by Pamela Yaye
Morrison scoffed, telling himself he was being ridiculous. Of course, she was dating someone. Women like Karma, with brains, charisma and booty, didn’t have one man, they had several, and he’d be a fool to pursue a woman who was playing the field. Not that he was ready to settle down. He wasn’t. He had his hands full with Reagan, and aspirations of becoming the youngest Supreme Court judge in the nation. Not to mention aging parents who needed his help on a regular basis. His brothers were busy with their careers and families, and since he was the oldest—and happily single—he was the one who kept a watchful eye on their stubborn parents. His father was recovering from hip surgery, and these days his mother was so forgetful Morrison worried about her state of mind. They could afford to hire someone to help them, but they refused, saying they didn’t want a stranger snooping around their waterfront estate.
“Did you get baby girl’s number?” Duane teased, wiggling his thick eyebrows.
“Yeah, and I’m going to save it in your cell under Side Chick.”
“Hey, don’t joke about things like that!” Shivering, he pressed his eyes shut and made the sign of the cross on his chest. “Erikah has a quiet nature and a sweet disposition, but if she thought I was cheating on her she’d bury me alive.”
“You better not, or I’ll help her dig the ditch!”
Duane gave Morrison a shot in the arm, then dumped his Cleveland Cavaliers backpack at his feet. Short and stocky, with dark skin and a salt-and-pepper moustache, he was often mistaken for Morrison’s older brother, and laughed off comparisons to their father.
“Ready to play?” Morrison unzipped his duffel bag and took out his tennis racket.
“Not yet. I need to stretch. Don’t want to break anything.”
Amused, Morrison watched his brother roll his neck from side to side, chuckling as Duane jogged in place for a minute, huffing and puffing as if he was climbing the Great Wall of China. Unlike Roderick, Duane would rather save money than spend it, but his workout gear had seen better days and Morrison couldn’t resist teasing the dad of four about his faded Nike T-shirt and nylon basketball shorts. “After our game, I’m taking you to the mall. You need some new clothes ASAP, bro.”
“Get out of here,” Duane argued, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “This is the outfit I was wearing when I met LeBron James at Rucker Park several years ago, and since it always brings me good luck you don’t stand a chance, Your Highness.”
Morrison chuckled. “Not today, Daddy-Daycare! I’m going to mop the court with you.”
Taking their positions on the court, they agreed to do practice shots to warm up, and took turns serving the ball. Morrison heard his cell phone ring from inside his duffel bag, but ignored it. He hadn’t seen Duane all week, and he was having fun talking trash and joking around with his brother. His family meant the world to him, and nothing mattered more to Morrison than spending time with the people he loved. Losing Emmanuelle had been a crushing blow, the worst thing that had ever happened to him, and at her memorial service he’d vowed never to take his siblings for granted again.
“Reagan called me a few minutes ago, and she was really upset,” Duane said. “You took her car keys? Why? She’s an adult now, Mo, and it’s time you start treating her like one.”
“Duane, she’s only seventeen. She still needs discipline and guidance and a strong, firm hand.” Needing to vent, he told his brother about his trip to Beauty by Karma and his argument with Reagan. Morrison couldn’t believe how much their niece had changed since he’d become her legal guardian. Five years ago, Reagan was a chubby seventh grader who loved Harry Potter and the Nickelodeon channel, and now she was obsessed with boys, makeup and social media. Worst of all, she was pulling away from him, and it hurt like hell.
“Mo, that’s the second time this month you’ve gone off the deep end, and I’m worried if it happens again, Reagan will leave for good, and none of us want to see that happen.”
“Duane, relax. Reagan isn’t going anywhere, and once she quits that stupid job at Beauty by Karma things will go back to normal.”
“I don’t know what your problem is. I love that place. Every time Erikah goes to get her hair and nails done, she comes home in a great mood.” Duane winked. “And horny as hell!”
“That’s the problem. A beauty salon is no place for a young, impressionable teenager like Reagan, and if Karma won’t fire her I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands.”
“What are you going to do?”
Morrison wore a sly grin. “Use the Drake charm to get my way, of course.”
“You sly dog!” Duane caught the ball midair with his right hand. “You asked Karma to be your date for Winston and Antoinette’s wedding next Saturday, didn’t you?”
He raised an eyebrow. Was Duane out of his mind? Had he been drinking? Morrison would rather catch up on sleep than attend the Manhattan wedding of his childhood friend, but it was going to be the social event of the year, and he couldn’t skip it. Bringing a date was out of the question though. Born into wealth, the powerhouse couple had friends in high places, and political connections. And if Morrison wanted to achieve his goal of being the youngest person appointed to the Supreme Court he had to network his butt off, and everyone he wanted to meet would be at the wedding. “No way,” he said, shaking his head. “Karma’s not my type, and I don’t want anyone to think we’re a hot, new item—”
“Mo, get out of here, Karma’s everybody’s type. Who doesn’t want a smart, successful beauty on their arm? Shoot, if I wasn’t happily married I’d be all over her.”
“My focus is on Reagan right now, not hooking up with a feisty makeup artist.”
“It should be. In the fall she’ll be going off to college, and you’ll be home alone with nothing to do and nowhere to go.”
“Reagan’s going to live at home, not on campus,” he explained, nodding his head to emphasize his point. “Dormitories are dangerous, and I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“You worry too much. She’ll be fine. Quit stifling her, or she’ll rebel.”
Morrison scoffed, not giving his brother’s advice a second thought. “You know nothing about raising a teenager. Your kids are still in diapers, and they run you ragged!”
The brothers laughed.
“Go out with Karma,” Duane advised, bouncing the ball absently on the court. “It’ll be good for you. You need to quit hanging out at home 24/7 and get back in the dating game.”
Ready to start their match, Morrison dropped to one knee and retied his shoelaces. “Are we going to play, or stand around talking about the ladies for the rest of the morning?”
“Neither. Let’s go inside and grab a cold one. Erikah’s forcing me to do a thirty-day cleanse with her, and I’m craving a beer. And French fries.”
Morrison chuckled. “I’m glad I’m single. You’re a sorry case, D!”
“And you’re jealous,” Duane countered, wearing a proud smile. “You wish you had a beautiful, sexy woman to come home to every night.”
A vision of Karma dressed in a flimsy negligee and red-heeled pumps flashed in his mind. His thoughts took an erotic detour, filled with explicit images of the beauty salon owner with the silky, mile-long legs. Giving his head a shake, he tossed the tennis ball high in the air and smacked it powerfully with his racquet. “Game on.”
“Mo, take it easy!” Duane shouted, running for cover as the ball whizzed past his face. “I’m a father of four, not a ten-time Wimbledon champion!”
Chapter 4
Morrison glanced at the clock on the dashboard of his SUV, realized he had an hour to kill before picking up Reagan from Beauty by Karma and contemplated visiting Roderick at his estate. He’d had so much fun at the sports complex with Duane, he was missing his youngest brother, and wanted to touch base with him. Two weeks earlier, during their monthly fishing trip to Shinnecock Inlet, they�
�d butted heads and their argument still left a bitter taste in Morrison’s mouth. After downing one too many beers, Roderick had become loud and belligerent aboard Morrison’s Scout 350, disrupting the serene and peaceful atmosphere. The gleaming, white vessel was the Mercedes-Benz of boats, and when Roderick threw up on the platform Morrison had lost his temper. Told Roderick he had a drinking problem and needed professional help. Filled with remorse, Roderick had agreed to pay for the boat to be detailed, but Morrison had yet to see a dime.
Hanging out with Duane had put him in a good mood, made him forget about his argument with Reagan at the beauty salon. For hours, he’d played in the hot sun, and by the time they went inside for lunch it was two o’clock.
What a match! Morrison thought with a wry smile. Duane had surprised him by winning the first game, but he’d battled back to win the next three. While eating burgers and fries, they’d talked about their parents, their careers and the groom’s bachelor party next Friday. They were planning to drive to Manhattan together after work, and Morrison hoped Roderick could join them. These days, he didn’t go anywhere without his bride-to-be, and Morrison was tired of Roderick putting his fiancée first and his family last. Toya Janssen had a girl-next-door vibe, but Morrison didn’t think she was the right woman for his brother.
Arriving home that afternoon, Morrison had showered and changed into a short-sleeve denim shirt, blue jeans and navy loafers. After he dropped Reagan off at his parents’ estate, he was meeting his poker buddies at The Long Island Bar & Grill and hoped they had some good news for him. Morrison needed his friends to work their connections and get him an invitation to the political fund-raising gala in Washington next month. It was the hottest ticket in town, and he had to be there. Couldn’t afford to miss the exclusive, black-tie event. If he was lucky he’d meet the vice president, or his chief of staff. That’s all Morrison needed. An introduction, and he’d be one step closer to making history.
Morrison narrowed his gaze. Gripping the steering wheel, he leaned forward in his seat. What the hell? Spotting Reagan exiting Beauty by Karma, he sped through the intersection. Pulling up to the curb, he lowered the passenger side window. “Reagan, where are you going?” he asked.
“Ms. Karma said I could leave early, and I didn’t want to wait around for you.”
Disappointment flooded his body. Morrison had hoped to see Karma again. He’d convinced himself it was because he wanted to talk to her about his niece, but it was a lie. Sure, he wanted her to honor his request and fire Reagan, but he was attracted to Karma and wanted to get to know her better—especially in the bedroom. The salon owner was a vivacious beauty who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and even though they’d butted heads that morning, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Fantasizing about her. Imaging them making love—
“You can leave. You don’t need to wait around. Zainab’s coming to pick me up.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself.”
“Get in. We can talk on the way to your grandparents’ house.”
Reagan tapped her foot on the ground, her arms crossed, her expression defiant. “No.”
“Do you want me to confiscate your cell phone, as well?”
“I don’t care,” she answered, rolling her eyes skyward. “Do what you have to do.”
His jaw clenched. She spoke in a clipped tone of voice, with plenty of attitude, infuriating him. Horns blared, but Morrison didn’t move. He felt like an ass for holding up traffic, but he wasn’t going anywhere until Reagan got into his SUV. He’d arranged to have her beloved car towed to his estate, and hoped his actions would send a powerful message to his niece.
Morrison put on his hazard lights, checked his rearview mirror for oncoming traffic and opened his door. Marching around the hood of the car, he struggled to control his temper. He was so intent on reaching Reagan, and talking some sense into her, he didn’t notice Karma until she called his name.
“Morrison, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”
Karma appeared on the sidewalk, wearing oval-shaped sunglasses and a bright smile.
One look at her was all it took. Instantly, his shoulders relaxed, and his anger receded. For the sake of peace, he said, “Reagan, please get in the car so I can drop you off at your grandparents’ house. They’re expecting you for dinner, and I don’t want you to be late.”
“Why do I have to go to their house? Why can’t I stay home alone?”
“Because I’m going out with my friends, and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“So?” she argued. “I can stay home alone. I’m seventeen, Uncle Morrison, not seven.”
“I’d feel safer if you were with your grandparents.”
“But I don’t want to go. I want to stay home and relax.”
“You can relax at Grandma and Grandpa’s estate.”
Reagan groaned. “This is so frustrating. Why do you keep treating me like a kid?”
“The last time I left you home alone you threw a raucous house party!”
“It wasn’t a party. My friends came over, and we ordered pizza and listened to music.”
“A hundred kids isn’t a get-together, Reagan, it’s a party.”
Reagan mumbled under her breath.
“This isn’t the time or the place to have this conversation,” Morrison said, mindful of the people around them. The streets were busy, full of families and shoppers, and he didn’t want anyone to overhear them. “Like I said, we can talk about this in the car, so get in.”
Morrison opened the passenger side door and waited patiently for his niece to get in.
“I don’t have to listen to you. I’m practically an adult. I can do what I want.”
Stepping forward, Karma took Reagan by the shoulder and spoke to her in a quiet voice. “Sweetie, go with your uncle and work out your problems,” she admonished, wearing a sympathetic expression on her face. “How can you fix what’s wrong in your relationship if you don’t talk to him?”
“Why bother? He doesn’t listen to me,” she complained.
“Real women don’t run from their problems, they tackle them head-on.” Karma helped Reagan into the SUV, then patted her hands. “I’ll call you later to see how you’re doing.”
“Bye, Ms. Karma. Thanks again for lunch. It was delicious.”
“My pleasure, sweetie. Next time I’ll take you to the Peacock Alley at the Waldorf Astoria,” she said, licking her lips. “Their brunch is to die for, and the waiters are supercute!”
Standing on the sidewalk, listening to his niece talk and giggle with Karma made Morrison smile. His admiration for the salon owner grew as he watched her interact with Reagan. Gregarious, and down-to-earth, it was easy to see why Reagan worshipped the ground Karma walked on. Her warmth and openness was endearing, what appealed to him most, and if they weren’t polar opposites he’d take Duane’s advice and ask her out.
Pressed for time, he marched back to the driver’s door and got inside the SUV.
“Can I come by the salon on Wednesday?” Reagan asked, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’m Devin Skye’s biggest fan ever, and I’d love to meet her.”
“You’re as sly as a ninja!” Karma teased. “I didn’t tell anyone about her appointment, so how did you know the actress was coming to the salon after closing?”
“I overheard you on the phone with her manager when I came to refill your coffee...”
Morrison opened his mouth to protest, to remind his niece that she had a physics test on Thursday she needed to study for, but thought better of it and held his tongue. He didn’t want to upset her again, but made a mental note to talk to her about the test later. He loved Reagan as if she was his daughter and wanted to raise her the way his sister would.
Sadness pricked his heart. Emmanuelle had been gone for years, but Mo
rrison missed her more each day. He tried not to think about her untimely death, only the good times, but as he listened to his niece joke around with Karma his emotions got the best of him and tears filled his eyes. Glad he was wearing sunglasses, he blinked them away. Not only was Reagan the spitting image of Emmanuelle, she had his sister’s quick wit and her outrageous sense of humor.
“Please,” Reagan pleaded, clasping her hands together. “I’ll never ask you for anything again. I swear. It’ll be my birthday present, and grad gift all rolled in one!”
“If it’s okay with your uncle, it’s okay with me.”
Karma looked at Morrison, and their eyes locked, zoomed in on each other.
Pleased with her answer, he nodded his head in agreement. He spoke to Reagan, but his gaze was glued to Karma’s face. “You can go to the salon as long as you finish your homework.”
Reagan cheered. “Thanks, Uncle Morrison. You’re the best!”
Karma beamed, and for some strange reason Morrison felt prouder than a gold medalist on a podium. Reagan spoke, but he missed her question because he was busy admiring Karma. Her curled eyelashes, bejeweled lavender nails and colored extensions didn’t make her beautiful; it was her radiant smile and effervescent laugh that appealed to him. She waved, then turned and walked back into the salon, switching her shapely hips. Transfixed, he watched her every move. Wet his lips with his tongue. Groaned and grunted in appreciation.
“Uncle Morrison, snap out of it!”
Reagan waved a hand in front of his face, and Morrison blinked. Bolting upright in his seat, he put on his seat belt and started the car. Merging into traffic, he stepped on the gas and sped down the street. Anxious to get to his parents’ house, he switched from one lane to the next, passing slow-moving vehicles and teens cruising the block in their flashy sports cars.