The Heart is a Lonely Hunter (24 page)

A festive spirit like William had never known filled the air. Someone brought a cassette player out and African rhythms soon filled the air. People sang, and Melinda, never the shy one, danced and shook till William was sure something was going to fall off. All in all, William couldn’t remember ever having a better time. Melinda reckoned it to one big block party.

It was two-thirty in the morning before the village began to disperse and an old beat up jeep was brought around to take William and Melinda back to their hotel. Before leaving they thanked everyone, promised to stay in touch and gave three crisp one hundred dollar bills to Alex’s parents for their son’s services. They politely refused and seemed taken aback by the gesture. William couldn’t understand how people as poor as these could be so proud. After all three hundred dollars was three hundred dollars and quite possibly more than their income for a year. Still they refused.

As usual, Melinda came to the rescue proposing a trust fund for Alex’s education. On this they agreed and Melinda promised to meet with Alex’s father the following day in Lagos to finalize the paperwork. Everyone cried when they departed but no one more than Alex and Melinda. Even William was touched by this scene and had to step away for a few minutes.

When they returned to the hotel, they found a ton of messages. William leafed through the messages but there was still no word from Sill. Melinda said goodnight, thanked William for a wonderful week and headed for her room Sure, Sill was a friend of hers or at least she liked to think so and she had always been appropriate and never anything but professional when it came down to William but she’d begun to feel differently lately. Much differently. She didn’t know if it was out of gratitude and respect or..

But what boss would have taken his secretary to Africa with no ulterior motives in mind?

CHAPTER 14
 

After saying goodnight, Melinda closed the door and threw herself across the bed in a fit of fury and cursed herself. Picking up the phone she called the front desk and ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon before stepping into the shower to calm the heat rising from between her thighs. Stepping into the shower she cursed herself and then William for making her feel this way.

The water from the shower was both warm and soothing. Melinda let the warm jet spray rush over her plump but firm body placing both arms on the shower walls content if only for a minute to let all thought of William and her needs flow from her. Remembering the champagne she’d ordered, she grabbed the soap and lathered quickly making sure not to miss a spot. A good night’s rest was sorely needed after all the festivities and she hadn’t known just how tired she was until she’d gotten into the shower.

She’d always hated being in the shower knowing that she was expecting someone but continued showering since there would be little time in the morning. Bending over to soap her thighs, she felt the tingling again, began to massage her self vigorously, and was glad for the knock at the door. She was beginning to hate herself for having so little self-control. A good bottle of champagne was just what the doctor ordered. A glass or two and she’d be fast asleep.

Grabbing her sheer see-through cami, she headed for the door, then realized the camisole revealed far too much and was hardly appropriate to answer the door in but in her haste she could find nothing else and at that moment she really could have cared less. Searching for her purse she grabbed a five-dollar bill to tip the bellhop and made sure she stood behind the door so as not to reveal too much.

Melinda was shocked to find William standing there instead of the bellhop, a bottle of champagne and two glasses in his hand.

“Thought I’d drop by and celebrate our trip. I don’t honestly know how successful we were but the experience in itself was certainly an eye opening experience for me. Sill tried to tell me, but I guess I just didn’t understand.
I couldn’t understand.
I never would have imagined Black people living like this, so beautifully, so regally. Did you get that same feeling? You don’t know how glad I am that you came. You really don’t. At least I have you to share this experience. I don’t think it’s one I’ll ever forget. I tried to get Sill to join us but she believes that the old man is doing no more than using me to be a liaison or better yet, his flunky so she was adamant about not being a party to any of this but I am certainly glad that I had the good sense in spite of the Ol’ Man’s hidden agenda to get a chance to see the homeland. Shall we have a toast?”

Melinda was still shocked that it was William instead of room service but before she had a chance to answer, the bellhop who also doubled as the waiter and the bartender was standing behind William. And here she was for the entire world to see in a see through nightie. William seemed oblivious, so high was he on his recent revelation that he might be Black after all and more importantly a descendant of kings that he hardly noticed what she was wearing or the fact that what she was wearing revealed everything. The attendant, on the other hand, who doubled as everything from waiter to bellhop and bartender and who had been more overly gracious and more than just a little friendly whether he was serving her a midday snack or a drink at the bar seemed to notice everything. And seemed hell bent on driving the damn-serving cart over William if it meant he could get a better look was keeping abreast of everything. It aggravated Melinda that the bellhop could see the opportunities even with the few extra pounds she’d gained and this fool was standing here talking about his wife who didn’t have enough love to support him in the lily-White world of corporate America. Better yet, she didn’t have the brains or the foresight to see a missed opportunity such as a trip to Africa, the Motherland. So wrapped up was she in herself, in her own little world that she would send her husband—a Black man—a most intelligent Black man—with a few rough edges no doubt, but nonetheless a good, strong, intelligent, hard working Black man. How naive could, she be to send a brotha who was attentive, caring and climbing the corporate ladder faster than any man she knew White or Black off with his secretary who was craving just such a man.

‘Either she lacks women’s intuition, common sense or she gives me no credit for either being able to get a man or hold a man. Whatever it is, one thing for sure. You never ever send your man off with his secretary to stay together for two weeks. I don’t care how good a friend she is.’ There it was. That thought again. But what perturbed Melinda more was that this silly fool was standing in the doorway to her hotel room while she stood virtually naked talking about how he wished his wife had come. For a brief moment she thought about letting the bellboy in to service all of her needs but decided against it.

Seeing the bellhop, William moved aside ever so slowly and allowed the young man to approach the door where Melinda stopped him, held out the five spot and pulled the tray in herself before dismissing the young man.

William hardly noticed.

“I see you had similar thoughts,” he said.” Hoped you had intentions of including me. You know they say it’s not good to drink alone.”

Attempting to be humorous, Melinda had difficulty breaking a smile but remained cordial despite the animosity she was beginning to feel inside.

“William, do you realize what time our flight leaves? I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted. Exhausted. And I still have to pack. Thanks for offering though and you’ll never know what this trip has meant to me. I will be forever grateful.” And with that said Melinda closed the door slowly revealing a wisp of the see through camisole and what could have been. “Maybe next lifetime”, she muttered as she closed the door.

She was still having mixed emotions but maintained that she had done the right thing under the circumstances and quickly busied herself with tidying up her room packing souvenirs and other miscellaneous items she’d picked up here and there during her stay while sipping champagne and continually patting herself on the back for her sudden display of will-power, discipline and moral turpitude although she had no idea where they originated.

The champagne had had the desired effect and before she knew it, she was fast asleep, her dreams taking her back to the wonderful festivities of Alex’s village where she danced the night away.

The following day, their last, William went one way, Melinda the other, trying to tie up any loose ends they may have left dangling. Mr. Davenport, one of William’s primary customers, an exporter of African artwork, made it a point to see William personally, to assure him that his cargo of artwork would clear customs despite a few pieces tinged with ivory. He was also sending a small gift for Mr. Morris. This point he made quite clear, much to William’s surprise. He wondered how Davenport, a foreigner, had amassed such wealth in a country populated and dominated by Blacks. Sill would have called it ‘exploitation.’

William attributed it to savvy business acumen. This done, William met Melinda back at the hotel at three o’clock, packed their bags and readied themselves for the flight home. Close to a day later after several adjoining flights, they arrived at Jackson International back in Atlanta.

Melinda and William were still reminiscing as they walked down the long runway leading from the plane. “Sill’s certainly gonna’ be tickled when she see all the goodies I brought her,” William said aloud. He couldn’t wait to get home to apologize to her and tell her just how right she’d been. Making their way to the baggage claim there appeared to be some type of commotion.

“Probably just some new security precaution,” William assured Melinda. “911’s still got everyone uptight.”

William wanted no delay. All he wanted was to grab his luggage and head home. All he could think about was getting home to Sill. The trip to Africa made him feel as if he’d been born again. Africa in all her splendor and glory had been nothing short of a renaissance for him.

There was a long line of arriving passengers standing before him. Customs officials were everywhere and he hadn’t even reached the baggage claim area when a gentleman man of about forty approached him.

“Passport and ticket, sir.”

William passed the customs inspector the documents requested. Waiting impatiently, he thought of how unusual it was to be asked for his passport on his return, then let the matter drop. His thoughts returned to Sill. He really was fortunate to have married a woman of Sylvia Stanton’s stature. After all, take away the college degrees, he was, in all essence, nothing more than the son of a no-account, backwoods, dirt farmer. He sighed. And as much as he hated to admit it, Sill with her upper middle-class values and liberal ideas had been right about so many things.

There was no question, though; a change in their marriage was sorely needed. Being at fault, he would have to initiate the change. He might even consider opening his own agency as she had suggested. After all, the monies were available. He had the contacts. And with Sill and Melinda’s support how could he possibly fail? He’d make them shareholders—no—equal partners and deal strictly with Third World countries. The resources were abundant and there was so much to do in the way of philanthropy. He hoped he wasn’t being smug or pretending to be bourgeoisie. He just wanted to do his part. Besides that, he was thoroughly disenchanted with Hill and Morris.

During his stay in Lagos, they hadn’t responded to any of his inquiries or correspondences, oftentimes leaving him to ad lib and make ad hoc policy decisions, which were well out of his jurisdiction. They hadn’t even bothered to respond to Melinda’s faxes for petty cash. When it became obvious after several faxes that a response was not forthcoming, Melinda joked about the Enron scandal and the possibility that Ol’ Man Morris may have flown the coup, 401K in one hand and their worthless shares in the other. William saw little humor in Melinda’s remarks but smiled cordially just the same. It was now quite clear that there was something amiss. Furthermore, everyone in corporate affairs at Hill and Morris was aware of the political climate and the ban on ivory, which existed so why in heaven’s name had they sent him?

At that moment, lost in thought, William became acutely aware of two rather nattily-attired gentlemen approaching him rapidly from his left. Only a few feet from him, William identified them as customs agents from their badges. Out of all the people in line waiting to claim their baggage, why had they chosen to pick him from the crowd? Sill would have called it
‘racial profiling.’
William smiled at the thought knowing full well he’d done nothing wrong.

“William Stanton?”

William turned to find the taller of the two gentlemen standing just to the right of him. The shorter red-faced agent moved to his right almost strategically.

“Yes, I’m William Stanton. Is there a problem gentlemen?”

William at six foot five towered over both men and could have easily made short work of them but after their initial charge he hardly gave their approach a second thought. Probably just some minor misunderstanding, he thought. With all the threats of terrorism, he told himself, one couldn’t be too careful.

“I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t work out, Mr. Stanton. Would you please come with us? Our Chief Inspector would like a few words with you, if you don’t mind.”

The shorter man then picked up William’s overnight bag assuring William that despite their politeness he had little option but to follow. Melinda was aghast.

“Want me to grab your bags, Mr. Stanton?”

The same fellow then turned to Melinda. “That won’t be necessary, ma’am. We already have them.”

William followed the two men into an out of the way cubicle which someone had done their best to turn into an office but which in reality was little more than a holding tank and a room for questioning. Entering the room, William found a roundish rather balding gentleman of about fifty, waiting. Burly, with a thick red mustache, he was every bit as polite as his subordinates. Yet he also possessed a no-nonsense quality that made William just a wee bit leery. He was now quite sure despite his earlier dismissal that whatever the problem was it was much more serious than what he’d initially thought. The man rose from behind the desk with a good deal of labor, extending his sweaty palm to William and introduced himself.