Authors: Mary B. Morrison

He's Just A Friend (9 page)

BOOK: He's Just A Friend

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CHAPTER 10

T
oday was “Bring Your Child to Work” day and since Fancy didn't have any kids, she borrowed her neighbor's dog. Buddy was a perfectly groomed miniature schnauzer with a shiny black coat and a long beard. Glancing in the mirror, Fancy admired the pinstriped miniskirt suit Steven had bought. Her cinnamon open-toe sling-back shoes matched her stripes. Fancy placed Buddy in her workout bag, stored his container of chicken strips in the side pocket, and headed to the BART station.

Peeping inside the bag she said, “Promise me you'll be quiet so we don't get kicked off the train.”

Instead of parking at Lake Merritt, Fancy drove to West Oakland. That way they only had to ride two train stops. Buddy squirmed around in the bag.

A masculine-looking woman with a deep voice asked, “You wanna sit down?”

“No, thanks,” Fancy replied, avoiding eye contact.

Closing her book the woman asked with disbelief, “Is that a dog?”

“Yes!” Fancy eyed the woman's wedding band and sarcastically commented, “I see you have one, too.” Fancy smiled and teased Buddy's long eyebrows.

“Huh. What?” The woman silently faced the window. Since the train was traveling under the bay, there was nothing to see except concrete walls.

As soon as Fancy exited the station, she let Buddy trot several blocks uphill to the office. Harry had left for his early morning flight to New York, and he'd locked his door, so she made an about-face and slipped into her office. Fancy scrolled through the on-line yellow pages and dialed the florist. “Yes, I'd like to order the largest bleeding heart you have.”

“Are you sure you want to order our largest? It's awfully big and very expensive. Four hundred and fifty dollars.” The woman listened then said, “Okay. Which mortuary would you like us to deliver to?”

Fancy rattled off Harry's home address in Sacramento.

“Okay, what would you like on the banner?”

“Put R. I. P., Henrietta Washington.” Fancy billed the expense to Harry's account.

Harry had promised to promote her to property supervisor as soon as a position became available. Fancy suddenly realized as long as she kept Harry happy, Harry would tell her whatever he thought she wanted to hear. His firm owned thirty-six apartment complexes in the Bay Area and managed another forty-eight properties across the countryânot the few properties he'd led her to believe. Why would Harry lie about how many properties he owned? One day Fancy would own and manage properties, too. Harry made it seem easy. Always flying off somewhere every week. His flight to New York City was scheduled to leave in thirty minutes from San Francisco International Airport. Fancy loved New York and although Harry had invited her to go, he canceled her reservation after she went through his files. Byron had canceled her trip, too, but hadn't said why.

Fancy had bigger and better plans. Since Harry wouldn't teach her about property management, she decided she'd learn on her own. She looked at her E-mail task list, picked up the phone, and called her favorite tenant. Mrs. Lovely always had a complaint.

“Good morning, Mrs. Lovely. This is Fancy Taylor with Washington and Associates property management. How can I help you?”

“Baby. The man came out to fix my commode last week but it's leaking again. And there's a hole in the flo' next to the commode. Oh, yeah, and it's done come aloose. I practically fell in the waduh this morning.”

“Yes, Mrs. Lovely. I'll have someone come out right away. Better yet, Mrs. Lovely, I'll be out to your apartment this afternoon.”

Fancy had forgotten about Buddy until he ran past her office. Several kids chased him. One little girl scooped Buddy up and started carrying him around.

If she were serious about learning the business, Fancy needed to see Mrs. Lovely's place. The bathroom couldn't be that bad.

“Okay, baby. I'll be here all day. I'll cook suppa early. That ways you can join me if you like. I'll cook a little extra.”

Fancy frowned. No matter how friendly Mrs. Lovely was, Fancy was not eating at a stranger's home. “I'll be there by three.”

Fancy surfed the Internet and billed all her real estate salesperson and broker courses to Harry's credit card. She billed the real estate exam fees under miscellaneous, completed an expense report, and made the amount payable to herself. She contacted the Institute of Real Estate Management and prepaid for each course required to become a certified property manager. Fancy was most interested in commercial leasing and acquisition. Instead of owning apartment buildings she wanted to own commercial property. Skyscrapers. For the first time in her life, Fancy envisioned becoming one of the power players.

The telephone interrupted her thoughts. It was Harry so Fancy answered, “Hello.”

“Hey, I missed my flight. Can't get out until six so I'm headed back to the office. Why don't you take care of me before my trip? We can do lunch. Reserve us a room at the usual,” Harry said.

Fancy replied, “I can't. I promised I'd visit Mrs. Lovely.” She was not canceling her appointment with Mrs. Lovely.

“Don't forget who cuts your check. It's not Mrs. Lovely. It's me.”

No, he was not pulling rank. Bastard. “No, Harry. Not today.” Fancy didn't offer an explanation nor an excuse.

“Okay, look, pack your things and move to cubicle two. I want you moved by the time I make it to the office.”

“But Allyanna is in cubicle two. Besides, I'm not moving to a cubicle. I've earned my office.”

“Yes, you have. But you haven't earned your keep. I have too many tenants calling me complaining about you.”

Harry must have been crazy if he thought Fancy was moving out of her plush office. “Bye, Harry.”

“Oh, yeah. Allyanna says she's allergic to dogs, so after you finish moving, take Buddy home immediately. Forward me to Allyanna.”

Fancy hung up the phone and stomped over to Allyanna's desk. She kissed her lips inward twice, signaling for Buddy. He didn't respond so Fancy sat in Allyanna's visitor's chair, patted her thigh, then rolled her eyes at Allyanna. “Where's Buddy?”

“If we're lucky, he's dead. Why would anyone bring an animal to work? He's not a kid. By the way, Harry's wife says if you don't stop sleeping with her husband she's going toâ”

Fancy politely picked up Allyanna's grand Starbuck's cup. The coffee was still warm. Fancy removed the lid and emptied the remaining contents on Allyanna's desk.

Allyanna screamed, “You witch!”

Fancy stood and stared at Allyanna. Allyanna pinched the wet papers and held them over the wastebasket.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Fancy said, then walked away.

How did Allyanna know Harry was married? Fancy walked up and down each aisle searching for Buddy. The kids were huddled in an aisle, peeping at Allyanna.

Fancy walked over to the kids and asked, “Has anyone seen Buddy?”

The little girl who had been carrying him pointed at the boy next to her.

Fancy's eyes widened. “What did you do with Buddy?” She grabbed both the kids by the hands and dragged them into her office.

“Where's Buddy?”

The little boy scratched his head. Fancy placed her hands on his shoulders and rattled him back and forth. “You'd better tell me orâ”

“Or what!” Allyanna interrupted, pushing open Fancy's door. “Get your hands off my kid.”

Tears swelled in Fancy's eyes. “He's not my dog. I've got to find him. Where's Buddy?”

“My son don't play with no dogs. She had the dog. Ask her. You shouldn't have brought him here in the first place.” Allyanna walked away, holding her son's hand.

The little girl whispered, “He's dead.”

Fancy's head snapped in the little girl's direction. “Dead! Dead! What do you mean he's dead!”

The little girl pointed and said, “Check the rest room,” and ran to her mother.

Fancy ran to the rest room. The door was locked.

“What's all this commotion?” Harry asked, walking into the office.

“Buddy is in the rest room and the door is locked.”

Harry removed his spare key. He unlocked the door, opened it, and looked inside. “Nope he's not in here. I told you to take him home.”

Fancy was relieved that Buddy wasn't in the rest room but worried because, now where was Buddy?

Allyanna brushed by Harry and entered the rest room. “Oh, my gosh!” Allyanna held her stomach and laughed.

Fancy rushed into the stall. When she saw Buddy, all Fancy saw were his innocent eyes. Buddy was stuck in the toilet bowl covered in white toilet tissue and chocolate candy bars. Peanuts floated around his sticky coat.

“Don't move.” Fancy ran to her office, grabbed the workout bag, and raced back to the rest room. She waved a chicken strip in front of Buddy's nose until he hopped inside the bag. Fancy doubted Buddy would win any dog contest, especially the one her neighbor had entered him into this weekend.

“Bad ass kids.” Maybe having children wasn't such a good idea after all because if Fancy were their mother, she surely would've beaten them.

CHAPTER 11

F
ancy called in sick on Friday. She laced her jogging shoes, stretched her hamstrings, and then did a full split in both directions. Why had Harry lied about his situation? Not mentioning he had a wife was the same as lying. As long as Fancy kept promising to please Harry, he either didn't care or didn't know she was the one who'd sent the bleeding heart, causing Mrs. Washington to place herself under house arrest. Although Fancy no longer desired Harry sexually, she adamantly wanted Mrs. Washington to leave his cheating ass. Seeing Harry happy, taking Allyanna out to lunch every other day, tied Fancy's stomach in knots. Sending Harry's wife that floral arrangement marked the beginning of Harry's demise.

“Let's see, first I'll E-mail a copy of his list of clients to my personal E-mail address, then I'll forward all of his phone calls to my cell phone.” Since Fancy had recorded Harry's outgoing message, she'd duplicate the message on her phone. What if Byron questioned her? Fancy would think about that after she changed her home phone number. Fancy stood on her balcony and gazed at the mid-afternoon sun rays hovering over the lake like a sheet of glass.

The telephone rang, interrupting her plot against Harry. Fancy hurried to answer. “Hello.”

“Hey, this is Steven. What are you doing tonight?”

“Busy. Why? What's up?”

“I've got two tickets to the Golden Gate Theatre tonight. You can wear that sexy black number I bought you yesterday.”

Fancy rolled her eyes and silently exhaled. “I'm getting ready to go run the lake.” Steven was crazy if he thought she'd waste wearing one of her new party dresses on a date with him. The long black shawl wrapped around a sleeveless stretch-lace minidress. With that outfit she could go from amazingly gorgeous to I-know-you-wanna-fuck-me in less than five seconds.

Steven sang, “I have the money you asked for.”

Fancy thought about it for a moment. “I gotta go. Good-bye.”

When the phone rang again, Fancy answered, “I said, no!”

“But I haven't asked yet.” Byron's voice was friendly.

“Oh, no. I'm sorry. I thought you were Tanya calling back. Hi, baby.”

“Would you like to accompany me tonight?”

Fancy spoke softly, “Yes, I'd love to.”

“I'll pick you up at five. Bye.”

“Bye, baby.”

Fancy hung up and immediately called the phone company. “Yes, I'd like to change my number. Someone is harassing me.”

“Okay, hold please.”

Fancy smiled as the operator gave her a private number. Steven was dismissed. Harry was about to be pissed. And Adam was the only sponsor worth servicing and soon he'd be history.

In less than an hour, Fancy jogged three lapsâalmost ten milesâaround Lake Merritt. She soaked in a tub of black cherry salt water then wrapped hot steamy towels around her legs for five minutes. Generously smoothing virgin olive oil on her legs, Fancy shaved. Byron had all the qualities she wanted in a man. Wealthy. Intelligent. Handsome. Masculine. Attentive. No wife or kids. And he cared about her. Fancy dried off, tossed the towel in its hamper, and sifted through her wardrobe. Tonight she would dress extra provocative for her man. Steven's investment was the perfect outfit for the occasion.

Red sling-back open-toe shoes displayed her African pedicure. Her body tingled from the peppermint body lotion. The softest after-five dress, that she'd just removed the tag from, caressed her body and her naked booty. The hemline rested six inches above her knees. Her nipples stood firm, highlighting her cleavage.

Fancy waited in the lobby because if Byron came up to get her, they'd end up having sex on the balcony again. But this time it was five o'clock in the evening not late at night or early morning.

When Byron entered the lobby, Fancy twirled and floated into his arms.

“Hi, baby. Um, you smell good,” Fancy said. She lovingly smoothed her hand over the back of Byron's head and massaged his neck.

“You know what that does to me. Remember last weekend.” Byron nodded at the doorman, and then smiled at Fancy. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Fancy said, easing into his Jaguar.

“I have a surprise.” Byron eased his hand up Fancy's thigh. “Whoa, I see you have one too.” His smile widened.

“Oh, I love surprises.” Fancy closed her eyes.

“Not so fast this time,” Byron said. “I'll tell you later.”

Byron had already given her a diamond tennis bracelet, the platinum anklet she was wearing, and several rings. Maybe tonight he'd give her the ring she'd earned.

Byron pulled into a long driveway high in the Oakland Hills.

Fancy laughed. “Okay, whose house are we christening tonight?”

“Honey, this brother is strictly business. He is the man. This might as well be his vacation home because he's never here.”

Large white pillars separated the house and driveway. Walking up two flights of stairs into the mansion, Fancy imagined herself living there with Byron. What if that was their new home and Byron was proposing to her tonight?

Fancy's eye's widened as she stepped inside. Oh, hell no! No way. This couldn't be her new home. Gorgeous women in tuxedo bikinis pranced around in stilettos serving smiles. Before one of them got too close to Byron, Fancy frowned at her, then tightly hugged Byron's arm.

“Who did you say lives here?” Fancy asked Byron, entering a crowded room. Everyone was standing because there were no chairs in the room.

“Here he comes now,” Byron said, then whispered, “You have to watch him. He loves pretty women.”

“Hey, Byron. Glad you could make it, man.”

Fancy could never forget those perfect locks.

Byron's friend eyed Fancy. “All-star?” He looked at Byron and raised an eyebrow.

Byron nodded and said, “For sho. This is my lady, Fancy Taylor. Fancy, this is my boy, Darius Jones.”

Lady?
Fancy thought. Byron hadn't introduced her like that before. Damn, Darius was fine as hell. Tall as heaven. And had Miss Kitty singing his praises.

“Look, man”âDarius patted Byron on the backâ“enjoy yourselves.” Darius smiled, winked at Byron, and kissed two of the models as they passed.

“He's who did you say?” Fancy needed more information on this arrogant Darius guy. Her first encounter with him at Byron's fund-raiser was counterproductive, but Fancy had a plan.

“You've heard of Black Diamonds, right?” Byron asked.

“I believe so,” Fancy replied. Who hadn't heard of Black Diamonds?

“Well, Jada Diamond, the owner of Black Diamonds, is his mother and she's standing over there next to her new husband.” Byron pointed, then added, “Wellington Jones is Darius's father.” Byron escorted Fancy upstairs. She listened intently. As Byron volunteered information, Fancy stored the data in her memory bank.

Fancy's eyes widened. “Are you serious? He is
the
Darius Jones? Darius Jones of Somebody's Gotta Be On Top Enterprises?” Fancy stood at the top of the staircase observing Darius. At this point she was more interested in touring her new home than marrying Byron. Byron had created unimaginable opportunities for Fancy.

“That's him.” Byron grabbed Fancy's hand. “Let's check out his guest rooms,” Byron said with a horny, devilish grin.

“I'm hungry,” Fancy lied. “Can we get something to eat first?” She led Byron down the stairs so she could get closer to Darius. Watching the models, Fancy wondered if they were live-in servants. Those anorexic, breast-implanted hoochies would be the first ones fired after Fancy moved in.

“What's an all-star?” Fancy asked Byron, holding a china saucer of hors d'oeuvres she had no intention of eating.

“Oh, that's just a term we use for . . . hum . . . how can I say this.” Byron shook his head. “On second thought, you don't wanna know. But it is a compliment.”

“Okay, if you insist. So how do you know Darius?” Fancy asked.

“We played ball together at Georgetown U in D.C. His real father, Darryl Williams, is a retired NBA player, who was also our head coach. That's enough questions about Darius. You wanna know what your surprise is?” Byron hugged Fancy.

“I sure do,” Fancy said, hugging Byron and gazing over his shoulder at Darius. Darius winked and smiled at her so Fancy smiled too.

Byron led Fancy to the front porch. He removed a small box from his pocket and handed it to Fancy.

“What's this?”

“Open it.”

Fancy delicately peeled away the wrapping. Frowning, she questioned, “A key?” It was a tiny little gold key that resembled one that would fit an old-fashioned padlock. She smiled at Byron. “To what?”

“You'll see. Let's go.”

This was the best evening Fancy had had in long time. Marrying Darius was her destiny. Why else would she keep running into him? When Byron parked in front of her apartment building, there was a new metallic white two-seater Benz wrapped in a red ribbon.

“This key doesn't fit a car.”

“You're right. I'll trade you,” Byron said, handing her the key to the car.

Fancy switched the keys and gave Byron a huge kiss. Lipstick was all over his mouth. She tore the ribbon and sat behind the wheel of her new car. Fancy inhaled. This was the first time someone had given her a new car. The car Desmond gave her was pre-owned, but the Benz! That was fancy! And Fancy. Sixty-nine miles registered on the odometer.

“I gotta get going,” Byron said, walking away. “I'll call you in the morning.”

Fancy kissed Byron long and soft. “Why don't you come upstairs so I can thank you properly?”

“No, I really have to get going.”

“So what was the other key to?” Fancy asked.

Byron glimpsed at Fancy and replied, “For starters, my heart. I'm not so sure it's me you want. Enjoy the ride.” Then he walked away.

BOOK: He's Just A Friend

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