I looked over at the couple seated on the far side of me. As luck would have it, it was Camille Lewis and her husband, Winston. Winston looked like this was the last place he wanted to be. I felt sorry for him having to listen to that woman all day.
I managed to nod and smile.
“You with Quen?” Camille shouted over the noise of people chattering and at the same time managed to get quite a few of their attention.
I managed to nod again. I was smiling so hard the sides of my face hurt.
“Did you hear Joya’s back in town?” she shouted.
I knew she was scheduled to arrive any moment I just didn’t know when.
“Camille!” Winston elbowed his wife but that did nothing to stop her.
“That woman wants him back or why else would she be here. She left her flight attendant job and a big city like L.A. to come back to a place she’s always hated.”
I nodded again because I just couldn’t speak. A big old lump had settled in the back of my throat and my chest felt tight. I needed my inhaler. What if Camille was right? What if Joya had come back to town to get Quen?
I got the inhaler out of my purse and gave it a good old squeeze.
“Joya’s staying with her grandmother until she finds an apartment, at least that’s what I hear,” Camille continued to shout.
Another couple arrived and there was a whispered exchange.
“Sorry,” Winston said, prying his wife out of her seat. With relief I watched the newly arrived couple slide into the two seats and the old windbag and her patient husband leave.
Talk about ruining your night. Camille just got on my last nerve. She was one mean-spirited West Indian woman.
Another ten minutes went by and during that time half of Flamingo Beach came over to visit. I’d never been so popular in my life. Most of the people who came by were looking for something to flap their gums about. They probably wanted to know how someone like me had managed to get someone like Quen to take me out. Let them wonder.
A few seconds before the concert began Quen returned with our sodas.
“Sorry, sugar,” he said, handing me my drink. “I must have run into everyone I know in this town.”
“On purpose,” I muttered. “Nosy bastards.”
Quen either didn’t hear me or chose to ignore me. He placed an arm around the back of my chair and I almost melted. Being with him made me feel good. I didn’t want to ruin the mood.
And because I wanted our night to be special I decided he did not need to hear from me that Joya was in town. Tomorrow he could find out from someone else. Tonight was going to be about us. And I planned on doing my best to make him forget that his size two ex-wife existed.
I was about to pull out all the stops.
Chapter 10
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Quen asked, in a raspy whisper that almost had me climbing out of my sarong.
I nodded. How could I not be having a good time I was with him.
I couldn’t even put my good mood down to having too many drinks, either. It had been a magical night so far. A half moon had appeared in the middle of the saxophonist solo. I saw it as a good omen. Quen’s arm was now draped around my neck. I squeezed my eyes closed and laid my head on his shoulder and pretended we were in love.
The alcohol was doing its job. The audience was singing along to an old Nat King Cole tune that Natalie had made famous again. A guitarist appeared on stage who sounded like Earl Kluge and the audience went wild. People were waving their hands in the air in time to the music, and I was swept away, half over the moon. I’d never gotten this much attention my entire life, both from the people around me and the man I was with.
When the concert finally ended there was a standing ovation. We stayed in our seats, deciding to wait out the crowd. As people filed by I could feel their eyes on me assessing the situation. I knew that by tomorrow I’d be the talk of the town. I was pretty sure I already was.
“We’re thinking about getting coffee, want to join us?” a male voice asked Quen.
Tre and Jen had shown up from somewhere. I held my breath waiting for Quen to answer. I wondered if he’d had enough and couldn’t wait to unload me.
“As long as where we go serves tea I’m on,” he said. “You okay with that, sugar?”
I nodded. Okay? I was more than okay. I was pinching myself. The only thing better would be having Quen to myself.
“The diner then,” Tre said. “Whoever gets there first grabs a table.”
As it turned out Tre and Jen got to Mario’s before we did. Quen kept the top of the convertible down and everyone we passed waved at us and had something to say to us.
When we arrived close to midnight, Mario’s was still doing a brisk business. The Italian who owned it seeing the potential for a crowd had decided to stay open longer than his usual eleven.
Quen kept a hold on my hand and led me around the crowded tables. I couldn’t miss the loud whispers and sometimes mean speculation. I knew they wanted me to hear.
“What’s Quen doing with Chere Adams?”
“Think she’s losing weight because of him.”
“You would think he could do better.”
It was said to make me feel like crap. Well I wasn’t going to let any of these people pull me down. I felt beautiful and I thought I looked good. So I held my head high and linked my fingers through Quen’s, and when I caught somebody staring I waved at them.
Tre was standing trying to flag us down. He’d found a table at the back of the room.
“There they are.” I pointed Tre and Jen out to Quen.
We made our way over and Quen held out my chair and then took the seat next to me. Packed as the place was, there wasn’t much room for maneuvering and when his leg brushed mine I just about died. Dammit I was getting horny.
“I hear you two set a date,” Quen said after our orders had been taken.
“Finally,” Tre grumbled. “I’ve been trying to convince this woman to marry me before I get away.”
Jen punched his arm playfully. “I think it’s the other way around.”
“What are the plans? Big wedding? Small gathering? Eloping,” Quen asked.
Tre spread his arms wide. “I am leaving it up to the lady. Whatever Jen wants Jen gets.” He gave her that totally whipped look; the one that said he must be getting plenty.
I wanted Quen to look at me the way Tre looked at Jen. I was envious. I’d never been married and at thirty-three I was starting to feel like that might never happen. I wanted children; little folks that I could put my stamp on. My childhood had been awful and I planned on being protective. I’d be especially careful of having my kids around male adults.
“Yes, tell us about the wedding,” I said to Jen.
She got all dreamy eyed on me. “I want to get married outdoors, maybe under a gazebo. I was thinking about someplace near the water where I could have a tent. Of course, there has to be music and lots of dancing. I want the long, white gown, veil, bridesmaids, flower girls, ring bearer, the whole bit. But it’s going to be a beach party, loose and lots of fun.”
“What about the honeymoon?” I was still pissed from being cut out of the cruise I’d won for us. This was before Jen had hooked up with Tre. Unbeknownst to her, I’d thrown a bunch of her business cards in for a Sun Ship cruise WARP had been promoting. Jen had won and although she’d promised to take me on that cruise with her she had yet to deliver.
“We haven’t given much thought to where we’re going yet,” Tre said smoothly.
I snorted. Quen looked at me curiously. Just then the waitress returned with our tea. Jen and Tre had ordered cappuccinos and a slice of key lime pie to share. I think that woman was bent and determined to torture me.
Quen took a sip from his cup and set it down. “Planning a wedding is always stressful,” he said. “God, I remember when Joya and I got married. Granny J almost drove us crazy. The guest list kept growing and growing, and the expenses kept mounting. Every relative wanted a say. We almost
broke up.”
I wished he hadn’t brought up Joya, it made me feel guilty for not telling him that I’d heard she was in town.
“Do I know Joya?” Tre directed the question to all of us.
Quen shook his head. “By the time you came to town she’d already taken off.”
He didn’t sound bitter at all. I wondered what that was about and I began to feel just a little bit fearful. What if the two had patched things up and Camille was right, that’s why she was back in town?
The conversation shifted. Quen scooted his chair up next to mine and wrapped both arms around my shoulders. “Did Chere tell you she got my two apartments rented?”
Jen actually looked impressed. “That’s really cool. Maybe you can start working on getting me a renter. Are the tenants local and have good jobs?”
I wondered whether she was trying to get me out and whether this was supposed to be a hint.
“I wouldn’t rent Quen’s condos to anyone who couldn’t pay,” I said, knowing I sounded annoyed. “Two of the tenants are from out of town. It’s those two brothers who bought Carlton’s Liquors. They’re hiring someone local to run the store. I think they plan on turning it into some fancy wine and cheese place. The other is rented to that woman who sells time-shares for the new Flamingo Beach Spa and Resort.”
“So why isn’t she living at the hotel?” Jen asked. “From everything I heard it’s supposed to be really upscale.”
I’d asked Emilie Woodward exactly that question after Manny had had me do the paperwork. What she’d said made sense.
“She wants work to be separate from home. If she lives on the premises she’ll always be on call.”
“Good point!” Tre added.
The conversation shifted again and this time Tre took the lead.
“You set for your radio interview next week? I’ve been plugging you two every chance I get.”
“We are, aren’t we, sugar?” Quen gave my shoulder a little squeeze. Every time he laid a hand on me I went on fire.
“You’re on the radio too? I knew about Quen, but I didn’t know you were joining him,” Jen said, looking directly at me. “How come you’re keeping things from me?”
It really had slipped my mind. I was trying not to think about it. It wasn’t as if I was a celebrity. I was going on the air to talk about weight loss and leaving myself wide open for all kinds of nasty comments. I was doing this to help Quen build his business, and because I realized that he liked slimmer women. I wanted to be slim. I was sick to death of everyone thinking that he could do better than me.
I watched enviously as Tre and Jen fed each other the slice of key lime pie using the same fork. I was jealous because neither of them had a weight problem, and doubly so because I wanted the kind of easy, intimate relationship they had.
“How did you get into nutrition and fitness, anyway?” Tre asked Quen after he’d fed Jen the last of that pie.
“Short version or long version?”
“Whatever version you feel like, just so long as Mario doesn’t evict us.”
I looked around. The place was just as packed as when we’d first entered, maybe more so. No one showed any signs of leaving soon.
“I used to be very heavy.”
“You were not?” I had a hard time believing that, just look at him now.
“Yes, I was. You didn’t know me back then. I come from an overweight family with a myriad of health problems.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Diabetes, heart problems, high blood pressure. I lost an overweight sister at a fairly young age. Trust me that wakes you up.” The muscles at the sides of Quen’s jaws spasmed.
I hadn’t heard this story before.
“What happened? Can you talk about it?” Jen asked softly.
“Vaughn was only twenty-five when she died. Collapsed in a grocery store and that was that. She left behind two children in South Carolina. Both are being raised by my brother-in-law and his wife.”
“How horrible.” The words rushed straight out of my mouth. I couldn’t stop them.
“Anyway, that was my wake-up call. I was the youngest and weighed probably more than she did. I was determined not to go like that. I began exercising and eating right and I vowed to help as many people as I could. Now staying fit is a lifetime commitment.”
His story was a sad one. I blinked back the water gathering in the corner of my eyes. It made me wonder if that’s why he wanted to help me and if his only interest was in saving me and helping a fat woman slim down.
“Okay, guys let’s talk about something else, like how good the concert was. That lead singer was off the chain,” Quen said, aiming to get the conversation back on a more uplifting track.
“She sure was,” Tre agreed.
People started slowly trickling out and Mario’s help began piling chairs onto tables, signaling for the rest of us to leave.
“Guess it’s time to call it a day,” Tre said, standing, stretching and placing a handful of bills on the table. “WARP is paying for this,” he said holding out his hand to Jen.
Quen steadied my chair as I attempted to get up, and all four of us headed for the exit.
We almost made it when a voice called from behind us.
“Hey, Tre, Quen.”
I turned to see Camille, Winston and another couple leaving with us. We all groaned and Jen and I exchanged eye rolls. Jen shook her head silently signaling I shouldn’t go off on the woman.
Camille was now almost on top of us.
“So what’s this?” she asked, “It seems every time I turn around I run into you two, and you tell me nothing’s going on.”
No one answered. We just continued walking. But that wasn’t enough, Camille tapped Quen on the shoulder.
“Yes, Camille?” Quen’s voice sounded a little strained.
“Did you know Joya’s back in town.” Quen’s expression slowly changed from slightly annoyed to wary. His jaw clenched and unclenched. “She’s staying at Granny J’s until she moves into her own place.”
And just like that my evening got ruined.
“Is there a reason you feel you need to tell me this?’ Quen asked the pot stirrer.
Camille eyed him boldly. “You used to be married to the woman so I thought you would care.”
“Why would I care?” Quen asked, his voice dangerously low.
“Camille!” This time it was Winston trying to get his obnoxious wife back in control.
Behind us a little crowd began gathering. We were blocking the exit.
I turned around. “What you people looking at?”
“Nothing.”
A few slunk off but most held their ground. Nosy as most of these people were they were smart enough not to tick me off. I told everyone I could, any chance I got, that I worked for Dear Jenna, and although few people associated Jen St. George with Dear Jenna, no one wanted to be featured in a column where only losers sought advice.
Camille was not about to give up. She was practically in Quen’s face. “Well, from what I hear, Joya came back to town to make up with you.”
“You heard wrong,” Quen said, placing an arm around my waist. “Baby, it’s time you and I get out of here.”
We pushed by the people bottlenecking the door with Tre and Jen trailing us.
Outside, I heaved in a big mouthful of fresh air. And although my chest was tight, I refused to pull out my inhaler.
I hadn’t been the one to break the news to Quen after all. The blabbermouth had, leaving me feeling insecure.
Now I had more to worry about than being overweight.
Chapter 11
I’d just started getting comfortable with this real estate business and was thinking I might even be able to make some money at it. My first commission check had taken care of some pressing bills and today I had another closing. I’d finally sold a studio apartment that had been on the market for months.
The buyer had wanted a quick closing and somehow I’d managed to pul
l it off. I was going to take that commission and use it as a down payment on a new car. I’d had it with my 1998 Honda and I needed something presentable to drive people around.
I sat in the conference room we used for closings, waiting for everyone to show up. Quen had kinda disappeared. I hadn’t heard from him since the night of the concert and he’d had a substitute work me out. After that run in with Camille he’d seemed preoccupied and this led me to believe that maybe there was something to what Camille said.
If it was over then it wouldn’t matter whether his ex was back in town or not.
I’d gotten myself so worked up I came close to having an asthma attack. But I simply refused to pick up the phone and call Quen. We had no understanding. He was free as a bird.
My cell phone rang, either the buyer or seller must be running late or maybe it was a new client. I picked up without checking the number. When you’re an agent you hope every call is the one you’re waiting for.
“Tell me there’s been a huge mistake,” Quen said.
No hello, no how are you, nothing. No excuse for disappearing.
“Mistake? What are you talking about?”
“How could you?”
“How could I what?”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about.”
I was beginning to think he’d lost it. This was not the Quen I knew.
The conference room door pushed open and a man I’d never met walked in holding a briefcase. He looked like a lawyer and acted like one, too.
“I have to go,” I said. “If you have something to say to me come by the apartment in an hour or so.”
“Wait.”
I hung up on him. My business was equally as important as his, and I didn’t like his tone. I had no idea what I’d done to tick him off and no time to think about it.
“Ms. Adams. I’m the Cherry’s attorney,” the man said, sticking out his hand and handing me his card. After that people started to arrive; the buyer, the seller, Manny, the financer, all of the people involved in making a closing a closing.
As distracted as I was, I managed to get through the process, and at the end I got my reward. Money. The minute the door closed behind the last person, and it was just me and Manny I grabbed my purse.
All About Me Page 10