A Private Affair (28 page)

He puffed out his chest and Cynthia smiled a secret smile behind the rim of her teacup.

“But you were always determined, Nikita.” He swallowed. “I've always admired that in you.”

Cynthia's eyes widened.

Nikita's throat tightened. She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Before I make a decision, I want to meet with Ms. Ingram. I'll want my accountant to go over her books and do some projections for the next five years.”

Her heart was racing. He was going to give her the money! Oh, God, she was going to have her dream.

Cynthia couldn't stand it another minute. “Lawrence, are you sure you want to do this? I mean, after all, she's asking for an enormous amount of money. She has no experience—”

“Yes, Cynthia, I'm very sure.
We
are going to do this for our daughter.”

Cynthia's back straightened. She put down her cup and got up from the table. “Do what you want. I don't want to hear about it when it all falls apart, or she changes her mind and wants to leap off to some other foolish lark.” She stormed out of the dining room.

They both watched her walk away. Nikita saddened. Lawrence resigned.

“She'll come around.” He stretched out his saffron-toned hand, covering her soft brown one. He patted it gently.

“I'm going to make this work, Daddy. I promise you.”

“I know I may have seemed harsh, overbearing and distant over the years. But I've always loved you, Nikita. More than I've ever said. You have been my pride and joy. Maybe I pushed you,
we
pushed you, too hard. But we thought it was for the best.”

He swallowed, searching for the words that had lived within
him for far too long. “When you came back, even though I was upset, I was glad to have you home again. Then when you moved in with Quinn I was devastated, but I couldn't help admiring your determination.”

He stood and slowly shook his graying head. “Even though I still think you can do much better than Quinn, I realized after you both left here at Christmas that if you really love someone you have to love them enough to let them go, spread their wings and make their own way.”

Tears flowed down her cheeks. In all of her twenty-seven years, her father had never told her how he truly felt.

“Daddy, I've waited so long to hear you say that. I grew up believing that you didn't care. That I was just someone you took care of because you had to.”

He walked over to her and she stood up, moving into the warmth of her father's embrace. She pressed her head against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his Old Spice aftershave. And she felt like a little girl again, as if her daddy could make all the bad things go away, not just make her go away.

“I…love…you, Nikita,” he said tightly.

“I love you, too, Daddy.”

 

Nikita tried to stay awake, to share her news with Quinn. But she couldn't keep her eyes open. The last time her bleary eyes looked at the clock it was four-thirty.

 

He wasn't quite sure how he'd made it home in one piece. He was wasted. Remy had tried to convince him to stay, not to drive in his condition, but he'd refused. He had to get home. He'd promised.

He felt his way along the staircase up to the bedroom and stripped out of his clothes, tossing them in a heap on the floor. He crawled into bed, his stomach and his head spinning like a top. He'd never let himself get like this before, and wasn't quite sure why he had this time.

He snuggled against the warm body next to him, and began drifting, images of his day floating through his head.

 

He'd been drinking, Nikita realized through the haze of sleep, the odors of cigarette smoke and alcohol enveloping her. She tried to inch away without disturbing him, and then he mumbled something that set her heart and her conscience to racing. Her petite body stiffened.

“Can't…find…Maxie. Maxine's gone, Nik.” He laid his head on the cushion of her breasts. “Just…gone.”

All That Glitters

“T
he district attorney and Internal Affairs have settled on two point five million, if you sign a waiver holding up your end of the agreement not to go to the press,” Sean said, passing the lengthy document across the desk to Quinn.

He looked it over, making sure to read the fine print. Here it was, Lacy's whole life reduced to a piece of paper. All that she was. All that she could have been. Just some lines in black and white.

He started to feel sick. His stomach roiled and his head began to pound. He reached for a pen and signed, pushing the paper back across the desk.

Without another word he got up and left, never wanting to set foot in those offices again.

 

Nikita rushed around the office, getting everything in order for her assistant, who was going to cover for the rest of the afternoon. Monica was a treasure. From the moment she'd hired her, she'd jumped in with both feet. With Quinn staying away from the magazine more and more, Monica's help was invaluable.

He'd been spending a lot of time away from everything lately.
He was back to those early morning hours, and she'd heard from Parris he'd even missed a few rehearsals. He hardly spoke, and if he did it was brief and uninformative. It was as if he'd withdrawn to a place that she couldn't reach. She was beginning to worry. The only time they seemed to communicate anymore was when they were in bed.

But tonight he'd promised her that he would come to the meeting about the symposium and then have dinner with her and her parents in celebration. Her father was completely satisfied with his accountant's findings and he was going to finance the balance of the money she needed.

By this time tomorrow when she presented Lillian with her check, she would be the CEO and publisher of
Today's Woman
magazine!

She had big plans. If everything went according to them, she intended to start publishing books in another year. From the few meetings that she'd already attended, she'd seen just how many talented black authors there were out there with no outlets for their work. She intended to change that.

 

Val stood on the corner of Chambers Street, looking to hail a yellow cab. She had an appointment with Sean and Khendra in twenty minutes. He'd offered her a position with his firm as a paralegal until she finished her degree and passed the bar. Then she would work for him on a full-time basis as a real live attorney. A cold gust of wind whipped around her. She pulled her coat collar up around her neck. Winter was on its way, for sure. You could smell the crisp air, see it in the heavy gray clouds.

On her ride to Midtown, seeing the cars, buses and people whiz by, she thought that maybe it was time to make that promised trip to the coast to see Maxine. Get away from the hustle and bustle of New York City to the balmy air of San Francisco.

From everything that Maxine had said it was the most beautiful city, with its hilly streets, trolley cars and old-world charm. Her business was doing extremely well and she was feeling good again, about herself and her life.

Val spotted a man's hat sailing down the street.

She smiled. Yeah, maybe it was time to make that trip.

The cab pulled to a stop in front of the building that housed Sean's office.

“Eight-fifty,” the cabbie grunted in some accent she couldn't place.

Val paid her fare and got out.

As she walked toward the building's entrance she could have sworn she saw Quinn getting into his car a little farther down the street. But she couldn't be sure without her glasses. She squinted, and he came into focus.

“Quinn!”

He looked for oncoming traffic and opened the door.

“Quinn!”

Her shout was blown away by the force of the wind.

He got in the car and drove off.

 

Quinn headed uptown, taking the FDR by rote. He didn't want to think about anything at the moment, or talk to anyone.

Had he done the right thing by just giving in? Maybe he should have put up more of a fight. But there just didn't seem to be any more fight left in him. For anything. And that wasn't like him. Between dealing with Nikita and her wants and needs, the demands of the music business, and still trying to keep a piece of himself for himself, there just wasn't anything there.

He didn't even know who he was anymore. There wasn't anybody he could really talk to, who would understand. Nikita would just tell him to try harder. And tell him how wonderful he was.

That wasn't what he needed, hadn't in a long time. He just needed someone to listen. Really listen to him, without asking anything in return. For just a minute.

He pulled up in front of Shug's Fish Shack, and as usual there was a line, even in the cold. He smiled. At least some things never changed.

He got out, suddenly having a taste for some fried whiting, and was happy and surprised to see T.C. on line, with his arm around a girl, no less.
Hmm.

Walking up to him, he clapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, man. How's it goin'?”

T.C. turned, and that familiar smile spread across his face. “Q. Whatsup, man? Long time.” He really seemed glad to see him.

“How 'bout that.” He put his hand on T.C.'s shoulder. “I'm really sorry about that, man. Know what I mean?”

T.C. looked at his one-time brother, father, mentor. He smiled, just a little bit. “Hey, it's cool. I'm in college now. Started in September.” He beamed. “Followed your advice, ya know.”

“Way to go, man. That's the move.” Quinn nodded, feeling a lot better, as if he'd made a difference. “Been waitin' long?”

“No doubt.” He grinned, using Quinn's phrase. “This is Tichia.”

“Hey, Tichia.”

She smiled a little-girl smile. T.C. tightened his arm around her thin shoulders, grinning with pride. “Gettin' cold quick, man. Hope we ain't got to wait too much longer.”

“I hear ya.”

“Bet Maxie ain't worried 'bout no cold in sunny Frisco.”

Quinn's whole body tensed. “Say what?” T.C. kinda frowned. “Maxine. San Francisco. No cold weather.” He looked at Quinn's startled expression. “Didn't you know she booked?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just caught me in the mix, that's all.” He smiled. “Lost her number so I haven't been in touch in a while.”

“Yeah. I ain't got it, either.”

“Sure like to kick it with her for a minute. Ya know, for old time's sake.”

“I hear ya.”

The line inched up a bit and they moved forward.

“Hey, maybe her friend, what's that chick's name…Veronica—”

“Val.” His heart started to pound.

“Yeah, yeah, that's the one. Maybe she has it.”

Quinn's thoughts started running in circles. Why hadn't he thought of Val long before now? He had to find a way to get in touch with her. Knew she'd moved out of the neighborhood ages
ago. Somewhere in Brooklyn. Then he remembered that she was the one who put them in touch with Sean. Maybe she had her digits.

“Listen, man. I'ma roll. Ain't got the patience for this tonight.” T.C. chuckled. “I hear ya.”

They did the one-arm hug. “Check ya later.”

“Yeah, stay in touch,” T.C. called out, briefly remembering.

Quinn hopped in his car and pulled up his cell phone. Hunting through his wallet, he found Sean's business card and punched in the numbers. Maybe Sean hadn't left yet.

The receptionist picked up and informed him that Sean and Khendra were in a meeting.

“This is important. Could you please just tell him I'm on the line?”

“Hold please. I'll see if he'll pick up, Mr. Parker.”

Sean's voice came on the line moments later. “Quinn. Anything wrong?”

“Naw. Sorry to bug you…But I just needed to know if you had a way of getting in touch with Val. You know, the one who recommended you to me and Maxine.”

“As a matter of fact she's right here. Want to hold on a minute?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

He held his breath. The blood was roaring through his head.

“Quinn? This is Val. Is something wrong?”

“Val.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Listen, uh, I was wonderin' if you'd spoken to Max. If you had a number or somethin' for her.”

“Yes, I do. Hold on.” She rummaged through her bag and pulled out her phone book. “Got a pen?”

“Yeah, go 'head.”

She recited the phone number. “You want the address?”

“Yeah, gimme that, too.” He wrote it down. “Listen, thanks, Val. Uh, how is she?”

“She's fine, Quinn. Movin' on, as they say. But I guess you can find that out for yourself. Talk to you, Quinn.” She hung up.

Quinn replaced the cell phone on the cradle, stared at the information on the tiny slip of off-white paper, and saw that his hand was shaking.

 

Nikita had gone straight from the office to the meeting in the Chelsea area of downtown Manhattan with the intention of meeting Quinn, as he'd promised. The meeting lasted for two hours. Quinn never showed up.

Standing outside with the wind whipping around her, she contemplated beeping him, then decided against it. He was a grown man and had to take responsibility for his actions without being reminded of what he was supposed to do.

She pushed back the sleeve of her short mink jacket and checked her watch. Seven-thirty. He had half an hour to get to the restaurant for dinner with her parents.

She headed for her car, and a sinking sensation settled in her stomach.

 

Quinn pulled up to a parking space right in front of the house and got out. He would have tried to call from his cell phone, but he knew that the reception would be terrible, if he was able to reach her at all.

He trotted up the steps, unlocked the apartment door and went inside.

Silence.

Then he remembered his promise to Nikita.

He checked his watch. Seven forty-five. He'd said he'd meet her at eight. He'd already blown that damned meeting and knew he'd have to hear her mouth, anyway. What the hell.

He went straight upstairs to the bedroom and to the phone on the nightstand. Sitting down on the bed, he pulled the piece of paper from his jeans pocket.

For several moments he just stared at the numbers.

Maybe he should just leave well enough alone. She'd moved on, as Val had said, whatever that meant.

But there was still that need, a deep and unyielding need to hear her voice, her laughter, to listen to her tell him, “You go 'head on with your bad self.” He smiled at the recollection.

She was the familiar. The roots.

He punched in the numbers and listened to the clicks while the fiber optics kicked into place. His heart pounded.

The phone began to ring. And the answering machine came on.

“Sherman Travel and Tour. No one is available to help you right now. Please leave your message after the beep.”

B-e-e-p.

He started to hang up. Just forget it. It obviously wasn't meant to happen. At least not now. But hearing that familiar voice again…

“Hey, Max, this is Quinn. Just checkin' on ya. See how ya don' and all.” He paused. “I'll try you again…another time.”

 

Maxine was just walking in the door and heard the tail end of the message, the familiar voice. She dashed across the room and snatched up the phone.

Quinn slowly lowered the receiver, feeling worse than before.

“Quinn!”

He jerked the phone back to his ear.

“Max?”

“Hey, Q.”

Her voice washed over him like a soothing balm. His muscles began to relax, and his heart slowed its pace.

“Hey, yourself. Tell me what's good.” He leaned back against the pillows and put his sneakered feet right up on the bed. What the hell.

She laughed, that deep, rich chuckle that made him smile. “Some of everythin',” she began, and eased right back into their old routine as if the last time they'd seen each other was yesterday.

He told her about the music contract and she squealed with delight and swore that she was gonna make all her clients buy the album.

They laughed and talked for more than an hour, making time and space slip away.

“So what ever happened with you and André?”

She sighed. “Wasn't for me, ya know. Thought it was. But it just wasn't happenin'.”

“Hmm. Know how that is.”

“What about Nikita?”