Wayward Dreams (13 page)

Looking at the card, he saw that it had been forwarded from the Lapa Palace. Offering a sumptuous courtyard view, the Lapa Palace was exactly the sort of place where a man would expect to find a woman like Karen. He turned the card over. For a second, he saw nothing, only felt his own heartbeat and imagined the turn his life might have taken if he hadn't let his heart get involved.

Imagination failed him, and he forced himself to focus on the card. Written in her languid scrawl was her message:
Still beautiful. Still magical. Lisbon is fabulous, too. Stay well and enjoy life. Karen.

Sounds just like her.
Harry flipped the card over and looked at the Lapa Palace again.
Guess I should consider this as closure, huh? It's been three years. That ought to be ‘closed' enough for anybody else, why not me?

He imagined her again, the way she'd been on the last day, her long, lithe body a twist of molten chocolate amid the toss of soft white sheets. Her hair, a fall of sooty black lace across her shoulders, had curtained her eyes, but he would never forget the smile. She'd sent him off on some fool's errand and was gone when he returned.

She'd left a postcard behind then, too.

And as he recalled, it had said pretty much the same thing as this one. He folded the card between his fingers, then creased it hard. He didn't know why he'd kept her a secret. Even from Kemi. He folded the card again and tore it in two—who knew that his heart would still be raw?

Looking down, Harry found he'd pretty much shredded the postcard. Two long steps took him to a chrome urn that looked like it was for trash. He dropped the remains of the postcard into the urn.
I'm going to call that closure. A man is entitled to some life to call his own, right? Right.

Kemi's got the right idea.
He might be the younger brother, but when it came to affairs of the heart, he was the one on the right track.
Maybe
, Harry thought,
I ought to take a lesson from him.
He got married, found that he was growing and Alicia wasn't, that she wanted to continue to be the cute little girl he'd fallen in love with. Even after they were no longer a couple, he found the right way to help them love each other and still be themselves. Now, he had met this new woman, and all he asked Harry to do was play wingman.

“He's my brother, and he doesn't ask for a lot. I can do this,” Harry told himself.

The arriving elevator made him turn. Stepping aboard, Harry took out his phone and speed-dialed his brother. “Kemi? Harry. Look, you still want to get together Friday, I'm there.” He listened and nodded as the elevator hummed softly open. “Yeah, I guess I'll have to take my chances.” He chuckled self-consciously. “You're right, it's time to get on with life.”

The elevator doors opened on the penthouse level and Harry Jordan stepped out feeling better than he had all day. Then he whistled every step of the way down the hall.

CHAPTER 9

Wearing jeans, with his shirt hanging long on the outside and his sleeves rolled to his elbows, Harry figured he might not pass for cool, but comfortable on a hot Friday night in May was as good as it was going to get. “Besides, it wasn't my idea to come here.”

“Huh? What'd you say?” the short balding man in the faded gray Dugan's T-shirt looked up, squinting.

“Nothing. How much?”

The parking attendant reared back in his folding chair, tipping the front legs high. Flashing his dentures, he jerked a thumb toward the sign at his side. “Eight.”

Harry peeled a twenty from the cash in his hand and handed it over then started across the parking lot, headed toward Dugan's.

“Hey! You got change comin'!” The man rocked in his chair, waving crumpled dollar bills in the humid air. When Harry lifted a hand and kept walking across the graveled lot, he happily folded the bills between his gnarled fingers and pocketed the cash. “Nice to meet a gent,” the man said softly, giving his pocket a satisfied pat.

With ragged second thoughts, Harry crossed the lot, ignoring the urge to go back to his car.
I made a promise, and I'm here now. Might as well go on in.
It was not quite nine o'clock.

Walking to the entrance, he came around the side of the building and felt a warm wash of nostalgia and the dizzying sensation of having stepped back in time. Lugging groceries in plastic Kroger bags, a trio of women in cutoff jeans and belly-knotted T-shirts drew even with him. They smiled and murmured hello—casual and friendly. He smiled back and returned the greeting, one of the things he truly enjoyed about his hometown, that sense of friendly acknowledgment—no obligation, just being pleasant and part of the community.

One of the women listed slightly as she turned and shifted her bags to wave at him. Knowing that she was flirting and that it wouldn't take much more than a grin to make her drop the bags and run back for extended conversation, Harry returned the small wave. She blushed and giggled, while her friends put their heads together and whispered.

Harry was glad they kept walking.

Looking up at the thick green paint coating the front of the bar and grill, and the neon beer signs glowing boldly in the windows, Harry remembered the place from way back. During his days at Morehouse, Dugan's was the place for hot wings.
Hot and zesty, with grease for days
, he remembered.
Used to open the bag and the heat and spices would just rise up and make your mouth and eyes water.
For a second, he could almost taste the memory.
We ate 'em and we didn't die. They must have been good.

He gripped the door's curved brass handle, pulled, and stepped into the noisy bar. Harry stood on the scarred hardwood floor and looked around. Without trying too hard, he could smell those wings. He couldn't think of anything he'd eaten anywhere else in the world that could compare to those artery-blockers. Hot wings on his mind, he looked around for his brother. No Kemi.
Figures.

Round tables, wooden chairs, and laughing people occupied the center of the room. Banks of booths filled the corners, and voices rose and fell, challenging the sounds of a juke box and several wall-mounted television sets.
Same old Dugan's. Bet the jukebox still plays 45s.
Unsure of whether he should seat himself or just wait for his always fashionably late brother, Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and stood looking around. Behind him, warm air from the street pushed against his back.

“Are you looking for me, or your lost youth?” Akemi stepped through the door. “You look a little nostalgic,” he said, taking in his brother's casual attire. “In more ways than one. What's up with the old-school chic?”

Should have known he'd have something to say…
He eyed his brother and pushed his lips together. Kemi was dressed exactly the way Harry had known he would be: polo shirt, leather flip-flops, jeans with a great belt—all topped off with cool sunglasses. “Man, can we just find a table? You told me casual. This is casual.”

Kemi shook his head and took the sunglasses off. “All you're missing is loafers. Penny loafers and you could be the black guy in the background on
Happy Days
. Guess I should be grateful your colors match.”

“Keep it up, and I'll go home.”

“It's always all or nothing with you,” Kemi sniped, smoothing a hand over the sleek hair he'd combed straight back and fastened at the nape of his neck. The motion was not lost on the approaching full-bodied red-haired waitress in the tight-fitting white shorts. Seeing her smile, sensing advantage, he hooked a thumb into his belt and smiled back.

Harry smiled politely when her eyes and big toothy grin turned to him.

A woman on a mission, the redhead bounced on her toes and pivoted, moving hips first toward the brothers. “Hi,” she drawled. “My name's Betty. Let me help you two good-lookin' fellas to a table.”

A quick glance at Kemi told Harry that his brother found Betty charming. A quick look at Betty said she shared the sentiment. It was Kemi who said, “That would be nice, Betty.” But it was Harry's hand she closed into her firm dry grip.

“Y'all come on with me now.”

Harry left his hand in hers and let her lead them to a table. The table had four chairs. Did Betty know they were meeting others, or did she plan to come back and join them, enjoy them at her leisure? Maybe bring a friend? Leaving Harry to wonder about her intentions, Betty sauntered off with a lingering over-the-shoulder glance and a knowing smile.

“Nice lady,” Kemi said, aware of his brother's restraint. “Think the menu is still the same?”

Relaxing, Harry stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Hope so, especially the wings. I used to love them.” He propped his arms on the chair and looked around the room. “So tell me about your new lady friend, the one we're here to meet.”

“What is there to tell?” Akemi raised a brow and imitated his brother's posture. “Women, especially beautiful women, can be cautious. Julia is beautiful and cautious.”

“This is not the kind of place you bring a cautious woman to. This is the kind of place you bring your buddies to for a beer before or after a game. This is a hangout kind of place.”

“Are you trying to get me to tell you that I told you a little white lie to get you here tonight?” When Harry inclined his head, Kemi gasped dramatically and splayed a hand across his chest.

“Now that hurts. It really does. All I did was ask you to be my wingman, watch my back, and sing a little karaoke. This is my first date with a pretty customer I met at Kin Kura. It just so happens that she's also the sister of one of my employees, so I have to make a good impression. Besides, it's not as if you had anything better to do tonight.”

“You don't know that.”

“I know you.
Kishi kaisei.
”

Harry gave his brother a dark look. “So you figure it's your job to wake me from death and return me to life, huh? What is the sister like?”

“Gorgeous,” Kemi said. “Just the kind of woman you would choose for yourself—if you were in a choosing frame of mind, that is.”

Harry opened his mouth, but Betty appeared with a suggestive wink, freshly applied cologne, a pair of long-necked bottles of cold beer, and menus. She took her time setting the beer on thick cardboard coasters.

“Thought you could use these while you decide what else you want,” she breathed, handing over menus. When neither of the brothers took her up on her offer, she passed a tongue over her painted lips, then let her long fingers trace the strong line of Harry's shoulder.

“We're actually waiting for two other people,” Harry said. “We'll wait for them before we order.”

“Boys' night out always makes my job interesting.” Betty tipped her head and let her lashes fall low over richly blue eyes as she brushed her fingers along Harry's shoulder. “Lemme know when you're ready.” She turned on her toes and let her easy strut and emphatic hips carry her back to the long wooden bar.

“Happy birthday to you,” Kemi whispered seeing Betty turn her back to the bar and park a sandaled foot on the brass rail at its base. “She's flirting with you,” he said, claiming his beer.

“How do you know it's me? Could be you.” Harry picked up the second bottle and tipped it casually to his lips.

“Nah, this is all you. She's damned near about to climb up your leg and settle in your lap. She likes the more solid, mature type. She's strictly interested in you, Harry. This is just the kind of night out you needed.”

“If you say so.”

Kemi nodded wisely. “I do say so. As a matter of fact, since you're here, and you're already the man with everything, I say we should call this a kind of casual birthday celebration for you—since you're here, and the ladies are coming. Maybe Betty will find you some cake and we can all sing ‘Happy Birthday'.”

Harry looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “Anybody else you want to invite?”

“Aw, come on, Harry. Loosen up, it's not like you were going to hang out with the guys. Besides, you might actually have some fun. You just had a birthday—and I went and found you a beautiful woman. You need to show a little gratitude.”

Okay, score a point for Kemi. He's right; I don't have a lot of friends left in Atlanta. The
old ones got married or just drifted away over time.
He tried to think of the last time he'd talked with any of the men he'd grown up with. Most of them had grown into their own lives and out of Atlanta. He could count the ones still in the city on one hand. And the last time he'd seen any of them had been…how long ago?

Six or eight months ago
, he remembered.
AJ and Dench at that fundraiser the last time I was home…That's a long time, considering they really are men I call friends.

“You're right,” Harry grumbled, smoothing his sleeve. “I guess this could be fun, after all.”

* * *

“This had just better be fun, is all I have to say,” Bianca mumbled, watching Julia's car pull into the lot and ease to a stop beside hers. “She drives like a little old lady, creeping into the space like that.”

Climbing out of her car, Julia paused to give her top a nudge. Not quite satisfied, she pushed her beasts into a more pleasing arrangement beneath her halter top.

“Whoa! She didn't do
that
like a little old lady.” Bianca's mouth dropped when Julia bent and twisted her top. She was muttering at her ill-behaved bosom when Bianca walked over to her.

“You and the girls having a problem?”

Caught in the act, Julia tried to regain a little dignity. “I just want to look good.”

“We both know that if you want to look good, you don't leave the house in clothes you're going to have to fix all night,” Bianca pointed out.

“Just tell me you have a safety pin.” Julia gave herself a little shake, then gathered a bit of fabric at the back of her neck. “For right here.”

Bianca dug into her purse to find a pin and neatly pushed it into the fold of fabric her sister held in place. Satisfied with the rescue effort, Julia's fingers skimmed over her bodice. “Better, right?”

“You look fine.”

“So do you. I like your hair like that,” Julia said, her eyes traveling from her sister's hair to her clothing. The white jeans looked like they'd been spray-painted along the curves of Bianca's hips and legs, and the golden skin of her shoulders and arms peeked seductively above and through the sheer fabric of her teal blouse. “That man doesn't stand a chance.”

“I beg your pardon?” Gold bangles jangling, Bianca parked a hand on her hip. “What did you just say?”

Caught, Julia angled her face away and busied herself with a dangling earring. “I said we look so good, those men don't stand a chance.”

“You know I hear the lie behind that, don't you?”

Wanting to get away from their parked cars, Julia kept her fingers on the earring and began to walk toward the street. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Then why are you walking so fast? Huh? Why?” Bianca demanded, hurrying behind her sister.

Ignoring the gravel beneath her feet, Julia tightened her fingers on her faulty earring and quickened her pace. “Pay for the parking. We're late, and they're probably waiting for us.”

“This is some kind of a trick,” Bianca muttered, opening her purse. When she looked up again, Julia was headed for Dugan's front door.

The balding man in the Dugan's T-shirt looked up and flashing his dentures, jerked a thumb toward the sign at his side. “Eight bucks, pretty lady.”

When Bianca handed the money to him and refused change, the man rocked in his chair and grinned. “Hope you have a good time in there.”

“Thanks.” Hoping for the best, Bianca followed her sister into Dugan's. Julia had already surveyed the room from near the door by the time Bianca caught up with her.

She barely had time to say anything before a lanky man, probably a basketball player, Bianca guessed, stood and bumped knuckles with the other men at his table. Seeing him, she nudged Julia. “He made a bet.”

“That he is about to lose.” Julia's impressive cleavage rose and fell, drawing the man's gaze to her chest. When he finally pulled his eyes back to her face, Julia licked her lips and, locking her eyes on his, turned on a dazzling smile. Bianca matched her sister's smile, and tempted by the sensual women, he quickly calculated the level of challenge and took a bold step forward.

Bianca turned her smile to her sister, and the man hesitated, indecision sketching his features. She slid her hand into Julia's and leaned in to kiss her cheek softly, and the man gasped and stepped backward. When the two women stood holding hands and looking at him, he dropped his eyes and turned back to the table he'd come from.