Joy (22 page)

Hunter's and Sasha's arms were hooked as they strolled. At the front door, Hunter kissed her gently, allowing their lips to linger for a few moments.

“Come in, please,” she pleaded.

“No way. I can't handle Anya right now.”

“You can handle anything,” she said coquettishly.

There was no way she was going to give up now. After the pastor told her in church that nothing was too big for God, she'd said two prayers. One was that Hunter would grow to love her, and two, that Hunter and Anya would get along. Well, God had answered her first prayer in a big way. So she knew in a short time Hunter and Anya would find a way to at least be cordial.

Hunter frowned but Sasha tugged, and he followed when she opened the door.

Anya was on the couch, covered with a blue chenille throw. Her Bible lay in her lap, and she smiled when she looked up.

“Hey, cuz,” Sasha said, pulling Hunter inside. “Hunter wanted to come in and say hello.”

“I can tell by the way you're dragging him,” Anya said.

Only Sasha laughed.

“Hey, Anya,” Hunter said. Seeing the Bible she held, he wanted to turn and ran. There was no telling what kinds of things she was saying to God about him.

Anya returned his greeting.

“Anya, guess what?” Sasha sounded like a breathless child. “Hunter's taking me to the Victory Awards.”

That made Anya sit up and Hunter smiled. If Anya hadn't acted like she was too good for him when he had asked her out, she could be the one on his arm.

“That's great,” Anya said, looking between the two.

The Victory Awards recognized African-Americans for achievement in various categories, including entertainment. Though not as prestigious as the NAACP Image Awards, they still received celebrity attendance and press coverage.

Sasha sat next to Anya, leaving Hunter standing by the door. “I am so excited!”

Anya glanced at Hunter. Her eyes squinted slightly, but she kept her smile. “Hunter, it's so nice of you to invite Sasha. I didn't realize you had been nominated.”

Hunter's jaw was tight. “I wasn't, but I
was
invited.”

Anya turned from Hunter and smiled at Sasha. “You'll have a great time.” She stood. “Well, I'll leave you two alone—”

“You don't have to do that, Anya,” Hunter said, taking a step toward her.

“It's okay. I have something to do anyway. Like … go into the kitchen … and … sharpen some knives.”

Hunter barely waited for Anya to leave the room. “See, she just doesn't like me. What was that knives thing all about?” he hissed.

“She was kidding.” Sasha chuckled. “Give her a break, she's not as funny as I am.”

“It's time for me to go.” He looked toward the kitchen. “There's something that
I
have to do.”

Sasha put her arms around his neck. “Thank you, for making my day, my week, my year!”

He smiled. “You're worth it. I'll call you tomorrow so that we can go shopping.”

The moment Sasha closed the door, Anya came back.

“Can you believe I'm going to the Victory Awards with Hunter Blaine?” Sasha fell back on the couch and kicked her legs in the air. “You know what's so incredible to me? You're onto something with this God thing.”

Anya frowned deeply. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, at church this morning, I really felt something happening.” She stopped, trying to find the words. “Like God was talking to me. So I prayed.”

“That's a good thing,” Anya said tentatively.

“I told God that I really wanted to be with Hunter. Then I go over to Hunter's apartment, and he invites me to the Victory Awards. I'll be back at church next week for sure.” She stood and started up the stairs. “I have to get my nails done and a pedicure—my God, I have so much to do.” She had disappeared but Anya could still hear her voice. “Where should I shop? I wonder what Hunter is going to wear.”

Sasha had probably been in her room a few minutes before Anya closed her mouth. She should have said something to her cousin, but what?

“Father,” Anya whispered, “Sasha has no idea who You are or what You have done. Please give her the desire to truly know you. Deal with her, according to your grace and mercy. And, help me, Lord, to plant the right seeds, through my words and actions so she will come to know you.”

Anya leaned back onto the couch. Her head was beginning to ache again, just like it had when she first came home from Madear's. While her conversation with Madear was still heavy on her, she had listened to the answering machine and heard Braxton asking her to come over so they could plan Junior's case. Her head had throbbed so badly then, even her eyeballs were sore.

She had lain down, finding comfort in her Bible. It was her favorite chapter—John 14—that she read, and her favorite scripture, John 14:27, that she read over and over.
Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.

That's what she was searching for—peace. She had prayed for it and had prayed that she would lose this overwhelming feeling that troubled her heart. Then Sasha had walked in with Hunter.

Anya sighed deeply. Braxton. Madear. Sasha. Their drama filled her head.

After a few minutes she rose, turned off the lights, and slowly went up the stairs. She couldn't take on the weight of her family's problems. Everyone would have to find their own way. Sasha—eventually she'd learn the truth. And Madear—her beliefs were her challenge. The only thing Anya could do for them was pray.

She was going to focus on herself and Braxton; that alone was more than she could handle.

Chapter 25

T
he man wrote the last line on the yellow legal pad, then sat the sheet next to the other five pages laid neatly across the table. It had taken a few hours, but his strategy was complete.

He liked writing out his plan, although Sean had never agreed.

“You have to plan this carefully,” Sean had explained the first time he was included in the game. “We don't pick just any girl. It has to be one who deserves this. One of those snobs who walks around thinking she's better than we are.”

He had wanted to tell Sean that there were no snobs in their neighborhood. But he had ended up with a black eye the last time he ignited his friend's fury.

Sean continued. “And it's best to choose a girl who doesn't have any brothers who could come after us.”

He had nodded and reached for a notebook from his bag.

“What are you doing?” Sean had frowned his disapproval.

They were sitting in their clubhouse, the basement of one of the abandoned buildings. Years ago, when he was first initiated into the gang and was brought into the first clubhouse, he had almost puked over the stench. But in the seven years that he'd been a member of the Bedford boys, he'd gradually become used to it.

“You said we had to plan,” he'd replied weakly as he pulled out a pen with the paper.

Sean snatched the paper from his hand. “You can't write anything down!” he had screamed. “That's evidence.”

“But planning is important
—”

“Don't be stupid.” Sean had sneered as the others joined in. “You're supposed to be the scholar. Why are you so dumb?”

He had fought to keep the hurt from his face and leaned back against the cold wall. The only thing that kept the tears from squeezing through his eyes was that he knew he was smarter than Sean—much smarter. But Sean was the leader and older and bigger. So he sat and listened as Sean laid out the plan.

It had taken them a week to follow the girl—measure her patterns and determine the best place to take her. As the days progressed, he found himself becoming more excited. He had never been with a girl before and Sean knew it.

“We're going to give her to you first.” Sean patted him on the back the night before the big game. The others nodded because that's what they always did.

He had shaken with excitement. When they'd finally taken the girl, he hated that he had to be with her in front of the three other boys Sean had chosen to participate. But, he'd gone along, that time and the other times, knowing that one day he'd be able to do this alone.

Now, as he remembered that first time, he clasped his hands together to stop the trembling. His shaking had nothing to do with fear. He was too careful for anything to go wrong. But, he could never be overly confident—only a fool would do that.

That's why he carefully planned his strategy. The only reason they were never caught was because their attacks had only been reported to the police once. In their neighborhood, these crimes had been accepted. People sighed, shook their heads, then went about the business of taking care of their families with the little they had.

But in today's times, he had to be more careful. That called for perfect planning.

He pulled out a bottle of Merlot that he had been saving for a special occasion. There wouldn't be a time more appropriate than this. With surprisingly steady hands, he poured a small glass. Just enough to calm him.

As he sipped the wine, he wondered what had ever happened to his childhood friend, although he only called Sean a friend because he couldn't think of another word. He had despised the boy and he remembered every taunt, every sneer, every ridicule. But he could never hate him for what he'd taught him. He'd always be grateful for this.

He raised his glass in a salute. He had no idea where Sean lived today. Probably in the same place or maybe he even ended up in jail. That's how it turned out for most of the kids in his neighborhood. He knew he'd been one of the lucky ones.

He drank the last of the wine in one swallow and returned to his notes, reading through them one last time. Then he folded them neatly four times before he took the pages into the extra room, tucking them inside one of the photo albums that held her pictures. He wouldn't look at the notes again. They were already a part of his mind.

Chapter 26

A
nya blew out the two candles in the silver holders and watched as dark smoke spiraled into the air, twirling to the bass of the music. Braxton stood and removed the last crystal platter from the coffee table.

“Do you want me to help?” Anya asked.

“No, this is your night. Relax.”

Braxton put the dishes inside the insulated carton the caterer had left.

When he returned to the living room, he paused at the arched entryway. Anya was still on the floor, in the same place where they'd eaten dinner. With her legs crossed, her eyes closed, and her head thrown back, she seemed hypnotized by Luther's words.

Here and now, I promise to love faithfully

Feeling his presence, she opened her eyes. He stretched forth his hand, pulling her from the floor.

She kissed his nose. “Thank you for a wonderful Valentine's.”

He returned her kiss.

They swayed, with locked lips, until the song ended.

Braxton led her to the couch in front of the bay window. The sun had long ago retreated into the Pacific, and only the rose-scented candles that flickered around them lit the massive room. Anya sat down and Braxton knelt in front of her, slipping off her left shoe.

“Sit back,” he whispered.

She eagerly obeyed, anticipating the coming pleasures. Braxton rested on his knees and began lightly massaging her foot. “You're tight.” He pressed a little harder. “Relax.”

As Braxton kneaded, pushed and pressed, Anya felt her tension waning. He took off her other shoe and resumed his pursuit to please her.

After a wonderful eternity, he placed both of her feet on the floor. He joined her on the couch and she reclined into his arms. He pressed the remote for the CD.

A love so fine is finally mine

“Braxton, we have some of the best times together.” Anya squeezed his hand, wishing it were true all the time.

He tightened his arms around her. “We have a lot to celebrate. I can't tell you how much it means to have you in my corner with Junior—”

She flinched.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She paused. “Tonight, let's just think about us.”

He lifted her from the couch and brushed his lips against hers. “To us,” he said. He pulled her to him and they began swaying.

I'd cry, I'd cry if you left my side

She leaned in, running her hands from his neck, down over the tightness of his back. He kissed her head, her ear, then his tongue grazed her cheek, finally finding her lips. As they kissed, they backed their way to the couch, falling and continuing to explore each other.

He leaned back slightly. “Anya,” he breathlessly whispered. “Please …”

She was panting as she pulled his face back to hers, their lips once again meeting. Their passion deepened, and they were falling, falling … His breathing became more rapid. Moans from inside him matched hers.

“Tonight.” His voice sounded like something was caught in his throat.

She was lost in her own urges, as she shuddered against his touch. She allowed herself to drift, giving herself in the only way she could.

It wasn't until her blouse was unbuttoned that she came rushing back.

“Braxton,” she panted his name.

He squinted at her through thin slits. Then he leaned forward and covered her mouth once again.

She pushed him away. “Braxton.” She was still trying to catch her breath.

He moved in again, this time forcing his lips against hers. Anya used both hands to push him and he fell back.

“Braxton, no!”

Confusion covered his face. He leaned forward, trying to reinstate their bond, but Anya shifted on the couch, turning her head away from him. “We have to stop.”

“I don't want to,” he nuzzled against her neck, trying to put his full body weight over her. She could feel his desire and for a solid moment she responded, wanting to yield to all that she had been keeping inside. She wanted him.

But no! She pushed him again, forced herself to sit up, and closed her blouse.