Reye's Gold (Indigo)

by Robinson, Ruthie

  “If he’s interested, he’ll call you,” he said.

  “Maybe,” she said, gathering up her ball and ending the discussion. “Do you think we’re ready for the next game?”

  “Of course we’re ready. I’m in charge here, right?” Reye rolled her eyes heavenward. “And humble, too.”

  She walked over to her truck and Sam followed, watching as she exchanged her cleats for flip-flops and hopped in. “Take care, baby girl. I’ll see you next game.”

  “Yeah. You, too.”

  * * *

  Later on that week, Reye walked into the East River Community Center located east of town, a more economically challenged part of the city. She was here at the request of one of her professors. Professor Wallace had suggested strongly that she volunteer her time in a program offered here that allowed kids with learning problems to get help after school. Since she served as Reye’s advisor and played a major role in Reye’s ability to graduate, she took her professor’s advice and made an appointment with the director of the program, Dr. Susan Houston.

  She approached the main information desk, where a young girl sat talking on the telephone. A striking pink hairpiece was interwoven into long black twists that hung down the girl’s waist and lay against light brown skin. Small in stature, she sat behind the desk manning the receptionist station while talking on the telephone. Reye walked over, stood next to the desk, and waited for the young lady to complete her call. She appeared to be in her mid teens, but who knew these days. Young girls grew up so fast. Eleven-year-olds could pass for early twenties nowadays. Reye took a moment to look around the interior of the center. The area next to the desk contained small couches and tables; standard city issued furniture, where children sat slouched and huddled talking together. One brave child sat alone reading a book. On the other side of the entry was a room that held computers and more children. The walls were made of glass so she you could see in. All ages sat around the computers, playing games or, for the more studious ones, completing homework.

  Reye turned at the sound of the phone being hung up. The receptionist looked up. “May I help you?”

  What was it with women? thought Reye. From little girls to full grown adults, regardless of race, they could run an eye over another woman and sum her up faster than you could blink. Add another second and they could recite your dress and shoe size, the cost of your attire, and if said attire worked for you or not. Reye was treated to such an assessment from the young woman, and, judging by the sour turn of her lips, Reye hadn’t measured up.

  “My name is Reye Jackson, and I have an appointment with Dr. Susan Houston.”

  “Let me call her.” She picked up the phone, dialed, and sat in silence for a few seconds. “Dr. Houston there is . . . .” She paused and looked at Reye. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Reye Jackson.”

  “A Reye Jackson is here to see you. Okay,” she said, and placed the receiver back in its place.

  “Have a seat, she’ll come and get you when she’s ready,” the girl said to Reye as she picked up her telephone, hand moving swiftly on the keys, texting. Dissed by a teenager, how sad, Reye thought. She found a seat next to the door to sit her disappointing ass down.

  Ten minutes later, a woman in her early fifties appeared. A neatly trimmed afro sat atop a handsome face covered in dark brown skin. She was neatly dressed in a cream-colored business suit with matching three-inch pumps. Gold jewelry adorned her hands and ears. She walked over to Reye with both of her hands extended.

  “Well, hello, Reye, I’m Dr. Susan Houston. You may call me either Doctor or Susan. Professor Wallace has told me so much about you.”

  About me, Reye thought to herself as she returned Susan’s smile.

  “Yes, you,” she said as if she’d reached into Reye’s brain and plucked that thought out. “Did you have any trouble finding us?”

  “No, no trouble at all. I grew up in Austin, so I know my way around.”

  “Great. Let me show you the center while I tell you about our program,” she said and turned away after indicating that Reye should follow her. “Children come to our center after school for assistance with homework. Most of the children require some type of assistance in the three R’s, and we do our best to help. But, like most non-profits, we always fall short of recruiting volunteers. Professor Wallace told me that she felt that you had a particular talent, a gift, even, and, more importantly, a heart for those children who had difficulties learning.”

  “Professor Wallace told you that? About me?” She voiced her thoughts out loud this time.

  Dr. Houston laughed, a small sound, like little bells.

  “She probably had me confused with someone else,” Reye said jokingly. “I would think you would need the best and the brightest to teach kids with learning issues, and that is so not me.”

  “I think you underestimate yourself,” Dr Houston said. “Professor Wallace told me that you dedicate yourself ardently to those tasks set before you. We need vol unteers who have that passion, and it’s a bonus if they come with an insiders view into our student’s struggles.”

  Dr. Houston stepped into a room Reye hadn’t seen earlier. Five children, four boys and one girl, sat around those little tables and chairs that she’d outgrown by kindergarten. Pencils, scattered papers, and books littered the tables. A tall, slender Hispanic young man leaned over the back of a student’s chair, talking. They all turned at the sound of the door opening.

  “Hello, children,” Dr. Houston said as she moved to stand in the middle of the room. “I have someone I would like you to meet.” She turned and pointed to Reye. “This is Ms. Reye, and she is visiting the center. She may work with some of you after school, like Javier.” The young man smiled while five pair of eyes stared at Reye. Dr. Houston introduced Javier, also a volunteer, who had been with the program for two years.

  They spent time observing him work with the children. He moved between the children answering questions and redirecting them when they became distracted. After about ten minutes, Dr. Houston stood up to leave, and Reye followed.

  “Thank you, Javier and children, for your time,” Dr. Houston said. She led Reye from the room. Outside the door, she turned to Reye and asked, “Well, what do you think?”

  Reye paused for a second to look around the center again. “If you and Professor Wallace think this is a good idea, I’ll do my best to help you.”

  “Great,” Dr. Houston said and beamed.

  “When do you want me to start, and how many days would I be here?” Reye asked.

  “Well, I was hoping you would be available to work at least three days a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday would be preferable, but we are flexible. Do you think that would work?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Could you start Monday?”

  Yikes, so soon, she thought. “Yes, I think so, but let me double-check my schedule and call you,” Reye said. By this time they had walked back to the front entrance of the center.

  “Thank you so much for your time, Reye, and I look forward to working with you,” Dr. Houston said, moving to engulf Reye in a hug.

  “Thank you.” Surprised by the hug and the easy camaraderie between them, Reye returned the embrace and left.

  * * *

  Finally, the weekend had arrived, ending a very long and demanding week for Stephen. His fraternity, Phi Beta Nu, was preparing to host an end of the week party and he had been toying with the idea of inviting Reye. He hadn’t called her at all, but she’d been in his thoughts. He remembered her smile and her laughing after her fall, but mostly he thought about that parting kiss and contemplated the potential for more. Maybe he just needed to get laid.

  He should invite her tonight and see if taking that kiss to its natural conclusion would loosen the hold it had on his interest. What the hell, he thought, and, locating her number in his cell, he called. She answered on the first ring.

  “Reye here.”

  “Hey, stranger, it�
��s Stephen. Remember me?”

  “Sure,” she said. Her voice sounded cool. “I had given up hearing from you.”

  “School has been crazy busy, but I’m taking a break tonight and I thought you might want to come over to the frat house for a party. Sorry for the short notice, but I just decided to go myself,” he said.

  “What time?”

  “We don’t really have an official start time, but most people get here by about 10:30.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you know how to get here?”

  “I think so. Are you near all the other frat houses on College Avenue? There’s a Starbucks nearby?”

  “Yep, we are about three houses down from that Starbucks. There is a sign in the yard, Phi Beta Nu,” he said.

  “Okay, I think I can find it.”

  “I’ll be at the house, just ask for me and someone will find me. Okay?”

  “Sure. See ya.”

  * * *

  Surprise, surprise, she’d given up on hearing from him. She’d been kicking herself for kissing him and maybe being a little too bold. How often had Sam told her that she could be too aggressive? She’d never learned how to play the demure, coy, pretending non-interest game, refusing to relinquish the notion that she couldn’t just be herself. Honestly, it seemed deceitful somehow to hide, to pretend to be someone other than you. Although sitting home alone on Friday and Saturday nights hadn’t been her goal, either. She was excited about his call, and she refused to consider the reasons behind it, late at night, out of the blue. She really wanted to see him again. She’d been attracted to him from the start and she’d been very much afraid she’d blown it.

  * * *

  Around seven that evening, Stephen pulled into the driveway behind the fraternity house. He spotted his roommate and best friend. “Henri, come give me a hand,” he shouted, calling him over to help. He and Henri had been friends since elementary school. They grew up in the same neighborhood, their parents hung out together. He trusted him.

  “Dude,” Henri said by way of greeting. “You sure you’ve got enough beer? Don’t we usually get kegs?” he asked.

  “I’m just the delivery guy, I didn’t order anything.” Each grabbing a case of beer, he and Henri walked to the back porch and set the first of several cases near the back door.

  “I’ve invited a friend over to the party tonight, and since you’ve been assigned to the door, I thought you could be on the lookout for her, point her in my direction when she arrives. Her name is Reye,” Stephen said, walking back to his car to grab more cases.

  “Sure, what does she look like?”

  “She’s a couple of inches shorter than me, African-American, slim, long legs, nice smile, and short hair.”

  “Oh,” Henri said, eyebrows shooting up. “Where did you meet her?”

  “On the trip back from Dallas two weekends ago, remember? We sat next to each other on the plane ride back.”

  Interesting, Henri thought, picking up another case and following Stephen back to the porch. “Sure, I’ll bring her to you.” He couldn’t remember Stephen ever inviting a girl to a party. Most women came by themselves and they plucked one from the multitude, no strings and no commitments.

  “That’s unusual for you, isn’t it?”

  “Not really. She’s just a girl I wanted to see again, nothing more.”

  “If you say so.” They made their last trip to the back porch, depositing the last of the beer.

  “I’ll see you later,” Stephen said, walking back to his car.

  “No problem,” Henri said, watching him leave.

  * * *

  What to wear, Reye wondered as she stood in the bedroom closet of her home trying to choose. Jeans and t-shirts comprised her usual attire, but the desire to feel soft and sexy tonight had her rummaging through her closet and dresser for something more. After about ten minutes, she decided on a dress, simple in form, white, and great against her skin. It cinched underneath her breasts and flared out, resting mid-thigh. She added a pair of matching flat sandals to her outfit and began scrounging around for earrings. She’d showered and dressed, adding perfume, and now stood looking at herself in her mirror. Pleased with her appearance she grabbed her keys, locked her door, and headed for her truck.

  Most of the fraternity houses were located near the university and she’d driven by them often, never going in. Old money and legacies lived in those houses. The university was where old money sent its best and brightest to be educated. Reye used to hold a minor grudge against the school, as it was the last school in the school’s athletic conference to play African-American football players. She always pulled for the other side, her personal form of protest.

  The fraternity was located on a street that ran parallel to the main drag, and it was not known for its parking availability. She ended up parking at a lot about two blocks over and walking the remaining distance. The fraternity houses sat next to each other, covering the next two blocks. Most were two stories high, with old-school porches arranged around them. She passed two homes belonging to other fraternities before spotting the Phi Beta Nu sign in the yard. Lots of people were hanging out on the steps, mostly tanned and white with a few brown spots of Asian, Indian, and African-American sprinkled in. A couple of heads turned her way. With her height, she was usually not hard to miss and received more than her share of second glances. Taking the stairs, she approached the front door where a young man appeared to be the ticket agent or keeper of the door. He was tall, tanned, and even in his careless style of dress, gorgeous. Apparently only the good looking needed to apply to this fraternity. A head full of thick, wavy blond hair graced his head and he gave her the once-over. He was slick about it, but she still caught him looking.

  “May I help you?”

  “Sure. I am looking for a guy named Stephen, do you know him?”

  “Sure, I know Stephen. He was in the kitchen the last I saw him. It’s in the back of the house. Lucky for you, he asked me to look out for you. You’re Reye, right?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I’m Henri. Stephen and I are old friends, we grew up together in Dallas and went to elementary, middle, and high school together. Follow me, and I’ll take you to him,” he said, turning to lead her through the living room, which was currently serving as the dance floor, to the back of the house. They entered a small kitchen jammed with men and women sitting and standing. Stephen stood with his back leaning against the counter surrounded by males and females who were listening intently to something he said. He was dressed in worn jeans that hugged him in all the right places and a t-shirt, his feet in flip-flops.

  The golden one, her nickname for him was an apt description. He appeared to have it all, golden in wealth, looks, brains, and brawn. He held a beer in his hand and talked to the group. Several heads turned as she and Henri entered. His eyes found hers and he smiled.

  “Reye, glad you could make it,” he said, all smooth and relaxed. The sound of his voice seeped into her skin, traveling straight to her insides, turning them to syrup. It was frightening, this reaction to him. He waved the arm holding the beer to encompass all who were in the kitchen, and said, “Everybody, this is Reye. Reye, everybody.” Reye took note of the look of surprise found on some of the women’s faces, certainly understanding their reactions. She was surprised, too.

  Stephen then proceeded to tell the story of their meeting, hilariously describing her run through the airport and subsequent fall. Everyone laughed and Reye walked over to stand next to his side. He turned his head to her. “Glad you could make it,” he said again, more intimately this time. “Want anything to drink?” His eyelids were lowered, a sure sign that the beer he’d been drinking was working its magic. He seemed looser, more relaxed than on the airplane.

  “I’ll take a beer,” she said.

  He pulled one from the sink, which had been turned into a makeshift cooler. He handed her the beer and, grabbing her hand, pulled her behind him, walking them through the back
door and out into the night. A few couples sat deep in conversation. They didn’t look up.

  He led her toward two lounge chairs located at the far end of the porch away from the others, in the shadows. He sat in the first lounger, stretching his feet out before him, and she did the same in its twin. It was quieter here and starting to get dark out. They sat quietly for a while, drinking their beer. He had yet to release her hand, and it felt nice being here with him like this. She glanced over at him and he was exactly as she remembered, strong, lean, muscular, but not overly so, beautiful in a very masculine way, with lips that were just the right size and shape. He seemed so sure of himself, like he was used to getting his way in life. He caught her looking at him and smiled. His eyes and mouth were a study in smooth and sensuous. “I’m really glad you came,” he said, not breaking the connection of their hands.

  “I’m glad I came, too. I’ve driven by here a thousand times, but this is my first trip inside. I like the architecture of these old houses.”

  “Me, too.”

  Reye offered to him what she’d been thinking privately. “It took you a while to call me. I didn’t expect to hear from you again,” she said.

  “I didn’t expect to call you, either, to be honest.” He paused for a second, taking a deep breath. “Truthfully, you’re not my type.”

  “Ouch,” she said, trying to hide her shock. “Then what am I doing here?”

  “Don’t get mad. I can tell that you’re one of those women who require a lot of work. More than I’m willing to give right now.”

  “You got all that from one ride home on a plane?”

  “Yes. It’s in the way you carry yourself.” He looked over her face, taking in its shape and smoothness. Her lips had been imprinted in his mind, full and soft. That was why he’d called her. “Law school is really demanding, and the last thing I need is a distraction. You have the potential to be a major one. I’d only end up disappointing you,” he added.

  “Okay,” Reye replied. “So why did you call?”