Déjà Vu (28 page)

H
ints of summer were all around. Spring flowers had become enormous flowerbeds of day lilies, mums, impatiens, and hostas. Even the eerie feeling that blanketed the city yesterday gave way to a brilliant sun that would cause many to flock to Myrtle Beach or other resorts if it weren’t a Monday.

They walked through the house as they waited for the contractors who would assess and repair the damage. The memory of the shooting had shaken them both to the point that the house on Andover Street was no longer attractive. Other bad memories clouded their desire to stay in the house also, and a “For Sale” sign would most likely be imminent.

“I can’t believe Angelica wants to go back to New York. A large part of her life is here,” Margo said thoughtfully as she placed a finger in a hole in the wall that had held one of the many bullets that had flown through the front window.

“Can’t blame her,” Jefferson responded. “Some memories you want to leave behind. I hear she has a love interest waiting for her.”

“Ari is his name. She called him while you and Edward were at the store last night. I believe she has finally found true love.”

“I’m not sure Angelica will ever know what true love is, but it’s her life.”

“Why would you say that, Jefferson? It’s almost as if you’re jealous of…”

“Please don’t start speculating about what isn’t, Margo. I’m only saying that Angelica bounces around from one man to another…and, I hate to say it, but she keeps messing up other people’s lives. She doesn’t know what she wants. Men find her attractive, which means she gets lots of attention. When a man whispers in her ear, she believes it’s love but the woman really doesn’t have a clue.”

“So, Mr. Know-It-All, sounds like you’ve got Angelica all figured out, like you’re talking from experience.”

“Give me a little more credit than that, Margo. Angelica is transparent as glass—you see her for what she is and use her for what you want if she doesn’t use you first—and most times she does.”

“That’s terrible, Jefferson. I can’t believe you’re talking about the woman who was once my best friend. We’ve been with her and Edward the whole weekend, even through this ordeal with Santiago. You helped her with her money matters. Why are you all of a sudden talking down about her?”

“True, but it’s the other side of her you really don’t know—the part that I want to put distance between.”

“You’re saying that because she deceived you by getting into your accounts. You only have yourself to blame for that.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but that’s only part of it. Did you know that Hamilton met Angelica in a strip joint? She made her living as a dancer until he took her off the streets.”

Margo sighed. “So, she didn’t flip burgers at McDonald’s or Burger King. She didn’t go to college. Sounds like she had hopes of a better future; I hope she made lots of money trying to get there. That was a long time ago, Jefferson.”

“Margo, only you would say something like that. You’re upset because you didn’t have any idea about her past.”

“If you knew so much, why didn’t you share it with me before now? It’s Angelica’s past, so let’s leave it there. For the record, we’ve all fallen short with more than a few blemishes on our lives, Mr. Jefferson Myles. No room to talk. Get my meaning?”

“Got it and saved by the bell. The glass man is here.”

“Don’t try and change the subject. I think Angelica has met the right person this time, and if I was a betting woman, my money says she’ll be married within the next year.”

“The bet is on, and girl, you’re going to lose. Oh, and here comes the other contractor. Thank God. I’m tired of talking about Angelica.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I’ll get the door.”

“Don’t forget, we have an early dinner with Angelica and Edward today.”

“How I wish I could forget,” Jefferson said under his breath.

Jefferson’s words bounced in Margo’s head—
transparent…the other side of Angelica.
There may have been no love lost between Jefferson and Angelica, but there was something that he was not saying—something that only he and Angelica knew about. Of that Margo was certain.

The sweet smell of hickory invaded their nostrils as they exited the car and headed into the restaurant. Running behind schedule, Margo and Jefferson rushed inside and waded through the eclectic sea of people—some standing and others sitting on long wooden benches, waiting to satisfy their hunger. Empty peanut shells littered the floor, while nostalgic pictures hung on the walls in the rustic motif of the restaurant, and fires blazed on long open
grills as chefs turned over steaks that were rare, medium, medium well, and well done to the customer’s satisfaction.

A hand held high waved them in their direction.
Angelica seems so at peace,
Margo thought. Death sometimes had a way of bringing closure to headaches and heartaches, and Angelica had had enough of both to last a lifetime.

Margo saw Jefferson’s eyes move to Angelica’s backside when she bent over slightly to pinch the cheek of a cute little baby girl whose mother had squished her into a carrier. A pair of low-rider jeans hugged Angelica’s shapely behind, but even the top of her thong was too much for Margo’s eyes. The peep show was over in a second, but the real show was about to begin.

A gasp flew from Margo’s mouth. Sitting next to Edward like he was the Duke of Earl, was Malik. She grabbed the side of Jefferson’s arm, but not without feeling the electrical currents pulsating through it.

It was showdown at the Texas Roadhouse. Shorts-clad waitresses were already linked together in a do-si-do victory dance. Someone had yelled hee-haw before the winner was ever announced, better yet, before the fight had taken place. The two bulls, one named Jefferson and the other Malik, flexed their muscles and stared each other down, waiting for the bell to ring.

“What’s up with you all?” Angelica asked, glaring at Margo and Jefferson.

“As much as we want to celebrate your new freedom and return to New York,” Jefferson began, “I find it a bit crowded.”

“Do you want to move to another table?” Angelica offered.

“What is Malik doing here?” Jefferson asked with disdain. “You didn’t mention that Malik was invited to this shindig.”

“Sit down,” Margo whispered to Jefferson. “Let’s have dinner peacefully.”

“I asked him to join us,” Angelica interjected. “He was already here, and I didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t celebrate with us tonight—the more, the merrier. I will admit, though, that I’m not one of Malik’s favorite people.”

“Come on, Angelica,” Malik said. “We’re a little like oil and vinegar—we’re always going to have our differences.”

“No need to move. We’ll sit right here,” Jefferson said with little enthusiasm. Jefferson did not remove his eyes from those of his former friend. Malik looked away and picked up the menu.

“Everything squared away at the house?” Edward asked sincerely. “Did you get the window fixed?”

“They put the front window in this morning and we have some drywall work yet to be done,” Margo said, trying to lighten the conversation and purposely averting her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at Malik.

“I think everyone should get something to drink to lighten the mood,” Angelica interjected. “I want to make a toast—to new beginnings and new loves.”

Malik shook his finger. “I’d like to drink to that.” Margo and Jefferson looked at him strangely.

Angelica picked up her glass from the table, took her index finger and swirled the concoction around. Licking her finger, she took a sip. “Umh, umh, umh. This Jamaican Cowboy is so good. Uhm. The rum and Schnapps in this thing is going to do me in. I’m going to make a toast to myself. May life be greater than it was before, and may true love find me and cover me like a tidal wave because I’m long overdue.”

“So, what are you celebrating?” Jefferson asked Malik, ignoring Angelica’s toast since he and Margo hadn’t had the opportunity to order anything yet.

“Look who’s talking? Try turning back a few chapters of your
life. But since you’ve asked the question, why don’t you ask Margo?”

Liquid gushed from Angelica’s nostrils like fireworks. The intensity of Malik’s counter-question caught her by surprise, and the drink she was consuming chose to take another route than the one it should have taken. Her eyes bulged when Margo stood up and began to give Malik a piece of her mind.

Margo stood and faced Malik. “I have seven words for you. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Whatever you’re celebrating couldn’t be what I’m celebrating because I’m celebrating new life and new love with my husband. That shouldn’t be a foreign language to you because you’ve heard it before. I don’t know what your purpose for being here is or your intentions, but let’s get one thing clear, Malik: I, Margo Myles, have dedicated my life to my husband, Jefferson Myles, for the rest of my days, through the good and bad times, through the storm and the rain, and whatever else may come.” Margo sat down.

Jefferson clapped while the others looked on.

“Good speech, very good speech, Margo.” Malik took a sip of his Beringer. He put the glass down and stared directly at Jefferson. “Maybe you’re not aware, Mr. Myles, but only a few days ago, your wife came to me crying. She told me that she saw you and Angelica entering a hotel.”

Jefferson’s hands transformed into two large fists. He hit the table, but Margo made an attempt to quiet him.

“Umh, looks like I’m getting out of Fayetteville in time,” Angelica said with a feigned look of fright on her face.

“And Margo told me she was through with you. Begged me to make love to her.”

“Oh my God!” Angelica hollered, covering her face with her
hands. “Malik, this is a celebration. You can air your dirty laundry with Jefferson another time. Right here and right now, it’s about me, not you.”

“Shut up, Angelica.”

“You wait a minute,” Edward said, jumping into the conversation. “My sister was kind enough to extend the invitation for you to sit down with us, so the least you can do is be courteous and considerate.”

“Man, I’m not mad at you.” Malik threw his hands up. “This jailbird doesn’t deserve this wonderful woman sitting next to him.”

Jefferson jumped up from the table and reached for Malik. Edward pushed him back and looked at Malik. “I’m telling you for the last time, shut the hell up or it’s time for you to leave. Jefferson and Margo are happily married, and what they do is none of your business. Margo has already told you that she is committed to her marriage. So chill out, brother. Jefferson, it’s all right. He’s not going to do anything else.” Jefferson sat down.

A huge scowl crossed Malik’s face. He looked like an angry monkey in a coconut tree. He was no longer the attractive man that made Angelica and even Margo swoon. Sure, he still had the handsome good looks, impeccable pects, but his attitude had soured to an all-time low, and Margo felt she had been the cause of it.

“Jefferson and I are going to leave,” Margo said. “Didn’t mean to spoil your party, Angelica.”

Before they were able to get up, Malik stood up. “So, you don’t care that your wife was with me?” he began.

“If you say another word,” Jefferson said while rising to his feet, “you’re going to be eating peanut shells.”

Out of nowhere, the manager of the restaurant appeared at
their table. “Excuse me please, but other patrons are complaining about the noise at this table. Please keep it down. Thank you.” And he walked away.

“Come on, Jefferson,” Margo said as she pulled on his arm. “We don’t need this. Malik is an angry black man.”

“Oh, that’s not what you said when I was making love to you. By the way, did you know that Angelica seduced Jefferson when she was still married to Hamilton? He tried to convince me that he ignored her advances, but he committed to the act anyway. And when he finished, he put his shirt and tie back on and came running home to you.”

No one knew who threw the first punch. All the hee-hawing came to a screeching halt as Jefferson, Malik, and Edward became a huge tumbleweed rolling on the floor in the middle of the aisle, trading punches with each other after first knocking everything off the table. Everyone in the restaurant was up on their feet and gathered around, some shouting,
“hit him, get ’im,”
and imitating each punch with their own hands.

“Get up, Jefferson,” Margo screamed, trying to pull him from the pile. Angelica was at her side, trying to pull Edward from the fracas.

“I want you all out of here, now,” shouted the manager, “before I call the cops.”

The roadhouse girls began their chant, kicking their heels from side to side and singing their country line-dance song. Soon the whole restaurant chimed in as if it were the entertainment for the evening.

With a swollen face, Jefferson was the first to unravel from the pile on the floor and stand with Margo tugging at him to get up. Next was Edward, dusting dirty peanut shells from his suit. Malik sat up and both Jefferson and Edward punched him simultane
ously—one in the chest and the other up-side his head until Malik slumped back to the floor.

“You all ruined my party,” Angelica said as Jefferson and Margo moved away from the chaos and exited the restaurant.

“We’ve had enough for today, baby sister. It’s time you headed back to New York or wherever it is you’re planning to go.”

“Edward, all I wanted to do was celebrate my new life.”

“Angelica, you’ve already had your celebration. You will no longer be harmed by Santiago. Be grateful that you don’t have to look over your shoulder every minute of the day in constant fear that…that evil man might get you. If you hadn’t gotten out of his house, who knows what might have become of you. Sometimes, I…I want to throw my hands up and…”

“And what, Edward? Throw me to the dogs?”

“I’m sorry, Sis, nothing like that. Sometimes I get so tired of fighting your battles—battles that you create. I love you, Sis, but I want you in your new life to think not only of yourself but of others also—the awkward and sometimes crazy positions you put them in and the consequences of your actions. I’m sure your friend Ari would not be in the place he’s in now, if you hadn’t helped put him there.”