Like Slow Sweet Molasses (26 page)

“So
eloquently put,” Angela sarcastically stated, tempering her response at the
look only a mother could give. It seemed to her everything lined up for a trip,
just not the original one. “I’ll take a trip.” Her concession of defeat put a
canyon-wide smile across her mother’s face.

Chapter Sixteen

Angela’s
adrenaline whipped wilder than the Chicago winds she left behind a mere four
hours ago. She looked up at the exterior of the glass building. The skyscraper
in downtown Atlanta housed Harper Enterprises, the consulting firm owned by
Philip Harperiski. She entered to glide through the sleek looking lobby to
study the wall directory. As expected, the place sought was on one of the
loftier floors. That spurred her to the golden elevator doors. Elevator music
did nothing at all to lessen her agitation on the extended ride up. The bell
dinged as the doors slowly parted to expose a set of floor to ceiling double
wood doors adorned with an oversized bronze name plaque. The anteroom was
elegantly furnished and manned by a cheerful receptionist who did a double take
as Angela strutted forward exhibiting her natural grace and poise.

“May
I help you?”

“I’m
here to see Mr. Harperiski.”

“Do
you have an appointment?” She punctuated the question with a snap of her neck
that flung blonde strands over her shoulder.

“No,
I don’t,” Angela admitted. “I’m sure he’ll want to see me if you just let him
know I’m here.”

“I’m
sorry. You need to make an appointment.” The keys clicked as she checked his
schedule on her monitor. “He’s available next week. I can work you in—”

“That
won’t do.” Angela batted down her generous offer, adamantly insisting on seeing
him. “He’ll want to see me as soon as possible.” She offered supporting
evidence. “Here’s his personal card.”

The
receptionist sat up and took notice. She rose from her chair holding the card
like a rare find. “Wait here, please.”
 
Her clipped quality insinuated an order before she vanished behind a
second set of impressive doors.

Like
magic, Jason Harper appeared before her with a look that said he wasn’t at all
happy to see her.

“What
are you doing here?” His tone was so abrasive the once confident door guard
turned skittish.

“Certainly
not to see you,” Angela quipped, eyes flashing dangerously. She saw him in
tunnel vision due to the fact she was so outdone at his threatening-like
manner. Yet, she couldn’t miss the amazement on the woman’s face as she pivoted
to look from her boss back to her, a baffling recognition igniting in her eyes.
“Remember, Jason. You sought me out. I can skip out of here and my life
wouldn’t miss a beat.” Within seconds, she showed him the back of her throbbing
head.

“Wait!”
he hollered.

“Wait
for what?” she screamed back, forgetting her home training and—social dictates.
Angela glared at him reading in his miffed expression his resentment of her
challenge.

The
receptionist, by this time, knew she was out of her league and charged to her
desk to sound a surreptitious warning. “There’s a mad black woman in
confrontation with Mr. Harper. Send security right away.”

Overhearing
the whispered SOS didn’t really surprise Angela. It was the depiction of her as
a black woman who’d lost her ever-loving mind to madness by daring to respond
in kind to someone else’s caustic tone that angered her. “Hardly necessary,”
she said sweetly, not wanting to give either the satisfaction of knowing how
incensed she was. “I’m leaving.”

A
troop of uniformed men stampeding down the hall met her looking as if they were
more than capable of putting down a coup in a small foreign country. All of
this for her—one lone black woman. How powerful is that she thought more than a
little frightened by the attention her presence commanded. She had to pause for
them to open up a hole that was just big enough for her to slip through on her
way to the elevators, grateful no one accosted her.

“Angela.”

The
voice she despised brought a rush of relief as the gap in the hall widened to
permit her biological father through. He cut a dapper figure in his designer
suit and leather wing-tips, spit and polished to a blinding gleam. The elevator
bell pinged and she held the door delaying her escape.

“Don’t
leave,” he begged.
 

“Let’s
get one thing straight. I’ve heard your terms. Now, hear mine.”

“Not
here,” he cautioned, trolling over to remove her hand from the doors now
banging to close. “Come with me.”

He
flaunted his power, she saw, with a wave of his hand dismissing his security
team. They retreated with skeptical looks flung over their shoulders at her. No
one dared to question his authority. Angela followed him passed the doors to
the main office and into an undetectable panel he opened with a fob. “Where are
you taking me?” she asked, lacking the trust a daughter afforded her father.

“To
my private offices.”

They
entered a deserted hallway to come out on the other side and directly into his
plush executive office set apart from any she’d ever seen. The sky backdrop
served as a wall. Her eyes bounced around taking in her surroundings and a realization
hit. It was said money can’t buy good health, but, he was certainly well-off
enough to try.

“Get
your attorney in here. I’ve got instructions on how to disperse the funds.”

“I
heard about your—father. How’s he doing?”

“As
if you care,” she sniped. “That’s why I’m here. Jason opened my eyes with his
uncouth phone call to the hospital. You and I can use one another to make a
difference in a tiny piece of the world.”

Philip
took a seat behind his imposing desk to summon his lawyer. “He’s on his way.”
He sat quietly staring at her profile for she’d turned towards the window. “You
and Jason favor so closely. There’s no denying you’re my child.”

“Save
it, Mr. Harperiski. This is a business venture and nothing more,” she cut to
the quick. “How much longer?” His intercom buzzed and he picked up the phone.

“Send
him in.”

Angela
watched the power-suited attorney make an appearance from another direction and
almost sprint into the room carrying a legal pad for note taking. He
acknowledged her with a nod. “Here’s what will happen based upon the terms you
set down in your original proposal. Whether the test results match or not,
either way, fifty thousand was the sum in the documents. If not a match, I want
the fifty thousand equally divided between my parents and the Academy School of
the Arts in New Orleans. If a match, that fifty thousand is to be paid, in its
entirety, to the Academy School of the Arts in New Orleans stipulating its use
for the purchase of musical instruments and the other learning materials they’re
lacking to ensure the children get a well-rounded education.” She halted to
confirm understanding and allow them to digest her demands. “Well?”

Philip
intoned, “Go on.”

“When
the tests indicate a match and the harvesting process of my bone marrow begins,
the remaining one hundred fifty thousand will be paid to my parents without
stipulation or judgments on how it’s used. The purpose will be strictly up to
their discretion.”

Turning
to his lawyer, “Are these demands manageable, Willem?”

He
scanned his notes keeping his countenance free of any emotion dispensing
superiority as he held his tongue as long as he thought he could get away with
it. Finally, he honored them with an answer. “Against my counsel. Yes, it’s
doable.”

“Get
the papers in order and let’s handle this now. Also, Mr. Haperiski, while he’s
taking care of that, you call your physician and arrange for immediate
testing.”

“It’s
Friday. The Thanksgiving holiday’s next week,” he objected. “The timetable is
unreasonable.”

“The
holiday is next Thursday. I intend to be home by that time lounging in the
luxury of being with family and friends who love me.” Because she remained
standing, Angela strolled over to the doors cognizant of how their jaws dropped
in disbelief. “It’s now or never. I’m sure my part as the donor can be handled
to completion between now and Wednesday.”

“You
are a savvy business woman, Angela. A chip off the old block.”

“Oh,
please,” came her droll reply. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I
was speaking of your mother.”

“Then,
don’t,” she hissed. “Are you going to make this work or not?”

“Do
I have a choice?” he asked dryly.

“Actually,
you do. You can choose to take action or ignore the situation—as you did all
those years ago.”

“Get
the ball rolling, Willem.” His attention turned to phoning his private
physician ending his discussion with his attorney. “Get back to me
immediately.”

“No
legalese,” Angela called to his back. “I want plain and simple English.”

He
looked to his employer for approval receiving an affirmative headshake as Philip
jerked the receiver.

Her
knees buckled rushing her to the sofa. Angela perched on the edge for to sit
back and erect meant her feet would be inches from the floor. Being in charge
with your feet dangling over an overstuffed couch did not project a picture of
power. Philip’s muffled voice had the sound of someone talking to a swimmer
located underwater. The conversation caused fire to spit from his eyes at her
whenever he swiveled from the window. She gathered his demands met resistance
when his fist pounded the classic cherry desk seconds before causing a ruckus
when hanging up the phone.

“The
required testing can be handled tonight with results determined by tomorrow
morning. If all works out, treatments in preparation to collect your bone
marrow would start immediately thereafter.” He frowned at her. “Does that meet
your approval?”

“I’m
sensing my offer is inconveniencing you,” she surmised. “Mr. Harperiski, if
you’d rather I leave I have no problem with that.”

“No,
please,” a feminine voice entreated from the doorway.

Angela
stood as the woman rushed in her direction unsure if a physical attack would
ensue.

“My
husband is beholden to you even if he acts unappreciative.”

Angela
stared at the bosomy redhead, who was all of a few years her senior, as she bypassed
her to walk regally over and lean down to peck Philip’s cheek. She realized she
was a prime target for any insect happening by for her jaw dropped in surprise.
The woman spoke to her again.

“I
know this isn’t easy for you—to have learned of your heritage this way.” She
offered pity. “I only found out,” she peered at her husband, “quite recently
myself.”

Angela
wasn’t sure how to take that last statement and remained mute.

Philip
found his tongue. “This is my wife, Monica. Monica…Angela.”

He
couldn’t even say daughter
she fumed silently. “Is everything settled?” she asked.

“It’s
all set,” he repeated. “Jason will escort you—”

“I’d
prefer not to have your son anywhere around me.”

“That’s
too bad,” came the reply from the back of the room where Jason hung in the
shadows to study the scene before marching up to her.

Angela’s
eyes slung daggers at the white man in her face. Just as she tussled to
restrain herself, Monica’s sheer amazement rang out.

“You’re
right, Philip. They’re so much alike in temperament it’s unbelievable. And the
resemblance is uncanny.”

“There’s
no denying the relationship, you two,” their father reasoned. “It’s time to
make a peace pact.”

“Over
my dead body.” Jason, angered by the suggestion, railed.

“No,
son. It’ll probably be over mine.” All eyes shifted to the elder Haperiski.
“The chances of Angela being a better match than anyone else in the family are
miniscule to none. All of you should realize that. Although that may be the
case, I couldn’t take the risk of not approaching her for assistance.”

“Philip,
we don’t know that for sure,” Monica lamented.

He
rose from the chair like a beaten man to grasp his wife’s hands. “No, you’re
right. We don’t. But, just in case the worse happens, my dear, you’ll be well
taken care of. Never fear.”

“That’s
an awful thing to say to me,” she whimpered.

The
sound in her voice caused Angela to search Monica’ face for pertinent signs of
the melodramatic act she played out. She saw none. Only the fear blanching her
features white under her bronze makeup highlighted her distress. That made her
shift to look at Jason. How did he view this touching scene she curiously
wondered? It was impossible to tell for he had his same hardened expression in
place. The only one she’d ever seen him wear.

“Sentimental
and loving,” he mocked. “Save it, Monica. All I care about is my father’s
welfare. If he thinks you’re the love of his new life and she’s his dutiful
daughter,” he threw his head in Angela’s direction, “so be it.”