A Merry Little Christmas (17 page)

Angelique almost ducked her head at the praise, but caught herself in time. She was proud of the series of images of women at work. Like all her work, they were in black and white, developed on matte paper to better display the texture of the subject. She had shot women working as exotic dancers, showing them as they got dressed to perform, and as they dressed to leave work. Their stories were written across their faces like tattoos. She had taken shots of women working in fish canneries, in sweatshops, in diners, in institutional laundries, as well as female firefighters, basketball players and mechanics. There were women working in the small beauty salons that sprang up like weeds in every city, women cleaning floors and laying concrete. There was an a
mazing
cross section of America depicted in her work.

“I want to call it
Working Girls,
but everything is so politically correct these days, I’m kind of hesitant,” she admitted.

“You can call it anything you want. You know, your work reminds me of a combination of Gordon Parks, Moneta Sleet and Diane Arbus,” Aneesah said as she continued to peruse the pictures. “These are the ones that made me cry,” she added as she pushed a series of photographs across the desk. They were all of disabled adults, some with Down syndrome,
others
with different physical challenges. There was nothing sentimental or glamorized about the shots; they were just realistic depictions that gave the viewer another frame of reference for the subject. After another lingering look, Aneesah turned her full attention to A.J.

“You know, I’m quite familiar with your work as well. I think anyone who’s ever picked up a fashion magazine is familiar with Alan Jay—you’re one of the best-known fashion photographers in the world. But I also saw your film when it screened at the Detroit Institute of Arts. I was moved by it, completely in awe. And you’re from Detroit?”

A.J. smiled and assured her that he was indeed from Detroit. “Bo
rn
and raised in Hamtramck, graduated from Cass Tech.”

Aneesah smiled in return. “So did I. Graduate from Cass Tech, I mean.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, and then Aneesah collected herself and went back to the matter at hand.

“Angelique, what I’d like to do is have your work featured in a special exhibit. It’s obviously too late for Black History Month since it’s already February, but I’m thinking about April,” she said, consulting a huge desk calendar. “Will that give you time enough to have prints ready for sale?” When Angelique looked surprised Aneesah gave her a smile of encouragement. “This is going to be an extremely successful exhibit,” she said warmly. “This is going to be the start of something huge for you. I’m
very
honored that we’re going to be the first place to showcase your remarkable talent.”

She looked at the pictures on her desk and on the two easels and sighed with satisfaction. “You know, you should be putting these into book form. What you need is an agent,” she said firmly.

A.J. grinned widely and leaned toward Aneesah. “Thank you so much for saying that
.
I’ve told her the same thing several times. I’m glad she heard it from an expert.”

Angelique didn’t say anything at all; she was too overwhelmed by the reaction to her work. Aneesah excused herself from the office for a moment to confer with her assistant. A.J. turned to Angelique and took her hand.

“Hey, kid, this is the part where you look happy
.
This is when the good times start to roll,” he said gently.

Only someone who knew her as well as A.J. could have possibly understood when the single tear rolled down her cheek.

Chapter Ten

A J. watched in amazement as Angelique finally sat back and made a noise of total contentment. The remains of a huge meal were on the table in front of them and she was utterly replete.

“What I don’t understand is where you put all that food
,
” he said shaking his head in wonder. “You eat more than I do and you know how I love to eat”

They were at one of Angelique’s favorite places,
a
restaurant that featured excellently prepared Middle Eastern cuisine in a beautifully serene atmosphere. They had gone to the one in Troy on Rochester Road; there were several of them in the suburban areas around Detroit. She had eaten her way through t
wo bowls of Mediterranean salsa, which was
a lovely combination of chopped tomatoes, capers and lemon juice with subtle seasonings
,
along with three baskets of fresh, warm, miniature pitas baked on the premises, plus a bowl of hummus, also made daily. She’d also consumed grape leaves stuffed with lamb and rice, tabbouleh and a salmon dish she hadn’t tried before. And as always, their incredible lemonade, which was homemade and more like a smoothie than the traditional thin drink. Her eyes were slightly glazed from the sheer enjoyment of her meal, but she did respond to his question.

“I have no idea where it goes,” she admitted. “I eat like a horse and I never gain a pound. And I’m really trying to gain some weight
. 
I want to look like a woman, not a stick.”

A.J. laughed in her face. “If you were bigger, you’d want to be smaller. Just give it a rest, will you?”

Angelique made a face. “Men like to have something to hold on to. My brothers all say that nothing wants a bone but a dog. Those boys like
meat
on the bones. Look at Clay and Bennie. She was pretty slim when they got married but she’s got a shape now, after five babies. And believe me, Clay is one happy man. Selena is nice and thick, Ceylon has always been healthy and Vera isn’t thick but she’s got a
body,
honey. Her figure can stop traffic, with those boobs and that booty; I’ve seen it happen. And since she’s pregnant again, Marcus is about to lose his mind, he’s so happy. And they’re all tall, too. I’m like a skinny little kid next to my sisters-in-law. You know how you men are, ya’ll want some hips and breasts and things to
snuggle up
to,” she said, looking down at her undeniably slender thighs in disgust.

“Look, you’ve got bigger and better things to think about now, like your future. I told you, Angel, this is just the beginning. A lot of good things are going to start happening for you and
you need to be ready for them. I think Aneesah is right, you need to get an agent, baby. You’ve got the potential to put together some beautiful books and you need to get on that.”

Angelique didn’t
answer him
at once; she busied herself looking around the restaurant, staring at the colorful photographs on the walls and the pretty beaded fringes that surrounded the light fixtures. F
inally she spoke. “A.J., as poor
as my reading and writing skills are, how am I supposed to write a book? I might be able to take pictures, but write a book? I don’t
think
so.”

A.J. grabbed Angelique’s hand across the table.
“Hey, now.
We’ve had this conversation before, Angel. I don’t know what it’s going to take to convince you that you’re brilliant, but you’ve got to believe in yourself. Dyslexia can’t be the end of your world. I still think you’d benefit from some classes, some counseling, but I’m willing to take it one step at a time. As far as a book is concerned don’t sweat it, that’s what editors are for. That’s what ghostwriters are for, Angel. Do you think all those celebrities that write their memoirs and cookbooks and whatnot do it all themselves? Of course they don’t, sweetie, they have professionals to help them. Don’t let a bunch of ‘what ifs’ get in your way. You can do this, Angel. Trust me,” he said firmly, squeezing her hand in his.

She did trust A.J., more than she would have believed possible. He knew her better than almost anyone; he knew her good points and her bad
.  H
e’d seen her at her best and at her worst and he knew all her secret fears. If there was anyone in the world that she trusted it was A.J. So on the way back to the studio, she asked him a question she knew he would answer honestly.

“A.J., what does it mean when someone who doesn’t like you kisses you?” She tried to look nonchalant while she posed the question but she couldn’t make eye contact without giving herself away.

“What have you been up to, Angel?” He glanced over at her as he expertly maneuvered his ancient and venerable Peugeot through the expressway traffic.

She tried looking innocent, then gave up the fruitless attempt. “Okay, look. I’m the one who started it; I admit that freely and without reservation. I told you I kissed Adonis Cochran on New Year’s Eve. I still don’t know what came over me, but I grabbed him and kissed him. Then he didn’t even speak to me on New Year’s Day, which I figured meant that he really couldn’t stand me, or something. We never have gotten along and it was pretty out there for me to be forcing him into a lip lock. Well, then the day of the Super Bowl party we had to leave the house on a semi
-
fake errand to give Lisette and Warren some time alone. We ended up at his house and that time
he
kissed
me.
And this morning, he came to my studio to tell me that he was going out of town and that he wanted to go out when he came back. And he kissed me again. So what does it all mean, A.J.?”

He listened to her recitation with a slight smile on his face, a smile that got bigger when she was finished. “It means that you two are attracted to each other and the desire to act on the attraction is mutual. So go out with him and have a good time. Nobody’s saying you have to marry the guy, just have some fun,” he said reaching over and taking her hand. “You deserve to have a good time, Angel.”

“I have plenty of fun, A.J., I really do. I don’t need to date Adonis Cochran in order to enjoy life. Besides,” she mumbled “I’m not his type. I don’t know why he wants to go out with me.”

A
.
J. let go of her hand and quickly thumped her on the side of the head with his thumb and middle finger. “That’s twice you’ve put yourself down today. One more time and I’ll be forced to take steps,” he threatened.

She gave an exaggerated “ouch” in mock pain. “I’m not putting myself down, I’m stating a fact. I’m
not
his type. Every woman I’ve ever seen him with is like that Aneesah Shabazz. He likes tall women, full-figured women, really smart women who can rearrange molecules and run museums and do open-heart surgery and things. He’d never be interested in someone like me, not for long.” She narrowed her eyes for a moment in thought. “You know what? I’m pretty sure he used to date her a long time ago. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so. Not that I’d really know. Before I moved up here I spent much of my time trying to avoid those Cochrans. They intimidated me half to death.”

“Yeah, well, he’d better not be playing with you,” A
.
J. growled.
“Not if he wants to keep that pretty face of his. I think you’re underestimating your unique and exceptional appeal once more, Angel. If he has any sense at all, he sees you for the beautiful, unusual,
exasperating
woman that you are and he wants to get to know you better. Go out with
him
and see what happens.”

“I’m beautiful, unique and exceptional, huh? So why didn’t
you
fall for me, A.J.? You know I’m crazy about you,” she said with a smile.

“And you know I’m too old for you,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “So let’s not go there again. And tell that Cochran if he tries any funny business, I’ll be paying him a little visit.” This time, though, A.J. wasn’t smiling.

***

Donnie spent four days on the road, visiting some of the key stations in Michigan and taking a few important meetings with affiliates in Chicago and Ohio. He was justifiably proud of the strides Cochran Communications had made in the years since he had assumed the chairmanship of the company. What had been five small urban stations in the early days of his father had grown to fifteen stations when his sister Benita had started running things. Now the company had more than forty stations, ten of which were television stations. They were also fully partnered with the Deveraux Group in Contemporary Urban Issues, a twenty-four-hour news network that was the brainchild of Donnie and Marcus Deveraux. He’d made a true contribution to not only his family business, but to the communications industry as a whole. He had every reason to be relaxed and satisfied as he flew home in comfortable first-class accommodations from Chicago. Normally he would have snoozed during the flight, but this afternoon he found that he couldn’t.

Right now his mind was full of thoughts he would have found totally unbelievable a few weeks ago. For some reason, he had Angelique Deveraux on the brain and he couldn’t get rid of her. Not that he really wanted to, although he wasn’t sure why. She certainly wasn’t the kind of woman he normally went for, but he had an undeniable attraction to her and it was fruitless to
deny it. She was funny, feisty and beautiful, although not in the way he always preferred. He smiled to himself as he recalled her slender frame and how delicate yet enticing she felt pressed against his body. And to top it all off, she kissed like nothing he’d ever imagined. Nothing in his most erotic experiences could have prepared him for the way her mouth responded to his. Leaning deeper into his seat, he felt the familiar stirring that came lately whenever he was around Angelique.
 
Whatever the attraction was, he was willing to explore it further, to see where it led the both of them. She wasn’t immune to him, either, that much was certain. Try as she might to deny it, Donnie knew Angelique was interested in him, too. He wasn’t vain or cocky when it came to women; on the contrary, he tried to always treat women with the utmost respect and admiration. And he had every intention of doing the same to Angelique as soon as he was back on the ground.