by Janice Sims
Charlie was glad for the opportunity to get Harry alone.
While the women went off to various tasks, he put his arm about Harry’s shoulders and said, “Come on, old buddy, I’d like to hear all about your trip to Montana, mainly about the sleeping arrangements.”
“Charlie, behave yourself,” Cherisse called from the hallway.
In the family room, Charlie muted the TV and turned to Harry, who had taken a seat on an overstuffed chair next to the door. “Well?” he asked expectantly.
“Well, what?” asked Harry.
“Did you, or didn’t you?”
“Did I what?”
“Oh, is that how you’re going to play it?” asked Charlie, smiling pleasantly. “Did she sleep with you? Because if she did I know she’s gone on you and I don’t have a chance but if she didn’t, I’m still in the running.”
“As I understand it you were never in the running,” Harry stated.
“She’s just saying that to get under my skin,” Charlie blustered.
“Is it working?” asked Harry.
“You look smug now,” said Charlie. “But I have an advantage you don’t—I’m the father of her child.”
Harry wanted to say “And I’m the father of her future children.” He managed to restrain himself. Instead he said, “She’s a great kid.”
Charlie softened. “Yeah, thanks. And thanks for sponsoring her, by the way. I don’t think I’d thanked you.”
“No need for thanks,” said Harry. After a short lull in the conversation, he asked, “Having any luck finding a place to stay?”
Charlie shook his head in the negative. “What are you afraid of—that I’m beating your time with Cheri when you’re not around?”
“No, I just don’t like seeing my woman irritated on a daily basis, and you’re the main source of her irritation. She gets enough stress on her job. Why don’t you go stay at the resort until you find a permanent place? It would be quite a commute but if you got up early enough it might work.”
Charlie laughed shortly. “I must be making you nervous.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” said Harry, “your reason for staying here is to spend more time with Danielle. Staying at the resort would defeat that purpose.”
“Sarcasm won’t get you anywhere,” said Charlie.
Both men laughed.
“You know,” said Harry, “you’re an okay guy, someone I wouldn’t mind being friends with if only for one thing.”
“I’m trying to steal your woman?” Charlie said with a smile.
“It puts a damper on the whole friendship thing,” Harry admitted.
Charlie’s expression suddenly darkened. “I’ve got to ask you something and I would appreciate it if you would be honest and straightforward with me. I haven’t beaten around the bush with you, I’ve told you I want Cheri back so I’m not going behind your back or anything. I’m asking you to respect me in the same way. Are you going to tell her about that night in Philly?”
Harry was afraid this subject would rear its ugly head before long. “I have no intention of mentioning it, no.”
“Are you for real? Not even if I’m beating your ass when it comes to winning Cheri back? You won’t use it as a trump card?”
“Neither of us should have been at a party where there were hookers,” Harry said. “I would be embarrassed to tell Cheri I was there, let alone that her husband had been. Plus, I left, remember? I have no idea what you got up to after that.”
“Nothing, man, I never cheated on Cheri. I was there for the gambling, that’s all.”
“Whatever you say,” Harry joked. “But the last time I saw you a leggy blonde had her tongue in your ear.”
Charlie shuddered, remembering that night. Too bad he wasn’t a drunk as well as a gambler back then. At least that memory would have dissolved in an alcoholic haze.
He remembered everything.
“One of the worst experiences I’ve ever had,” he said.
“Coming in,” Cherisse announced as she strode into the room carrying a tray of raw vegetables and dip. “Stop talking about me.”
She set the tray on the coffee table in front of Harry then she bent and kissed him on the cheek. “In case you want an appetizer,” she said solicitously. After which she turned to leave the room.
“Where’s my kiss?” Charlie called to her retreating back.
“Get your own girl, Charlie Washington,” she replied.
“She loves me, she just doesn’t know it,” Charlie said to Harry.
“Here’s to her never finding out,” Harry said as he picked up a carrot stick, dipped it into the sour cream concoction on the tray and ate it. “Delicious.”
That day was the first of many such days that Harry was welcomed into Cherisse’s family, which included her ex. As December raced to a close, Harry wanted more and more for his family to meet Cherisse. His love for her grew with each passing day and with it the desire to ask her to marry him. He resisted that impulse, though, because he still wasn’t certain Cherisse would take him seriously.
Seeing her with Charlie convinced him that she didn’t take relationships lightly. He realized that she was still fond of Charlie and probably always would be. But Charlie had let her and Danielle down and she couldn’t totally forgive him for that.
When Harry asked her to marry him he didn’t want her to be able to raise any objections. So no proposal for a while yet, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t set up a meeting between her and his family.
On a Sunday morning in mid-December, he placed a call to his mother in Louisville, Kentucky. It was after eleven and he knew she should be home from church by now. She went to the eight o’clock service.
Sure enough, Mildred answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Good morning,” said Harry.
His mother screamed in his ear. “Harry! I was just thinking about you. Maris Stephens tried to get me to sell her my wedlock quilt today and I told her I was saving that quilt for you and your wife. The woman actually laughed in my face, Harry. She said you were never going to get married. I’d just as well sell her the quilt. I tell you, after today, she’ll get that quilt over my dead body! Even if you never get married! How is Cherisse?”
“She’s beautiful,” said Harry, wondering if his mother had taken a breath yet.
“Oh, Harry, the sound of your voice when you talk about her, you’re really in love this time!” said his mother excitedly.
“Yes, I’m really in love,” Harry told her. “And I want you to meet her. I want all of you to meet her. Come here for Christmas, I’ll pay for everything. My house in Denver will finally have a family in it.”
“I’d love to,” Mildred immediately accepted. “Let me get with Susanne and I’ll get back to you. Traveling over the holidays can be a hassle. We’d better make arrangements as soon as possible, so I should get on the horn with Suse right now. Call you back, Harry.”
“Oh, Mom?” said Harry.
“Yeah, baby?” intoned Mildred.
“Bring that quilt with you. Or ship it to me ahead of time. I want to give it to Cherisse as a Christmas gift.”
“I would be honored,” said Mildred, sounding close to tears.
“Thank you, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you, too, baby,” Mildred said. Yes, Harry thought, before he hung up, she’s crying. Harry smiled and got up from his desk in the study of his suite at Karibu.
Last night he’d taken Cherisse and Danielle to dinner and then to a performance of The Nutcracker at the Denver Performing Arts Center. He had enjoyed himself. Danielle had shown him a great deal of attention, which made Harry envious of Charlie. One day he wanted a daughter as wonderful as she was.
He and Cherisse now regretted not consummating their relationship while they had been alone in Montana since in the past week they had not been able to steal any alone time.
He missed her so much when they were apart that he had her photograph as a screensaver on his PC. Plus a
photo of her on his nightstand so that her face would be the last one he saw before falling asleep.
They tried to keep their daily phone calls down to two a day, whenever the desire to hear the other’s voice became too overpowering to ignore, which to him came much more often than twice a day but he was Harry Payne and he had a reputation to uphold!
Luckily, he was not going to have to wait until Saturday night to see her again. He was taking her to the red-and-white ball, a fund-raiser held by the Denver Business Association to raise money for disadvantaged children in the city of Denver, this Friday, December 19. White tie and tails for the men and either a red or a white evening gown for the women. He couldn’t wait to see Cherisse in her gown.
He had reserved a suite for them at Hotel Teatro, one of Denver’s most intimate and luxurious boutique hotels. It was across the street from the Denver Performing Arts Center where the ball was to be held. In fact, if memory served, that was how the hotel had gotten its name. Back in the day it had been the hub of the Denver theater crowd.
Cherisse was happy that her workweek had been so busy that she hadn’t had time to fret about the red-and-white ball. The only affair she’d ever been to at which she had worn a gown had been her wedding to Charlie. And then the gown had been borrowed. It had belonged to her mother. For the red-and-white ball she and Sonia had combed Denver looking for just the right dress. She had spent way too much money on it and Sonia had advised her to save the price tag because she knew how to reattach that sucker so they could return the dress on Monday morning.
Cherisse had looked down at the price tag and had been sorely tempted.
What if Harry took one look at her and realized what a poseur she was? She wasn’t the type of woman you took to posh balls. She was the type of woman you took to a rodeo, or to the company Christmas party. They were more her speed. What was she going to say to the mayor? Her mother, now, her mother could chat with the mayor and tell him when he got gravy on his tie and advise him to chew with his mouth closed. Her mother was no respecter of persons. She didn’t care who you were, she felt perfectly comfortable in your presence. Cherisse wished some of her mother’s nerve had rubbed off on her.
Then, suddenly she remembered that she’d done fine in Montana. Of course Brian and Mitzi Raynor had been down-to-earth people who made her feel at ease.
“Cheri, you go clean up, I’ll finish here,” Gerald told her. “Chill out, girl, things are looking up. Although Pedersen might think it’s a bad thing, patient numbers are at an all-time low in pediatrics. That’s good news.”
“Thanks, Gerry,” Cherisse said and went into the adjacent bathroom to remove her shoes and place them in a white trash bag. Her ruined shoes in the bag, she left the patient’s room and went to the lounge.
In the lounge Cherisse dropped the shoes into the trash receptacle designated for noncontagious refuse and then went and changed.
She was about to leave the lounge after putting on her spare Nikes when David Pedersen strode into the room. She hadn’t seen him since Monday. He had other nurses on other floors to harass, after all.
“David,” she said, “what brings you here? The coffee in your office isn’t as good as ours?” She nodded in the direction of the coffeemaker. She was leaving in about twenty minutes in order to race across town to start getting ready for the ball. All of a sudden she felt like Cinderella. And here was her mean old stepmother, David Pedersen, about to spoil her day.
“It’s about Mary Thomas,” he said. “What’s going on with her? We can’t afford to continue paying her salary if she’s on a drinking binge we’re footing the bill for.”
Cherisse got great satisfaction in saying, “I hate to disappoint you, David, but Mary is doing great! She’s going to AA every day. She hasn’t touched liquor in weeks. She will be returning to work on Monday.”
David sniffed derisively and turned on his heels. “Probably won’t last,” he said in parting.
Cherisse saw red. She went and grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to look at her. “Why can’t you be happy for Mary? That she’s trying to pull herself together? Do you get some kind of sick satisfaction in watching people fail? What is it with you, David?”
With a pinched expression on his face, and his wiry gray hair practically standing on end, Pedersen fairly vibrated with pent-up tension. “Nobody ever gave me a break, and I made it. I don’t truck with coddling people. I heard what you did, getting the police to go to her house and rescue her from her druggie daughter. You had no right to interfere in her life. She works for you, she isn’t your friend!”
“She works for me, and she’s my friend,” Cherisse corrected him. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive except in your case. I work for you but I’m definitely not your friend.”
David Pedersen walked off in a huff.
Cherisse sighed and rolled her eyes. He was never going to change so she would do well not to waste any brain cells thinking about him. She went to her office to finish up a little paperwork before she left for the day.
Arriving at the ball felt like a night at the Oscars. The red carpet had been rolled out and the moment Harry pulled the car to a stop, someone was there to take his car keys, and someone else to open the door for Cherisse and hand her out.
As they made their way up the carpet, Cherisse in a red strapless ankle-length gown and Harry in a white tuxedo, newspaper photographers and cameramen from the local TV stations took pictures and filmed them. Harry flashed his signature smile.
It was obvious to Cherisse that the media adored him. She smiled lovingly up at him, realizing that in his presence she wasn’t as nervous as she thought she would be.
“Hey, Harry, who’s the doll on your arm?” called a reporter.
“This is Cherisse Washington,” Harry called back. “Two S’s in Cherisse, get her name right, Ben.”
The reporter named Ben laughed. “Okay, Harry, you don’t have to remind me that I spelled your last name wrong a few times.”
They walked on amid flashing lights until they reached the entrance, where a uniformed doorman ushered them inside and said, “Good evening, Mr. Payne, miss, welcome to the red-and-white ball.”
“Thank you,” said Harry and allowed Cherisse to precede him.
Upon entering the ballroom, Cherisse unconsciously held her breath. The huge crystal chandelier dominated the high-ceilinged room. The marble floor gleamed, making the expensively dressed revelers look as if they were walking, or dancing in some cases, on water. She and Harry stood at the top of the stairs. They would have to descend a long flight of stairs to get to the dance floor.
“May I present, Mr. Harrison Payne and Ms. Cherisse Washington,” announced an elderly gentleman in white tie and tails, his booming voice resounding against the walls of the cavernous space.
She and Harry slowly descended the stairs and were at once set upon by a couple of Harry’s old teammates with their wives. Cherisse was introduced all around, and then Harry said, “Good to see you, guys, but I came here to hold Cherisse in my arms, not to talk about the good old days.” He said it in such a way that it elicited chuckles from his old friends. “After all,” Harry added, “you two have been happily married for years. I’m still trying to achieve that blissful state.”
“Poor Harry,” said one of his ex-teammates, smiling. “Cherisse, put him out of his misery and marry him.”
“Yes!” exclaimed one of the wives. “And don’t forget to invite us to the wedding because this we’ve got to see!”
Harry pulled Cherisse close to his side. “Don’t rush her. I’m sure she’ll propose when the time’s right.” And he smiled into her upturned face.
Cherisse laughed softly and directed her comment to the woman who’d asked for an invitation to the wedding. “Yes. Maybe tonight if he’s a good boy.”
With that she and Harry melted into the crowd.
The orchestra was playing “You Send Me,” and the singer, a young attractive African-American guy with short, neat d
readlocks was doing a pretty good imitation of the soul legend Sam Cooke.
After checking their coats, Harry pulled Cherisse onto the dance floor and took her into his arms. Harry sighed with satisfaction. “Thank you for this.”
Cherisse smiled up into his eyes. “For what?” she asked softly.
“You’re my fantasy come to life in that dress. I just want to take you somewhere and take it off you and make love to you all night long.”
“I’m glad you like it,” she said. “But let’s dance a while first and then go rip each other’s clothes off. We did get dressed up.”
The orchestra launched into another Sam Cooke song, “Bring It On Home To Me.”
“Are they doing a tribute to Sam Cooke or something?” Cherisse said. “That’s the second song of his they’ve done since we’ve been here.”
“What do you know about Sam Cooke?” asked Harry with a teasing smile. “You’re too young to know his music.”
“Get real,” said Cherisse. “I have several Cooke CDs. I know lots of his songs.”
She began singing in Harry’s ear. Harry couldn’t believe it. She had a deep, sexy tone to her voice that had an immediate effect on his…well, he was getting turned on standing there with her voice in his ear.
She sang the entire song and at the end, Harry was ready to sweep her into his arms and carry her out of the ballroom with the entire assemblage watching, knowing exactly where he was going with her and why.
Cherisse innocently smiled up at him at the song’s conclusion and said, “Not bad, huh?”
Harry pressed her lower body a little closer to his. She gasped. “Oh, Harry, I’m sorry, I had no idea!”
Harry laughed softly. “Just don’t sing anymore and I’ll be okay.”
Cherisse batted her eyes at him. “Okay, no more singing until I get you alone.”
Harry was looking up at the entrance. “What the hell?”
Cherisse followed his line of sight. Marcia Shaw had arrived with a short white guy on her arm. Cherisse could guess why Harry had reacted with surprise. Marcia had made a big deal about her and LaShaun Gregory getting back together and she hadn’t arrived at the social event of the year with him on her arm. That could mean only one thing—they had broken up again.