by Pamela Yaye
* * *
Nothing could wipe the smile off Karma’s face. Exiting the iconic Harlem theater on Morrison’s arm, they joined the slow-moving crowd meandering along Malcolm X Boulevard, chatting and laughing about the play. Karma snuggled against his shoulder. All afternoon, Morrison had been attentive and affectionate, and it was hard not to fantasize about him being her boyfriend. He treated her as if she was special to him, and for as long as Karma lived she’d never forget their romantic marathon date in the city.
Karma reflected on their day together. Their first stop had been to the botanical garden, and the tranquil setting was a breathtaking oasis, filled with vibrant colors and tropical fragrances. Instead of taking the tram through the fifty-two-acre garden, they’d walked hand in hand. They’d enjoyed reading the signs of the trees, flowers and exotic plants. The groundskeepers were knowledgeable and friendly, the conservatory offered classes on horticulture, and the rolling hills, towering trees and ornamental conifers looked like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. Beauty was in every inch of the garden, and the artwork displayed by renowned artists were striking. Happy to escape the hustle and bustle of the city for a few hours, Karma had sat down on a wooden bench and soaked in the serene atmosphere.
The botanical garden was as magical as Karma remembered, and as she’d gazed at the water lilies thoughts of her mother filled her mind. It was hard to believe she’d been gone for six years. Seemed like just yesterday they were going for mother-daughter mani-pedis, and whipping up decadent desserts in their small, cramped kitchen, singing along with the radio.
“Are you having a good birthday?”
Surfacing from her thoughts, Karma focused on the here and now. “You don’t even have to ask. This is the best birthday I’ve ever had, and I will remember it forevahhh.”
Morrison chuckled, and the sound of his hearty laugh made Karma smile.
“What did you enjoy the most? The botanical garden, the museum or the play?”
Cocking her head to the right, she took a moment to consider the question. Karma remembered the outrageous signs inside the Museum of Sex—warning people not to lick, stroke or mount the exhibits—and laughed to herself. They’d stopped at the museum on the way to the theater and spent an hour perusing the evocative displays. In the apparel store, Morrison had bought her hundreds of dollars’ worth of merchandise, and Karma was anxious to try out the sex toys, wanted to end the evening making love to him. It was the longest date Karma had ever been on, but she wasn’t ready to call it a night. During the play’s intermission, Morrison had suggested having drinks at a local cocktail lounge, and even though Karma had to be at the salon bright and early in the morning, she wanted to check out the popular Harlem bar.
“They were all incredible, and I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday, but if I had to choose one I’d pick the play. Husband for Hire was hilarious! The music was outstanding, the acting was top-notch and I laughed until I cried during the funeral scene!”
“I bet you worked up quite an appetite during the play,” Morrison said, gazing down at her. “You must be starving. Do you want to eat at one of the nearby soul food restaurants?”
“No, actually, I’m still full from dinner, but I’d love a cocktail.”
“Then we’ll go to the Cove. They make the best martinis in the city.”
Spotting the limo across the street, Karma said, “Let’s walk. It’s a beautiful night, and we’ve eaten so much junk food today we could use the exercise.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m in tip-top shape,” Morrison bragged, flexing his arm muscles.
That you are, Karma thought, remembering how he’d picked her up and carried her into the master bedroom last night. Just thinking about your rock-hard body is making me wet!
“Are you sure you don’t want to use the limo? The lounge is several miles from here.”
Unable to resist teasing him, Karma poked a finger at his broad chest. “What’s wrong, Mr. Tip-Top Shape? Don’t think you can hang?”
“Oh, I can hang,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “You of all people should know that. You had no complaints in the bedroom, and if my memory serves me correctly you’re the one who requested a break after our quickie, not me.”
His words, and the devilish grin on his face, caused goose bumps to ripple across her skin. No one had ever gone all out for her birthday, or fulfilled her every desire in the bedroom. Karma knew it was impossible to fall in love with someone in twenty-four hours, but her feelings for Morrison were so strong they scared her.
“Is the Hamptons home for you? Are you planning to be there long-term?”
Karma took a moment to consider his question. “I don’t know. My dream is to open salons all across the country, so there’s no telling where I’ll end up. What about you? Would you like to settle down and raise a family in your hometown?”
“That depends on whether or not you’re applying for the position of Mrs. Morrison Drake,” he teased, squeezing her arm. “I like the sound of Karma Drake, don’t you?”
He laughed, and Karma did too, though for some reason the thought of being his wife excited her, caused her heart to dance inside her chest. They joked around with each other, talked nonstop, and Karma could open up to him in ways she couldn’t with past boyfriends. This was only their first date, but she was ready to delete her online dating profiles.
“The Hamptons will always be home,” Morrison continued. “But if I’m appointed to the Supreme Court in the near future I’ll have to relocate to Washington, and I’m okay with that.”
“The Supreme Court, huh? You have some pretty lofty goals,” she said, raising her eyebrows for effect. “Is there a lot of competition? What is the process like?”
“Long, arduous and stressful, but I’m determined to achieve my goal, and nothing is going to stop me from being appointed to the highest court in the nation.”
“I don’t know much about the Supreme Court,” Karma confessed with a sheepish smile. “I’m more of a Food Network girl than a CNN girl, and to be honest politics bore me.”
“I’m obsessed with the news, and I can’t go to bed without watching my boy Wolf Blitzer,” Morrison joked. “The first time I saw my dad in his robe, I knew I wanted to follow in his footsteps, and in law school I gained a deep respect for the justice system. It fascinates me, and every day I learn something new...”
Strolling through Harlem, soaking up the energy and ambience of the community, they peered inside shop windows, perused an African American art gallery hosting a poetry reading and stopped at the intersection to watch a group of female break-dancers. Karma remembered the last time she’d been to the area with Jazz, and sighed inwardly. Jazz had texted her that morning with a birthday message, but Karma hadn’t responded yet. Was still hurt that her best friend had ditched her for a guy. She was having fun with Morrison, and would never forget their romantic night at her favorite luxury hotel, but she was disappointed in Jazz.
Stylish and sophisticated, with outdoor seating, sultry lights and soft music, Cove Lounge catered to an over-thirty crowd. Finding a table inside, they placed their drink order with the middle-aged waiter, and perused the one-page menu. “This place reminds me of The Palm East Hampton,” she said, admiring the tasteful decor. “Every Monday night, I attend Networking After Dark at the restaurant bar, and end up meeting locals, chatting with other professionals and eating more than a woman pregnant with twins. I love it, but my waistline doesn’t!”
Morrison raised an eyebrow. “Networking After Dark? Never heard of it.”
“You need to get out more. All work and no play makes Morrison a dull boy,” Karma teased, in a singsong voice. “Networking After Dark is an opportunity for small business owners and professionals to connect, and the relationships I’ve formed over the past year have led to increased profits for Beauty by Karma and more recognition in the community.”
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Her cell phone lit up, and she glanced at the screen. Not wanting any distractions, she’d put her cell on silent that morning, but Karma couldn’t resist checking it from time to time, and smiled when she saw her newest social media notification. Picking up her cell, she showed it to Morrison. “Your niece should be a model. She looks incredible in this picture.”
Peering at the screen, Morrison gripped the iPhone in his hands. “She got a tattoo! I never gave her permission to get one. Is she out of her mind? What was she thinking?”
Surprised by his outburst, Karma pried her cell from his hands, and leaned back in her chair. Curious to see why Morrison was upset, she scrutinized the picture Reagan had posted on her social media page. “She has a tiny, floral design on the inside of her wrist that you have to squint to see. I think it’s simple, feminine and cute.”
“And I think it’s stupid.”
“Morrison, relax, Reagan’s a good girl. You have nothing to worry about.”
A waitress arrived with their drinks, and Karma tasted her watermelon martini. It was strong, but sweet, just the way she liked it. Sipping her drink, she noticed Morrison’s stiff posture and touched his hand. It was cold, like the expression on his face, but Karma knew what to say to turn his frown into a smile.
“When Reagan came by the salon on Friday afternoon, she mentioned there’s a good chance she’ll be named valedictorian of her graduating class. You must be so proud of her.”
“What was she doing at the salon?” he asked, leaning forward in his chair, his eyes so dark they looked black, not brown. “Reagan was supposed to be with her study group.”
“She stopped by to show me her grad pictures. Is that a problem?”
Annoyed, Karma struggled to control her temper.
“You don’t have children, so you have no idea what it’s like to be a parent.”
“That’s the problem. Reagan isn’t a child anymore. She’s an intelligent young woman, with her own thoughts and opinions, and the more you try to control her the more she’ll rebel.”
“In my experience, kids need a firm, hard hand or they’ll run wild,” he said, in a stern, authoritative voice. “I don’t want my niece to lose sight of her goals, and no offense, Karma, but they don’t involve doing hair and makeup for the rest of her life.”
Offended by his remarks, Karma stared him down. “You’re right, I don’t have children, but I’ve been around kids my whole life, and—”
“In what capacity? Babysitting for a few hours a week?”
“No, I’ve been a mentor for the Boys and Girls Club for over a decade.”
“Volunteering is admirable, but it doesn’t compare with parenting on a daily basis. I’ve been Reagan’s legal guardian since she was seven years old, and she means the world to me.”
His expression softened, and sadness flickered in his eyes.
“What was your sister like?” Karma asked, moved by his words about his niece. An only child, she’d always envied people with siblings, and wished she had brothers and sisters to love.
“Emmanuelle was mischievous, strong-willed and passionate about life, and I want to honor her memory by ensuring Reagan fulfills her dreams of becoming a human rights attorney. I appreciate your concern, Karma, but I know what’s best for Reagan, not you.”
“I never said I did. I’m simply giving you some friendly advice.”
“I don’t need it,” he snapped. “I know what I’m doing.”
“If you knew what you were doing, Reagan wouldn’t feel the need to lie to you.”
Karma didn’t realize the thought had escaped her mouth until Morrison scoffed.
“You don’t understand.”
“No, you don’t understand,” she snapped back, determined to speak her mind. He was a good man who’d stepped up to take care of his niece after his sister’s death, but that didn’t mean Morrison was right about everything—he wasn’t.
Karma exhaled. Had she made a mistake hooking up with him? Morrison was an outstanding lover, with exquisite skills in the bedroom, but he was the most stubborn, hardheaded man she’d ever met, and his superior, know-it-all attitude grated on her nerves. “You have to give Reagan the room to grow, to learn from her mistakes, or she’ll never become a strong, independent woman capable of standing on her own two feet.”
“I disagree, and since we’re discussing my niece, I want you to revise her schedule. Reagan can work two four-hour shifts a week, and that’s it. If it were up to me she wouldn’t be working at your salon at all, but I’m willing to compromise.”
“Have you talked to Reagan about this?”
“Yes, but she won’t listen to me. That’s why I’m speaking to you privately.”
Karma shook her head. “No. I won’t do that to her. She’s an incredible talent, and if I cut her hours she’ll be upset, and I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“I thought we were having a good time together. I thought we were friends.”
“We are, but Reagan’s important to me, and I won’t betray her trust.”
“You have to fire her, then. If you don’t, it could jeopardize her future.”
A lightbulb went off in her head. “Is that why you offered to spend my birthday with me? Because you thought you could convince me to do what you want?”
“I’m here because you’re a vivacious, captivating woman.”
“No,” she argued, mad at herself for falling for his good-guy act at the wedding reception. “You’re here because you think you can use sex to control me.”
“If that was true we’d still be in my suite making love. You were the one who wanted to go out, not me. I was perfectly content holding you in my arms.”
Silence fell across their cozy, corner table. The waiter returned, and to Karma’s surprise Morrison asked for the check. Their argument had put a damper on her good mood, made her rethink inviting him back to her place when they returned to the Hamptons at the end of the night. He wouldn’t look at her, didn’t speak.
Not wanting to end the date on a sour note, she said, “Morrison, I can’t thank you enough for today. I’ve had a lot of great birthdays, but this ranks as the all-time best, and I’m deeply grateful.”
“You’re welcome. It was my pleasure,” he replied with a curt nod, but his body language said, “Whatever.” Morrison was mad at her, angry because she’d disagreed with him, and it was a turnoff. His narrow-mindedness annoyed her, and even though they were in perfect sync in the bedroom, it was obvious they’d never make it as a couple.
Exiting the lounge minutes later, Karma sensed Morrison’s frustration, and decided this would be their first and last date. They’d had a remarkable night together, but that’s all it was—one magical night. And, if she’d learned anything from the death of her mother, it was to know when to walk away, and that’s exactly what Karma was going to do: forget Morrison, and move on.
Chapter 9
“You Honor... Your Honor...are you okay?” Vicente Torres asked in a hushed tone of voice.
Morrison blinked, realized everyone inside Courtroom 6 at the East Hampton Justice Court was staring at him, and wondered how long he’d been sitting behind his desk, fantasizing about Karma. Reliving their explosive night together in his Four Seasons hotel suite three days earlier. They hadn’t spoken since he’d dropped her off at her condominium on Sunday night. Their goodbyes had been awkward, as if they were strangers who didn’t like each other, but they did. They’d hit it off during their date, made an instant connection. She’d opened up to him about her family, her career goals, the teenage girls she mentored and even her past relationships. He’d done the same. And, even though they’d argued at Cove Lounge, Morrison still desired her. Wanted to see her. Longed to talk to her, to kiss her, to make love—
“Your Honor, you have one more case on the docket before lunch. Do you think you can h
andle it, or should we adjourn for the day?”
Morrison broke free of his thoughts. He had to get his head in the game. Couldn’t risk daydreaming again. His silver-haired bailiff, Vicente, was standing to his left with a concerned expression on his slim face, and Morrison nodded to let the ex-cop know everything was kosher. Morrison didn’t know what had gotten into him. He couldn’t believe he’d lost his focus in court. Law was his passion, what excited him, and he prided himself on being professional at all times. Sure, he’d had some drinks with dinner last night, but it wasn’t enough to get him drunk. He felt out of it, like an addict desperate for his next fix, and Karma was his drug. His weakness. The only woman he wanted. Craved. Needed in his bed.
To regain control, Morrison drank the ice-cold water in his glass. It had been a busy morning. For the past three hours, he’d been presiding over cases concerning legal disputes and traffic offenses, but at noon he’d break for lunch and enjoy some downtime in his chambers. In the afternoon, he’d read documents on pleadings and motions, research legal issues, write judgments and review upcoming cases.
Straightening in his chair, Morrison called the next name on the alphabetized list.
“I’m Mrs. Syà Nguyen,” a woman said, rising to her feet and exiting the gallery.
Contrary to what tourists thought, everyone in the Hamptons wasn’t a millionaire, and it was obvious the woman of Asian descent, with the stringy brown hair, shuffling down the aisle, was lower income. Her head was bent, and she was twisting the gold, wedding band on her left hand. “How do you plea, Mrs. Nguyen?”
“Guilty...not guilty...oh, I don’t know.”
Confused by her plea, Morrison consulted the documents in front of him. “You were clocked going sixty miles per hour on Montauk Highway on February 3. That’s twenty-five miles over the speed limit. Why were you speeding?”
“I wasn’t paying attention... I was upset... I wasn’t thinking clearly...”
Her voice was so low Morrison had to strain to hear her. “Why were you upset?”