My Destiny (6 page)

They shared another laugh, but Miles’s curiosity didn’t fade.

“Then I take it, you two had an argument?”

All traces of Destiny’s joviality vanished as a jolt of remorse returned. “Not exactly.”

Her answer hung in the air while she was suddenly barraged with uncertainty again. When her moment of reflection was over, she was startled to find Miles studying her.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“That didn’t look like a nothing.”

Miles shrugged again, but continued to look like he wanted to say something.

“Come on. What is it?” she goaded.

“Well, it’s not like it’s any of my business...”

“But?” She rolled her hands as a gesture for him to just spit it out.

“But I was just wondering what on earth you see in Jefferson Altman—
boring
Jefferson Altman.”

Destiny fell back against the chair with a boisterous laugh. Then, she couldn’t seem to stop. Tears trickled down her face and soon she heard him join in with her. Suddenly, Destiny could feel something was happening between them. When she wiped at her eyes, she knew what it was—they were becoming friends.

Chapter 10

A
s the night rolled on, Miles and Destiny laughed and swapped stories as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

For Miles, he never thought the day would come when he’d consider Destiny Brockman a friend, and he was pleased to have been wrong. Throughout the night, he smiled at her funky hairdo and wrinkled pajamas, but her ethereal beauty fascinated him.

A few times she caught him staring and they would go through a small vignette of her asking, “What?” and him responding, “Nothing.”

While she talked, he felt there was a wall guarding certain areas of her life and he became equally interested in what she said as well as what she didn’t.

To make her feel more at ease, he’d turned on an old battery-
operated radio and they listened to the Quiet Storm program on the city’s popular R & B station.

Had it been another night with a different woman, one could easily mistake the intimate setting as a romantic interlude equipped with soft music and candlelight.

“A few minutes ago you said your brother was a lawyer. Is he no longer practicing?” He handed her a half-filled glass of wine, and then returned to the sofa. When he sat down and looked up at her, he was moved by her profound look of sadness. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

One side of her mouth lifted in a poor attempt at a smile. She cleared her throat and lowered her gaze to the blush-
colored wine. “My twin brother passed away quite some time ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Miles heard and read so much in her simple statement, but he practiced restraint and didn’t voice any of the questions that filled his head.

She sipped at her wine. “You know I’ve been thinking a lot about him lately,” she went on to confess.

“Were you two close?” He felt safe in asking.

She nodded and a genuine smile came into focus. “Actually, he was my mentor, my hero and my best friend. I can’t begin to tell you how much I miss him.”

He smiled. “I think you just did.”

When she laughed, Miles could tell by her expression that she was still reminiscing about another time, but there was something else—something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Then, just as suddenly, she pulled out of her deep reverie and looked at him. “How about you? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No,” he said with a tinge of regret. “I would’ve liked one though—maybe an older brother or a younger sister.”

“Really? Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Growing up, I remember a lot of my friends having siblings. Of course, they would all complain about them in some shape or fashion, but I always envied them.” He shrugged again. “But I do have Wes. We’re sort of like brothers, if you take away the fact that my mother hasn’t exactly taken a shine to him.”

“Why is that?”

“Wes loves wild parties, wild women and just flat out having a wild time.”

“Excuse me, but has your mother actually met you?”

Miles laughed. “Well, she thinks he’s the bad influence on me.”

“When you’re really the bad apple, right?”

“I plead the Fifth.”

“Good idea. Are you close with your parents?” she asked, taking another sip of wine.

“It’s just me and my mom now.” He lowered his gaze to his drink. He tried to conjure up an image of his father from memory and was saddened by how difficult it became with each year that passed.

“I’m sorry,” Destiny said, and then grew silent.

“It’s okay. The years we had together were pretty terrific.” He finished off his wine, and then asked. “What about you and your parents?”

“Just me and Mom. My dad passed shortly after my brother.”

“Sorry,” he said, frowning.

She shook her head and gave a half laugh. “Boy, are we two pathetic people or what?”

He laughed. “It certainly sounds that way.” And for no reason at all, Miles found his thoughts drifting toward his coming birthday. He could almost hear the loud ticking of the clock. He didn’t have much time left.

“Hello, hello?” Destiny snapped her fingers.

Miles blinked, and then apologized for his wandering brain.

“It’s okay. I was just asking you what made you want to become a lawyer?”

“Money,” he answered honestly. “Problem is that you don’t learn until after graduation how much of a joke that notion is.”

Destiny held up her glass. “Amen.”

“What about you?”

Destiny tucked her legs under her. “I don’t really think I had a choice in the matter. Lady Justice has bewitched just about everyone in my family for generations. To this day, my mother swears my first word was
objection
instead of
mommy.
”

Miles laughed. “For some reason, I don’t doubt that.”

Her laugh deepened. “I don’t, either.”

Soon their laughter faded and both parties fell into their own private thoughts before Miles looked up and asked, “Any regrets?”

She drew in a deep breath and met his leveled gaze. “Plenty.” At his surprised stare, she went on. “As you know, this isn’t the easiest job in the world. A lot of times you get attached to the people you represent—you believe their stories of innocence and, more times than not, you end up being played a fool. Then there are cases where you don’t know how you can stand to look at yourself in the mirror because you’re defending someone you’re convinced is guilty. And let’s not discuss the problems with venality throughout the courts in recent years.” She paused and shook her head. “But every once in a while, you stumble over a case that validates all that you believe in and forces you to step up to the plate. If you’re up to the challenge, you deliver a home run.” She shrugged as if she had trouble making sense of her own words.

“I can definitely relate,” he said, but wondered at what had happened to inspire such an interesting soliloquy.

Destiny crossed her arms and remained reflective. “I had this one case where every fiber of my being screamed that my client wasn’t a murderer. I fought like hell to save him, but...”

She closed her eyes and Miles was surprised by her struggle for control of her emotions. The anguish in her expression touched something within him and still he didn’t know what to say. Answers like “We all have to deal with such cases” or “Hey, don’t let the job get you down” seemed too crass and unsympathetic. So instead, he said nothing.

“I don’t know. Maybe I need to take a break. I’ve yet to take a vacation since I’ve been with Phillips, Anderson and Brown.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, astonished.

“I wish I was.” She shrugged again and emitted a low laugh. “What can I say? I’m your typical workaholic.”

“Workaholic?” He held his fingers up in shape of a cross and shuddered. “Sounds like a horrible disease. It’s not contagious, is it?”

Destiny laughed. “I think you’re safe. Besides, you have quite a level of discipline yourself.”

Perplexed, he asked, “Me?”

“Yes, you. What are you—some kind of health freak?” She laughed, but noticed that he didn’t.

“What?” she asked baffled. When he didn’t readily respond, she laughed. “You are, aren’t you?”

He shrugged and tried not to laugh at her amused expression. “Well, let’s just say it’s a long story.”

“Like you said earlier, I’m not about to go anywhere anytime soon.”

Miles shook his head. “You’ll laugh.”

“Probably—but try me anyway.”

He hesitated. The last thing he needed was for someone else telling him how silly it was to believe in curses. He drained what was left in his glass and looked at her. “Odds are, I don’t have much time left to live.”

A long silence stretched between them before Destiny reared her head back and released a hearty laugh.

Miles rolled his eyes. “I told you you would laugh.”

Destiny couldn’t respond. She was too busy wiping her eyes and trying to catch her breath.

Miles clenched his jaw and regretted his confession. Hell, he wasn’t quite sure why he told her.

“So, is this the story you tell your girlfriends, the old ‘make love to me because I only have six months to live’ routine?”

Insulted, he snapped, “No.”

It took a moment for her laughter to die, but when it did, she paused and studied him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said, maintaining eye contact. He then watched a sudden cloud of concern come over her.

“Are you sick?”

His uneasiness ebbed away as he read genuine interest in her face. “No. I’m not sick, per se.”

Concern morphed into doubt again. “If you’re not sick then how to you know that you’re going to die? You haven’t been calling Warwick’s Psychic Hotline, have you?”

He smiled. “Let’s just say that it’s a family curse.”

“A curse?”

“For seven generations no man in my family has lived to see his forty-six birthday. And on Wednesday, I’ll turn forty.”

She said nothing as he watched her teeter on whether to believe him.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said guilelessly. “Are you sure? Well, of course you’re sure, but...”

He nodded. “Don’t get me wrong. There are people, like my mother, who think the curse is utter nonsense, but it’s hard to overlook the facts.”

“Seven generations?”

“That I’m aware of.”

She shook her head, seeming to be fascinated. “What do they do—just drop dead on their forty-fifth birthday?” When he flinched, she added apologetically, “I mean, is it a case of heart problems or something like that?”

“Most of them were heart-related problems—but my father died in a car accident a week before turning forty-six.”

“No,” she drew back in a startled surprised.

“I know it sounds weird to believe in such things in this day and age, but it’s hard to put a label like ‘coincidence’ on something like this.”

She fell silent again with her reservations clearly written in her expression. But he was used to getting that reaction from most of his friends.

“It’s got to be hard for you,” she finally said, lost in thought. “I mean, it’s one thing to go through life with everything being unknown, trying to find one’s purpose or searching for your soul mate, but to go through all that with an expected time limit...” She shook her head. “Knowing something like that would drive most people crazy.”

“I don’t know about that.” He shrugged. “My take on it is that I have to get as much life in as I possibly can. I try to enjoy and appreciate each day as it comes. It’s not always easy, especially lately,” he said, frowning.

He piqued her curiosity. “What’s changed recently?”

“The number
forty,
” he answered in a low tone. He paused and looked down at his empty glass. “It has such a final ring to it.”

She covered his hand that lay on the arm of the sofa. “You could be wrong about this, you know.”

His gaze lowered to her delicate hand and its warmth surprised and comforted him. “I’ve considered it. My father told me once not to put too much stock in curses.” His chest tightened at the memory.

“He didn’t believe in the curse?”

Miles shook his head. “For a time he actually had me convinced.”

She squeezed his hand.

Miles slid his hand from beneath hers. “Can I get you something else to drink?”

The lights flickered on and suddenly the room was flooded with light.

Destiny smiled awkwardly. “No, thanks. I think I’ve had enough.” She stretched lazily as Miles stood and reached for her empty glass.

“It’s getting late. What time is it?” she asked.

He glanced at his watch and was startled to see just how right she was. “Four-thirty.”

“A.M.?”

He smiled. “And you thought that you would never spend the night with me. Ha!”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.” She unfolded herself from the wing chair and cringed slightly at the sound of her joints popping. “I’m sure someone has to be working the front desk by now.”

“Yeah. George usually works the graveyard shift. We probably could have called a few hours ago to get a key.”

She nodded and covered her mouth as she yawned.

Miles placed the dishes in the dishwasher while Destiny used the phone. His eyelids grew heavy as he experienced a hefty dose of drowsiness. When he returned to the living room, she informed him that George was on his way up.

“Turns out there was a bad accident that damaged an electrical pole not too far from here,” she said. “I didn’t bother to ask George about Wendell. I don’t want to get the boy in any kind of trouble.”

Miles simply smiled. “Well,” he said. “I hate to see this pleasant evening come to an end.”

She smiled. “It was pleasant, wasn’t it?”

He nodded. “I hate that it took so long to get to know each another. I can always use a good friend.”

“Me, too,” she affirmed with a smile.

The doorbell rang. Miles and Destiny started at its sudden sound.

“My, that was fast,” Miles commented, heading toward the door.

George, an elderly black gentleman with twinkling eyes and a florescent white smile, greeted him on the other side of the door. “Good morning, Mr. Stafford. Ms. Brockman asked for me to deliver a spare key to her apartment here.” He tilted up on his toes to dart a glance over Miles’s shoulder. When he lowered his weight back onto the balls of his feet, he winked knowingly at Miles and handed over the key. “I hope the night’s events haven’t been too much of an inconvenience for either of you.”

Miles shook his head as one side of his mouth lifted into a sly smile. “It was no trouble at all.” He dug into his pocket, handed George a small tip along with a conspiratorial wink before closing the door.

“What’s so amusing?” Destiny asked him as he returned to the living room still wearing a smile.

“Nothing,” he responded with his voice laced with undeniable humor.

Her expression wrinkled with disbelief, but she didn’t bother to interrogate him further. “Please tell me that was George at the door.”

Miles held up the key.
“Pour vous, Mademoiselle.”

Her face flashed with instant relief. “Well, thank goodness.” She walked over to him and held out her hand.

Miles dropped the copper key into her palm. “Shall I walk you to your door?”