After Hours (9 page)

D
ina felt as if she were walking on air. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt free, free of the demons that'd haunted her for as long as she could remember.

She'd taken the train from Trenton with her prized birth certificates clutched to her chest and a silly grin on her face. A few times she'd caught other passengers staring at her with strange expressions on their faces. One woman who'd sat down next to her had kept inching farther and farther away until she'd finally changed her seat. Oblivious to everyone and everything going on around her, she'd closed her eyes and mentally planned her next move.

 

As soon as Dina returned to the motel she went through her closet for something to wear to her “interview.” Even the word sounded foreign. She, who'd never worked a day in her life, was going to get a legitimate nine-to-five. Staring at the garments on the hangers, she reached for a pair of slacks and a blouse.

She'd added a few more garments to her meager wardrobe when she'd gone shopping, and, if hired, she probably would wear a uniform, but she still needed clothes if she was to become a working girl.

Flopping down on the bed, she picked up a pad and pen and wrote down her to-do list:
get a job, find an apartment and apply for a social security card.
A driver's license wasn't a priority because she couldn't afford a car. Even a hooptie wasn't an option. She'd kept a mental running total of how much money she had left, and it was a long way from the twenty thousand she owed Payne. Living at the motel was steadily draining her funds.

The phone rang, startling her. Reaching over, she picked up the receiver. The only time the phone rang was when someone at the front desk called. “Hello.”

“Ms. Jenkins, this is the front desk. There is a delivery for you.”

Her nerves tensed as acute panic held her captive. Did a delivery translate into someone had discovered her whereabouts? “Is there a name?” she asked the desk clerk.

“Let me check the card…. It's from L. Haynes.”

She whispered a silent prayer. “Thank you. I'll come get it.”

Retrieving her key, she left the room, nodding to the woman assigned to cleaning the rooms on her floor. The only upside of staying in the motel was that she didn't have to clean up after herself. Housekeeping made the bed, cleaned the bathroom, dusted and vacuumed. Each time she left and returned to the room she checked to see if anything was moved or missing. Her greatest fear was returning to find the contents of her backpack gone.

She entered the lobby and stopped short. Lance had sent her a large bouquet of pale pink roses in a tall vase filled with colorful marbles. Several people who were checking in stared at her as she attempted to carry the vase. It was a lot heavier than it looked. They stared, but not one offered to help her.

Struggling under the weight, Dina made it back to her room and plucked the card off the cellophane. Men had given her money, clothes, furs, but never flowers. She read Lance's neat print:
I'd be honored if you would have dinner with me tonight.—L. Haynes.
He'd included the telephone numbers to his office and cell phone. Smiling, she put the card to her nose. The scent of his cologne clung to the small vellum square. Even the card was of the finest quality paper. Her gaze shifted to the roses with petals that were beginning to open. The flowers were perfect, and Lance had been the perfect gentleman.

What, she told herself, did she have to lose going out with him? After all, it was a date, not a hustle. Reaching for her cell phone, she dialed the number to his office. A strong female voice answered.

“Mr. Haynes's office. This is Della. How may I help you?”

Dina hesitated. She'd expected him to answer his own phone. “May I please speak to Mr. Haynes?”

“Mr. Haynes is out of the office. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what, miss?”

“This is Miss Gordon. Please tell Mr. Haynes yes.”

“Ms. Gordon, Mr. Haynes said that if you called, I was to tell you that he would pick you up at six.”

She was mute for several seconds. Lance was so certain she would call that he'd given his secretary a message to give to her. “Tell Mr. Haynes I'll be ready at six.”

That said, she hung up. It was obvious that Mr. Lance Haynes was very confident, a trait she admired in a man.

Confident men were usually successful men.

Lance wanted to date her and she needed a male friend.

A liaison would prove advantageous for both.

L
ance saw Dina as soon as he swung into a parking space near the front of the motel. His smile mirrored delight in seeing her again. His gaze roved leisurely over her petite figure as he got out of his car. He saw an expression of surprise in her eyes before she shuttered them quickly.

He couldn't believe she could improve on perfection, yet she had. She wore a flattering jade-green dress with three-quarter cuffed sleeves, a stand-up collar and an oyster-white colored obi sash that emphasized her narrow waist. His gaze shifted to her tiny feet in a pair of high-heeled black patent leather pumps. His smile widened. She'd left her tanned legs bare. Instead of her dark hair flowing down her back, tonight she'd pinned it in a twist on the nape of her slender neck.

Reaching for her hand, he brought it to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “You look beautiful.”

Dina blushed like an innocent girl unaccustomed to male attention and flattery. She'd lost count of the number of times men had complimented her on her looks, but coming from Lance Haynes, it was different. He was her first real date.

“Thank you, Lance.” Her smoky voice had dropped an octave.

Lance stared at the woman staring up at him, his protective instincts surfacing quickly. There was something so pure and childlike about Dina Gordon that it made him feel like a lecherous old man about to seduce a virgin. As soon as the notion entered his head, he banished it. He doubted that, at the age of twenty-seven, Dina was still a virgin.

“You look very nice,” Dina said truthfully. Lance wore a pair of dark gray trousers with a faint plum pinstripe. His crisp laundered shirt was a pale lilac he'd paired with an exquisite silk tie in a rich lapis-lazuli-blue. The cufflinks in the shirt's French cuffs, either sterling or white gold, bore his monogram. He appeared slimmer, fit in his tailored attire.

He kissed her hand again, then tucked it into the bend of his arm. “Thank you.”

“Where are we going?”

Lance gave her a sidelong glance. “Atlantic City. I planned for us to have dinner before taking in a show.”

Dina stumbled and would've fallen flat on her face if Lance hadn't tightened his hold on her hand. “We can't.”

Waiting until they were seated together in the car, Lance turned to stare at the woman beside him. “Why can't we?”

She couldn't tell him that there were people in Atlantic City who knew her face, that she'd been seen with too many high rollers and that she'd pulled off too many scores to risk going back. “I don't…I don't go to places where there's gambling and fornication.”

Lance stared at Dina as if she'd just dropped out of the sky. The last time he'd heard someone mention
fornication
it was his grandmother, who'd warned him about drinking, smoking drugs and fornicating with fast-ass young women who would try to saddle him with a baby because they knew a good catch when they saw one. He'd been four months shy of his eighteenth birthday when his grandmother had accompanied his parents when they'd driven him to Georgia to enroll in college.

“You don't drink, smoke or gamble.” His question was a statement.

Dina nodded. “And I don't fornicate.”

“You don't sleep with men?”

They regarded each other for a beat. “No.”

“I'm going to ask you something, and you don't have to answer it if you don't want.” She inclined her head. “Are you a virgin?”

Dina stared wordlessly, his query causing her reply to wedge in her throat. She couldn't tell him that she'd lost her virginity at eleven when one of her mother's many “friends” robbed her of her innocence, then gave her money not to tell anyone. She'd become his special girl and he her secret. What he didn't know was that she hated him, hated what he did to her, but had gotten used to the five or ten dollars he gave her after he finished sweating and grunting. He'd always said the same thing:
Baby, you have the sweetest pussy in the whole wide world.

After he would stumble out of the apartment, she would get up and wash, but no matter how long she'd sit in the tub or linger under the shower, she never felt completely clean. He'd become the first of many who gave her money to lie with them. The only man she hadn't taken money from was Terence, but he'd given her something the others hadn't—a baby.

“Yes.”

Lance was momentarily speechless in his shock. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he labored to exhale. Usually cautious and distrustful of women, he wanted nothing more than to protect and take care of the petite, exotic woman with the hypnotic hazel eyes with whom he shared the same space. He ran a hand over his face, then stared through the windshield.

Dina knew her false admission had shocked Lance. That had been her intent because she didn't want to sleep with him. More than anything she wanted friendship, someone she could trust not to use her for his own selfish motives.

“We don't have to go out.”

“What!” Lance's head spun around as if suspended on a spring, his flaring nostrils opening wider. “What the hell are you talking about?” he shouted at her.

Dina flinched as if she'd been struck across the face. “I said we don't have to go out—see each other.”

Lance struggled to contain his rising temper. “Did I say I didn't want to go out with you? That I didn't want to see you?”

Dropping her head, Dina shook her head like a chastised child. “No.”

“Then why would you say that, Dina?” His voice had softened considerably.

Her head came up, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I may not have slept with a man, but I'm not stupid or naive. I know eventually you're going to want me in your bed, and that's when it's all going to come to an end. It's happened with me before, so I suggest we end it now.” Dina knew she was giving a flawless performance, so much so that she almost believed herself. She suppressed the urge to laugh.

Shifting on the black leather seat of the top-of-the line white BMW sedan, Lance ran the back of his hand over her cheek. “Don't cry, baby.” Leaning to his right, he kissed her hair. “I promise not to ask you to sleep with me. If it happens, then that choice will be yours.”

Dina sniffled, blinking back tears. She opened her small purse, searching for a tissue. Lance beat her to it when he handed her his handkerchief. “Thank you,” she mumbled, pressing the square of cotton to the corners of her eyes before returning it him. “You must think I'm some sort of freak.”

He shook his head. “That's where you're wrong, Dina. Whatever your reason, I respect your right to hold on to your virginity.”

A heavy silence filled the car as she composed her thoughts. “I've always harbored a fear that I would end up like my mother, sleeping indiscriminately with any and every man I'd come in contact with. I'd rather take my life than end up like her.”

“Has anyone told you that you're not your mother?”

She affected a sad smile. “Yes. My grandmother had for as long as I can remember.”

“Had?”

Dina nodded. “She passed away a few years ago.” She'd told yet another lie.

“Did you trust her, Dina?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should believe her.”

“It's not that easy, Lance.”

“What if I help you?”

Dina stared at him as an expression of tenderness softened his gaze. “How, Lance? How can you help me?”

There was just the sound of their breathing as their chests rose and fell in unison. “Trust me, Dina. Trust me to protect and take care of you.”

Her eyes filled again, and this time the tears weren't forced or staged. Dina had waited all her life to hear a man tell her what Lance had just proposed. He was old enough to be her father, yet she didn't see him as a father figure.

“How do you propose to do that?”

Running his forefinger down her nose, Lance winked at her. “Come home with me. I want you to pack a bag—”

“No,” Dina interrupted.

Lance shook his head, his finger moving to her mouth. “Don't say no until you hear what I've got to say. Okay?” She nodded as he removed his thumb. “I want you to spend the night in my guest bedroom. We can either eat out, order in or I'll cook.”

The skin around her eyes crinkled when she smiled. “You're playing with me, aren't you?”

“No, I'm not, Dina. I'm quite serious.” And he was. Lance wanted to get her out of the run-down motel. “I don't want you staying here. It doesn't look safe.” He'd spent sleepless hours thinking of her, wondering if she were okay. He hadn't rescued her in Englishtown to have her placed in harm's way in a run-down motel that was no better than a cheap boardinghouse.

Dina told Lance she planned to move out of the motel as soon as she secured employment. “I have a job interview tomorrow evening.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “Where?”

“West Orange?”

“How are you getting there?”

“I'm walking, Lance.” He shot her a warning look. “I'm taking the bus.”

“I have a late-afternoon dinner meeting with a client, but I'll arrange for a driver to take you there and bring you back,” he said with a finality that warned her not to challenge him.

She said if you're late, then forget about coming.
Dina recalled Sybil Cumberland's warning. She didn't know exactly where she was going but knew she couldn't afford to be late; she'd be a fool to turn down Lance's offer.

“Okay.”

“Okay to what?”

“Okay to everything you've proposed.”

She sat while Lance got out, came around to assist her. He followed her into the motel and waited in the room while she packed a bag. At the last possible moment she reached for the backpack and placed it in the bag, handing it to him.

“I'm ready.”

She'd told Lance she was ready when she was frightened that she wouldn't be able to morph into Dina Gordon with the same skill with which she'd become Adina Jenkins, streetwise hustler. Maybe it was because the blood of Bernice Jenkins ran in her veins. All Bernice had to do was smile at a man to get him to do anything for her. However, she'd raised the bar because she hustled men for money while Bernice did it for booze and drugs.

As they walked out of the motel together Dina did something she hadn't done in years.

She prayed.