He pulled into his driveway and pushed the button to raise the garage. He thanked god there were no clubs like The Club in this neighborhood, it was good and wholesome and no wild sex parties.
It had been almost a year since Joy left and Royce still hadn’t gotten over her. He still found himself thinking of her, thinking of holding her and wondering if she was okay and he hoped in his aching heart that if he wasn’t okay then maybe she wasn’t either, that maybe she was still hurting too. He knew Tammy was sick of his antics, “Royce what is your problem?” She often said when he still didn’t come around, “Act like the Royce I know, where is that Royce?” She’d yelled at him the other day, “I want that Royce back,” and he shrugged, “I’m here doing the best I can under the circumstances,” and she’d fume, and he was doing the best he could. He went to her a few times to make love to her that was a step, before he couldn’t at all. He didn’t feel anything and sex was the last thing on his mind, but he was coming around he thought. He still felt like his body was one big walking ache and to dull the pain his body had gone numb, he believed that and he knew he still loved Joy.
The only person he talked too was Bobby. Bobby was the only person who tried to understand what he was going through to an extent even though he still said things like.
“You have to get over this Royce, she’s gone, it’s over and it’s for the best.”
“Is it Bobby? Why to people keep saying that, it’s for the best, because it sure doesn’t feel like it’s the best for me.”
“Royce come on man, you have a wife, children and so does she. You can’t easily toss that aside man for…lust,” and Royce understood that and he felt Bobby was right.
“I know you’re right, I can’t hurt Tammy and the kids like that,” and he knew he didn’t want to hurt them but why was he hurting so bad? Why was he still carrying around this hurt? If it was for the best shouldn’t it be the best for him and he tried to fight it, “Maybe I’m just holding on, I should make myself let go. I won’t think about her today,” he’d say believing the adage, time heals all wounds, “I’ll give myself time and a schedule,” he’d said months ago and that didn’t work. He still ached for her, “I’ll focus on my work and my family, that should keep my mind on other things,” and during the day that worked, but driving home he’d think of her and it didn’t help that right after it happened and he’d started talking to Bobby about it he teased him and called him Louie, and he didn’t know what he was talking about, “Louie, what do you mean Louie?”
“Aw man you don’t know the song Louie Louie?”
“No man I don’t” and Bobby laughed.
“Aww man, it’s about this white guy who falls in love with this black lady,” then Bobby sang a line from the song, “Louie, Louie, Louie, nothings good when you taste brown sugar, Louie, Louie you’re gonna cry,” he sang, “Something like that, I don’t know all the words man,” he said laughing, and the next day he bought a copy of the song for Royce.
“Play this on the way home I found it on an oldies CD, it’s by the Stories, its track number…five,” he said looking at the back of the CD, and Royce did. He popped in the CD not expecting much and by the time the song was done he was crying. Even though all the words didn’t apply to him, but the chorus, Louie crying over being with his brown girl, tasting brown sugar and he was hooked those words resonated with him and now he played the song at the loudest volume he could stand. He knew every word and he sang loud as he drove down the road and often cried thinking of his brown sugar lady.
He was playing the song now as he drove to the office. He pulled into his designated parking space and wiped his eyes, the song still brought a tear. He walked in the building and caught the elevator to the fourteenth floor where the offices of Harrington-Rhodes were located and went straight to his office and closed the door. He looked through his contacts on his computer, scanning the names. They’d had to use a private investigator once on a business they were looking into buying and the numbers didn’t add up. He stopped the scan when he found Carl T. Jameson private investigator.
“Jameson,” Carl answered,
“Yes, this is Royce Harrington; you did some work for us a few years back.”
“Yes, Mr. Harrington how can I help you?”
“I need you to find someone.”
“I see, let’s meet Mr. Harrington so I can get the particulars.”
“Yes, I’d like to keep this private,” and they made arrangements to meet at The Meridian, a private member’s only club downtown. For Jameson this was standard business; he’d only take the job if he felt comfortable with it, he wasn’t going to take a job to find someone that didn’t want to be found, so you had to be careful with that, sometimes when a person left your life they had good reason.
Carl Jameson was ex-CIA who’d retired after being shot guarding a diplomat in the Philippines. He didn’t look like your average CIA man, ex-military is more like it. He was big and muscled; he had sandy blonde hair he pulled back into a ponytail and blue eyes. If he had one fault it was he took his job way to seriously, his focus was so intense it was to the detriment of everything else; he ate, slept and drank the job until it was over.
Jameson met Royce at The Meridian.
“Hello Mr. Harrington,” he said offering his hand. Royce took it and shook it, “I’m glad you could make it,” Jameson said, “Tell me who do you want found and why?”
“A woman who is very special to me, I need to find her.”
Jameson eyed him trying to get a feel for him, “I understand. Did she leave of her own free will?”
Royce eyed him now, “Yes.”
“Well maybe she doesn’t want to be found. Why do you want to find her if she left on her on?”
Royce looked sadly away from him, “I just want to make sure she’s okay. I may not even contact her, I just want to make sure she’d alright,” he said and he looked at Jameson his eyes tearing, “She was very special and I need to know.”
Jameson took him in. He’d seen tears before and teary eyes didn’t faze him, but genuinely sad eyes did, and this man was sad, this man was hurting, he couldn’t fake that.
“Okay Mr. Harrington, I’ll see what I can do, give me all the information you have on her,” and Royce told him about Michael’s company and he gave him the name and the location, “That might be a good place to start,” he said to Jameson.
“And the lady what do you have on her?”
“Her name is Joy, Joy Abrams,” and Jameson’s looked at him. He was taking notes, he understood now, he’d just mentioned Michael Abrams, “So she’s married?”
“Yes,” Royce said looking down, “I just want to make sure she’s doing okay.”
Jameson didn’t know about this now, trying to find a married woman who’d left on her own told him she definitely didn’t want to be found, but he said, “Do you have a picture of her?”
“No, sorry I don’t,” and Jameson thought that was odd, if this lady was special to him why were there no pictures?
“Can you give me a physical description something I can go on?” He saw Royce smile a little, and he made note of that.
“Well let me see if I can describe Joy,” he watched Royce’s body language and the little smile on his lips, “Well she’s beautiful that’s the first thing you’ll notice and let me see...She’s tall, slender, dark hair, yeah long dark hair. She likes to wear it tousled, kind of wavy, and um, her eyes beautiful dark liquid eyes that come off shy, but she’s not, and um her lips, perfect, the perfect plumpness,” and he saw Royce suck his bottom lip, “And let’s see, she has a smile that lights up the room, but it’s shy too and oh yeah, the one thing you will notice is her behind Joy has one of the nicest rears you’ll ever see. I have to mention that for you to know her,” Royce said looking at him, but he continued, “Let’s see, what else about Joy that’ll help you, oh yeah beautiful light golden brown skin, it looks like silk it’s so smooth…,” Royce paused to look at Jameson who was starin
g at him, “Is that enough Mr. Jameson?”
Jameson had stopped writing to look at him because he’d never heard anyone give a physical description like that, this man knew every detail of this woman, intimate details and Jameson knew he was in love with her, and now he really didn’t know if he should find her, he caught himself at Royce’s question.
“Uh, no, you said she was light golden brown, is she Latin, Hispanic, a tanned Caucasian woman, African American, what kind of light brown is she?”
“Oh yeah,” Royce’s smile came back, “She’s African American, a beautiful African American,” and Royce thought beautiful brown sugar is what she is.
“And her husband is he African American?”
“Yes.”
“Okay Mr. Harrington, I think I have enough information to start my investigation. I’ll contact you with any information I have or to let you know if the investigation must cease.”
“Cease?” Royce questioned.
“Yes if for any reason I find the person in question has good reason to be away from you I will cease my investigation,” Jameson said. He was not going to find a married woman who left for her own reasons and now he suspected it was an affair.
“I understand,” Royce said, he stood, shook Jameson’s hand and walked out, questions on his mind. Maybe Jameson was right, maybe he should leave well enough alone? Joy had left of her own accord; as a matter of fact Joy had left so quickly her house was still on the market months after they’d left they’d gotten out of there so fast. It sat empty and forlorn until it sold. He drove to the office wondering if he was doing the right thing.
The next day Jameson went to the office of Abrams, Holmes & Holsted attorneys at law disguised as an accident victim. He had his arm in a sling, brown contact lenses, a fake light brown mustache, a brown wig and fake crooked teeth, “I’m looking for Michael Abrams, I hear he’s a good lawyer and I need him to represent me in my accident case,” he said to the receptionist in this very southern and very Texan accent. “Well sir Mr. Abrams is a tax attorney, he’s not a criminal defense attorney, we do corporate law here,” she said. “What, well which one is he on the wall here and which one of them can represent me?” He asked pointing to the pictures of the attorneys in two rows on the wall. “He’s that one,” she said pointing to the first picture, “And I’m sorry sir, no one in this office can help with a criminal case, who gave you that information sir?” “Well I’ll be dog gone, nobody told me I just saw the name on the building is all,” he said and walked out the office and now he had a face. He hung around and waited in the parking garage until he saw Michael coming down the ramp.
He pulled out and followed him; he knew how to follow a car without being seen. They drove for quite a while until they were in the outskirts of Dallas, in the suburbs and then he saw Michael pull into a very wealthy gated community, La Casa Madrid, he kept going, “Damn that’s going to cause a problem,” he thought, but his excitement was mounting he loved a challenge.
Royce went home that evening and after his initial uncertainty by the end of the day it was gone. He needed to find Joy, he had to see her, and maybe Jameson was right he shouldn’t bother her. Maybe that’s what he’d do, he’d get the information and wouldn’t use it, he’d just know where she was or maybe he’d go by and see her from a distance and leave. He just wanted to make sure she was okay and see her one more time. He needed to see her he knew that, and for the first time in months Tammy saw him smile. He’d been so disheartened the past year, his smile was welcome. It’s about time he came out of his funk. Maybe the old Royce was back., she thought.
Jameson knew what he had to do; he had to get in the gated neighborhood of La Casa Madrid. He’d found Michael now he had to find out if Joy was still with him. Over the next few days he set his plan into action, he had his paint shop paint a gas company logo on the side of his work truck. He tossed cables and cords in the back, stitched a gas company logo on a pair of overalls and put in brown contacts, pulled his blonde hair up and put on a curly sandy blonde wig with sideburns. Then he drove up to the gate, “Got a possible leak on…,” he paused to look at his clipboard, “On Guadalupe Street,” he said to the guard. The guard went inside the little guard house and made a note on his books, then he opened the gate and Jameson drove through.
Now to find Joy Abrams, he drove through the neighborhood and turned right; he was looking for 6 Guadalupe Street. It was a beautiful neighborhood, all the houses done in Spanish style, red Spanish tiled roofs and beautiful stucco exterior in varying shades of gold, cream, white, gray, tall trees, but small yards, Very nice and very rich. He parked between Joy’s house and her neighbor’s, that way it looked like he wasn’t here for anyone just a gas company man doing his job. He hopped out of the truck with his clipboard, he fiddled around in back and found the orange spray paint and little orange flag the utility companies used to suggest they’d been working on something, he went to where the gas line was and pretended to be doing gas company work, then he walked to number six Guadalupe.
He rang the bell, he hoped she was home, or he’d have to fiddle around here all day until she came home. The door opened and Jameson saw a tall black woman, and his mind went to the check list he had from Royce, tall, check, “I’m with the gas company investigating a possible leak…,” he stated and as he spoke his mind went through his list, long dark hair, check, not tousled though she was wearing it long and straight with a bang, very beautiful, check, light brown silky smooth skin, check, shy smile? He didn’t see that she wasn’t smiling at him, her face showed her concern since he was talking about a gas leak in her neighborhood, nothing to smile about there, he thought, and she was facing him so he couldn’t see her derriere, the nice one his client had described.
He felt he knew this woman intimately with the description his client had given him he knew more about her than probably a man should, “Yes, I checked out everything and there is no danger, I show this is the residence of…,” he looked down at his clipboard for the very businesslike affect he was going for, “Michael and Joycelyn Abrams. Are you Ms. Joycelyn Abrams?” “Yes, I’m Joy Abrams,” she said, bingo, identity confirmed, check. “Thank you ma’am, sorry to bother you but we have to check these things, but no worries, it was a false alarm,” he said. He had to reassure her or she’d call the gas company to inquire, and now she smiled, beautiful smile, check, and then he saw the reason his client wanted her found, it had been there in front of him the whole time, I’ll be damn.
CHAPTER 5 , FINDING JOY
Royce had been on pins and needles hoping Jameson could find Joy, it had been a week now and he’d called and said the search was going as planned. He’d found Michael and was now on the trail to find Joy, and Royce was perplexed, “Do you think she’s no longer with him?” And his heart pounded in his chest, if Joy left Michael he would be on the next plane, train, whatever was fastest to get to her. “No, I’m not sure, I haven’t found her yet is all I’m saying,” and he had to contain his emotions for the let down. “Oh okay, keep me informed.” “I will sir,” Jameson said and hung up. That had been days ago and every time his phone rang he jumped to answer it hoping it was Jameson.
Jameson left the neighborhood his mind in turmoil, wondering, questioning when he’d confirmed her identity. She was Joy Abrams and she was just like his client described, very beautiful and now he wondered if he should tell his client her whereabouts. She’d left for a reason and he thought he knew why, but should he be the one to disclose her location? She ran, she left, it was an affair, she stayed with her husband, should he let his client know or leave well enough alone, he drove and thought.
Royce was at his desk, it had been a week into the investigation and his mind was on Joy. Maybe she did leave Michael that’s why it’s taking so long, and he knew he hoped so. He hoped she’d left Michael and he could go to her and see her, but if she hadn’t could he see her? He didn’t know, from a distance maybe, but going to see her, he didn’t know if she’d want that
. He didn’t know if she’d want to see him after what he’d done. Maybe seeing her in person is not such a good idea. I’ll just have Jameson take a few pictures from time to time, he thought, Spy on her without her knowing…yeah, that’s best, his phone rang and startled him.
“Royce Harrington,” he said into the receiver, “Mr. Harrington this is Jameson, I found her sir,” and Royce’s heart did a hard flip in his chest that hurt and his mouth dropped open. “Fine,” he managed to say, “Where can we meet?” “Same as before,” Jameson said. “I’m on my way,” Royce wanted to get the information in his hands as soon as possible, Joy oh Joy, and he was smiling and happy. He’d found Joy.
Jameson decided it wasn’t up to him to decide if Ms. Abrams wanted to see his client, it was up to her. She’d determine if she wanted to see him or not, but to him it was clear there was unfinished business between them, so he went back to his office and finished his assignment. He typed up his report and called his client.
Royce walked into The Meridian. He saw Jameson at the bar and as soon as Jameson saw him he made his way towards him and after they shook hands they found a table away from the other patrons and sat down. Royce was excited with anticipation, “Did you see her or get pictures?” He asked as soon as their drink order was placed. “No pictures, but yes I saw her. I spoke with her and she is well,” Jameson said. “You spoke with her,” Royce asked in awe, “Did you advise her of my involvement?” He asked afraid now. “No, no, that was not why I spoke with her, it was to confirm her identity that is all,” Jameson said and he could see the emotions playing havoc on Royce’s face, happy, shock that he‘d spoken with her and fear for some reason. “Oh good let’s see what you have,” Royce said his stomach in knots and his emotions ping ponging all over the place.
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