by Dyanne Davis
“Yes. Her lease is up and the landlord wants to triple the rent for her to stay.”
“Wow!”
“Yeah, wow. She was barely making enough as it was to keep the store open, but there would be no way she could pay the new rent and make a living.”
“Tommy, it sounds like what I said, economics.”
“Some are, some aren’t. I think it’s a conspiracy to drive the black business owners out of business.”
Janice smiled for the first time in hours, feeling lighter. “You always thought everything was a conspiracy. You even thought that snow being white was a conspiracy.” She laughed and to her delight he laughed with her.
“Did anyone go to the owner of the property and try to get him or her to maybe extend the lease?”
“Of course we did, what do you think? We’ve been doing this for a number of years. He wants her out. He’s going to rent the space to a large chain, get the money he wants, and another specialty store closes. A meeting place for black people will no longer be. That’s why I think this isn’t an accident.”
“What about your store, Tommy? Are you in danger of closing?”
“I’m doing okay.”
“What does okay mean?”
“It means I can pay my employees, and my bills. Can I charter a private plane and fly all over the world? Hell no, but for at least a year my lease is firm.”
“Do you handle specialty books as well?”
“Of course.”
“Do you have any of my titles?”
“I stock all African American books.”
“You’ve done a good job, Tommy. It looks like you stayed true to your dreams. Do you mind if I take a look around your store?”
“What is it really?” Tommy laughed. “Do you need a few minutes to get away from me?”
She smiled. “Matter of fact, I do. But I also haven’t gotten a chance to look in your store.”
* * *
Janice walked into the store and took a deep breath. The past had crowded in on her in a way she’d not expected. She’d thought she had erected enough barriers to ward off any attacks. Even her mother’s constant questioning and trying to make her angry had not made a dent. The one person she’d never counted on fighting was Tommy. Tommy had always been able to wear down her defenses. The more she thought about it, the more aware she became that she had indeed needed a break from him.
The smell of potpourri and scented candles in the store captivated Janice’s senses. That too had been part of their plans. She would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that she was touched that he’d included her ideas in bringing his dreams to life. She gazed at the coffee shop to her right. It had a brisk business. Tommy would survive. He was giving his customers what they wanted. He’d applied a basic rule of marketing, diversify.
Tommy had done well for himself and despite everything else she was proud of him and of his success. She stopped under a poster of Langston Hughes and fingered the books. Her smile faded. How sad it would be if years from now Langston Hughes’ work was not available.
She moved farther into the poetry section, reaching hungrily for several books by Gwendolyn Brooks and Maya Angelou. She ran her fingers lovingly over the binders of the books, for the first time in years missing the plans she’d made so long ago with Tommy. The pain of what she’d given away gnawed at her. She’d purposefully pushed away her rich heritage out of anger at one man. Now she wanted it back.
Janice took her time looking at the books. She couldn’t prevent the audible gasp at a first edition of The Color Purple. Seeing the names Booker T. Washington, Dorothy West, James Baldwin, W. E. B. Duboise, and Zora Neale Hurston was like being in a candy store. Tommy had not been merely bragging. He probably did have books by every African American writer who had ever lived.
Janice spent over an hour picking out books, her earlier emotions forgotten, Tommy forgotten, as she sifted through the books. She took an armload to the counter, handed them to Neal, then reached for her purse.
“No, whatever you want you take,” Tommy’s voice sounded from behind her.
“No, Tommy. I have over five hundred dollars’ worth of books here.”
“And I’m giving them to you.”
“Tommy, I can’t. I came to help, not to take books from you.”
“You’re not taking them, I’m giving them to you. I want to.” His gaze caught hers. “Please let me, it’s the least that I can do and I want to.”
He smiled then, and she could feel her soul thaw a little more.
“Consider this my apology.”
Janice couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over her face, nor could she stop the sudden flood of heat that washed over her, pooling between her legs and creating an ache, a longing for a memory. She couldn’t look up at Neal and she didn’t dare look behind her to where Tommy was standing.
She glanced at the ring that sat on her finger and thought of Simon, wanting to feel grounded. No, she didn’t have with him what she’d had with Tommy but some of it was because she wouldn’t allow it. Simon wanted more but she’d closed herself off. She wouldn’t and couldn’t blame Simon for not having that connection.
In the end it didn’t matter. She did owe him something. She felt cold suddenly and wanted to bolt from the store. She wanted her life to live over again and that was impossible. No matter how much she wished that things had gone differently, they hadn’t.
“Do you accept my apology, Mary Jo, for being so rude to you today? Do you think we can be friends?”
He was standing alongside her, his voice soft, warm and gentle and filling her ear in whispered tones. She heard the longing and knew he was remembering as well and more than likely also yearning for what might have been.
“I meant it when I said I would love it if we could be friends,” she answered at last and finally turned toward him. He was the eighteen-year-old she’d loved and his eyes held the same things they’d always had, hope and yearning. Janice shook herself. She thought she saw love too, but that love had never been real. She couldn’t let herself be seduced by that look now.
For the next few hours Janice worked with Tommy with a lighter air. She walked a thousand blocks, it seemed, stopping in any store that would allow them to come in and do an impromptu signing of bookmarks. She met with customers and signed books new and old, that Tommy had brought with him for prizes. The only thing the person had to do to win a book was answer a question Tommy had written about the book and have the right number.
The longer they stayed out, the more word spread. The business owners were thrilled. Instead of being a nuisance as she’d expected, they had brought in more business to each place they stopped at. She wondered how Tommy had managed to pull this together so quickly, the bookmarks, the questions, the prizes. She’d not even known he was going to do it. He was committed, she would give him that.
Janice had almost forgotten how passionate he could be but she listened as he told every single customer that came into the stores of the importance of supporting the businesses in the community, the importance of protecting the meeting places. And she didn’t know if they bought from the stores out of pity or shame but not a one left without buying something and not a one left without talking to her for a minute.
In the beginning the customers had trailed past her trying not to make eye contact, trying to pretend that she wasn’t there. They didn’t know her, didn’t want to know her, but Tommy wouldn’t have that. He’d literally drag them over to her, telling them of her success and she’d feel mixed emotions, shame that he was basically forcing people to come to her and joy that he was proud of her despite the hatred he’d displayed earlier. He had not forgotten her and that made her heart quiver.
Janice became aware of a fluttering on her right hip and gasped, wondering that her thoughts had just become reality. Her heart had fluttered and now her phone was vibrating. She almost laughed out loud as she realized what it was. Pulling the phone from her pocket she pressed t
alk.
“I wanted to check in with you.” Simon’s voice sounded worried and she smiled. Of course he’d be worried. She’d behaved like a woman he didn’t know, someone from out of space.
“Don’t worry, I’m doing fine. I’ve been doing a lot of walking, canvassing the neighborhood.”
“Really? I didn’t know that you were passing out fliers today.”
“Neither did I. Tommy got it together.”
“Hmm, if I had known I would have swung by. I could have brought people to pass out fliers.”
Janice didn’t answer. She was suddenly happy that Simon hadn’t known, glad that she hadn’t told him. She wouldn’t have wanted him to stop by. A lot of things had happened today that needed to happen. She’d needed to cry, and she’d needed to talk with Tommy. They had not settled everything between them, but they had made a start. And they would make more. They didn’t hate each other anymore. And for that she was grateful.
“I wanted to know if you want seafood or Italian tonight. I’m going to make reservations. What’s good for you, six-thirty or seven?”
“Either,” Janice answered.
“You’re still going to be home at five?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Okay, I have a couple more things to do, and a meeting. I’ll meet you back at the house at five. See you then.”
“See you,” Janice said and looked at the phone before hanging up. As she’d known he would be doing, Tommy was looking at her.
“I told you I would have to leave. I promised Simon that I would be home by five.”
“I arranged a surprise for you. You said you wanted to meet a few of the black writers that were in the area. There are several here in town. They’re coming over to my shop but it might make you late.”
“Who’s coming?”
“I believe Donna, Gwen, Edwina, Seressia, Barbara, Lisa. They are planning on swinging by. They’re involved with saving the bookstores, have been for quite some time.”
Janice didn’t need to ask the last names. Tommy had been preaching to her of these women since she’d started helping. “Do you think Wayne is in the area?”
“I believe so,” Tommy answered, and she laughed out loud. “I can’t leave without saying hi.”
“Better call your boyfriend tell him you’re going to be a little late.”
She should but she wouldn’t. There was no way Simon was going to understand and he’d think she had dissed him. “I’ll call,” she said to Tommy. “Don’t worry about it.”
* * *
Tommy had seen the way Mary Jo’s eyes lit up when he told her of the writers that were coming. He’d just told her a lie, but now that he knew how much she wanted to meet them, he was determined to make it happen. He’d move heaven and earth if he could. He’d trade. Okay, he’d didn’t have anything to trade, but he would definitely do everything in his power to make it happen. “Listen, will you be cool passing out fliers alone for awhile?” He grinned at her. “I have to go back to the shop, nature calls.” He took off the moment that she said yes. There was no time to lose.
After a dozen calls and promising everything that he could, Tommy was pretty sure that by at least five-thirty some writers would be there. But if at least one didn’t get there at five he knew he didn’t stand much of a chance of keeping Mary Jo past that time. And now he wanted her to stay. As they ate a late lunch together he wanted her to stay even more.
When it was almost five he knew he had no choice but to pack it in and head back to his store. Mary Jo had made him proud. She was tired, he could tell. He’d neglected to tell her not to wear heels. Yet she was still smiling at every person who stopped to take a bookmark and that smile was taking him back to the time when she’d loved him. He felt the warmth of her smile when he suggested they call it quits. For twelve years he’d missed that warmth.
Neal grinned at them as they entered the store and brought a chair for Mary Jo. For a moment Tommy felt a possessive jealousy. He should be the one getting a chair for her. When she sighed in pleasure, he laughed, knowing she didn’t care who gave her the chair. Mary Jo just wanted to rest.
For a few minutes the three of them chatted. At ten past five he saw her eyeing the clock and cursed softly, wishing he’d thought to make the calls sooner.
“Want to go over the plans for next week?” Tommy asked. When she turned in his direction he knew she was aware of what he was doing.
“No, Tommy, I need to go. I’m already late, I promised Simon that I would be home. He’s going to be going crazy in a few minutes.” She walked toward the back to retrieve her belongings, taking only a moment. When she returned she walked right dab into Wayne. Janice stopped and grinned. “That’s the way to make an introduction,” she said and shook his hand. The little bell sounded over the door and one after the other of the familiar names strolled in. Janice felt her heart swell. It was as though her soul were being filled with something that she wasn’t aware that she needed. She had never thought much about where she did her signings or the conventions that she attended. But this influx of talented black writers, this was something that she wanted, needed, and she was glad that Tommy had made up things to get her to stay. She wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
An hour later the smell of pizza was wafting across the room as an impromptu party erupted. Janice stood back and watched as the group of writers mixed with the customers, giving them pizza and drinks.
“Welcome back to being black, Mary Jo. Did you miss it?” Tommy whispered into her ear.
Until today Janice had not known just how much she had missed her heritage. “Yes, I missed it,” she admitted.
When her phone vibrated she almost didn’t answer. She knew exactly who was calling her and groaned at the knowledge.
There was nowhere to talk in private. Writers and readers were hogging every spare inch of space. “Hello,” she answered, almost having to shout to be heard.
“Where the hell are you?” Simon shouted back. “You’re supposed to be home. It sounds like you’re at a party.”
Several people were staring in her direction and her embarrassment soared. She didn’t want to explain, didn’t want to see the knowing smirk on Tommy’s face that said she was owned by Simon. She walked outside. “I can’t leave yet,” she said to Simon.
“You gave your word.”
“I know but I can’t leave.”
“Does anyone have a gun on you?”
“You’re acting childish.”
“I’m asking you a question and I expect an answer. I want you home. Now!” he shouted. And just like that she hung up and turned the phone off, walked back inside and shoved it into her purse that was behind the counter. She didn’t want to be shouted at. Tommy was wrong; Simon Kohl didn’t own her.
Chapter Thirteen
Simon looked at the dead phone in his hand, not believing that she’d hung up on him. Hell no, he thought to himself, this was not happening. He dialed repeatedly and each time Janice’s voicemail kicked in, causing him to swear louder.
Enough of being the nice guy. He’d tried everything he thought would work. If she thought he was going to just roll over and beg, she had another thought coming. He’d warned her; now he’d just have to show her he meant business.
Simon hated driving in Manhattan traffic, especially at this time of day, but he didn’t want his chauffeur hearing what would undoubtedly be the fight of the century. There were some things that he wished to keep private.
When he found a place to park at last, and walked into Tommy’s bookstore, pissed wasn’t the word for what he was feeling. He was enraged.
The moment he stepped inside the door the sounds of people having a good time greeted him. Then he heard the tinkling laughter and frowned. He knew the sound but there was something different about it, a clarity, a sheer joy that he’d heard only a few times in the past few years.
His eyes zeroed in on her like a laser and she lifted her eyes. She wasn’t glad to see him.
That was evident, not only by the expression in her eyes but also by the pinched look around her mouth.
He followed her line of vision as she looked around the room, wondering who she was searching for. Her gaze landed on Tommy and so did his. Then she glanced back in his direction and this time there was a pleading expression on her face. Simon frowned again, wondering exactly what she was pleading for.
“Simon, how are you?”
He turned, saw Donna and Deatri, and pasted a smile on his face. Then he began circulating around the room, shaking hands, chatting, glaring every few seconds at his fiancée who was not making a move toward him. He watched Tommy Strong go over to her, whisper something and stand with her. Simon’s blood boiled.
As he glared directly at Janice, her look changed from one of pleading to mild irritation, to open defiance. And still she didn’t come to greet him. He made his way toward her instead, chatting as he moved, feeling the temperature of the room change with his every breath. He could feel the eyes on him as he stopped in front of Janice. For a long moment he said nothing. Then he leaned in to whisper into her ear. “You’re trying my patience,” he murmured. “You gave me your word.” Then he pulled back and stared at her.
“Would you like some pizza?” Tommy asked. Simon wanted to strangle him. This was partly his doing. Of course Janice had her own mind and she could have done as she’d promised, but he knew that Tommy’s hand had helped mix the brew.
“No thanks,” he said to Tommy, making his voice cold. He looked meaningfully at his watch. “I have,” he stopped and looked at Janice, “we have dinner reservations.” He watched as she dropped the slice of pizza she’d been munching on back onto the paper plate.
“There’s plenty of food,” Tommy insisted. Both Janice and Simon stared at him but he didn’t back off. He looked directly at Simon and said, “It’s a rare occasion to have so many black writers together in one place. Something really important is happening here, don’t you agree? Everyone’s pitching in to help.”