Apple Brown Betty (18 page)

Jacinta smiled. “Where might this office be?”

Desmond frowned.

“Come down off the stage,” she prodded.

“I own a restaurant…Cush, right around the corner.”

“You own that place?” Jacinta's eyes lit. “Every day I drive by there in awe, a place that beautiful in the center of all that ugly.” She shook her head, smiling. “I wondered who would have the guts to open a business there. Should have known it would be you. Damn!”

“You're flattering me,” Desmond said.

“You should be proud, not flattered.”

Desmond ordered another drink. “You sound like my sister.”

Jacinta took a swallow of her own drink. “Younger or older?” she asked after the elixir moved down through her throat.

“Younger, she's a model out in New York.” Desmond smiled at the vision of Felicia that danced around in his head. “That's my heart there, my sister. Only woman I've ever felt compelled to stick it out with.” He laughed to make light of his issues. “She's staying with me now, trying to get some things settled in her life. The world isn't too kind to you beautiful women, is it?”

Jacinta shrugged. “Is what it is.” She looked at Desmond. “So, tell me about your woman—your girlfriend, or is it, wife?”

“Who said I've got a woman—” Desmond started, but stopped when Jacinta crooked her head to the side and looked at him with those dark eyes of hers. “I don't know,” he said, stopping to sip his second screwdriver. “It's very new. I'm hoping it'll lead to something substantial. I thought we made a breakthrough yesterday but today I'm not so sure anymore. She's having a sort of crisis in her life, says all the right things about needing me, but…”

“That's the one thing about you that fits the profile of the men that come in here,” Jacinta told him. “Problems at home with their partner, be it a girlfriend or wife. For some reason men come here to escape the drama of their relationships, but then when they go home the same problems exist. This place is just a temporary diversion. Come down off the stage, Desmond, and get yourself right so you and this woman can go on and make beautiful babies, create a future together.” Jacinta downed the last bit of her drink, placed the glass on the counter and moved to get up. Desmond reached for her shoulder and she didn't flinch; the bouncer didn't rush him and put him in a headlock, either.

“Why you take such an interest in me?” Desmond asked.

Jacinta smiled. “You're one handsome brother,” she said. “And I love a handsome man, simple as that.” She rubbed her hand along his shoulder. “I wish you were available. You're just the kind of man I lay awake in bed dreaming about coming in here and whisking me away from all this.” She smiled sadly. “Good luck with your girlfriend…and pray for a sistah, would you?” She grabbed her duffel bag and walked off through that door to the right that led to the bowels of the building.

Desmond swallowed the last of his drink and moved to leave. Tonight he just didn't feel like seeing Jacinta onstage. Pray for a sistah? Pray for a brotha, too.

D
esmond pulled his truck into the parking lot at the train station. He looked at his watch. “What time does your train arrive?”

“Seven-sixteen,” Felicia said. “We've got a few minutes.”

“You know what you're going to say to these people?”

“Keep Kenneth away from me,” Felicia said, “and I'll do my best to make the agency and myself some money. If I even get a whiff of his hot garlic breath again, I'm walking…for good.”

“You're not going to put up with anyone degrading you,” Desmond added.

“Exactly,” Felicia said. “I want to make that point perfectly clear. I'll also mention how it would be a shame if the New York papers got wind of a reputable agency, with photographers contracted by that agency, promising young vulnerable girls modeling opportunities in return for sexual favors.”

Desmond nodded, impressed. “Well said.”

“I got that off of
20/20,
” Felicia confessed, smiling. “They ran a story about something like this.”

“You're way too beautiful and intelligent for that kind of nonsense.”

Felicia nodded. “And this girl can
sashay chante
better than those coked out-looking white girls they had with me that day. I didn't see Kenneth breathing shrimp scampi down their necks.”

Desmond smiled. “At-ti-tude.”

Felicia snapped her fingers. “Please believe it.”

“You're a trip, girl.”

Felicia pressed for the clock function on his dashboard. “We've got a couple more minutes, so let me know all about this new mystery woman.”

Desmond laughed. “Cydney Williams—”

“I know her name,” Felicia cut him off. “I want to know the real details, like, how long you plan on keeping her around?”

“Don't go there.”

Felicia rolled her eyes. “Proceed.”

“She's sexy, beautiful, smart, strong-minded, easy to talk to, fun to be around.”

“Oh, shit, that bests the previous record holder, Nora.” Felicia said.

“What are you yapping about now?”

“That was like four adjectives and Nora only got three. This Cydney might just be in there.”

“Don't go rushing us to the altar, it's still early. She's got a few issues I think she has to settle.”

“Is Cydney Terrific aware of how issue free you are, baby brother?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“In other words, does she know your M.O. is stick and move?”

“Is that how you see me?” Desmond asked, his eyes narrowed and shielded by heavy lids.

Felicia smiled and touched his hand. “You show this Cydney Terrific what you show me on a daily basis and she'll be in good hands.”

Desmond's posture settled back into the hospitality of his interior leather. “I'm going to try,” he said softly.

“Us women have to stick together,” Felicia added. “I want to see a good woman get the good man she deserves.”

Desmond's eyes came to life. “Which reminds me—we were having a conversation the other day about whether or not a certain young woman did the do or not. What's the deal with that? Please tell me you're still pure.”

Felicia was about to respond, but the waiting passengers on the platform in front of them stood up and started making their way forward. She smiled, reached in the backseat and grabbed her bag, then turned and gave her brother a quick kiss. “Saved by the toot-toot, little brother,” she exclaimed.

“We'll revisit this again, Felicia.”

“But of course.”

“You sure you don't want me to meet you here to bring you back tonight?”

“No, no,” Felicia said. “I'm not even certain I'm coming right back tonight.”

“Well, call me on the cell if you change your mind. I'll be out with Cydney.”

“Look at you,” Felicia said. “Pushing me aside already.”

“I got your back you need me. Be careful.”

Felicia blew Desmond a kiss and exited the truck. Desmond watched her walk with attitude toward the train while the other passengers half trotted or outright ran. When she reached the conductor she extended an arm so he could help her onto the raised step of the train. She turned to the conductor and smiled. The conductor's legs looked as if they might fold under him. Desmond shook his head. The power women held over men was one of life's greatest phenomena. He put his truck in drive and drove off thinking about a certain Miss Wonderful, wondering if he had the patience to make it through the day until this evening.

 

Villa Moore's voice came on the line, cutting through the music that had been playing for close to ten minutes. “Cydney,” she said, “I am
sooo
sorry to keep you waiting. I had an important matter I had to attend to.”

“That's okay,” Cydney said. Her knees were bouncing out of control. “I got your message asking that I call you back. Is there a development?”

“Hold for one moment,” Villa said. The sounds of a door closing echoed through the phone line on Villa's end, then the sound of Villa settling into her seat. “Nosy ears,” Villa said when she came back on the line.

“I understand.”

“To answer your question, yes, Stephon is definitely going to pull through this…physically.”

“What does that mean…physically?”

“He's in severe depression,” Villa told her. “He's told them in no uncertain terms that he plans to finish what he wasn't able to complete the first time.”

“Suicidal.”

“Very much so. Mrs. James has elected to have him sedated.”

“She would consider that the answer,” Cydney huffed. Villa made a sound on the other end, Cydney could tell it as the sound someone made with a smirk.

“The other thing,” Villa said, talking deliberately. “Mrs. James has decided to take over the day-to-day duties of running the magazine.”

“You've got to be kidding me.”

“Afraid so,” Villa said.

“I don't think I can deal with that woman,” Cydney said.

“That's the thing…” Villa took in a deep breath. “Mrs. James has decided to cut down on freelance pieces and farm out everything to the staff writers.”

“I guess she made my decision for me, then,” Cydney said.

“I'm sorry,” Villa said. “I think the whole thing reeks. She's coming in now acting like the devoted loving wife.”

“Thanks for the info, Villa.”

“I'll keep you posted, Cydney. You take care of yourself.”

“I will, and you do the same.”

“And, Cydney?”

“Yes?”

“Don't blame yourself, girl.” Villa's voice dropped to a whisper. “That man had nothing but unhappiness. You, the magazine and his child are the only things that made him happy.”

Cydney took in a deep breath and let it hold. The words were appreciated but they didn't fill the empty place in her stomach. She couldn't shake the guilt in knowing she'd abandoned Stephon as he embarked on the most crucial change of his life. She'd moved on to someone new so fast it defied logic.

Two other thoughts filled her head as well.

Could logic ever be successfully defied? What were her chances with Desmond?

 

Slay curbed his BMW outside of Hot Tails and walked inside like he owned the place. He gave the bouncer a pound and walked straight for the bar. Wendy, the bartender, smiled at him as he approached. She mixed some grenadine and a Sprite and brought it right to him, placing the virgin drink down in front of him on a napkin.

“What's going on, stranger?” she said.

“Ain't nothing,” Slay said. He studied her a moment, then nodded at her chest. “I see you went ahead and had it done.”

Wendy nodded.

“So why you still mixing drinks?”

“My big debut is coming up in a few days,” she said.

“You gonna kill them,” Slay told her. “Ain't too many of these chicks pretty about the face and body like you is.”

Wendy smiled so deeply it looked as if her jaw muscles might cramp up and leave the expression forever on her face.

“Don't go getting all blushy on me,” Slay said. “You know it's true.”

“You're the sweetest,” Wendy told him.

Slay nodded. “Right, right.” He looked around. “Where's my girl at?”

“In the back, you know you can go on back there.”

Slay took his drink off the counter, took a sip, moved to the door that led to the back. He stopped before reaching for the doorknob and questioned the bouncer with his head and eyes. It was a gesture of respect more than a query. The bouncer nodded. Slay walked through the door. He walked down the narrow corridor to the door marked Premier Talent and rapped his knuckle twice against the wooden frame.

“
A dios mío!
What!”

Slay smirked, shook his head, opened the door and stuck his head in. “You decent?”

“Come on.”

Slay walked in. “Damn, Hah-seen-ta, what you call that getup?”

Jacinta wore a purple G-string with a see-through wrap around her waist, and a glittery brassiere. “My uniform,” she said.

Slay closed the door behind him, moved into the room, took a seat on the counter in front of her mirror. “Why you always giving me the ice-grill treatment? I've seen your show, so I know you've got a better personality than that.”

Jacinta shook her head. “Nothing personal,” she said, “you just remind me of all the wrong turns I've taken in my life.”

Slay touched his chest, right above his heart, made a motion like he'd been stabbed. “No, nothing personal about that,” he said after his quick performance.

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah.”

Jacinta put down the makeup brush she'd been using to deftly add a flourish to her face. “So what brings you here? Jeffries, I assume.”

Slay nodded. “I was sorry to hear that things didn't go well between you and him the other night.”

“He's a creep,” Jacinta said. “He wanted to do things that I just…” She shook as if a chill suddenly brushed through.

“You had to knee him so hard?” Slay asked. “He said you caught him in the balls. He sounded like you drove them shits up into his mouth.”

“I tried to,” Jacinta said.

“In a situation like that you have to run down the options,” Slay offered. “And pick the best one.”

Jacinta nodded to the table across the room, the long knife lying on her duffel bag. Slay turned and looked, too. “The kneeing in the nuts was the best option,” she said.

Slay turned back around, smiling. “Anyway, I fixed it for him. I hooked him up with somebody else.”

“White girl?”

“Yeah,” Slay said, smiling. “Jeffries doesn't want to ever hear anything about Spanish, Hispanic, Latina, whatever y'all are, ever again. My man probably gets heartburn
just looking
at a can of Goya beans.”

“Good.”

“Not for business, but what the heck.”

“It couldn't be avoided, Slay. Trust me. That Jeffries is a foul creep.”

Slay shook it off. “I wanted to check on you, to be honest.”

“I'm living.”

“I worry about you, believe it or not. That situation messed my day up,” Slay said. “Things were going well up until that call from Jeffries. Took my—took this girl to that new restaurant around the corner—”

Jacinta sat up straight. “Cush?”

“Yeah, that place.”

“How was the food? The atmosphere?”

Slay made a face. “Food was okay. I can't get with the atmosphere stuff. My—I mean the girl—she was feeling it.”

“I knew he'd have a nice place.”

“Who?”

“Desmond, the guy that owns it,” Jacinta said. She slid back in her chair, her gaze off someplace else.

“You say it like you know him.”

Jacinta smiled, her gaze still adrift.

“You know him?” Slay asked.

Jacinta nodded.

“From where?”

“He's come in here a few times.”

Slay sat up. “No shit?”

“Yeah, he's different than all these other pigs that come in, though.”

“Is that right?” Slay said. “School me.”

Jacinta looked at Slay. “He's a gentleman. He has a good head on his shoulders.”