad.” She whispered, tearing the tissue into a rat’s nest in her lap.

  “Tell me.”

  She sniffed, then wiped again, shaking her head.

  “I have a suggestion, let’s get out of here, get some fresh air.”

  “I’m waiting for a phone call, important news.” She blew again with the tissue he’d supplied.

  “Whatever news you were going to get sitting here in this corner, you can get somewhere quiet and peaceful.” He helped her up like a rag doll. “Come on.” He picked up her bag. “Good grief.” He pretended to be weighted down then suddenly able to stand straight when she took the bag out of his hand. Once again the stab at humor was wasted on Venus. For now, there was no good to be found in the world.

  THEY drove in silence with the top down in his small two-seater. The wind whistled in her ears while they sped down the Santa Monica freeway. Midmorning there was no traffic. The sky was gray with overcast appearing as a threat of rain, but it would burn off by lunchtime. Venus kept her phone pressed against her rib cage so she would feel it vibrate.

  “Where are we going? I don’t want to be too far out of the city. I might have to get back fast.” She spoke above the music and the car racing through the wind at full speed.

  “Not too far, I promise.”

  Before Venus had realized it, she had fallen asleep. Car travel did that to her when she had the privilege of feeling safe on the passenger side.

  She opened her eyes when the car stopped moving. They were parked. The distinct sound of seagulls and waves filled her ears. The beach was a few steps away.

  “I can’t get out,” she told him, leading his vision to her camel suede boots that the moist sand would surely destroy.

  “Take them off. Little sand between those toes will do you good. Sand is like an instant pedicure. It sloughs off the dead skin and massages your feet.”

  Venus looked at him strangely.

  “What? I’m not supposed to know about that kind of stuff?”

  “What do you do, read Glamour and Essence in your free time?” she
asked, peeling off her boots.

  “Actually, there’re men’s magazines out there with better advice than your girlie periodicals any day of the week. I thought you were in the know, Miss Johnston.” He picked off his shoes one at a time, sliding the socks inside. His feet were nice, she had to admit. He rolled up his pant legs, then looked for Venus to start her stripping session.

  “I have panty hose on, go wait over there,” she instructed.

  He got out of the car and stood with his hands in his pockets facing the water. She raised her skirt high enough to get a hold of her stockings, working them down around her ankles. She peered back at him. He was still staring out in the opposite direction.

  “Okay. Ready.” Her first step sank deep into the warm sand. She wanted to cry out in delight. It had been at least a year since she’d been to the beach. The shores of the Pacific had always been a source of solitude and peace for her. A place to come and let all the worries glide away with each roll of the tide.

  “I love the beach,” he said to the open air, reflecting what she was feeling at that very moment. They both took a deep cleansing pause. “You all right, you need my jacket?” Jake touched her shoulder, as if testing the reliability of her sweater coat. His tight square jaw reminded her of the romantic heroes in fiction. Coming to the rescue with love and goodwill. She had to force herself to turn away from him.

  “No, I’m good, thank you.” Even though the sky was a serene gray, the air was still a comfortable temperature, the sand was still warm.

  He slipped his arm through hers and they started walking, “I grew up in Los Angeles, all my life, and you know the first time I ever went to the beach I was seventeen years old. Damn near a grown man, and I had never been to the beach. I couldn’t even swim. When I went away to college, and people found out I was from California, they used to talk to me like I was some surfer dude, saying stuff like gnarly and surf’s up. They had no idea that I grew up in Central Los Angeles, on dry land, locked into my neighborhood, with no way out.”

  Venus walked close by his side. “I know, people find out you’re from Los Angeles, and they have these immediate pictures of big-tit women from Baywatch. I guess the same way we think people from Oklahoma ride horses to work or New Yorkers don’t know how to drive, period.”

  “I never thought that,” he said, leaning down to pick up a shell. “I didn’t know anything except what was happening right in my own neighborhood. People getting shot for no reason, girls I thought were pretty turning up pregnant before I even got a chance to ask them out. Friends doing time for selling a joint, getting out of prison more a criminal than when they went in. I pretty much thought it was going on the same way everywhere.”

  Venus bent over and picked up a shell, too. This one large, glistening white. “Listen.” She put it to his ear. The hollow sound of wind passing. He closed his eyes. Venus knew what he was feeling, the escape. The sound that transported her on so many occasions. Unlike Jake, she had spent a great deal of time at the beach. On picnics with her family, she, her mother, father, and brother would set up camp on a grassy hill area. Her mother, who hated the sand and never got into the water, preferred sitting on the wide-spread blanket in her hot-pink one-piece bathing suit with her dark square sunglasses, the entire time. She kept watch over the foil-covered fried chicken and Tupperware containers of potato salad and sliced watermelon, so the seagulls wouldn’t attack. Venus and Timothy would play around in the salty waves with her father nearby, practicing his breaststroke. After a couple of hours her mother would walk to the shoreline, standing with her thick legs and solid waist, and wave them in, “Time to come eat! Come on now, get out of that water.”

  Venus had drifted off, too, now realizing jake was holding her hand, his hand helping her press the smooth shell to his face. “I like that, like it a lot. That’s why I bought my place over here. Trying to make up for lost time.”

  “You live here?” They stood in front of a row of tall slender condominiums, each one painted a sunny pastel color. His was a soft sea blue.

  He took two steps at a time getting to the front porch. He unlocked the sliding door and pushed it open for her.

  “My feet are all sandy.”

  “I own a vacuum. Come on.” Jake held the door open for her.

  She padded her way into the spacious entry. One entire wall on the first floor was windows looking out toward the sea. “This is nice.” Venus wanted to tell him it was breathtaking, something she’d wished for herself a time or two, but her strength was ebbing lower by the minute. She sat down on the plush leather couch, feeling every bit as exhausted as she probably looked. Last night she’d slept in two-hour pockets, never really getting any rest.

  “I’ll get you some water.” His soft padded steps fell silent against the hardwood floor.

  She looked around the modern decor. The light tan walls mixed with red and black accents. African art sat on the shelves and on the walls. The leather couches. The candles strategically placed around the side tables. The stereo system with speakers built into the walls. This was a bachelor’s web. She couldn’t help feeling like the unsuspecting fly who’d fallen into his trap.

  “Here you go.” He placed a plate of fruit and cheese on the table in front of her. “I bet you don’t eat breakfast.”

  Venus shoved two red grapes into her mouth. Sweet, succulent, and tender—she was referring to the grapes but thought the description equally fitting for Jake. His sleeves were folded back, and his forearms had caught her attention when he set the tray down. She could easily imagine what the rest of him looked like, the even magenta brown tone of his skin. The ridges of his muscles, tightly flexed.

  “What’s your favorite music?”

  Venus stopped fantasizing long enough to answer, “Mostly old-school mellow stuff, Isley Brothers, Al Jarreau. None of the so-called Nu Soul have anything on their sound. You knew what time it was when an Isley beat came on the stereo. Time to just kick back, let the groove steal you away.” She picked up the plate and laid it in her lap, using both hands to pick the grape cluster clean, leaving a bare vine. “I needed that.” She dusted the cracker crumbs off her skirt and into the empty plate while he fumbled with his CD collection and shifted things around in the disc tray.

  The sound of an Isley Brothers song came out quietly, unpronounced, filling the space where she sat like another source of air. She pressed her knees tightly against each other when the first bar sailed out softly … “I’ve been thinking of you, and you’ve been thinking of me …”

  “Where’s the bathroom?” she blurted out, standing up abruptly.

  He pointed over her head. She turned around, feeling almost drunk, and wandered off. When the warm walls of the bathroom surrounded her, she closed the door.

  “You look mahvelous, dahling,” she said to the mirror. She leaned in close over the sink. Her lipstick was eaten off, eyes bloodshot. Not the picture of seduction. The medicine cabinet beckoned to be opened. She wasn’t surprised to find it completely empty. It was the first place women went to check out a man’s personality, his hygiene and habits. She closed it, looking around. The bathroom was spotless. He probably never came in here anyway. It was the guest bathroom, neat and classy like the rest of his place. A copy of Black Man’s Quarterly displayed from the top of the chrome magazine rack. She picked it up to stall time. A red sticky extended out, marking a page. She opened it to a small picture of Jake Parson looking suave and sexy in the center of the article. Guess Who’s on Top, read the title, announcing his company as a top-grossing urban outfitter. She flipped it closed and looked at the publication date. Three years ago. She rubbed her finger across the page, circling his face. The eyes were risk free, the smile charming. His tightly cropped hair as dark and as black as the sweater he wore in the photo. Shame on you, Venus. She slapped the pages closed and tossed the magazine back in the case.

  “I should get back,” she said, standing on the edge of the living room rug with her bare feet. The music s
till played softly. She didn’t dare go back into the comfort zone.

  Jake stood up, holding her phone. “It rang. There’s a message.” Venus rushed forward and grabbed it from his hand. She pushed the button and listened, intently.

  “I’ve got to get back.” She snapped it closed, nearly brimming over with tears.

  JAKE didn’t respond, only driving like a professional, zigzagging through traffic, making her know that he understood how desperately she needed to be by her mother’s side. When she’d hung up the phone and he asked what happened, Venus quietly said, “My mother, she’s in the hospital.” He picked up his keys and told her to wait there. Venus watched him jog in the sand to his car parked the distance of their leisurely stroll. He drove the car back to his condo where she was waiting outside in her bare feet. They sped away and hadn’t slowed since. “The hospital is on our way; why don’t you let me drive you? It doesn’t make sense for you to go all the way back downtown, then backtrack.”

  Venus looked at him and nodded. Right about now, nothing made sense. Not the bubble in her throat, the sweat beading on her forehead and under her armpits. The message her father spoke into her phone. “It’s bad, Precious. It’s worse than we thought.”

  “Okay, but you don’t have to stay. My father can give me a ride back to my car.” She took in a long deep breath. “You don’t have to stay.” She announced for the second time.