A Private Affair (11 page)

“Everything okay?” she asked, her curiosity itching like a mosquito bite.

“Yeah, yeah.” He turned his head toward her and smiled. “No problem. What's happening with your business loan? Hear anything?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.

“No. Not yet. I probably won't hear anything for a couple of weeks.”

“I know that waiting can be a killer.” He patted her thigh. “You'll get it. Don't even worry about it.”

She smiled. “It's just hard to believe that I'm even at this point in my life.”
Damn, a businesswoman. Who would have thought it?

“Why. You don't think you deserve it?”

“No. Nothing like that.” She took a breath. “I mean, I just barely made it out of high school with my life. I was runnin' with a gang, fightin', cuttin' classes.” She shook her head. “I thought I was all that. Tough girl, didn't take no mess. We were the fly girls that all the guys wanted. It was my girl, I mean my friend, Lacy—the one I told you about—who really pulled my coat. There was a plan to break into the school and steal some of the computers. When Lacy heard about it, she convinced me not to go. She really got me to see that there was more to life than what was right in front of me, but I had to want it.”

Her throat tightened as an image of Lacy's nut brown face and smiling eyes filled her vision. She blinked away the burn in her eyes and swallowed. “She said, ‘Girl, we been friends since kindergarten. You're like a sister to me. You go out and get yourself all messed up, then where's that gonna leave me? What am I gonna do for a sister? Who's Quinn gonna bug? Want more than just today, Max. The good Lord's been watchin' over your fool behind all these years. Don't make him think he's been wastin' his time.'”

Her mouth trembled at the edges as tears spilled down her cheeks. “She was like that, ya know.” She sniffled. “She always knew what to say, as if she really had some special vision, some insight into things.” She wiped her eyes.

“Shit,” she sputtered. “I just miss her so damned much. God was so busy watchin' over my sorry behind, he took his eyes off her.”

Dre checked traffic and pulled the car to a stop at the curb. He unfastened his seat belt and then hers. “Come here,” he said gently.

Max leaned her head on his chest, inhaling his Farenheit cologne. He stroked her hair, letting her get out the last of her tears.

“I'm sorry.” She sniffled, moving away, her head lowered. “Sometimes it just gets to me, ya know.”

“No sweat. She sounds like she was really a great person.”

“She was all that, and then some.” A smile wavered around her mouth. “Funny thing, I'm not sure if it was the words, or because she talked for so damned long,” she said with a shaky laugh. “By the time she'd finished, I knew those girls were long
gone. So I just stayed with Lacy. And the next day it was in the papers that the girls had been caught breaking into the school and were arrested.” She shook her head. “Turned me around.” She chuckled softly. “After that I even let her drag me to that church of hers every now and then. Lacy was always a firm believer in the power of prayer, the power of change. But she was never preachy, like some folks you run into, always talking about ‘Praise the Lord' and ‘Amen this' and ‘the good Lord that,' and five minutes later they're sleepin' with your man.”

Dre laughed. “Yeah, I've run into my share of holier-than-thou rollers.”

“That's why it's so important to me to make sure that right is done by her. My girl Val is gonna help. She recommended a black law firm that's down to take civil cases.”

“Didn't you mention that she had a brother? What about him?”

Quinn.
“I talked with him about it. We're gonna push it through.” She didn't want to dwell on Quinn. She took a breath, then brightened. “Hey, are we gonna sit here all night or what?” She dabbed under her eyes.

“Sure you're okay?”

“Absolutely.”

He checked his mirrors.
Rush hour.
Slowly he pulled the car into the snarled, narrow streets of lower Manhattan. The towering skyscrapers were casting long-fingered shadows along the pebbly gray concrete. Pedestrian traffic was just as heavy as the mélange of buses, trucks, cars and squawking yellow cabs.

He settled back and concentrated on maneuvering toward the FDR Drive. He'd wanted to tell her what happened at work today, hoping that maybe she could give him some leads. But the last thing she needed to hear tonight was a sad story about him losing his job. He'd have to be real careful with his finances until he found something. He could probably live off of his savings for about two months before his stuff started getting raggedy. What happened to him at the job was foul. He knew he was set up, but he couldn't prove it.

He gave Maxine a quick look. With all she had going for her, where would their relationship be if he remained unemployed?
Damn, Maxine was the best thing to happen to him since before he left Philly. He didn't want to blow it.

 

They stood in front of Maxine's apartment. Dre took the key and opened the door. They faced each other.

“I had a great time, Dre. Thanks for the movie and dinner. Just what I needed.”

“You deserve the best, Maxie. I wanna be that for you. If you give me a chance.”

“Let's just take it a day at a time,” she said as gently as she could. “I got a lot going on in my life, Dre. I don't know if I'm ready to handle more than that right now.”

Slowly he nodded his head. “Do I have competition?” He grinned.

Maxine heard the underlying tone of disappointment lacing his lighthearted words. “No. Nothing like that.” She reached for his hand. “Everything's cool. Call you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure. Uh, just beep me.” He didn't want her to call his former place of employment before he had a chance to tell her himself.

“I will.” She leaned forward and placed a long, slow kiss on his lips. “Night, Dre.”

“Night, Max.” He turned and left.

 

Dre was really a nice guy. She put her keys in her bag. He was good-looking for sure, paid her plenty of attention and was ready for a committed relationship. So what was the problem?

The old wooden door creaked on its hinges as she pushed it closed. She flipped on the light, bathing the narrow hall in soft yellow. She dropped her purse on the hall table, kicked off her shoes and walked the length of the railroad-style apartment to her bedroom on the right.

As she switched on the bedside lamp, the first thing that caught her attention was the flashing light of her answering machine.

She unbuttoned her suit jacket and slipped out of her skirt, hanging both in the small closet. Off came the cream-colored blouse and half slip.

Dre deserved a chance and so did she. She knew she'd been half stepping with him. And starting tomorrow, things were going to change. She was putting her life in full gear. No more looking over her shoulder. Press on, my sistah.

She unhooked her black push-up bra, took off her sheer black hose and black panties. Fully disrobed, she sat on the edge of her bed and pressed the play button to listen to her messages. She took her silk paisley robe from the foot of the platform bed and slipped it on while she listened to Val reminding her that tomorrow was gym night. There was a message from Mr. Hines, her landlord, lying about the paint job he'd promised and telling her not to forget her rent.
Like he forgot the paint job? Ha.
Then Quinn's deep, pulsing voice filled the room.

“Yeah, Max. It's me, just checkin' on what you found out from Val.” Maxine closed her eyes. “I'll be in and out, so just beep me and I'll get with you. Yeah…I start that gig next week.”

She popped up from her bed, beaming.
You go, Q. I knew you would do right.

There was a pause. “Thanks, Maxie. Later.”

Her heart beat just a little faster. She spun around ready to beep him and tell him about her talk with Val and share her congratulations. She punched in the numbers. Then, halfway through punching in hers for the return call, she stopped.

She returned the black cordless phone to the base.
Whatsup with you, girl. It's damn near midnight and you're salivating to call that man.

She took a deep breath and relaxed. Q could wait till the a.m. She smiled and decided to take a nice hot shower. She touched her fingers to her lips. The sensation of Dre's kiss still lingered.
Yeah.

Tellin' Tales

“W
hat do you mean, you spent the night at his house and nothing happened?” Parris squealed into the phone.

Nikita grinned. “Just what I said. Nothing happened.”

“Is he gay?”

“W—hat?” she sputtered, then burst out laughing. “No!”

“You sure about that, girl?”

“Yes, I'm sure. Trust me. He's all male and then some, with enough to go around.”

“Humph. I thought chivalry was cremated.”

“Parris, you are too crazy.” Nikita laughed, pushing her chair away from her desk.

She and Quinn had been seeing or talking to each other practically every day for the past week. She couldn't seem to get enough of him. She thought of him constantly, wanted to be in his company every chance she got.

When she was with Quinn, she didn't feel that she always had to meet some expectation, as she had with the other men she'd dated. She knew she was nothing like the other women in his life, and for that very reason she felt special. She'd never felt special
before. For once, she didn't feel that she was in competition with the man in her life.

“So what do Mom and Pop think about Mr. Parker?”

“They haven't stopped lecturing me yet about staying out all night without calling. I think it'll be a while before I bring him home to dinner.”

“I hear you.” Knowing Cynthia and Lawrence Harrell, Parris couldn't imagine that they'd ever accept Quinn, even at lunch. He was straight out of their worst nightmare, and she wondered if that was Nikita's real reason for her interest in Quinn, the fact that she knew her parents would hate him on sight. Well, she'd always prided herself on her “wait and see” approach, her ability to withhold judgment until all the facts were presented. So, for the time being, she'd keep her mouth shut. “Where did you tell them you were?”

“At your apartment. I said I was too tired to drive home.”

“Your folks sure didn't pay all that money educating a fool.” She chuckled. “How's the job going?”

“Wonderfully. Lillian loved the article. It's going to run in the next issue.”

“Great. You didn't tell any lies about me, did you?”

“Of course I did. That's what makes the story interesting,” she joked.

“Girl, pleeze, don't make me jump on the next plane to New York.”

Nikita giggled. “Believe me, your honor and all your little secrets are intact.”

“I'll be back early next week. Then we can really talk. Nick told me that Quinn called him and he's going to start playing this Friday night.”

“Yes. I'm so excited. He's trying to act cool, but I know he's nervous. He's been rehearsing with the band all week.”

“Nikita, what does Quinn do—exactly?”

“He works with a guy in the evenings, helping him to run his clubs.”

“Hmmm. So he's a manager or something?”

“Yes. He's a manager,” she said, thankful for an answer and
wanting to change the subject. As much as she and Quinn were getting to know each other, there were areas of his life that he didn't discuss. What he did for Remy was one of them.

“Who are you going to profile for the next issue?”

“I'm not sure yet, but I have to figure something out, and quick. I don't want this career to be a flash in the pan.”

“Give Nick a call. I'm sure he can hook you up with someone.”

“That's an idea. I'll probably see him Friday at the club, anyway. I'll try to talk with him then.”

“At least he can point you in the right direction.”

“Speaking of which, I'd better get the rest of this work done before I leave today. I've been falling behind lately.”

“That doesn't sound like you, Niki.”

She sighed. “I've just been trying to take some of the pressure off. Ease back a little.”

Parris frowned. “I've never known you not to try to reach for the moon with everything you did. Deadlines were never a problem before.”

“They're not a problem now.”

“Uh, unh. Hey, do your thing, Niki.”

“Whatever that thing may be,” they said in unison.

“Okay, I'm off, sister-friend. See you next week.”

“Can't wait. Have a great show and a safe flight.”

“Thanks. Talk to ya.”

Nikita hung up the phone and leaned back in her seat. There was so much she wanted to tell Parris, questions that ran around in her head, feelings that she was trying to sort out, happiness that she wanted to share. But something held her back. There were still so many shadows and unanswered questions surrounding Quinn. There seemed to be a part of him that was sealed shut.

She sighed. It was still early in the relationship. She hoped that over time he'd open up. In the meantime, she had work to do.

 

She'd just finished reviewing and keying in two articles: one on childbirth after forty and the other about a new wave of sexually transmitted diseases among women twenty-five to thirty-five. That article gave her food for thought. She hoped that when the time
came, and she felt sure it would, that Quinn wasn't the kind of man who balked at using a condom. There was no debating that point, and he'd better be very clear about it.

She hit the save key with a definitive pop.

There, finally done.
She checked the rectangular wall clock. Four-thirty. Switching off the computer and activating the answering machine, she turned off the lights and locked up.

Going home wasn't at the top of her list of things to do, but she had no other plans for the evening and no journalism classes. She hadn't heard from Quinn all day, and she'd promised herself she wasn't going to become one of those women who were always beeping “their man” and sitting by the phone waiting for return calls. And neither was she going to leave “where are you?” messages on his machine.

Nikita stepped out into the humid early-evening air and across the street to her car. Her bare arms were quickly covered in dampness, and she thanked good sense that she'd given up on perms. She turned up the air conditioner and popped an Anita Baker cassette into the deck. Anita's throaty alto told her man that she was giving the best she had to give.

She could do the same for Quinn, if he'd let her. Over the years the only times she'd extended herself were in school. Her personal and social life were almost peripheral—not her focus. She endured the chitchat from the women she'd known—except for Parris and Jewel—the damp, passionless kisses and less than earth-shattering sex from the few men she'd known. But she craved more, needed more. She felt sure that she was the main ingredient missing from Quinn's life. She could be the stabilizing force that he needed. Everyone needed some stability and structure, a plan for the future. She could help him with all that. And he could be that missing puzzle piece of her life, finally fitting into that undefined space.

 

Amy was the only one there when she finally arrived home. The mouthwatering aroma of roasting chicken greeted her as soon as she walked in the door. She'd always felt guilty that Amy was more a mother to her than her own. She never could under
stand her mother's detachment from her, her inability to really listen or show an interest in the things that bothered her. “Your mother's just busy with that job of hers,” Amy would always say. “Of course she loves you, Niki. And so does your daddy.”

Lawrence Harrell was an entirely different enigma. The only times he ever seemed to show any emotion toward her were at report card times, when she won awards, or when evaluations came in and she remained at the top of her classes. At those times her mother seemed to withdraw even further, barely commenting, or only saying, “That's what we expect.”

“You're home early today, Niki. No classes?” Amy asked as she hustled around the kitchen with the final preparations for dinner.

“No. No classes tonight. So I thought I'd just come straight home.” She sat on a bar stool at the kitchen counter.

Amy peeked over her shoulder from basting the chicken, catching the forlorn look on Nikita's face. She closed the oven door. “What's wrong, chile? Look like you lost something.” She began kneading the dough for the apple pie crust.

Nikita forced a half smile. “Oh…I don't know, Amy. I just think coming back home was a bad idea.” She picked a green seedless grape from the bunch that rested in a ceramic fruit bowl on the island counter and popped it into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully.

“You saying you think you should have stayed in school?”

“No. Definitely not.” She picked up another grape. “I just should have planned better so that I wouldn't have to stay here. They don't want me here.”

Amy stopped kneading. “Now you listen here. Of course they want you. They's just disappointed that you dropped out of school like that, no warnin', no nothin'. That's all.”

“That's not all, Amy, and you know it.” Nikita looked deep into the soft brown eyes of her mother-friend. “They've never wanted me around. They were always shipping me off somewhere—to camp, this lesson, that lesson, boarding school, the student exchange program. I thought Mom would have a heart attack when I decided to stay in the country and attend Cornell. The only time they pay me any attention is when I screw up.”

Amy sat down on a stool on the opposite side of the peach Formica counter. “Chile, your parents have only wanted the best for you, give you opportunities they never had. I know they may seem difficult and stiff in the ways of thinkin' and doin' things, but they always had your best interests at heart. Even now. Might not seem so, but they do.”

“But sometimes, Amy, giving a person
things
is not what they need. I can't remember a time when they ever asked me what
I
wanted. It's always been what they wanted for me. All I ever wanted was their love.”

“Everyone has a different way of showing love, Niki. It's easier for some than for others. Some folks show their love the only way they can—by doing things for ya, giving ya things, like that. Other people express their love in words and open affection. Doesn't make it that one loves ya more than another.”

Nikita let the words settle over her for a moment.

“Maybe,” was all she could say.

 

Quinn unlocked the door to his apartment just as the phone rang. Maybe it was Nikita. He'd been running all day and hadn't gotten around to calling her.

He picked up the phone expecting to hear her voice, but was equally pleased with the one he heard.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Q. It's Max.”

“Hey, babe. How's it goin'?”

“It's all good. How 'bout you?”

“Cool. Whatsup?” He walked with the cordless phone into the kitchen and took a beer from the fridge.

“Just wanted you to know that I spoke with Val.”

He clenched his jaw. “What she say?”

Max ran it down for him and gave him the number of the law firm.

“I'll go with you when you're ready, Q.”

“I can handle it.”

“That ain't the point. I want to go.”

He pushed out a breath through his nose and took a big gulp
of the ice-cold beer. “Yeah, awright. I'll call 'em tomorrow and see what they got to say.”

“Just let me know.”

“Yeah, I will. How's the job hunt goin'?”

“I'm going to check out a travel agency tomorrow. See what happens.”

“Good luck and all that.”

“Thanks. Oh, yeah, congrats on the gig. You're playin' Friday night, huh?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Don't get all hyped, now.”

“Listen to you. I know you just cheesin' it up on the other end of this line, my brother.”

He had to laugh. “You comin', or what?”

“Would I miss your debut? Hell, yeah, I'll be there.” She took a quick breath. “Your friend whatshername comin'?”

“Who? Nikita?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess. Why?”

“Nothin'. Just askin'. What time is this shindig?”

“'Round midnight.”

“I'll be there.”

“I'll get the owner to reserve a table for you up front.”

“Ooh, chile, talkin' like a star already.” She chuckled.

Quinn just laughed and shook his head. “Just don't be hootin' and hollerin'.”

“Hey, listen, this around the way girl knows how to act in public.”

“Yeah, it's behind closed doors that a brother has to watch out.”

“Now you'll never know, will ya? Later, Q. See ya Friday.”