Like Slow Sweet Molasses

by Like Slow Sweet Molasses

“Don’t leave,” he begged.

  “Let’s get one thing straight. I’ve heard your terms. Now, hear mine.”

  “Not here,” he cautioned, trolling over to remove her hand from the doors now banging to close. “Come with me.”

  He flaunted his power, she saw, with a wave of his hand dismissing his security team. They retreated with skeptical looks flung over their shoulders at her. No one dared to question his authority. Angela followed him passed the doors to the main office and into an undetectable panel he opened with a fob. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, lacking the trust a daughter afforded her father.

  “To my private offices.”

  They entered a deserted hallway to come out on the other side and directly into his plush executive office set apart from any she’d ever seen. The sky backdrop served as a wall. Her eyes bounced around taking in her surroundings and a realization hit. It was said money can’t buy good health, but, he was certainly well-off enough to try.

  “Get your attorney in here. I’ve got instructions on how to disperse the funds.”

  “I heard about your—father. How’s he doing?”

  “As if you care,” she sniped. “That’s why I’m here. Jason opened my eyes with his uncouth phone call to the hospital. You and I can use one another to make a difference in a tiny piece of the world.”

  Philip took a seat behind his imposing desk to summon his lawyer. “He’s on his way.” He sat quietly staring at her profile for she’d turned towards the window. “You and Jason favor so closely. There’s no denying you’re my child.”

  “Save it, Mr. Harperiski. This is a business venture and nothing more,” she cut to the quick. “How much longer?” His intercom buzzed and he picked up the phone.

  “Send him in.”

  Angela watched the power-suited attorney make an appearance from another direction and almost sprint into the room carrying a legal pad for note taking. He acknowledged her with a nod. “Here’s what will happen based upon the terms you set down in your original proposal. Whether the test results match or not, either way, fifty thousand was the sum in the documents. If not a match, I want the fifty thousand equally divided between my parents and the Academy School of the Arts in New Orleans. If a match, that fifty thousand is to be paid, in its entirety, to the Academy School of the Arts in New Orleans stipulating its use for the purchase of musical instruments and the other learning materials they’re lacking to ensure the children get a well-rounded education.” She halted to confirm understanding and allow them to digest her demands. “Well?”

  Philip intoned, “Go on.”

  “When the tests indicate a match and the harvesting process of my bone marrow begins, the remaining one hundred fifty thousand will be paid to my parents without stipulation or judgments on how it’s used. The purpose will be strictly up to their discretion.”

  Turning to his lawyer, “Are these demands manageable, Willem?”

  He scanned his notes keeping his countenance free of any emotion dispensing superiority as he held his tongue as long as he thought he could get away with it. Finally, he honored them with an answer. “Against my counsel. Yes, it’s doable.”

  “Get the papers in order and let’s handle this now. Also, Mr. Haperiski, while he’s taking care of that, you call your physician and arrange for immediate testing.”

  “It’s Friday. The Thanksgiving holiday’s next week,” he objected. “The timetable is unreasonable.”

  “The holiday is next Thursday. I intend to be home by that time lounging in the luxury of being with family and friends who love me.” Because she remained standing, Angela strolled over to the doors cognizant of how their jaws dropped in disbelief. “It’s now or never. I’m sure my part as the donor can be handled to completion between now and Wednesday.”

  “You are a savvy business woman, Angela. A chip off the old block.”

  “Oh, please,” came her droll reply. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “I was speaking of your mother.”

  “Then, don’t,” she hissed. “Are you going to make this work or not?”

  “Do I have a choice?” he asked dryly.

  “Actually, you do. You can choose to take action or ignore the situation—as you did all those years ago.”

  “Get the ball rolling, Willem.” His attention turned to phoning his private physician ending his discussion with his attorney. “Get back to me immediately.”

  “No legalese,” Angela called to his back. “I want plain and simple English.”

  He looked to his employer for approval receiving an affirmative headshake as Philip jerked the receiver.

  Her knees buckled rushing her to the sofa. Angela perched on the edge for to sit back and erect meant her feet would be inches from the floor. Being in charge with your feet dangling over an overstuffed couch did not project a picture of power. Philip’s muffled voice had the sound of someone talking to a swimmer located underwater. The conversation caused fire to spit from his eyes at her whenever he swiveled from the window. She gathered his demands met resistance when his fist pounded the classic cherry desk seconds before causing a ruckus when hanging up the phone.

  “The required testing can be handled tonight with results determined by tomorrow morning. If all works out, treatments in preparation to collect your bone marrow would start immediately thereafter.” He frowned at her. “Does that meet your approval?”

  “I’m sensing my offer is inconveniencing you,” she surmised. “Mr. Harperiski, if you’d rather I leave I have no problem with that.”

  “No, please,” a feminine voice entreated from the doorway.

  Angela stood as the woman rushed in her direction unsure if a physical attack would ensue.

  “My husband is beholden to you even if he acts unappreciative.”

  Angela stared at the bosomy redhead, who was all of a few years her senior, as she bypassed her to walk regally over and lean down to peck Philip’s cheek. She realized she was a prime target for any insect happening by for her jaw dropped in surprise. The woman spoke to her again.

  “I know this isn’t easy for you—to have learned of your heritage this way.” She offered pity. “I only found out,” she peered at her husband, “quite recently myself.”

  Angela wasn’t sure how to take that last statement and remained mute.

  Philip found his tongue. “This is my wife, Monica. Monica…Angela.”

  He couldn’t even say daughter she fumed silently. “Is everything settled?” she asked.

  “It’s all set,” he repeated. “Jason will escort you—”

  “I’d prefer not to have your son anywhere around me.”

  “That’s too bad,” came the reply from the back of the room where Jason hung in the shadows to study the scene before marching up to her.

  Angela’s eyes slung daggers at the white man in her face. Just as she tussled to restrain herself, Monica’s sheer amazement rang out.

  “You’re right, Philip. They’re so much alike in temperament it’s unbelievable. And the resemblance is uncanny.”

  “There’s no denying the relationship, you two,” their father reasoned. “It’s time to make a peace pact.”

  “Over my dead body.” Jason, angered by the suggestion, railed.

  “No, son. It’ll probably be over mine.” All eyes shifted to the elder Haperiski. “The chances of Angela being a better match than anyone else in the family are miniscule to none. All of you should realize that. Although that may be the case, I couldn’t take the risk of not approaching her for assistance.”

  “Philip, we don’t know that for sure,” Monica lamented.

  He rose from the chair like a beaten man to grasp his wife’s hands. “No, you’re right. We don’t. But, just in case the worse happens, my dear, you’ll be well taken care of. Never fear.”

  “That’s an awful thing to say to me,” she whimpered.

  The sound in her voice caused Angela to search Monica’ face for pertinent signs of the melodra
matic act she played out. She saw none. Only the fear blanching her features white under her bronze makeup highlighted her distress. That made her shift to look at Jason. How did he view this touching scene she curiously wondered? It was impossible to tell for he had his same hardened expression in place. The only one she’d ever seen him wear.

  “Sentimental and loving,” he mocked. “Save it, Monica. All I care about is my father’s welfare. If he thinks you’re the love of his new life and she’s his dutiful daughter,” he threw his head in Angela’s direction, “so be it.”

  “You disgust me,” Angela hurled at Jason. Then to Philip, but in a more respectful tone, “How much longer before the contract is ready?”

  “I’ll check.” He returned to the desk and buzzed to get the answer.

  Angela’s cell rang in the meantime. The readout showed a call she couldn’t miss. “Excuse me. I have to take this.” Moving to the far corner of the office abutting the window, she answered with a smile on her lips. The voice on the other end lifted her spirits.

  “I miss you.”

  “Not as much as I miss you.” She had to be careful for to say too much could jeopardize everything. “I guess you’ve met up with Kelsy?”

  “You’ve guessed right. She’s here as we speak.” He laughed aloud. “Looking me dead in my mouth. Keeps asking me ‘who is this Angela’?”

  “What have you been saying about me?” She kept an eye out to keep track of the others’ movements.

  “Just singing your praises, I guess.”

  “Better not to mention me anymore. You don’t want to alienate her before remedying whatever’s wrong, do you?”

  “You’re probably right, Angel. How are Lee and Connie this evening?” She hedged just a little which prompted him to punch up his next question. “Something’s going on. Has there been a setback?”

  “No, no,” she jumped to correct his assumption, easing closer to the tinted glass. “He’s been up and walking the halls with assistance.”

  “Let me holler at him.”

  “Uh, I’m not in the room at the moment. Tell you what. I’ll tell them you send your regards. Okay?”

  “Dad?”

  “Are you ready?” Jason’s gruffness sent waves crashing around the room.

  Angela hurried to cover the mouthpiece to avoid arousing Chance’s suspicions. Too late.

  “Who was that?”

  “Someone in the area.” Angela redirected Chance to his daughter’s cry for attention. “You’d better go see to Kelsy.”

  “I’m sure I know that voice.” He searched his memory for recall drawing a blank for his efforts. “I’ll call back to check on you when we land in New Orleans.”

  “No, I’ll call you,” she panicked. Realizing the implications, she readdressed the slip. “I’m in and out so much I don’t want to disturb them.”

  “I understand.”

  “Your feelings are hurt. Chance, I love you and there’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you right now.”

  She was right on the money. His feelings were hurt. But, her attempt to make amends by proclaiming her love soothed his chafed feelings. “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Love you.”

  “Loved you first.”

  He was gone and in his place her misty eyes recorded the people in the room of which there were now four scrutinizing her as she worked to maintain her composure. Angela used the excuse of replacing her phone to sever her emotional connection to Chance, thereby, stepping into her untouchable facade. Her eyes clipped each as she pointedly stated, “Yes, I’m ready?” The attorney stamped forward to fan papers across Philip’s desk for her review.

  “Is everything acceptable?” her biological father inquired.

  Angela signed indicating her agreement and passed the pen to Philip. Jason witnessed the transaction though unmistakably galled at having to be a participant in the procedure. Monica looked on in silence much like Philip’s trusted barrister did. A heaving sigh implied Angela’s resolve to follow through on the obligatory commitment. She was in deep, now and the sooner they left the sooner this whole ordeal would be over.

  Philip buzzed his chauffeur to bring the car out front. “We’ll take you to the hospital and introduce you to the performing surgeon.”

  “All I need from you is the doctor’s name and the hospital’s address. I’ll get there on my own.” Objections weren’t long in surfacing. Objections she batted down for her mind was made up. “Also,” she paused to jot on a slip of paper, “fax a complete copy of the contract to this number. I’ll verify its receipt later tonight.” Her brows shifted upwards denouncing all opposition.

  “It will be done,” the lawyer promised.

  “One last thing.” Angela extended her hand and rewarded her father with a firm handshake. “I wish no ill-will on anyone present. My hope is for a positive result and an optimistic and speedy recovery for you.” That said she took her leave.

  Those words were the last ones spoken to the Haperiskis prior to the successful procedure.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thanksgiving Day progressed normally as herds of people milled around in the airport, stranded due to numerous canceled flights. It was that trickledown effect brought on by the terribly bad weather in other parts of the country. Angela felt badly for the unfortunate ones as she wheeled her overnight case through the noisy arena on her way to long term parking. Again, thank heavens for Mrs. Thatcher’s antique. Or she’d have no choice but to hitch a ride and from the looks of the taxi stand outside there would be a monumental wait.

  The long trip to the car expended the last of her stored energy and practically laid Angela on the steering wheel until she improved enough to head out. Her recovery period of five to six days is what the physician outlined in her detailed instructional visit the day she harvested the blood marrow. The expected side effects were plentiful and not all donors suffered from every one of them. So far, the banging in her head and the lack of stamina meant the healing process had begun.

  New Orleans lay below her as she whisked along the elevated expressway on her beat to Chance’s. The omission of her whereabouts over the last few days during the various conversations with him weighed heavily on her conscience for she could count on one hand the number of times she’d called him dishonest. All she could imagine, if she’d shared her plan with him, was his disapproval and concern for her safety. No doubt, he would have second guessed her decision based upon the episodic meeting they engaged in with the Harperiskis. Even now, the knowledge of children benefitting from her decision bolstered her spirits and she couldn’t wait to share everything with him.

  Holiday traffic this late in the night was very light, meeting with her approval. Soon, she tooled the LaSabre up to the curb in front of the loft. Angela took a couple of deep breaths to stabilize her equilibrium before exiting to approach the fortified door. She rang the bell and stepped back into the street to allow him to see her.

  The ceiling lights illuminated a portion of the jagged sidewalk blocks under the window. As she watched, a dark shadowy form outlined against the asphalt at her feet forcing her to squint into the window above. The apparition disappeared so quickly she thought it a figment of her imagination. Until the door opened and a willowy, silky haired blonde wearing one of Chance’s tees shocked her into gulping down the asphyxiating knot in her throat.

  “Yes?” she questioned in an agitated grind.

  “Is Chance home?” Angela found her voice but it didn’t sound normal.

  “He’s unavailable.”

  Angela noticed she’d get no other explanation and turned to leave without another word. Doing so riled the woman in the doorway. It was as if Angela insulted her by giving her back and she retaliated viciously.

  “Whatever you’re selling or have sold to Brock, in the past, is no longer required.”

  Angela whipped around, surprised at the level of her energy burst, but provoked by the uncomplimentary inference of the statement in time to see th
e door slam closed in her face. Her first instinct was to ring the bell again. Pride bubbled inside dispelling the notion of retaliation. Her parents instilled in her governing principles of self-respect, dignity and honor. She wouldn’t lower herself or her standards because of Chance’s unscrupulous behavior. Angela mustered all of her strength to leave the premises as her eyes welled with water that threatened to overflow.

  Unknown to her, Chance, at that very moment, took up squatter’s residence in Trell’s den like a man balancing on a cliff. Each man choked the long neck of a bottle of beer as Trell waited on Chance to get to the reason for the late night visit. The fireplace roared, the game on television blared and no one said a word until Sasha insinuated herself in the picture.

  “Can I get you guys anything before I turn in?”

  Trell answered, “Nothing for me. Thanks.”

  “Bro?” she nudged when Chance remained quiet.

  “Oh, no, thanks, Sasha.” He lowered his eyes as she intently studied him.

  “Ooo, woman trouble if ever I saw that look,” she chortled in delight. Her husband signaled “foul” with the abrupt clearing of his throat. “Angela?”

  Trell jumped in. “Don’t answer that, Bro.” To his wife, “It’s none of our affair, busybody.”

  Chance understood the cunning glances passing between Trell and Sasha wishing to have that closeness in his life. “I have a mutinous daughter camped out at my aunt’s, a deceitful ex-wife entombed in my loft and the woman I love only God knows where and with whom.” There. He said it aloud. A confession that would jeopardize a lesser male’s manhood.

  “You want to talk about it?” Sasha asked eagerly, propping a hip on her husband’s chair.

  “Not with you, dearie,” Trell warned comically through clenched teeth.

  “You didn’t ask me. But, I’m going to tell you what I think.” Her husband released a long, tormented sigh. “You mean something to the girl. That was crystal that day at Pops’. Ya’ll need to talk.” Sasha left her statement hanging as she faded from the room.

  “Pull in your hooks and scram, Bro or you’ll end up with a Dear Blabby like me.”