Destination D (20 page)

“I just don't know when my life became so darn complicated. Sometimes I just want to crawl up into a dark cave and never come out.”

“Dee, whatever is bothering you, you know we can talk, right?”

“I know.” Dee turned to look into his eyes. “Sedrick, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, you can ask me anything.”

“Okay, what if you met a woman you really liked and she was everything that you could ever imagine. Then you dated her for six months and all the time you were thinking she was a nurse?”

“All right…” Sedrick said thoughtfully, wondering where Dee was taking this conversation.

“Then you find out that she's a waitress at IHOP.”

Sedrick held out his hands and waved them in the air. “Okay, back up, and rewind.”

“What?”

“It's just what you're saying would never happen!”

“Why? Because you wouldn't date a waitress, right?”

“No, because I would know where she worked. At some point, I would have either called her at work or been by to see her on her job.”

“But what if she always had an excuse that prevented you from finding out what she really did?”

“Look, Dee. I'm not some simple-minded brotha.”

“Of course not, but—”

“There's no but. I would know, especially if I really liked her. I'm just not the type of man to be dating someone who would try and play me for a fool. And if I found out what she was trying to do, then I'd tell her to go play another brotha' 'cause this one ain't having it.”

“And that would be it, huh? You would just forget about her just like that?” Dee said, snapping her fingers.

“No, I wouldn't just forget about her like that.” He snapped his fingers back at her. “Especially if I cared about her. But I wouldn't try to get back with her either.”

“Because she lied to you?”

“Not only did she lie, but she didn't trust me enough to let me make up my own mind about if I wanted to have dealings with her. It's not the occupation, baby, it's the
person
in the occupation.”

“So, you would have dated her knowing that she was a waitress at IHOP even though you're a doctor?”

“It wouldn't matter to me if she picked up garbage.”

“C'mon, Sedrick! Garbage?”

“Well, maybe not garbage. That could get a little smelly at times,” he said, laughing at the thought. “Anyway, my point is this: If I like you, I like you. Just ‘cause I'm a doctor doesn't make me a better person. As a matter of fact, it's not the occupation that makes you a better person, it's the good that you do for others
with
your occupation that makes you a better person.” Suddenly his cell phone went off. He looked down and saw that his girlfriend, Miranda, was texting him for an afternoon booty call.

“Duty calls, I see.”

“Yeah, I guess it does,” he said, turning the sound off, a little embarrassed by Miranda's timeliness.

Dee leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, momentarily taking his mind off Miranda's text. He felt a strong desire to take fate in his hands, but his better judgment told him to leave her lips alone for the time being.

“Thanks for dropping by, Sed. I'm feeling better already.”

“Well, good. I'd better go. I'll call you later and check on you. I can let myself out,” he said as he walked up the stairs and closed the door behind him.

Pam was moisturizing her face when her telephone rang. She wiped the cream from her hands on the towel and picked up the receiver.

“Congratulations, Counselor.” A smooth Italian voice flowed through the receiver and a huge grin spread across Pam's lips.

“Marco?”

“I can't believe I actually caught you and not your voicemail or your secretary.”

“I know, I've been pretty busy. You did get my message thanking you for the flowers, though?”

“Yes, and I got your stiff bill, too. Five hundred dollars!”

“Be happy. You got a discount. It should have been a thousand.”

“Wow, you're expensive,” he laughed. “But, I understand now, especially after seeing you on the news today.”

“You saw it too, huh?'

“Yes, but television does not do justice to your beauty. You are so much lovelier in person.”

There he went again with his smooth-talking self. She thought that maybe after he got her bill he would leave well enough alone. But she had to give it to him. He didn't scare easily. “Well, thank you, Marco.”

“You're quite welcome. Hey, did you get any of the messages that I left with your secretary?”

“I did. I know you've been trying to get in touch with me.”

“Yeah, for a couple of weeks now.”

“I know, I've just been swamped with the case, and then by the time I was done at work, I was just too wiped out to call once I got home.”

“I won't take it personally,” he said pleasantly. “So, how does it feel to be the most popular attorney in the state of Georgia?”

“I'll let you know more when I get the offer of partnership. Other than that, I think it's pretty exhilarating.”

“Well, do you think since this case is over with now, you'll have a little down time? Or have you already started defending your next client?”

Pam paused for a moment and thought about what Dee said. She
didn't
have a life. “Actually, I do have a little down time.”

“I can't believe I heard you right. Did Counselor say she had some down time?”

“Very funny,” Pam said as she dabbed some more cream on her face.

“Well, I'll be in Atlanta this weekend. Would you be available on Friday for me to take you to dinner to celebrate your victory and for me to give you your check?”

“Hmmm…I suppose so. Did I hear the word
check?”

“Okay, I'll take that as a yes,” he said assuredly. “How about I pick you up at your home at 7:00?”

“I'll meet you at the restaurant.”

“Somehow I thought you would say that,” he said, sounding somewhat disappointed.

“And you're right. I'm not getting in the car with someone I hardly know.”

“Well, I thought it would be nice to pick you up so that you could get to know me better as we go on our first date.”

“Ahem…”

“Oh, yes, forgive me. I forgot. We're not dating.”

Pam was amused. “I'm glad you remembered.”

“Hopefully that will change soon.”

Pam shook her head and remained silent. “I'll call you around 5:00 on Friday and let you know where to meet me,” Marco said fondly.

“Sounds good, Marco. Until Friday.”

“Arrivederci.”

“
Arrivederci
,” Pam said as she hung up the phone and looked in the mirror. She was bemused at how funny she looked. She went over to the sink and rinsed the cold cream off of her face, wishing her internal scars could vanish as easily.

Bumpy Ride

I
t was 7:00 p.m. and Marco Grimaldi was seated at a corner table, looking very debonair. He was dressed in a black suede sports jacket, taupe crew neck shirt, and a pair of black, pleated wool pants. A gold candle twinkled in the dark room, flickering against his handsome face. He took a sip of his cognac and looked up as a striking woman walked toward him.

Pam glided around the tables like a swan. She wore a cranberry knit dress that cradled her hips. It was slit at the shoulders with a low neckline that revealed just enough of her bust to make Marco envision the rest.

“Good evening.”

“Wow!” he said, as he stood up. Pam extended her hand. He gave her a light kiss on her fingers that sent an unexpected flutter throughout the pit of his stomach. He pulled her chair out and motioned for her to sit down.

She had a small smirk on her face. “Should I take that as a compliment?”

“I'm sorry. I'm just a little stunned. Of course it's a compliment, I just had no idea you could…”

“Could what?” she said egging him on.

“Oh, nothing. You look radiant.”

“Oh, come on, now. Surely you were about to say something else.”

Marco grinned, flashing his dimple again. He was smart enough to change the subject and Pam decided to let it go…
this time.

“I took the liberty of ordering us a bottle of champagne,” he said as he lifted the bottle from its chrome bucket, turning the label toward him. “I hope you like Dom Perignon.”

“I love that champagne. How did you know?”

“I didn't. I just assumed that with a woman of your elegance it would only be fitting,” he said as he signaled the waiter to pour the champagne into their glasses.

Corny, corny, corny,
Pam thought as she smiled slightly. As the waiter poured the champagne they watched the bubbles rise to the tops of their glasses. A jazz trio featuring a singer, a keyboard player, and a bass player took the stage.

Pam laid her head back into the warmth of her black velour chair. She closed her eyes as she listened to the band's smooth melody. “This place is so relaxing.”

“Good choice. I love jazz, too,” he said as he leaned forward to clink her glass with his. “It's good to see you so relaxed.”

Pam smiled. “I'm usually not. My work leaves very little time for me to unwind, but when I do, I love to listen to David Sanborn, Grover Washington, Miles Davis, and just about any other jazz artist. I come by here every now and then and check out who's playing,” she said, lightly tapping her fingers on the table to the rhythm of the soulful sounds.

The tall, lanky waiter made his way through the crowd again. His long curly blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his face was covered with acne. “Good evening, I'm Mitch. Hey, aren't you that lawyer that just won that huge lawsuit?” Pam nodded politely as Marco looked at her proudly.

“Man, if I'm ever in trouble, I'd sure give you a call,” he said admiringly.

“You and me both,” Marco joined in.

He nodded, acknowledging Marco's comment and turning back to Pam. “Do you have a card on you?”

“Sorry, not tonight. I'm just here to have a good time,” she said, trying not to sound impolite. “But the firm is Sterling, Mathis, and Silverman. Feel free to give me a call if you need a lawyer.”

“All right, I'll do that. Thank you,” he said as he handed them their menus. “Your name is Pam Mathis, right?”

“No, it's Madison.”

“The one and only,” Marco interjected as he raised his glass in the air.

“All right, guys. Enough already,” she said, trying to deflect the praise.

“Well, I'll give you a minute or two and come back and take your orders,” Mitch said, turning away.

Pam browsed the menu. “Hmm, let's see here. I'm going to have the prime rib tonight.”

“So, you're a carnivore?” Marco said, sounding somewhat pleasantly surprised.

“Big time carnivore.”

“I wouldn't think that just by looking at you.”

“I know many people make assumptions about me because of my size, but I'm a meat-and-potatoes woman. I can eat all day long and not gain a pound,” she laughed.

“Here's to good genes,” Marco said, playfully raising his glass.

“Here! Here!” Pam joined in while touching his glass with hers. “What about you? Are you a vegetarian?”

“No, I wish,” he said as he looked at her like he wanted to drink her up like an expensive glass of champagne. “I'm a meat eater, too.”

“I think we're both having the prime rib tonight,” Marc told Mitch when he came back over to their table.

“How would you like it cooked?”

“Medium,” they answered in unison, laughing.

“Excellent choice,” he said as he jotted down the orders. “I'll be right back with some warm bread.”

“So, Marco, how long will you be in Atlanta?”

“Call me Marc. It sounds more American,” he laughed.

“Okay, Marc. You didn't answer my question.”

“How long would you like for me to be here” he asked flirtatiously.

“You're too funny.”

“Would you like to dance?”

Pam looked at him suspiciously and a little apprehensively. After all, Greg was the last man she had danced with up close and personal. “Sure. I'll give it a try,” she said guardedly as they walked to the dance floor.

Marc slowly moved his hands around her waist and cautiously pulled her toward him. His smell was intoxicating. It felt so good to be held, Pam thought as he pulled her closer. Too afraid to let herself feel again, she suddenly pulled back.

Marco looked at her intensely “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I'm fine.”

“Are you sure? Because you seem a little tense all of a sudden. I don't bite, ya know? Well, actually, I do a little bit, but not on the first date,” he grinned.

Pam smiled as she looked at his cute dimple that appeared each time he smiled. She wanted nothing more than to let go of the pain she felt every time a man looked into her eyes.
Damn you, Greg.

Marco could feel her body continue to stiffen. He slowly removed his hands from her waist. “Pam, why don't we just go back to our table?”

“No, please. Let's continue.”
Dee's right. I have to let go.
“I'll be all right,” she said as she let her body relax again, allowing herself to flow with the music.

“You're a pretty good dancer for a lawyer,” he said playfully.

“Is
that
supposed to be a compliment?”

“Of course. What else would it be?” Marco teased.

“A girl can't be too sure with you. I'm still sensitive from the first
questionable
compliment that you gave me when I first got here,” Pam jibed as he suddenly spun her around and pulled her back into his arms.

“Wow! I haven't done that move since I was a little girl.”

Marco twirled her around again. “Really? That long ago?” She laughed as he unexpectedly pulled her so close that she could feel the firmness of his chest and his inner thighs. His touch was making her weak.

“So, tell me more about when you were a little girl.”

“My sisters and I used to take turns with my father dancing to some of his favorites, like Miles Davis and the good ol' sounds of Duke Ellington. That was a long time ago, though.”

“Is your father still alive?”

“No, he died when I was in college.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

Pam placed her finger over her lip, signaling for him to stop. She lowered her head, attempting to hide the hurt look on her face. She couldn't believe that Marco brought these types of feelings out of her. It had been years since she'd danced like that with her dad and a long while since she had felt like crying about it.

“It's okay. I'm fine,” she said as she got her rhythm back.

“Hey, it looks like our food has arrived,” he said, hoping to get her out of her somber state.

“So, tell me about you, Marc,” she said.

“My life's an open book.” He pulled out her chair and felt Pam's dubious stare. Pam was apprehensive and he didn't know whether she was always this intense or just cautious because it was their first date.

“Thanks.”

“You are very welcome. Seriously, now, what is it that you would like to know?”

Pam laid her napkin in her lap and waited for Marco to sit down. “Okay, for starters, how did you end up in America? I'm assuming you're Italian?”

“Your assumption is correct. I moved to America as a young man in my late teens, early twenties. I can remember my brother and me sneaking in the back doors of clubs to watch the band set up. I always thought I'd be a musician,” he said, looking over at the band reflectively.

Pam began to cut her prime rib, listening intently to his story. “So, what
do
you do?”

“Aha! She's interested enough to ask me about my occupation,” he laughed. “That's a good start.”

Pam grinned. “So, what's the big secret?”

“It's not a secret. I usually like to get to know someone first before I discuss what I do for a living.”

Pam turned up her eyebrow and looked at him pensively. “Well, is it legal?”

“Extremely.”

“Hmm…interesting,” she said, contemplating her next thought. “So, if you won't tell me what you do, can you at least tell me what school you went to? Or is that something that I have to find out later?”

Marco smiled at her inquisitiveness. He could see what Gerald was talking about. Pam was definitely a force to be reckoned with. She was determined to get him to tell her what he did one way or another and he was enjoying her twenty questions.

“Harvard.”

“What a coincidence. My twin sisters went to Harvard,” Pam said, delicately nibbling on another piece of meat.

“You have a twin?”

“They're
twins.”

“I was about to say, there's no way there could be two of you running around,” he said as he wiped a piece of food from the corner of her mouth.

“Well, I don't know what to make of
that
comment.”

“It's a compliment, I assure you. So what are your sisters doing now?”

“Pauline is married to a pro-basketball player over in Europe and doesn't work,” she laughed. “And Priscilla teaches third grade.” Pam shook her head at the thought.

“You seem disappointed at their career choices.”

“No, I'm actually very proud of them. They're both just like my mom.”

“Really? In what way?”

“They both have families and place them above anything else. They just do what makes them happy.”

“The three P's, huh? Pamela, Priscilla, Pauline.”

“Yes, start saying
those
three times fast,” she laughed.

Marco loved to watch her lips move. He had an insatiable desire to touch them with his own. “I bet your mother got tongue twisted all of the time, heh?”

Pam became silent as she thought about how much she missed her family. Their relationship had been strained since she and Greg had broken up.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, I apologize. I was just thinking about what I said. My mother would just expect all three of us to come running when she called one of us, because she would always get our names mixed up,” she laughed fondly.

“And who are you like?” he asked as he poured some more champagne into their glasses.

“Most definitely my dad,” Pam smiled again as she thought about her father. “Chief Madison,” she said, raising her glass toward the ceiling.

“What was he chief of ?”

“Chief of Police for Chicago. He always stood strong no matter what the odds were. My brothers Gerald and Michael both followed in his footsteps.”

Marco sipped another glass of champagne. He wanted to know everything about her. “So, your brothers are police officers?”

“Gerald is a firefighter and Michael is a police officer.”

“So, one brother fights fire, the other fights criminals, and you fight for justice.”

“Now, that's an interesting way of putting it. No one's ever quite said it like that,” she said as she gazed into his eyes, feeling his warmth run through her body.

Marco laughed. “It's just pretty amazing when you think about it. You've got a big family. Let's see,” he said as he started counting on her fingers, kissing each one at a time. “Two sisters and two brothers. Five of you. I never would have thought,” he said, ending with a final kiss to the back of her hand and folding it into his warm palm. Aroused by his touch, Pam gently pulled her hand back.

“I'm sorry. I'm making you feel awkward. Look at me kissing your hand in public. I apologize. I got a little carried away.”

A statuesque blonde woman, wearing a fitted three-quarter length black sequined dress, appeared out of nowhere and walked behind Marco's chair. The look on her face made Pam feel very uncomfortable.

“Yes, look
at you
getting carried away. Until it suits you, and then look out! He'll drop you, girlfriend,
after
he gets what he wants.”

Still holding his steak knife, Marco turned around quickly to find his worst nightmare standing in front of him. “Sharon?”

“Yeah, it's me. In the flesh. Bet you thought you'd never see this body again, huh?” Sharon mocked. She looked like she wanted to jerk the steak knife out of his hand and stab him. Her face grew red, and her hands shook as she pointed her finger directly in Marco's eyes.

“Sharon, you are way out of line. I'm sorry Pam.” He turned toward her. “Would you excuse us for a minute?”

“Don't try and use some of your psychobabble psychology on me!” she screamed before Pam could answer him. Everyone in the restaurant turned to look at her. “You are such an act. I'm telling you, watch him, girlfriend, or you'll end up miserable like me. He's a chameleon clad in a $4,000 suit!” She threw his glass of champagne in his face and hauled off and smacked him.