Moments of Clarity

Moments of Clarity

Michele Cameron

Genesis Press, Inc.

Indigo

An imprint of Genesis Press, Inc.

Publishing Company

Genesis Press, Inc.

P.O. Box 101

Columbus, MS 39703

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, not known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of the publisher, Genesis Press, Inc. For information write Genesis Press, Inc., P.O. Box 101, Columbus, MS 39703.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.

Copyright© 2008 Michele Cameron

ISBN-13: 978-1-58571-584-8

ISBN-10: 1-58571-584-0

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition

Visit us at www.genesis-press.com or call at 1-888-Indigo-1-4-0

Dedication

I dedicate this novel to my sister, Sherrie,

because she is truly my best friend.

Acknowledgments

I would like to acknowledge my deep gratitude to my executive editor, Deborah Johnson Schumaker, Sidney Rickman, my line editor, and of course Brian Jones, Valerie Dodson and Diane Blair of Genesis Press.

Chapter 1

Just before dawn, Sasha opened her eyes. The incessant sound of the running toilet from the adjoining bathroom had awakened her. Groaning inwardly, she turned over and buried her face into her pillow in an effort to block out the noise. Then she peered at the still body lying next to her.

In the light that made its way through the slats of a broken blind, Abdul stirred restlessly. Fascinated, her eyes followed the sweat trickling to his navel. She studied the marvelous man. Abdul was one of the Greek heroes from the Trojan War movies come to life. The only significant difference was the color of his skin, which was a smooth cocoa brown. He had a chiseled face framed by sleek, wavy hair that fell to the base of his neck. The rise and fall of his chest had the solid rhythm of a talented drummer playing an African drum. A flattened stomach wet with moisture heightened her awareness of his sexuality before her eyes rested on his shaft. It lay limply to one side, spent from hours of lovemaking.

Suddenly Abdul opened his eyes and they connected with hers. Immediately aroused, he reached for her.

Sasha closed her eyes as he pulled her toward him.

Abdul kissed her softly on her neck, then moved his mouth down to her breasts. The lingering smell of the incense burned the night before reminded her of the pleasure they had shared. Sasha playfully slapped his wandering hands away from her body and whispered, “The toilet is running. Please go and jiggle the handle to make it stop.” Her voice always had a throaty sound to it, but the combination of Abdul's mouth and hands as they explored her from hip to breast made it sound even huskier.

“Ignore it,” Abdul ordered, attempting to turn Sasha over.

Resisting his movements she responded, “It's distracting.”

Abdul stiffened. He pinned her eyes with his. “You're breaking the mood. After all this time with me you still don't know when to be quiet?”

Sasha began to maneuver her body from under his, and dragging the bed sheet along with her, stood up.

Abdul lay back with his arm cradled under his head, looking up at her.

“Now I'm not in the mood.” She grabbed her overnight bag off the floor and began pulling clothes out of it. Quickly she donned a shirt and shorts.

“You're throwing a temper tantrum just because you didn't get your way,” Abdul said in a disgusted voice.

“I'm not throwing a temper tantrum. I'm just getting a little tired of you being so selfish,” she returned hotly.

“Selfish? Why are you calling me selfish? You're the one leaving because I didn't jump up and do what you told me to.”

“I'm leaving because this argument is so stupid!” Her voice was a few decibels higher.

Now Abdul sat up in bed. “Are you calling me stupid?”

His eyes were narrowed, and she knew from previous experience that this was not a good thing.

“No, I'm not calling you stupid,” she denied, “but all you had to do was go and stop the toilet from running. If you had, we wouldn't be having this fight right now.” Exasperation was evident on her face and in her voice.

“Why didn't you do it since it was bothering you so much?”

“Why should I?” she said slowly. “This is your place. Besides, it's always something. Either the toilet's running, or the faucet's leaking, or the sun awakens me early in the morning through those broken blinds after I worked a late shift at the hospital. You need to fix this place up or something.”

“You're too materialistic,” he replied with derision.

Sasha stood next to the bed, her hands on her hips, in a confrontational stance. “Is that so? You know, Abdul, I'm really tired of you acting like everyday conveniences don't mean anything to you. I didn't see you turning down that leather coat that I bought you last December,” she paused for effect, “and you say that you don't celebrate Christmas.”

Abdul chose to ignore that but said defiantly, “There's nothing wrong with this apartment, Sasha. Everyone hasn't been raised in the lap of luxury with doting parents that gave them everything they asked for.”

“I wasn't raised in the lap of luxury, or given everything that I asked for, either. But my parents did teach me that hard work and perseverance pay off in the end, and I'm very grateful that they did.” She tapped her chest with her index finger. “The problem is that you think it's cool to look poor.” Sasha's eyes were narrowed in anger because of the crack he'd made about her family. “Being poor never has been fashionable, and believe me, this,” she pointed at the raggedy furniture in the room, “is getting old.”

“So in other words my apartment isn't good enough for you.” Abdul continued to glare at her.

She pointed at the air conditioner in the window that had been broken for months. “The least you could do is to fix that. Maybe I wouldn't be so irritable if it wasn't so hot in here all of the time,” she said before she scooped her overnight bag off the floor and stomped out of the apartment.

Sasha hurried down the New York City street with her head ducked to block the glare of the sun. There had been a heat wave for over a week, with the temperature reaching record highs. At nine-thirty in the morning, the sidewalk felt scorching.

She weaved her way in and out of the throng as she headed for the subway station. Stopping at a booth to purchase sunglasses, she looped one arm through her overnight bag and began trying them on. The booth's mirror reflected the face of a five feet, nine inch woman with bronze skin wearing a scooped neck white shirt that contrasted quite nicely with red short shorts trimmed with white piping on the pockets. The eyelashes framing her dark eyes were so thick and long they always looked as if she was wearing mascara.

Recently her beautician had highlighted her black hair with streaks of gold, and it cascaded to just below her shoulders. In her haste to leave Abdul's, she hadn't taken the time to put on a bra or underpants and now began to feel uncomfortable as she became aware of the vendor eyeing her apple bottom as he stood behind her.

Hearing her name called, Sasha swung her head around and saw her friend Tiara sitting with two men at a small bistro table outside a café. She was waving her arm at her. Sasha recognized her companions as Tiara's brother Calvin, who was an athletic trainer for the Knicks, and Sexton Johnson, a point guard for the team. Quickly she handed the vendor a ten dollar bill, perched her new sunglasses on top of her head and, dodging cars and taxi cabs, crossed the street to join them.

Tiara stood up to greet her and they gave each other a big hug.

Sasha affectionately planted a kiss on Tiara's face and smiled at the men, who had also stood when she reached their table. “Hello, how are you doing?” She smiled at them. Sexton and Calvin seemed to dwarf her even though she wore a pair of four-inch wedge sandals.

Taking her overnight bag from her, Sexton slid it under the table, then pulled out a chair for her to sit next to him. She sat quickly because she was acutely aware that with his height he could easily get a bird's-eye view of the twins through the low cut décolletage of her shirt.

“Girl, I almost didn't recognize you. You've changed your hair. It looks fantastic,” Tiara said.

Tiara possessed a bubbly personality, and Sasha always had a good time when she was in her company. Sasha automatically smoothed her hair with the palm of her hand. “Thanks, but I changed it out of necessity. Since my promotion to head nurse at the hospital I sometimes wear a nurse's cap, and it doesn't look right on a curly afro.”

“I must say I like this better. What did Abdul say about the change?” Tiara teased.

“Oh, you know how he is. He said that I'm trying to blend with mainstream America.” Sasha's tone was droll and she wrinkled her nose at the memory of the conversation.

Tiara laughed good-naturedly. “I figured he would say something like that.” She turned to Calvin and Sexton. “Sasha's boyfriend is a Muslim. He can't stand anything that conforms to what he considers the establishment.”

The two men looked at Sasha and then Calvin spoke. “He should let you be what you want to be and support that.” Calvin gave Tiara a pointed look and a short silence descended on the group.

Sexton broke it. “You'd be beautiful no matter how you wear it.” He held her trapped within his gaze.

She looked down partly from embarrassment, but also to avoid the sensual liquidity of his eyes.

Calvin said to Sasha, “I haven't seen you since last year at Tiara's party.”

“I know. When I saw you guys sitting over here, it was such a cool surprise.”

On the table were various breakfast items, eggs, bacon, waffles, hash browns and coffee. Just then the waitress, a gorgeous, leggy blonde, walked up to the table. Her short, black waitress skirt revealed the fact that she had no cellulite and was proud of it. “May I get you anything?” she asked, looking at Sasha.

“Sure, I'll have a ham and cheese omelet and a cup of coffee. Low cal sugar and cream.”

“Right away, ma'am.” Before she headed to the kitchen she gave Sexton and Calvin a come-hither look.

Tiara gave a low whistle. “Well, I must say, she's a looker,” she grinned at the men at the table, “and obviously looking.”

“Not my type.” Calvin gave a small laugh.

“Mine, either,” Sexton said, still staring at Sasha.

Tiara turned to Calvin. “Peter is out of town on business again. When he gets back I know that he wants to see the Knicks when they play against Dwayne Wade. He just loves him.”

“Will do. That's in two weeks. Do you want some tickets also, Sasha?” Calvin looked at her inquiringly.

“No, thank you. I don't want to put you to any trouble.” She didn't want to admit that Abdul refused to watch any sports live or on television because he felt that black athletes were being used and then put out to pasture if they didn't perform well or got in any trouble whatsoever. She herself was an avid sports fan and had played basketball while in middle and high school. Her brother and father had taught her to play aggressively and their tutelage had made her a formidable adversary.

“It's not a problem at all,” Calvin replied.

“Can I let Tiara know if I want some tickets? I never know what shift I'm going to be working from day to day.”

Tiara looked at Sasha. “I would think that since you are in charge of things down there you could work up any master schedule you want?” She took another sip of coffee.

“You'd think so, wouldn't you?” Sasha countered wryly. “It seems as if I'm in charge of the grunt work, and still don't get the good schedule.”

“I thought that a decent shift was one of the perks for being in charge.”

“It could be. But right now, I'm helping someone out by covering her shift until she gets her life in order. It was an unexpected snafu, but I'm trying to turn it into a positive experience by trying to learn all of the facets of each job in my department. I think that might help me be a better administrator later on down the road.”

“Beautiful and unselfish. Those are two very admirable traits.” Again Sexton's eyes pinned hers and Sasha felt herself blushing.

As if on cue, Tiara and Calvin started chuckling.

Calvin stopped long enough to say, “Man, just go ahead and ask her out. But before you do, please wipe the drool off your lips.”

“I asked Sasha out last year at Tiara's ‘Get Rid of Your Loser' party. She took my number and said that she would call, but she didn't.”

Sasha felt decidedly uncomfortable being discussed as if she were not present. Clearing her throat she explained, “I would like to apologize for that. You didn't ask me if I was seeing anyone so I didn't know what to say when you gave me your card and asked me to call you,” she tailed off lamely. “I don't date more than one person at a time. It's hard enough for me to find the time to devote to one relationship, let alone try to juggle two.”

“If that's the case, you did the right thing by not calling me because I don't share, not that it would come to that,” he replied without rancor. “After one date with me you would forget all about Arnold.”

“His name is Abdul,” Sasha corrected him.

“Whatever,” Sexton replied smoothly.

Tiara hid a smile behind her hand and Calvin pretended to have an immense interest in his menu.

“So you think you're all that, huh? Don't you have a steady girlfriend?” she asked, curious about him in spite of her protestations to the opposite.

“No, ma'am.” He drawled his words.

“Why not,” she teased, “if you're all that?”

“I'm picky.” Again he watched her.

Even though they were in a public place, Sasha felt as if they were alone on a desert island.

“When you didn't offer me your number at the party, I kind of figured that you were involved, though I am surprised to find out that you're still dating the same guy. I thought that you weren't in a serious relationship or you wouldn't have been at the party at all, considering the theme of it.”

Upon hearing this Tiara chimed in. “I insisted that she come. She's my best friend and we needed a certain number of beautiful women to pull it off. And I resent you calling it my ‘Get Rid of Your Loser' party. She mildly glared at Sexton. “All of those men there were eligible, intelligent, and looking for the right woman. Maybe you guys didn't get the hookup, but I hit pay dirt by meeting Peter. My husband is perfect,” she ended with satisfaction.

“No man is perfect,” Calvin corrected his sister.

“It depends on what your criteria for perfect are,” Tiara retorted sharply.

Calvin's answer was only to roll his eyes.

In an effort to quell what appeared to be the beginning of an argument, Sexton leaned forward and beckoned the others to do the same so that the people at the next table couldn't hear him. “I think I come pretty damn close to being the perfect man. I'm handsome, rich, and fantastic in bed.” He paused for emphasis and then finished with, “I hear it all the time.”