by Mason Dixon
“I don’t know whether to slap you or thank you,” Jackie Williams said.
“One I definitely deserve. The other I’m not so sure about.”
“If not for you, I might have lost my best friend. Thank you for looking out for her.”
“Even though I was the reason she needed looking after in the first place?”
Ignoring the question, Jackie rested her hands on her ample hips. “I hear you’re looking for her.”
“Does that surprise you?”
Jackie looked up at her, her eyes guarded. DaShawn could see why Rashida trusted Jackie with all her secrets. All except one. Rashida had told Jackie she and DaShawn had slept together, but she hadn’t told her anything about their relationship. Had Jackie forgiven either of them for the omission? Probably not. Jackie didn’t look like she was in a forgiving mood.
“What if Rashida doesn’t want to be found?”
DaShawn hadn’t considered the possibility. She wasn’t stupid. She knew Rashida didn’t want to talk to her, but did Rashida really intend to avoid her for the rest of their lives? Would she never give her a chance to explain?
“Didn’t she return all the letters you wrote?”
“Yes.” DaShawn remembered the sinking feeling she got in her gut each time one of the guards shouted her name during mail call and handed her an envelope emblazoned with the words that marked her failure to break through to Rashida. Return to Sender.
“I think it’s time you took the hint, don’t you?”
A few returned letters weren’t enough to make her accept defeat. “Thank you for being the protective best friend, but Rashida’s a grown woman. She can take care of herself.”
“That’s what she’s been doing for the past eighteen months. Now here you are trying to waltz back into her life and rip open the wounds she’s tried so hard to heal.”
“I don’t want to hurt her. I just—I want to—”
“You want to what? Kiss it and make it better? Say you’re sorry, tell her you’ve been successfully rehabilitated, and try to convince her to give you a second chance like she’s the head of a parole board holding the keys to your pardon? Or did you come here to rub it in? To twist the knife a little more?”
“I have been rehabilitated. I used my time inside to think about all the things I’ve done wrong in my life. I vowed I would never do them again.”
“I’m happy for you, but your revelation came much too late, as far as I’m concerned. Do you have any idea what you put Rashida through? What you put us through? Everyone who works for the bank was affected by what you and Harry did, but especially Rashida. I’m glad you realized the error of your ways before the situation got completely out of hand, but I really wish you’d seen the light a lot sooner than you did. Take my advice. The next time a woman tries to convince you to participate in a crazy scheme, just say no.”
Jackie turned and began to walk away. With three words, DaShawn stopped her in her tracks.
“I love her.”
Jackie slowly turned to face her. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
“She loves me, too.”
Jackie looked at her but didn’t respond. DaShawn felt the tide begin to turn in her favor.
“Rashida knows me,” she said. “She knows my heart. All I want is a chance to prove I’m the woman she thought I was all along.”
Jackie stiffened. “If you meant as much to each other as you claim, you shouldn’t need me to tell you where she is.”
Kicking herself for pushing Jackie further than she was willing to go, DaShawn watched her walk away. She would have to find Rashida on her own, but she didn’t know where to start.
She turned in a slow circle, taking in the sights and sounds of the historic city that surrounded her. Then she closed her eyes and blocked out every noise except the one she most wanted to hear. She listened for the sound of Rashida’s heart.
Chapter Twenty-six
Wednesday, December 31
11:20 p.m.
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
Rashida walked out of the secure compound. She waited for the automated gates to close behind her before she began the short walk to town. She was wearing sandals, a short black skirt, and a white silk blouse with daring décolletage. Was it too much for a first date or just enough? Time would tell.
The warm breeze kissed her exposed skin. The average temperature in Malaysia in December was eighty-seven degrees Fahrenheit. If not for the festive decorations adorning most of the houses and condos in her neighborhood, she’d have no idea it was the middle of winter.
She had been living on the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur for nearly six months. Long enough to stop feeling like a tourist but too short a time to feel like a local.
She greeted Wan Ku with a smile. The kindly caretaker braked to a stop. His bicycle’s oversized tires squealed against the rough concrete of the uneven sidewalk. The basket attached to the bike’s rusting handlebars was filled with enough fresh produce to feed an army. Then again, he and his wife did have six kids living under their roof and two adult children who were frequent visitors.
“If you’re on your way to the park,” Wan said in Malay, “save room for me and Amirah.”
“I’ll do my best. At this point, I’ll be lucky to find room for one, let alone three.”
Wan laughed amiably and pushed off, the muscles in his wiry legs bunching with effort. “See you there.”
Rashida looked back at the expansive turnkey property Diana had helped her find. Diana hadn’t handled the sale, obviously, but she’d located a few choice listings and put her in touch with a reputable local realtor. A little over five weeks after Rashida had decided she couldn’t take any more pitying looks or unwanted testimonials to her supposed bravery, she had put the stigma of recent events behind her, left Savannah, and moved to Malaysia, hoping for a fresh start.
She hadn’t ventured far the first month, preferring to stay in her condo and get her bearings. The caretaker delivered her groceries and saw to her needs. When she grew tired of being waited on hand on foot—when she was sick of feeling sorry for herself—she made her first tentative steps back into civilization.
The cost of living was low enough she could comfortably subsist off her savings for as long as she desired. She spent her days exploring the busy streets and winding alleys of Kuala Lumpur and the surrounding cities. The vendors and shopkeepers soon began to recognize her by sight then by name. She was as comfortable here as she had been at home. More even. Here she didn’t have to live up to anyone’s expectations or rise above someone’s stereotypes. Here she could be herself. Nothing more. Nothing less.
She had never been happier. At least, that’s what she told herself. The move to Malaysia felt transitional, not permanent. As if she had reached another stop on her journey through life but not her final destination.
Kuala Lumpur was wonderful, but Savannah was home. She missed cobblestone streets, Southern accents, and sweet tea. She missed wraparound porches, church hats, and family reunions.
She missed her family. She missed her friends. She also missed work and the accompanying sense of accomplishment she felt each time she achieved a self-imposed goal or resolved a pressing issue.
She had an offer to return to Savannah to take over for the departing CEO of Georgia’s oldest minority-owned bank, but she hadn’t decided whether to accept or spurn the proposition. When—if—she returned to work, she wanted to do things right. She wanted to strike the proper balance between the personal and the professional, giving her home life the attention it deserved instead of allowing work to take up so much of her time.
But there was one thing she missed more than anything else. Something she hadn’t realized she was missing until a note turned up in her mailbox. Romance.
She hadn’t been on a date since she’d arrived in Malaysia—hadn’t even thought about it—but the note had changed all that.
We’ve seen each other many times but we’ve never been formally intr
oduced, the note read. Meet me at the Petronas Towers on New Year’s Eve if you’d like to get to know me as much as I would like to get to know you.
Rashida wondered who had penned the letter. The vendor at her favorite hawker stall who flirted shamelessly with her while dishing out steaming bowls of prawn noodles, the clerk at the gift shop whose English improved in direct proportion to the amount of overpriced souvenirs customers purchased, or was it someone she hadn’t noticed but had noticed her?
The thrill of the unknown washed over her as she entered Kuala Lumpur City Center Park. The twenty hectare area, with its lake, fountain, garden, and jogging path, normally offered a peaceful contrast to the thriving city that surrounded it. Tonight the park was filled with rowdy revelers waiting for the dazzling fireworks display that would mark the arrival of the new year.
Rashida bought a glass of palm wine from the closest bar stand and turned to look up at the skybridge that connected the twin skyscrapers collectively known as the Petronas Towers. She wished she could take in the activities from the skybridge, but visiting hours ended at seven, forcing her to settle for a ground level view.
She checked her watch. The fireworks display was just about half an hour away. Plenty of time to meet her admirer and decide if she wanted to go their separate ways after sharing a friendly drink or head somewhere quieter so they could talk more intimately.
The crowd noise was increasing by the minute. A procession of bands followed each other on the strobe light-strewn stage. Rashida’s ears rang from the din. How was her admirer supposed to find her in the delirious mass of humanity that surrounded them?
She imagined how they would meet. At midnight, the crowd would part and her admirer would appear in the open space. The woman—she was ninety-nine percent sure it was the noodle vendor—would beckon her with a confident, welcoming smile. They would walk toward each other without saying a word while fireworks exploded overhead.
She took a sip of her wine, an aromatic beverage made from the sap of coconut and palm trees, and laughed quietly as the image disappeared.
“Get a grip, Rashida. Scenarios like the one you’re imagining are relegated to romance novels, not real life.”
Then her fantasy became real. Except the woman who disentangled herself from the crowd and made her way toward her wasn’t the noodle vendor. It was Destiny. Not Destiny. DaShawn. God. Why couldn’t she keep that straight?
“Hi.” DaShawn extended her hand. “We haven’t officially met. My name is DaShawn Jenkins. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
Rashida blinked, unable to believe her eyes. Was DaShawn actually standing in front of her? Talking to her? Introducing herself as if they were entering each other’s orbit for the first time? She shrank from the apparition, overwhelmed by the presence of a ghost from the past she had tried to leave behind. The fountains in Lake Symphony roared to life, startling her but delighting the onlookers who flocked to the daily shows.
“Did Jackie tell you where to find me?” she asked, struggling to find her voice.
DaShawn smiled. The sexy, slightly shy smile she’d thrown Rashida’s way the day they met. Rashida’s heart lurched at the familiar sight.
“No, you did. Remember the last day we saw each other?”
How could she forget? It was the day the strong foundation she thought she’d built vanished like a sand castle overrun by a tsunami.
“Before you went to work that morning,” DaShawn said, “I asked you a question.”
Rashida remembered the question. She remembered the intense expression on DaShawn’s face when she had asked, “If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you choose?”
“You chose here.”
DaShawn spread her arms to indicate the sprawling city Rashida now called home.
Rashida’s jaw tightened. How long would DaShawn continue to use her secrets against her? From the moment they had entered each other’s lives, DaShawn had been pretending. Pretending to have an interest in her. Pretending she was someone she wasn’t. Was she pretending now? Rashida was beyond caring. Wasn’t she?
She wanted to run. She wanted to return to the safety and serenity of her house, but her legs wouldn’t obey her. She felt as trapped as she had the awful morning she’d realized she was nothing more to DaShawn than a pawn in a heartless game.
In that moment, she had lost everything. Her self-confidence. Her ability to love. Her ability to trust. She’d found the courage to attempt to regain some of what she had misplaced only to have DaShawn show up and snatch it away again.
“Did you get my note?”
Rashida saw red. Did DaShawn actually think she could saunter back into her life and woo her as if the past twenty-one months had never happened?
“Fuck you and your note.”
She threw her drink in DaShawn’s face and walked away.
“Rashida, wait.”
DaShawn grabbed her by the arm, but Rashida broke free. “Don’t touch me. You’ve lost the privilege.”
“Sorry.”
DaShawn raised her hands in apology. She continued to follow Rashida through the park but made sure to keep her distance. Her permed hair had given way to a short, neatly-trimmed Afro. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, reminding Rashida of the look she’d sported the night they’d seen each other in Club One. Had that night offered a glimpse of the real DaShawn, the woman Rashida was now meeting for the first time?
“You probably expect me to say something sappy like I wish I could turn back time. If I said that, I’d be lying. As crazy as it sounds, chances are if I’d rejected Harry’s offer, I never would have met you. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Rashida didn’t want to hear any more of her lies. She darted toward the garden, trying to lose her persistent tail. DaShawn followed her as if she had anticipated the move.
“I always knew I was a screw-up, but you made me realize I didn’t have to continue being one. I can’t say I never meant to hurt you because that’s what I was hired to do. What I never meant to do was fall in love with you. But I did.”
Rashida slowed but didn’t stop. DaShawn seemed sincere, but she had learned the hard way that appearances could be deceiving.
“Even though you may not think so now, what we had was real.”
“What we had was a lie. If you came to try and convince me otherwise, you wasted your time and your money.”
She reached a dead end and turned to retrace her steps, but DaShawn stood in front of her, blocking her path. With nowhere to run, Rashida was forced to stand her ground.
“Being with you is never a waste of time,” DaShawn said, her voice as gentle as a first kiss. “If I cared about money, I wouldn’t have wasted so much of it on postage mailing all the letters you returned. If I cared about money, I wouldn’t have spent almost every dime I have on a one-way plane ticket in the hopes I’d get a chance to stand before you and ask you—beg you―for another chance.”
“You did that?”
Rashida was so shocked to see DaShawn, she hadn’t taken into account the expense it had taken for her to be here. Even the cheapest ticket from Savannah to Kuala Lumpur cost more than four figures. After Uncle Sam and the legal system had their way with DaShawn, her finances must have been left in shambles. Despite that, she had bought a ticket she couldn’t afford just to be able to stand here and plead her case with no guarantee Rashida would accept what she had to say.
“I had to see you, no matter what price I had to pay.”
Rashida felt herself getting taken in once more. DaShawn was too smooth. Too polished. Too sure of herself. Rashida felt like she was being played for a fool yet again. Unable to keep the pain at bay, she lashed out.
“You’ve taken everything that ever mattered to me. What more do you want? I don’t have anything else to give you.” She nearly screamed the words. She wished she could still the tremor in her voice, but her runaway emotions wo
uldn’t let her. “You may have paid your debt to society, but you haven’t even begun to pay your debt to me. You betrayed me in more ways than I can count and you’re standing here like you expect me to give you a pass for what you did.”
“That’s not it at all.”
“Then what is it?”
DaShawn’s confident exterior began to slip. Or was it just another part of her act? Rashida couldn’t allow herself to fall for another well-played performance.
“Please say what you came to say and leave me alone. Whether it was real or not, what we had was over as soon as I realized who you really were. We can’t get it back, DaShawn. Don’t ask me to try.”
“But I’ve got a plan this time. A way to make something of myself. A way to make you proud of me.” DaShawn seemed to be grasping at straws. Her dour expression brightened when one apparently entered her reach. “Do me a favor.”
“Why in the world would I grant you a favor?”
“Please. Hear me out. Answer one question for me. That’s all I’ll ask you to do. I know how much I hurt you. I know how much you must hate me. But put aside all your anger and doubts and look into your heart. If your answer to my question is no, I’ll walk out of your life forever. But if it’s yes, I promise I will never hurt you again. I will never betray you again. I will never give you any reason to doubt me. And most of all, I will never break your trust.”
“What’s your question?” Rashida asked impatiently. She was ready to get this disastrous evening over with. To say good-bye to DaShawn once and for all so she could finally get on with her life.
“Did you love me? Do you love me?”
DaShawn’s question was like a crushing body blow in the final round of a title fight. The figurative impact nearly put Rashida down for the count.
“That’s not fair.”
“Yes or no?”
Rashida took a deep breath to gather herself. Her feelings for this woman were tangled in a knot so tight she could never hope to unravel it. Anger. Betrayal. And despite it all, lust. She still wanted DaShawn. She wanted DaShawn’s hands on her. Inside her. But did she still love her? Did she ever? Was it love she had felt or simply desire?