Dream Girl Awakened (19 page)

“What am I supposed to tell Nicolette?”

Winston eyed Victoria, incredulous she'd chosen to leverage Nicolette. “Well, for starters, tell Nicolette her absent father is thinking things over and trying to determine if he's wanted around here for more than his paycheck.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Winston pointed to the settee in the sitting area. Reluctantly, Victoria joined him, chewing her nails. “Do you know how embarrassed I felt a few weeks ago when Stan Marshall said his wife joined you for brunch at Palomino?”

“Kathy?”

“So you remember? Do you also remember what Nicolette told their daughter, Grayson?”

Victoria tried to remember what had transpired. One minute the girls were playing, sipping orange juice. The next, Grayson was crying about something Nicolette had whispered to her. Neither she nor Kathy ever got to the bottom of the matter.

“Well, it seems Nicolette told Grayson her father needed to work more since our house is bigger, our cars are better, and we have more money. Funny thing is, I knew she was repeating things she'd heard you say before.”

“Winston—”

“I'm not done yet. I've tried to compensate for my absence over the years with getaways and romantic overtures, hoping that you would understand to live the way we live requires sacrifice. You don't have to work, Alva makes sure you don't have to worry about cooking or cleaning, and it still seems that's not good enough. Whatever it is you want, I've accepted that I can't give it to you.”

“I want us. I want us to have a good relationship, to talk, to. . .”

Winston didn't wait for her to complete the sentence. He walked
away as she spoke, headed to the garage, tossed his bag in the backseat, and drove away. Maybe a ride would cool him off, clear his mind. The one place he couldn't go to was Aruba's. He wanted to make love to her and feel that sweet release in her arms tonight. It was much too soon to do that.

J
ames watched training videos at Franzen Industrial staffing with eight other applicants and diverted the gaze of a sexy, young woman staring at him. This was his third successful temporary assignment. No way would he screw up this opportunity with another woman or negligent behavior. He was on a roll with Franzen. He'd even been requested to work for the latest company. Aruba would see once and for all that he had every intention of making things right between them. His misdeeds had cost him a legal separation from Aruba and estrangement from Jeremiah. To make matters worse, he'd succumbed to Tawatha's advances in a moment of weakness and spent the night at her place. James was floored by the lovely home she now occupied. James couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort after sneaking in during the middle of the night, having sex with her, then slinking out as one of her sons rubbed his eyes and gave him a who-the-hell-are-you leer. Seeing Tawatha's son made him miss Jeremiah even more. He still smelled the scent of the freshly waxed floors and Tawatha's perfume. He'd spent the previous night nursing a half-eaten box of strawberry Newtons and avoiding her texts. He knew it was wrong to play games with her, but he was sure by now she would have gotten the hint that he wasn't leaving his wife.

James recalled a saying his mother often made while deadheading flowers in her garden: “It takes two people to make a marriage go
bad.” It may take two, but he knew he was largely responsible for the disintegration of his union. James anticipated the temporary assignment would become permanent. He would work hard at reestablishing his life with Aruba. Randy Jacob, Franzen staffing coordinator, drew his attention back to the training.

“I want to remind you that although we're sending you to various work sites, you are a Franzen representative. We expect each of you to report to your assignments in a timely manner and to call in at the number in your orientation packet if you're unable to work.”

“How long will this assignment last?” This came from a stocky man donning a scowl, faded jeans, and a black overcoat two rows over from James.

“The current assignment will last eight months to a year. The pay is sixteen dollars an hour, no benefits. You'll be working throughout the city, cleaning out foreclosed properties.

Shelby Arvinson, owner of Arvinson Renovation, has the need for more workers due to the number of properties being abandoned. If you work hard and establish a good rapport with the owner, this assignment could become permanent.”

Young Sexy gazed and smiled at James as she raised her hand. “Are we all working the same sites or will we be separated?”

James acknowledged her stare with a smile as he read a pamphlet he'd taken from his welcome packet.

“Arvinson has provided a van for its workers, so transportation shouldn't be an issue or a reason for call-ins. Is that understood?” Everyone nodded and clipped on ID badges Randy passed out.

“The van leaves from the front parking lot in ten minutes. Please make any calls, take a restroom break, or grab a snack before you leave.”

Randy's dismissal of the group was Young Sexy's cue. She sidled next to James, her expressive, dark-brown eyes fixed on his. James
took in her oversized Columbia University sweatshirt, fitted jeans, and steel-toed pink and tan boots. Her shoulder-length bob accented her delicate face and rich, mocha skin.

“Hi, how are you?” she asked.

James stirred hot chocolate and met her gaze. Her boldness excited him, but he kept his mind on Aruba.

“I'm good. And you?”

“I've been thinking about you, wondering where you've been.”

“Do I know you, Miss. . .”

She extended her hand. James noticed her wedding band.

“I'm Katrina Benford. Don't tell me you don't remember me, James?”

James had flirted with so many women over the years, taking their numbers, promising to call, that he spaced out at moments like this. He knew it would be better to let her reveal where they'd met.

“James, it's me? Trina. You really don't remember me?”

“Of course I'd remember someone as lovely as you, but a brotha's getting older. Help me out.”

Katrina playfully jabbed James's arm. “You were at a barbershop off Fifth and College four years ago. Shear Bliss.” Katrina placed her hands on her hips. “That was the only shop I found specializing in great short cuts. This bob is okay, but you cut my hair in the style Halle Berry wore hers in
Die Another Day
. Man, my husband was livid that guys were approaching me left and right. Everybody loved it when I rocked that cut!”

Katrina pulled a silver photo album from her purse and handed it to James. He flipped through the photos, admiring Katrina in various poses as he slowly remembered his short stint at Bliss. He'd almost forgotten about the time spent there. He was popular with the ladies, a little too popular for Aruba's taste, but she never
complained. He made more than enough money to pay his monthly booth rental during those days, but he wanted to party and hang with the fellas. Several missed payments and he was outta there. Aruba encouraged him to explore working at other shops, but he belittled her for suggesting he wasn't man enough to keep a job doing what he loved.
Did she say that, or was it me?
As always, she tried to spur on his efforts.

“So when can I sit in your chair again? I'll go short again if you do my hair.”

“Well, I'm not actually doing hair right now.”

“Not doing hair? That's like Beyoncé saying she's not creating new music or booty-shaking. You're kidding, right?”

Emboldened by her enthusiasm, James answered, “I've been looking into it. I'd rather own a shop instead of working for other people.”

Katrina was about to comment when Randy announced, “The van is out front, everyone. Please gather any items you're taking and board as quickly as possible.”

Katrina and James put on their coats and piled into the van with the other workers. Katrina nestled close to James, continuing their conversation.

“Like I was about to say inside, I feel you. I'm not doing this job because I need to work. I'm here scoping out the competition.”

“Really?”

Katrina removed a business card from an elegant card holder in her purse. James read the card and was impressed by what he saw. Benford and Associates boasted they'd rehab any home. Large or small, they guaranteed they'd modernize any residential property in Indianapolis and the surrounding areas.

“We're taking Arvinson down,” Katrina said, leaning into James conspiratorially and winking.

“So tell me how you'll manage that.”

“Simple mathematics. The recession and current housing market have been bad for some, good for others. People who are still working and holding on to their property know that selling it might take some time, so they're rehabbing. The pie-in-the-sky purchasers who got in over their heads with too much mortgage are walking away from properties. That's where we come in. My husband, Isaak, was doing great as a real estate developer in the private sector, but he knew he had the know-how to start his own business. He's been acquiring properties left and right, making a name for himself, and racking up development and design awards along the way.”

Isaak Benford.
James knew the name sounded familiar. He recalled seeing the clean-cut brother wearing the hell out of a Brooks Brothers suit and a Rolex on the cover of the
Indianapolis Business Journal
last year. Beneath the caption,
Benford Does Green Best,
Isaak stood in front of a massive home that had been rehabbed with repurposed materials and boasted an eco-friendly design. The home sold for $800,000 and received the 2007 Design Award for Innovative Renewal, $200,000-$300,000 Category. James watched Katrina's eyes light up as she revealed their scheme to put Arvinson out of business.

“I'm all about applauding the competition. Arvinson is smart because he's bringing the workers to him, endearing them by providing a van, making sure he establishes trust. I want to go on site to see how the actual. . .James, I'm sorry. There I go again.”

“What, Katrina?”

“I get so excited that I take over a conversation talking about the things that Isaak and I do, what he wants to accomplish. I didn't mean to bore you. Enough about Isaak's obsessions. What's going on with you?”

“You weren't boring me. I actually enjoyed hearing about someone taking charge and handling his business by using his God-given talents.”

“Oh, don't let me sugarcoat things. We've had our ups and downs trying to get Benford and Associates off the ground. I actually had to cut back on a lot of shopping, hairdos, and nights out with the girls, so I could have pristine credit. No way was I going to embarrass him going to the bank. Don't get me wrong, I didn't have bad credit. I just wanted to be his partner in every way.”

“Gotcha.”

“I remembered you said you and that pretty wife of yours might open a salon. What happened with that?”

James thought it odd he'd be having this conversation with a former client/semi-stranger. He was about to ask her how she knew what Aruba looked like, but he remembered the photos he had of her in the shop. Everyone complimented his gorgeous wife from the photos and the few times she'd brought him take-out or stopped in to say hello. He tried to project an image of confidence, but then as now, James was tired of lying and pretending to be something he wasn't. How could he say to Katrina what he really felt without sounding like a loser?

“I've been dragging my feet a little. I'm not sure what's holding me back, but talking to you has lit a spark I haven't had in a long time.”

“Do you, boo.”

“I'm being selfish again. I've been yakking all this time about Isaak that I forgot to mention my cousin, Mitch Coleman. He opened up a salon for little girls last year. I don't know how he does it, but he's making money hand over fist with Divas in Training. He says he's bringing up the next generation of women who don't mind doing what they need to do to stay beautiful. I'll put you in
touch with him. The least you could do is talk to him and see what he's doing to keep multiple facilities afloat. You know you won't be working for Arvinson too long, since Benford will steal you away.” Katrina winked and playfully poked James's side.

Divas in Training
. James remembered Aruba mentioning the owner of the shop before she'd left home. He flushed with embarrassment after receiving the same tip twice. Aruba always had his back when it came to uplifting him. There was something about Katrina that reminded him of Aruba. James loved the way Katrina's eyes lit up when she talked about Isaak. Maybe Aruba would give him one last chance so that she could speak of him in the same way to a stranger.

“C
an you believe Mr. J.B. had the nerve to take Momma to the Bahamas?”

“And the problem with that would be? I think it's sweet.” Lasheera shook her head and softly chuckled at Tawatha's selfishness.

“He could have waited another week. They're making things difficult for me.”

“What's going on?”

Tawatha paced back and forth in her office, cell phone in hand. Mr. Hinton had requested she be present at a late dinner with Craddack Development. In addition to staving off the rumor mill buzzing with speculation and innuendo as to why she was asked to go to dinner and not senior project managers, she had to find a fill-in for Aunjanue's art show. Tonight was too important to decline Mr. Hinton's invite.

“I can't make it to Aunjanue's art show. Remember I told you about Craddack Development? We've been wooing their CEO for a contract for months now.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Mr. Hinton wants me to sit in on the meeting tonight.”