A Private Affair (18 page)

Makin' Moves

N
ikita and Parris, worn out from hours of window and real shopping, walked down Fifth Avenue, sidestepping the steady flow of human traffic on the famous New York avenue, juggling their packages and keeping their balance.

They bypassed St. Patrick's Cathedral and headed for Rockefeller Center to the outdoor café, catching the last vestiges of the warm fall afternoon.

“You haven't said a word about your mother or your father,” Nikita said, shifting her packages. “How are they?”

Parris adjusted her brown Italian-leather duffel bag on her left shoulder. “They're both fine.” Parris exhaled. “I think Emma is happy. Michael has finally forgiven her for lying to him for twenty-odd years. I think they've made peace with each other.”

“What about you, Parris? Have you made peace with them?”

“As much as I can, I suppose.”

The waitress showed them to a table. They settled themselves in their seats.

“It takes a lot of getting over to discover that your near-white
mother told your Italian father that you'd died at birth, because you couldn't pass for a white baby.”

“Your mother was young and made some wrong choices, Parris. But she paid for those choices—dearly—and you know that.”

“I know,” she said. “And I know that sometimes circumstances force people into making decisions that they regret. And what about you? Have you made a decision that you'll regret?”

“What, by moving in with Quinn?”

“Yes.” She looked at her hard. Nikita was the first to look away.

Nikita took a long breath, played with her water glass, then took a sip. She looked across at Parris's patient stare.

“I've thought about it. Long and hard. The more I'm with him, the more I want to be with him. He gives me something I need, and I think I do the same for him. I spend all of my time over there, anyway.”

“That's not a reason to move in with him, Nikita. You've only known each other for a few months.”

“I know that. It's just that…I've never felt like this before…about anyone.”

Parris smiled. “And who knows that better than me? I've seen you run circles around men. And the only one who ever came close to locking you down was Grant. And we see now what happened to that relationship. It's just that I want you to be sure. Quinn is handsome, charming, talented, and has a quiet danger about him that's irresistible. Just be with him for the right reasons, Nik. Not because you think you can reform him.”

“You of all people should know how I feel, Parris. Nick wasn't much different from Quinn, not that many years ago.”

“Exactly. But I also went into my relationship with Nick knowing who he was, what he was about. I had no delusions about steering him onto any course but the one he'd chosen before we met. Nik, when two people change to please the other, no one winds up happy. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Parris. Happier than I've ever been.” How could she tell her that she felt this was the only way to keep Quinn? That she felt threatened by his other life, which he wouldn't talk with her about? That she felt she could never compete with the
mystique of the street that was more potent than the scent of any woman? That if she was there, with him every day, she could find a way to help him see that there was so much more out there that he could be a part of? All Quinn needed was someone in his corner. That wasn't reform. That was love.

“Then I'm with you one hundred percent. When's the big move, and what do Mom and Pop Harrell have to say?”

 

“She's moving in?” Maxine chewed her gum a little faster. “You're kiddin', right?” Any minute he was gonna tell her he was joking. If they hadn't been sitting in Sean Michaels's waiting room, she would have simply screamed.

“Naw. This weekend.”

She felt her stomach dip and rise like a ride on a roller coaster. “It's like that, huh? 'Bout time somebody locked you down.” She forced herself to smile. She chewed a little faster.

Quinn chuckled. “Never thought it'd be me.”

“Yeah. Who you tellin'?” She swallowed, but her throat was so dry she almost choked. How in the hell did that happen? Quinn Parker had never been with one woman more than a few weeks at a stretch. Never had the time or the inclination, he'd always said. And as long as she'd known him, no woman had ever spent more than a night with him, if that long. Now here comes Ms. Goody Two-shoes with her white-girl ways and upstate education, and the man done flipped the script.
What in the world did she whip on him?

“Hey, if it makes you happy, go for it.”

“No doubt.”

“Need any help with anything?”

“Naw. Most of her stuff is already at my crib, since she's been stayin' there most of the time.”

Her stomach took another nosedive. “Oh.”

He wasn't sure why he'd told Max. Except that when he looked around at his life, the one true friend he had was Maxine. Yeah, he could kick it with Remy, even Nick, but he could never explain how he was feeling, especially about Nikita. Remy would just say something about how her stuff would be easier
to get, and Nick, well…he was Nikita's best friend's husband. He didn't want all his business spread during pillow talk.

Truth was, he was scared as all hell. This wasn't just taking their relationship to the next step; it was a leap. He wanted to talk it over with Max, but she seemed to have closed up on him, as if she wasn't really interested. That wasn't like Maxine. She'd always been one of his noisiest cheerleaders whenever any major change happened in his life. It was in moments like this that Lacy would have just the right thing to say, whether he wanted to hear it or not.

He snatched a glance at her smooth, dark brown profile, and those jaws were working that gum. But she was just staring straight ahead, as if she were in the room all by herself.

“What's happenin' with Dre?”

“Huh? Oh, he's good. We've been spending a lot of time together. He's been helping me get my business set up. I just found a guy to do a Web page for me on the Internet to announce my services. I hope it'll be up and running in a couple of weeks. Then it's just wait and see.”

“It'll work.”

“That's what I've been telling myself.” She finally turned and looked at him. “How about you—I mean, besides this moving-in thing with Nikita?”

“I…started writing again.”

“You have?”

Her exclamation drew the attention of the receptionist, who quickly reverted her attention back to her files.

“Yeah. A little. Just foolin' around.” He hadn't shown any of his work to Nikita. There was just something stopping him. Nikita was taking courses at NYU. She'd studied in Europe, gone to boarding school. All he had was a twelfth-grade education. She was pretty much running that magazine by herself. Naw. He couldn't tell her. At least not yet.

“That's great, Q. I know it was hard.”

“At first. Then once I got started, it got easier.”

“Quinn, Maxine,” Sean said, stepping into the reception area. “As usual, sorry for the wait. Come on in.”

“I know it's been a while since we've talked,” he said, taking a seat and extending his hand to the two vacant ones for them to do the same. “And it's not because your case is on the back burner. Actually, I didn't want to contact you both until I had something concrete to talk about.”

Quinn unfolded his arms and sat up a bit straighter in his seat. It had been nearly six weeks since that first meeting, and they hadn't heard one word from this dude. He was beginning to think the “best-dressed brother” was just B.S.-ing them.

Sean folded his hands in front of him just as there was a light knock on the door. Everyone's gaze swung in that direction.

Quinn took a quick inventory. She was the woman in all of the photographs with Sean. She looked a hell of a lot better in person. Reminded him of somebody…couldn't figure out who.

Maxine turned back around. Humph. That suit was slamming.
Wonder where she shops. Man, she looks just like…um, Sheryl Lee Ralph from the TV show
Moesha.

“Sorry, folks. I'm Khendra Phillips.”

“My wife and business partner. Khendra's been behind the push for an investigation.”

Khendra took a seat to the right of her husband, crossed her long legs and flipped open a zippered leather folder. She started talking in a “this is important” voice.

She looked directly at Quinn. “I've requested the autopsy report on your sister, Mr. Parker.” She was slightly startled to realize just how much he and his sister looked alike. Losing a family member under any circumstances was always devastating, she thought, but to lose a twin…She'd read some of the studies scientists had done on twins, and death between twins was invariably life altering. It was truly like losing a part of oneself, they said. Some twins reported never feeling whole again—almost like those who have lost a limb, but still have the sensation. She took a breath. “It appears that they've lost the report.”

Quinn was out of his seat as if hit with a stun gun. “What?”

“Quinn,” Maxine whispered, grabbing his arm.

He snatched it away and leaned forward, bracing himself on
his palms against the desktop. “What're you sayin'? That the rumors are true, they are tryin' to cover their asses?”

“To put it mildly—yes,” Sean responded. “I wanted you both here so that we could talk with you face-to-face.” He turned to his wife. “Khendra…”

“I've made an appointment to meet with the district attorney early next week. We're going to demand a full investigation of everything associated with the shooting.”

Quinn spun away and began cutting a trail in the carpet. “What do you think you're gonna find out? Do you really think they're gonna let you get to the bottom of it? Hell, no!”

“Mr. Parker, we have no illusion that there is going to be anything easy about this case. Nothing,” Khendra said. “It's obvious that they'd prefer we just shut up and go away.”

“It's not going to happen,” Sean added. “I know that you want this resolved. So do we. You've got to believe that we're going to do everything in our power to make sure that justice is served.”

Quinn took a long breath. Looked from one to the other. “Do whatever you have to do. No matter how long it takes, no matter how much it costs. Just do it.” He turned to leave. “You need me, you know how to reach me.”

He stalked out, leaving the door standing open.

Maxine stood. “Thank you…both. We appreciate everything you're doing. Quinn's just upset.”

Sean stood, also. “No apologies are needed, Ms. Sherman. We'll keep you both posted.”

“Thanks. Nice meeting you,” she said to Khendra and hurried out of the office.

Quinn was sitting behind the wheel of his BMW, music blasting.

Maxine got in the car, took one look at his stiff profile and knew this was not the time to talk. Not that he could hear anything she had to say over the blare of the music, anyway.

In no time he pulled up in front of her building.

She turned to look at him. “You cool?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, good luck with the move…and everything.”

“Yeah.”

She opened the door. “It's gonna work out, Q.”

For the first time since they'd gotten in the car he looked at her, his eyes filled with a pain she knew she'd never understand. The anguish in his voice tore at her heart.

“When?”

 

If looks could kill, he would certainly be laid to rest. The daggers that Nikita's parents threw at him when he came to help her with her things felt real. It wasn't anything they said—because they didn't say a word—but the blatant disgust for him was obvious in their every move.

Quinn picked up a bag.
Hey, they'll get over it,
he decided.
Nikita is a big girl and can make her own decisions.
But briefly, while moving some of the boxes into the house, he wondered what it felt like to have parents who cared enough about you to get pissed off when you did something. Humph, he'd never know.

“That's it,” Nikita puffed, dropping the last box on the living-room floor.

They looked at each other and the dozen or so boxes and bags that surrounded them, and fully realized what they were embarking on. There would be no more getting up and going home for her. Privacy, a thing that he relished, would be cut back. All the little annoying habits that they'd hidden from each other would be right there in their faces. Every day.

They got scared, and both started talking at once.

“You can, uh—”