Too Little, Too Late (9 page)

“A lot of damage can be done in that time.”

“Not to us.” He pulled Jasmine onto his lap. “Trust me, because I really don’t want to talk about her anymore.”

Jasmine nodded, but not because she agreed. Hosea was right—there was no need to talk about Natasia anymore. Her back-to-Africa plan had failed, but she already had another one in mind. And this time, she was sure it would work.

“I
S THERE ANYTHING ELSE
?” Hosea asked as he glanced around the conference table. Their Los Angeles production team was much smaller than the New York staff—only two producers with him, Triage and Natasia serving as executives.

Wendy and Myra, the junior producers, shook their heads.

“I have something.” Natasia paused, a dramatic moment. “I just got off the phone with Dr. Joseph Marshall and it’s official, I’ve booked him for the show.”

“You’re kidding!” Hosea exclaimed. “We’ve been trying to get him for a year.”

“You mentioned that,” Natasia said.

“Yeah,” Triage added, “I thought after
Oprah,
he wasn’t interested in doing other shows.”

“Well, I got him.” She looked straight at Hosea. “For you.” Then, “The only stipulation is that he wants to meet with one of you before the taping. He wants to do it on Friday.”

“Well, I’m out,” Triage said. “I’m on set for the rest of the week. Can you handle it, bro?”

“I’d love to.” Hosea faced Natasia. “Tell Dr. Marshall I’ll meet him anywhere he wants. He’ll be in L.A. all day Friday?”

“He’s not coming to L.A. He wants you to come to Oakland.”

Hosea’s eyes narrowed.

“He’d like to have,” Natasia glanced at her notes, “a late-afternoon planning meeting to talk about the show and to have you tour his studio and facilities. He thinks that’ll give you a good feel for his program,
Street Soldiers.
” She jotted something onto her pad. Without looking up, she continued, “Brittney, make the flight arrangements. Oh, and of course, you’ll need a producer with you, Hosea.” She looked up, smiled at him. “So, I guess it’s a plan.”

“Sounds like it,” Triage said. He leaned over and gave her a high-five. “Thanks for hooking that up.”

“That’s why you’re paying me the big bucks.” She glanced at Hosea, who sat without a smile, as the rest pushed their chairs back. “Are you okay?”

He took a moment, then nodded. “Yeah.”

Triage said, “If that’s it, I’m out.” He bumped knuckles with Hosea.

As the producers and Brittney followed Triage out, Natasia stood. “I’ll prepare a complete dossier—”

“Wait,” Hosea interrupted her once they were alone. He motioned for her to close the door.

As she moved toward him, he didn’t miss the way the hem of her sundress fluttered around her knees, the perfect frame for her bare legs. She leaned against the edge of the conference table and held up her hands. “No applause, please. A simple thank you will do.” When he didn’t comply, she frowned. “I thought you’d be ecstatic. I really worked on Dr. Marshall because I knew he was the one guest
you
wanted. So, what’s wrong?”

He sighed. “We’ve been over this a million times.”

Her frown deepened. “Over what?”

“I know what this is about. Dr. Marshall, the trip to Oakland; I know what it’s all about.”

“What?” She shook her head as if she was confused.

“I’m not going to Oakland with you. We’re not going to be alone anywhere together.
This
has got to stop.”

She folded her arms. “And by
this
you mean?”

“All these discussions. And now this trip, this trick. It has to stop. I’m married. Happy. I wish you would get that so that we can move on.”

With raised eyebrows, she asked, “Are you finished?”

“Yeah,” he said, still annoyed.

She paced the length of the conference room. “If I hadn’t known you for so many years, I would slap the crap out of you.” It was his turn to be shocked. “How dare you, Hosea! I worked my behind off to get Dr. Marshall and all you can think is that I arranged it to get to you?” Her hands folded into fists. “I am so pissed right now I don’t know what to do. I’m not desperate, Hosea. I don’t have to trick a man to be with me.

“Before this meeting, I’d already told Wendy that
she’d
be going to Oakland,” she said, still stomping. “I have a breakfast meeting downtown on Friday. Then, I’m taking the cameras to the Sony lot to tape some footage of Triage, and then I’m meeting with Stephen to discuss the extension of my contract—which I can tell you will not happen now. You couldn’t pay me enough to stay here.

“So, you see, Mr. Bush, I can’t go to Oakland, don’t want to go to Oakland. Don’t want to be anywhere, at anytime alone with you! And frankly, after this, I don’t even want to be on this show!” She grabbed her portfolio and marched away.

“Wait!”

Natasia pulled the door so hard, it slammed against the wall.

“Natasia, wait. Please.”

She paused, her back still to him.

Slowly, Hosea stood, moved toward her. He closed the door and slid in the small space between her and the wall. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I thought—”

“That’s the problem.” She stared straight at him. “You thought…too much.”

The anger in her eyes made him clear his throat and inch away. “It’s just that…I don’t know. Maybe some of this is me. I was imagining…and I just went with that. I’m really sorry.”

She considered his words. “You need to lay off the soap operas.”

“Is that your way of saying you accept my apology?”

Slowly, she nodded. “But Hosea, I don’t want to have this conversation again. I’m not after you. And I’m tired of the accusations.”

“It won’t happen again.”

She locked her eyes with his. “I hope not, because in this business things happen and I don’t want to explain myself every couple of days.”

He held up his hands. “I’ll never question you again.”

Finally, she smiled a little. “You’d better not.”

He grinned.

“Okay, so I’ll work with Brittney on the reservations for you and
Wendy.
”

They walked shoulder-to-shoulder toward the door, but she stopped before they stepped into the hallway. “By the way, I wasn’t thinking about you or Oakland, because after that long day on Friday, I’m meeting Mario Walters for drinks.”

His eyes widened. “The actor?”

She nodded. “So, you see, I did everything I could not to go to Oakland…with you.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave.

Hosea watched as she sashayed, like poetry in motion, down the long hallway. And he released a long sigh.

They held each other in the dark and Hosea kissed the top of Jasmine’s head.

“I’m going to Oakland on Friday,” he stated the fact. “For the show. Meeting with Joe Marshall.”

“An overnight trip?”

“No, but it will be all day.”

“Hmmm.”

He squeezed her tighter, then said, “Go ahead, ask.”

Jasmine hesitated. “You said you didn’t want to talk about her anymore.”

“But I want you to ask me.”

“Just tell me what you want me to know.”

He kissed her before he said, “Natasia’s not going with me. She didn’t even want to. Did everything she could to get out of this trip.”

Her head was still resting on his chest when she said, “I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true. She doesn’t want to go because she has a date with Mario Walters.”

After a moment, Jasmine said, “She’s slumming now.”

“Slumming? I said Mario Walters.”

“So? I mean, yes, he might be finer than Denzel, funnier than Will, sings like Luther, and dances like Usher. But he’s no Hosea Bush.”

He chuckled. “Spoken like a wife.”

“Spoken like a wife in love.”

“So does this prove that I was right about Natasia?”

She slid her bare leg up against his. “This proves that I was right about you.” She paused. “I love you, Hosea.”

“Ditto.” He pulled her closer, their two bodies almost one. “I was made to love you.”

He kissed her again, and then in the dark, they stayed in place, just thinking, just holding, just loving each other.

J
ASMINE HAD ALREADY PRAYED
this morning, so now it was time to give God a little help.

She tucked Jacqueline in for her noon-day nap before she settled into the living room. She picked up the phone, but before she made the call she wanted to, she dialed the number she had to.

“Talk to me!”

“Hey, babe,” she said. “How’s it going?”

“Hectic.”

“You started taping yet?”

“No, but we’re about to. What’s going down?”

“Nothing. Just want you to know that I love you.”

“Ditto! I hope you have something fantastic to do today.”

“Babe, you have no idea.”

After a quick good-bye, she hung up. Good! She wouldn’t have to worry about Hosea returning to the hotel and overhearing her conversation. That’s how Hosea had discovered that she was pregnant. He had walked right in when she was scheduling an abortion.

The memory made Jasmine shudder. Made her try to imagine life without Jacqueline. Made her feel so blessed that Hosea
had
walked in and saved her baby.

That time, the intrusion had worked out—eventually. But being overheard would never happen to her again.

Searching her PDA, she found the number, then clicked the track wheel. If a baby hadn’t appealed to Natasia, big bucks certainly would.

“Jasmine, great to hear from you,” Annika exclaimed, her Swedish accent thick. “How’s the married life?”

“Absolutely wonderful.” She sank into the sofa’s thick cushions. “Hosea and Jacqueline are my joy.”

“And Malik? Is he still single?”

Jasmine laughed. “Yeah, he is. You should give him a call.”

“Don’t tempt me. Your godbrother is the walking definition of phine!”

Jasmine laughed. Annika Eklund had been in the U.S. for only ten years, but she spoke as if she’d been born in New York—deep in the heart of Harlem.

Annika continued, “So, are you and Malik looking for new candidates?”

“No, we’re not hiring, but I do need you. As a headhunter and as my friend.”

“How can I help, hon?”

“I need you to find a job for someone.”

“A friend?”

“An enemy.”

“Ooohhh, chile, this sounds wonderfully juicy. Details, details.”

For minutes, Jasmine explained to the executive recruiter who’d become a good friend Hosea and Natasia’s past, and how she’d ingratiated herself into their present.

“This crazy trick is after my husband, Annika. And I want her gone. Can you help?”

“It’ll be my pleasure. So, where would you like Natasia to go?” She paused when she realized what she’d said and the two shared a long laugh.

“As far away as you can find,” Jasmine said. “Somewhere like London, Paris, the deep caves in Russia. And don’t worry, I’ll pay your normal fee.”

“Are you kidding? I’ll do this for free. It’s a brilliant idea. I wish I’d thought of this when that skussy, Helena, came after my ex.”

“Skussy?” Jasmine laughed. “A Scandinavian term?”

“No, purely American. I always called these kinds of low-life women hussies. But then when I came to the States, I heard the wonderfully descriptive word ‘skank.’ So I combined the two, and bam! You got skussy.”

Jasmine laughed. “I love it!”

“So, hon, this one’s on me. Just hang onto that fine husband of yours. I’ll take care of Natasia. Give me her contact information.”

Jasmine gave the number to the studio.

“Okay, give me a week, two tops.”

Jasmine hung up and for the first time since she’d heard Natasia Redding’s name, she felt complete relief. Sure that now that skussy was on her way out.

H
OSEA SAW THE PLACARD WITH
his name scribbled across the front before he saw the little man who held it.

“I’m Hosea Bush.” He slung the strap of his computer bag over his shoulder and resisted the urge to ask the man who wasn’t even five-feet tall how old he was. He wasn’t too worried; he suspected the gray that edged his hairline made him old enough to drive.

“Do you have any luggage?” the driver asked in a voice that was as small as he was.

“Nope, this is it.”

He nodded. “We have to walk. They don’t let us park close anymore.”

“Lead the way.” Hosea slowed his stride to match the man’s steps. They moved only a few feet when his cell phone rang.

“Talk to me.”

“Hey, Hosea,” Brittany said. “Did you get my message?”

“Nope. Just landed. What’s going down?”

“There’s been a mix-up with Dr. Marshall’s office. They thought the meeting was tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Saturday?”

“Yup. Apparently, Dr. Marshall’s in meetings all day today.”

Hosea sighed deeply. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know. Natasia handled everything.”

Natasia.
“Okay, I’ll just have to make this work.”

“I’m already on it. I made reservations for you at the Palace in downtown San Fran.”

“Great. Is Wendy staying there, too? She’s on the flight behind me, right?”

“Well, that’s another change. Wendy was on her way to the airport when I caught her. She can’t come up there now. Remember, she’s flying back to New York tomorrow? Her sister’s getting married on Sunday.”

“Oh, that’s right. So, Myra’s coming?”

“Triage said Myra’s too junior. Natasia’s coming.”

He frowned.

Brittney continued, now with a lower voice, “I gotta warn you, though, Natasia threw a fit when Triage told her that she had to change her plans.”

“She doesn’t have to change her plans. She can come in the morning.”

“I guess she had plans for the whole weekend.”

Hosea wondered if those weekend plans included Mario Walters and then he wondered why he cared. He thought about insisting on Myra, but knew it would be better to have Natasia. “Okay, arrange Natasia’s flight for the morning and make sure a car picks her up.”

“Should I have her meet you at your hotel?”

“No! Have her go to Dr. Marshall’s. Order a separate car for me and I’ll meet her there.”

“Okay, Boss.”

Hosea clicked off his phone. He had to lean forward to see the top of the driver’s head. “Plans have changed,” he said, hoping the man could see over the steering wheel. “I’m going to the Palace.”

The driver nodded.

“The station hired you for the day, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’m gonna need to dash to a mall to pick up a few things. But I want to check in first.”

“No problem.”

Hosea leaned back as the Town Car eased onto the freeway.

For some reason they thought the meeting was tomorrow.

How could Dr. Marshall’s office believe the meeting was tomorrow when Natasia clearly set it up for today? He shook away the first answer that came to him. This was not Natasia’s fault. She’d made it clear that she was over him, and according to Brittney, Natasia wasn’t happy about this either.

But still…

He flipped open his cell, pressed the speed dial.

“Hey, babe,” Jasmine answered. “Did you just land?”

“Yeah, but there’s a problem. I’m gonna have to stay overnight. Someone got the meeting with Dr. Marshall mixed up. It’s tomorrow.”

“That’s a pretty big mix-up. If Natasia was with you, I’d think she’d arranged this.” Jasmine chuckled and Hosea pretended to laugh with her.

“Well, that means I won’t be home tonight and I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep without you. You’re my pillow.”

“Ah. Spoken like a husband.”

“Spoken like a husband in love.”

“So, you’re going to have to pick up a few things, huh?”

“Yeah, I’ll buy another shirt, some underwear, a toothbrush.” He sighed. Schlepping through a store was not his idea of fun.

“Oh, come on. Give me an excuse to go to the mall.” She laughed. “Is Wendy there yet?”

Hosea hesitated. “No. Listen, darlin’, I’ll call you from the hotel to give you the number, okay? Love you.”

“Ditto.”

When he clicked off the phone, he loosened the noose that was masquerading as a tie around his neck.

Why did I just lie to Jasmine?

It wasn’t a total lie—Wendy
wasn’t
there. And even if it was a lie of omission, he’d done it with purpose. No need to upset Jasmine, and mentioning Natasia’s name would do that. Anyway, it wasn’t like Natasia was going to be spending the night in Oakland. She’d fly up in the morning, they’d have their meeting, and he’d be back in Los Angeles—with his wife and daughter—by dinner. Jasmine didn’t need to know any of this. Didn’t need to give her any reasons to be suspicious. He had enough wary thoughts for both of them.

Hosea moved the computer from his lap, leaned against the bed’s headboard, and closed his eyes, wondering what it was going to take to get his focus back.

It had been this way for the last two hours. He couldn’t concentrate because his head was filled with memories of long ago yesterdays…

“Are you sure about this?” Hosea asked as he handed Natasia the bowl of popcorn.

She crossed her legs Indian-style and popped open a can of Hawaiian Punch. “This is the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.”

He sat next to her. “If you say so.”

“Baby, we do what everyone’s doing tonight all the time. I think staying in is really special.” She pressed play on the remote and the tape began.

Natasia leaned back inside his arms and they chomped on popcorn, sipped punch, and watched her favorite movie,
Love Story
. Suddenly, Natasia pushed herself away from him.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asked with a smile.

She lifted her hand to her mouth, then stared at her palm. “What the…” She couldn’t take her eyes off the ring she’d pulled from the popcorn box.

Hosea shifted until he was in front of her, lifted her chin with his fingers, and said, “Nat, let’s do the darn thing. Let’s get married!”

She stared into his eyes, her mouth open wide. And then she punched him.

“Ouch,” he said, feigning injury. “That’s not the way you’re supposed to say yes.”

“You got butter all over my engagement ring!”

He laughed. She cried. Together they slipped the ring on her finger. And then as Ali McGraw explained love and sorrys to Ryan O’Neal, she had kissed him, then ripped his pants off and told him yes with every part of her body…

Hosea bounced from the bed. It made no sense, the way he kept thinking about his past. He was over her, of that he was sure. He loved Jasmine, he was even surer of that. So why all these memories?

He needed relief and grabbed his cell phone.

“Hey, babe.”

Just the sound of his wife brought his heart back to where it was supposed to be. “Calling to check on you, darlin’. How’s my pumpkin?”

“Jacquie is worn out. She’s asleep.”

“It’s just six. You’d better wake her up or she’ll have you up all night.”

“I hope she does. Playing with her tonight will keep me from missing you. So, what’re you doing?”

“Nothing much.”

“You’re supposed to say that you’re thinking about me.”

He remembered the thoughts he’d had just moments before. “I’m always thinking about you.”

“That’s better.” She laughed. “Did Wendy get there yet?”

“Ah, no. All of that will arrive in the morning.”

“All of that?” He heard the frown in her voice.

“You know what I mean, all the notes, etcetera. Have you eaten yet?” He needed to change the subject to stop his lies.

“Yup, just a salad. I’m really serious about losing this weight. What about you, have you eaten?”

The knock made him say, “Hold on a sec.” He scooted across the room and pulled the door open.

“Surprise!” Natasia stood with her hands in the air as if she’d just jumped out of a cake.

“Babe, who’s that?”

That quickly, he’d forgotten the cell phone he held. “Just room service.”

Natasia’s eyebrows rose as she brushed past him into the room.

“I’ll call you back, okay?” He clicked the phone off without giving Jasmine any more.

Natasia swiveled around to face him. “So, I’m room service now, huh?” She grinned. “That could be a good thing.”

“What are you doing here?” He didn’t share her cheer.

She frowned. “Brittney said she told you about the mix-up.”

“I know about all of that.” His hands moved in the air with his words. “But what are you doing here…now? I thought you were coming in the morning.”

“That was the plan, but when I thought about it, this is an important meeting. We need to be prepared.”

“We could have done this in the morning.”

“Last-minute preparations are not what won me all those Emmys. We’re going to do this right. In fact, I was thinking about a new angle. Let’s make this a full-hour news show,
Dateline
style. Make this entire episode about Dr. Marshall and
Street Soldiers.
We’ll film his facilities, do B roll on his radio show. We’re in Hollywood. Let’s make this show look like it.”

He stared at her for a moment. “So that’s why you’re here?” His tone thickened the air with tension.

“Yes.” She looked right back into his eyes, daring him to doubt her. When he asked nothing more, she said, “I gave up a lot to be here. But my
job
comes before everything. Okay?”

It took him a moment to let it go. “Okay.”

“So what do you think of my idea?”

He breathed, relieved. She’d gone right back to business. Surely, this wasn’t any kind of trick. “Sounds good. What’re you talking about specifically?”

“I have lots of ideas.” She glanced around the room and then stared at the bed where he’d been moments before, thinking about her.

“Ah…have you eaten?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I guess you haven’t either. You’re waiting for room service, right?”

“Let’s go downstairs,” he said, ignoring her words. “We can talk in the restaurant.”

“Or we can talk here and
really
order room service, and,” she paused, sat on the edge of the bed, crossed her legs, “we can…eat…right here.”

“Let’s go downstairs, Natasia,” he said stiffly.

She bounced from the bed, laughed. “I’m teasing, Hosea.” She pouted. “You used to be more fun.”

“Never when it came to business. Where’re the files?”

“In my room.” She grinned. “Wanna come with me?”

“I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Okay, give me five.”

He tried not to watch her jean-covered hips as she moved in front of him. When the door closed, he breathed. She’d asked for five minutes, but he needed more like ten.

Finally it was all about business.

For hours they read and debated. Formulated their plan. And in between, they snacked on hot wings, quesadillas, and potato skins.

Hosea leaned back in his chair and glanced at his watch. “I cannot believe it’s almost eleven.” He signaled the waiter to bring him another soda.

Natasia picked up a wing and took a small bite. “Yep, but we’re ready.”

“Definitely.” He grinned, but stopped smiling when his cell rang. Flipping his phone open, he turned his body slightly away from the table. “Talk to me.”

“Hey, babe. You were supposed to call me back.”

“I’m sorry. I’m down in the restaurant, still working.”

“With Wendy? I thought she was coming in the morning?”

He paused, glanced sideways at Natasia as she sipped her wine. “Wendy’s not here. I’m just eating and working and…“He closed his eyes, not believing how easy it was to keep the truth from his wife. “So, did you have a good night?”

“As good as it can be without you.”

Hosea glanced at Natasia once again. Her eyes were down, scanning their notes. As she read, she sucked the end of a chicken wing, then the tip of her tongue grazed her lips, wiping away the sauce. When she tossed the bone back onto the plate, she licked each of her fingers. One at a time. Slowly. Thoroughly. Then, she looked up. Directly at him.

“Hello?” Jasmine called through the phone.

He broke his stare. “I’m here. I’m gonna head up to my room. Catch some sleep.”

Me too. Will you think about me?”

“I’ll do better than that,” he said. “I’ll dream about you.”