Some Came Desperate: A Love Saga (25 page)

       He came into the bedroom and sat on the bed beside her, staring at her, and when she asked him what was wrong, he shook his head.

       “You know me better than that, Jules.”

       “I know you better than what?  What are you talking about?”

       “You know I’m no racist, come on!”

       Jules exhaled.  “Then why did you accept that award, Jere?”

       “I haven’t accepted it.  They gave it to me.  What did you expect me to say?  No thanks?”

       Jules nodded her head.  “That’s exactly what I expected you to say.  The Drake Society is a fancy name for white supremacy and you know it.”

       “I don’t know a damn thing.  You say that’s what it is.  I say it’s a conservative think tank that happens to believe that I’m a good doctor and community leader.  That’s all that was about.”

       “And what about this nonsense about you putting your hat in the ring?  They want you to run for city council.”

       “They can want anything they wish.  But I’m not into politics and you know that.”  Then he sighed.  Shook his head.  “I’m very disappointed in you, Jules.”

       Jules was floored.  “You’re disappointed in
me
?  You must be joking.  I’m not the one running around accepting awards from racists.”

       “I told you they’re not racists, all right, so cut it out.  You know me better than that.” 

       “I know, but,” Jules ran her hand through her silky hair.  Then she looked at Jeremy.  “I know.”

       Jeremy stared at her, as if he doubted it.  Then he stood up and began removing his clothes.  Jules knew what was coming and braced herself.  And when he leaned across the bed, placed his hand on her chin, and lifted her face to his, she actually winced.  She looked into his eyes, his big, beautiful eyes, and for the first time since she’d known him she saw nothing but desperation there.  Once upon a time she did.  But not now.  “You believe me, don’t you, J?” he asked her.  She tried to remove her face from his grasp, she wasn’t about to play his manipulation game this time, but he wouldn’t allow it.  “J?”

       “Yes?”

       “I said you believe me, don’t you?”

       Jules sighed.  She was tired of the games.  But she played it anyway. “Yes, Jeremy.”

       “That’s right.  And if anybody tries to tell you differently about me, then you come to me.  All right?  Not Simone and Shay.  Me.  The man who loves you.  And takes care of you.  And will be there for you when those sisters of yours are long gone somewhere living their lives.  All right?”

       What a piece of work, Jules thought.  He actually had her feeling guilty again.  But what could she do?  “Okay,” she said.

       Jeremy smiled.  “Okay.”  Then his look turned more serious, and he kissed her hard on the lips.  She still enjoyed the way he kissed her, but when she opened her eyes, the feel of him made her skin crawl.

       “My baby okay?” he said to her as their lips parted and he began running his hand through her long, sling-down, silky hair. 

       She hesitated.  “Yes,” she finally said.

       “And you trust me?”

       “Jeremy, don’t—”

       “You trust me,” Jeremy said firmly.  “Right?”

       Jules closed her eyes and then reopened them.  “Yes,” she said.

       Jeremy then stood erect, naked and hard.  He reached for her hand.  “Come and show me how much,” he said.

       Jules wanted to resist.  She knew she should have resisted and forced him to be straight with her about his affiliation with that racist Drake Society.  But she didn’t resist.  She took his hand, allowed him to pull her up to him, and began kissing him, going down, down, down, tears in her eyes as she went, as if all of her self-respect, all of her dreams of what love and happiness truly meant, were going down with her.

NINETEEN

The next day Simone found herself at Ethan Graham’s apartment.  Not by design.  She thought she was going to his office.  He wanted to go over Shay’s case and she agreed to meet Shay over there.  It was only after she arrived did she discover that his office was also his apartment. 

    It was a tall, storefront building in a rather shabby area near Liberty City.  When Simone drove up in her newly acquired rental car and saw his office, she was surprised.  It was, to say the least, not what she had expected from this so-called high-powered attorney, an attorney every major law firm allegedly wanted.  The building was rustic, with peeling paint and zero curb appeal, and when she entered the office, the furnishings were bare. 

       She entered the office to find a gentleman from what Ethan described as a prestigious law firm, making him an offer he’d be “nuts to refuse.”  It was such a good offer, in fact, that Ethan quickly asked if Simone could give them a little privacy so that their meeting could wrap up.  She was glad to give them privacy, agreeing without hesitation to wait in his back room.  She was stunned to discover, however, that his back room wasn’t a back office, but his entire living quarters.

       She started to leave.  But before she could react he had already closed the door and was once again in deep conversation with his guest in the outer room.  So she walked around, looking over the Spartan-like quarters, and then took a seat on the two-cushioned tattered couch that sat across from a leather high-back wing chair.  In between the sofa and chair was a coffee table choke full of papers and law books.  It was obvious to Simone that Ethan was a hard-working, twenty-four-seven kind of attorney.  It was also clear to her that he was remarkably, refreshingly unpretentious. 

       She had come to his office originally to meet up with Shay, who was scheduled to get together with Ethan to go over her testimony prior to their meeting with the state attorney tomorrow. Ethan, during lunch on Sunday, had asked that Simone come to help him drill into Shay the importance of getting it right, that if that prosecutor believed for a second that she would not make a good, credible witness against Mookie Davenport, then all bets were off and Shay would still be in serious legal jeopardy.  Since Simone was now staying in a hotel (she couldn’t handle the way Shay allowed so many late night visits by so many strange, unsavory looking men), she told Shay she’d meet her at Ethan’s.  Shay said that she would not be late, but now Simone was beginning to wonder if she would show up at all.

       But Simone showed up.  Only problem was, Shay hadn’t.  At least not yet.  And she wasn’t answering her cell phone.  It was typical Shay, both Simone and Ethan knew it, but that didn’t stop Simone from getting just a little annoyed with her kid sister’s “typical” behavior.

       After about only eight or nine minutes, Ethan opened the door to his apartment and entered, leaving, to Simone’s relief, the door wide open.  She could see the guest just leaving out of the office front door.

       She began to stand, to head back into the office area, but Ethan insisted that she sit back down.  “You’ll be infinitely more comfortable in here,” he said.  “Those chairs in my office are hard and brutal on your butt - by design.”

       “By design?”  Simone asked, sitting back down.  “Why?”

       “To keep clients and anybody else from lingering.  Just give me the facts and leave.  Let me do my job.”

       Simone smiled.  “You don’t care about impressing people?”

       “My results impresses people.  Not to mention my bill.  Low overhead, more money for my retirement.”  Ethan started heading for the small bar he had against the wall just outside of his bedroom.

       Simone watched him, studied him.  “I take it you plan to clock out early?” she asked.

       “Before I’m fifty.  And then coax my way on to glory.  What would you care to drink, my dear?”  By now Ethan had made his way behind the bar.

       “Water would be fine.  Or juice if you have it.”

“Grape, apple, or orange?”

       “Apple.”

       Simone looked at Ethan as he prepared her drink.  He was in shirt sleeves, revealing more muscle than his over-sized suit coat had indicated, and his face seemed so focused, so bent on getting even that little job of fixing her a drink absolutely perfect.  Shay, she thought, didn’t know how blessed she was to have this quiet genius in her corner.

       “Ethan,” she asked, “what’s the deal with Davenport?”

       “They haven’t cut a deal yet.”

       “No, I mean, do you think his people will try to come after Shay if she testifies against him?  Maybe that’s why she’s so hesitant.”

       “Nothing to worry about there.  Davenport has implicated every living soul with any ties whatsoever to his organization.  He didn’t spare anybody, not even his own mama, who was hiding dope for that fool.  There was no people left.  And if there are, they’d be going after Davenport, not Serita.  He’s the sorriest crime boss I ever met.” 

       Simone laughed after Ethan said this and relaxed even more.  He had a way of alleviating her fears in ways that surprised her.  Even after church on Sunday, when they had gone out to lunch, he made her laugh so much that she actually enjoyed herself.  And when he asked her to come to Shay’s appointment for moral support, she didn’t hesitate.  Now, as he headed toward her with juice in hand, she was so glad that she didn’t.

       “Here you are, my dear,” he said, handing her the glass of juice.  She reached for it gladly, but he let go too soon, causing the glass to tip and spill a small amount of liquid into the lap of her skirt.  She jumped to her feet.

       “Oh, my goodness,” Ethan said, flustered.  “Simone, I am so sorry,” he added, grabbing a balled-up handkerchief out of his pants pocket and, at first, reaching to dab the spill himself, but then wisely thinking the better of it and handing it to Simone.  “I can be so clumsy sometimes.”

       “It’s no big deal, Ethan, really.  Just a little spill.”  She said this as she dabbed her lap with the handkerchief.  “Where’s your bathroom - I’ll need to wet it.”

       “That door right there,” he said, pointing across the room.  “But you sure I haven’t ruined your outfit?”

       “Quite sure, Ethan,” she said with a smile, touched by his concern as she headed for that bathroom.  “It’s just a little spill.”

       Inside the bathroom, which was tiny also, she wet the handkerchief and wiped her stain.  She thought about the look of horror and disappointment that had been on Ethan’s face and couldn’t stop smiling.  He reminded her of an innocent lamb, with no guile whatsoever.  Just a hardworking man with goals and dreams and a sweetness about him that belied his reputation.  And he was interested in her, no doubt about that.  Which warmed her heart.  She looked in the mirror above the sink.  She was thirty-three years old now, no longer a woman of youth, but still seemingly very attractive to men.  And a man like Ethan Graham, no less.  It made her almost blush.

       She began to hear voices in the outer office, voices that began coming closer, into Ethan’s living quarters, and she exhaled.  Finally, Shay had arrived and they could get down to business.  Shay was still not fully sold on selling out Davenport.  She was still living with the grossly misguided belief that only weak losers squealed on their friends.  Which was ridiculous, Simone thought.  She therefore rinsed out the handkerchief, flapped it over the edge of the towel rack, pushed a strand of hair that had escaped her braids back in place, and hurried out of the bathroom to make certain that Shay understood the stakes.

       “It’s about time you showed up,” she said as soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, smoothing down her skirt.  When she looked up, however, she stopped in her tracks.  It wasn’t Shay who had walked into Ethan’s office and now stood in his apartment.             It was Nick. 

       As in Nick Perry. 

       As in the man who tore her heart so irreparably apart seven years ago that she was still feeling the effects of the tear.  She stepped back, bumping into the book stand.

       Nick, also, literally took a step back.  He could not believe his eyes. Simone.  His Simone was standing right in front of him.  His heart fell through his shoe.

       “It’s not Shay, Simone,” Ethan said, completely oblivious to their despair.  “Mr. Perry, I want you to meet Simone Rivers.  Simone, this is Nicolas Perry.  He heads the best law firm in Miami, at least in my humble opinion.  Certainly among the top two  firms in– Are you okay?”

       Any fool could see that she was far from okay, she thought, as she tried her best to smile and conceal the stricken look that had to be on her face.  “Yes, I’m fine,” she said in an almost high-pitched drone.  “I thought I heard Shay.”

       Ethan grinned.  “I doubt if your sister has ever been on time for anything.  But come on and have a seat, Simone, we don’t bite.  And you too, Mr. Perry.  Can I get you something to drink?”

       “Yes, thank-you,” Nick said.

       “It’s vodka, right?”

       “Right,” Nick said, his eyes not leaving Simone.

       “One vodka coming up,” Ethan said, rubbing both hands together and heading for the bar. 

       Simone, however, remained frozen where she stood. 
Nick Perry
, she thought, unable to take her eyes off of him.  Nick Perry was standing in front of her!  She could hardly believe it.  She knew that it would happen.  Somehow she knew that one day, if she remained in Miami long enough, he would cross her path. 

       But she never dreamed it would be like this, in this cramped, little apartment, on a night and at a time that rendered her almost speechless.  Nick Perry.  Nick Perry was in the house!  Although he looked the same- from his fashionable pinstripe suit that revealed those same thick muscles she used to so admire, to those 8-pak abs that showed mercilessly across the tightness of his snow-white shirt, there was something different about him, too.  His face was still handsome, she daresay he looked even better with age!  But the freshness was gone.  The calmness.  That smooth joe style of his that always made her feel that life would always be a breeze for him.  Now he looked tired, and worn, battle-scarred almost, as if life had been more like a whirlwind than any kind of breeze.  Even his big, beautiful blue eyes, that used to pop and sparkle, that used to define everything that made him so charismatic, looked almost dull.

       And his reaction, or non-reaction she could say.  For he just stood there, his hands in his pants pockets rattling around coins as if seeing her meant nothing to him, his eyes gazing at her as if she was only vaguely familiar.  Vaguely familiar?  Yeah, right.  She could still feel his hands on her, could still sniff his scent all these years later, and he was acting as if he barely remembered her?   She was almost angry.  But she couldn’t go there.  She was still too amazed, too stunned, too, too what? 
Thrilled
?  Could she possibly be thrilled to see him again?  Was she, after seven long years, still that far gone?

       “Hey, you two,” Ethan yelled from behind the bar when he realized neither one of his guests had moved, “have a seat, come on.  Kick up your feet.  Make yourselves at home.  The furniture ain’t much, but it’s clean.”

       Nick stepped back and motioned for Simone to move from her perch against the book stand and have a seat.  She hesitated, she wasn’t so sure if her legs would fail her, but then she found the strength to walk over to the couch, purposely avoiding his eyes, and take a seat. 

       Nick sat in the chair across from her and immediately crossed his legs.  Although he didn’t show it - his twenty-plus years as a trial attorney had taught him too well how to conceal his emotions, his heart was ramming against his chest.  He thought he’d seen a ghost when that door opened and Simone Rivers stepped back into his world.  Simone!  He had to blink twice, to do an almost whiplash-like double take, to assure himself that she was real, that his eyes were not playing a trick on him.  And it was true.  His baby was back.

       He caught himself.  He knew he had no right referring to her that way.  She was his once, his completely once, but he had blown that big-time.  And it was so long ago, so many painful, miserable nights ago, that just thinking about it still pained him.  He had hurt her, he had hurt Delia, he had hurt them both in so many ways that he would never forgive himself, as he knew they wouldn’t, either.  It was a miracle, he thought, nothing short of divine intervention, that kept him from falling apart right where he sat.