Читать книгу In the Light of Love - Deborah Fletcher Mello - Страница 12

The morning sun peeked through the blinds of her bedroom, the rising warmth summoning Talisa awake. As she stretched the length of her body against the padded mattress top, she suddenly remembered that her work week had ended well and that she actually had something to do to get the weekend off to a promising start. She smiled.

Although she professed to not be interested in the evening’s auction, she was overly excited at the prospect of being in a room with so many eligible, employed, socially promising men. It was an ideal way to celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday—and her best friends had promised her an exceptional birthday party. She stretched again, yawning as she shifted from sleep mode to wide-eyed and awake.

She had already lifted herself from beneath the covers and was returning from the adjoining bathroom when her mother and father knocked on the bedroom door.

“Happy birthday to you…happy birthday to you…happy birthday, Pumpkin Pie…happy birthday to you!” they both sang, one more out of tune than the other.

“Happy birthday, pumpkin,” Herman London said, leaning to kiss his only child on the cheek.

Her mother reached for the covers on the unmade bed, instinctively smoothing out the rumpled sheets and blankets.

“Stop, Mom! I can make up my own bed,” Talisa said, reaching to pull the covers from her mother’s grasp. She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

Mary flipped her hand at her daughter. “I know what you can do. I was just helping out.” She smiled widely at the young woman, nodding approval in her daughter’s direction.

Herman shook his head from side to side. “So, what do you have planned for the day, baby girl? Anything special?”

Talisa grinned. “Going out with the girls tonight, Daddy.”

The man nodded. “Do you need some money?” he asked, reaching for the wallet in his rear pocket.

Talisa shook her head. “No, sir. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“Give her the present, Herman,” Mary said, clapping her hands together as she hopped in place. “What are you waiting for, Daddy?”

The man winked, reaching for an envelope in the pocket of his work shirt. “Child ain’t even dressed yet and you rushing folks.” He passed the envelope to Talisa who looked at them both curiously.

“What’s this?” she said, pulling at the sealed container.

Her parents stood beside her, beaming in her direction.

“Your daddy and I thought this was the best present for you. Hurry up and open it now!” her mother said excitedly.

Opening the envelope, Talisa’s eyes widened as she pulled a set of silver keys and the title to a new car from inside. Her mother had tied a red ribbon around the document that said the vehicle belonged exclusively to her. Talisa stared at the set of keys, her mouth ajar as the engraved Ford logo and inscription stared up at her. “You bought me a car?” she asked hesitantly, looking from one to the other.

Mary’s excitement burst out in glee as she pulled her daughter into a warm hug. “Daddy picked out a pretty new car for you. It’s blue with gray seats. It’s in the driveway. Go look,” the woman said in one big breath, gasping for air as she finished.

Her father nodded. “Happy birthday, pumpkin!” he exclaimed for a second time.

Talisa stood shocked, her limbs tied to the floor. “I don’t believe this. Daddy, why would you buy me a car? You and Mommy can’t afford this!”

Her mother bristled. “Don’t tell us what we can afford. Your daddy and I know what we can afford and what we can’t.” The woman’s tone was suddenly hostile.

Her father defused the moment quickly, resting a large hand against his wife’s forearm. “Your mama and I been saving up for this since you turned eighteen, Talisa. We’ve been putting a little away every month. I thought we’d have been able to do it when you graduated college, but that’s when I lost my job at the plant. After I started driving buses for the city, we just kept on saving. We wanted you to have something special and since turning twenty-five is a special time, today was as good as any other.”

Talisa’s hair swayed from side to side as she shook her head. She reached to hug her father and then her mother. “I love you both so much.”

“Well, don’t just stand there,” her mother admonished, the smile returning to her face. “Get dressed. I gots to go to the store and I want to ride in that nice new car.”

Talisa pulled her new car into the parking lot of the Crowne Plaza Atlanta hotel, Mya Taft, one of her closest friends, riding shotgun beside her. The two women were laughing heartily as they exited the vehicle, one just as excited as the other.

“I plan to bid on every tall, Mandingo brother with big feet and an even bigger bankbook,” Mya said as they made their way toward the front of the building.

Talisa laughed. “Why does he have to be big?”

“Small men make me nervous. I want a man who eats well, eats often, and isn’t afraid to give me a taste when the moment moves me. And you know if his feet are large, then the rest of him won’t be a disappointment.”

“You are a sick woman,” Talisa said with a chuckle as the two women gave each other a high five.

“Where’d you get that dress?” Mya asked as Talisa removed her jacket, admiring the turquoise, floral-printed, silk sundress her friend wore. “’Cause that dress is wearing you, girl!” she exclaimed.

“The new Bloomingdale’s in Lenox Square.”

“I never find anything at that store. You make me sick.”

“Like you don’t look good in that size-two slip you have on.”

Mya laughed, doing a fashion model strut and spin in the middle of the hotel lobby, flipping the jacket she’d just removed over her shoulder. “Okay. I do look good, don’t I?”

Talisa clasped her arm through the other woman’s. “We both look good. Now let’s just hope these men tonight are worth all the trouble.”

As the duo entered the ballroom, stopping first to register at the reception table, they were instantly in awe of the elaborate decorations. Playing with a New Orleans masked ball theme, the decorating committee had outdone themselves. The décor was exotic and sensual. The tables were dressed in white linens with gold and black accented table runners. A large runway had been built room center, the massive structure skirted in a coordinating harlequin print, and miniature white lights sparkled against the high ceilings. With registration, each attendee was given an updated auction catalog and an exquisite Venetian mask on a scrolled wooden handle. An assigned number adorned the back of the mask to be used as the bidding paddle. The gathering of women, varying in shades and sizes, was duly impressed.

Talisa and Mya rushed to their table, greeting the rest of their party who sat waiting for them.

“What took you two so long?” Benita Rivers asked, rising from her seat to give them each a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. Her café au lait complexion was flushed with color that highlighted her reddish-brown afro.

“We were beginning to think your old butt wasn’t coming,” Leila Brimmer added, gesturing for them to take a seat.

“Who are you calling old?” Talisa said as she settled herself comfortably against the cushioned seat.

“I’m calling you old,” her best friend responded teasingly. “Happy birthday, woman!” Leila twirled one of her ebony curls around her index finger. Laugh lines pulled at her thin face, her mahogany complexion shining with glee.

Talisa grinned. “Thank you. And I’m not old. I’m just aging nicely. Like fine wine.”

“Like she can talk,” Benita interjected. “Who turned twenty-five last month?”

“I’m still twenty-one and I’ll deny anything else,” the other woman laughed.

Benita rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Just like you’re still a virgin.”

The women laughed again. Talisa’s gaze scanned the perimeter of the room, noting the landscape of primped and perfumed women, each dressed to the nines, hair and nails meticulous. “What did we miss?” she asked, taking a mental note of the elderly piano player who sat in the left corner, his fingers skating easily over the piano keys.

Leila shook her head. “Not much. I picked up our tickets for the champagne reception in the VIP suite. We’ll get to mingle with the bachelors before this thing gets started. Spend some quality one-on-one time as we decide which ones will be our future husbands.”

“We should be so lucky,” Mya responded as she peered into a compact mirror pulled from her purse.

Talisa shook her head. “How’d you swing tickets for the reception? I heard it was by invitation only.”

Leila shrugged. “The only invitation we needed was the required five-hundred-dollar donation for the tickets.”

Talisa spun around in her seat, her mouth falling open in shock. “Five hundred dollars? You spent five hundred dollars for reception tickets?”

Leila laughed. “No. I spent two thousand dollars for reception tickets. We needed four of them,” she said, pointing to each of them in turn. “I told you we were going to celebrate your birthday in high style.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” Talisa exclaimed. “I can’t believe you!”

Her friend laughed again. “Well, let’s head on up so you can believe me.”

Mya patted at her lipstick. “I hope you don’t expect me to pay you back, Leila. You know I’m broke. I don’t have a high-powered lawyer’s job like you do.”

Leila rolled her eyes. “It’s a gift, Mya. A gift for all of us. Just make it worth my investment and find yourself a man. Please, do us all that favor.”

Talisa laughed. “I declare! For five hundred dollars, they should give us a private reception, an engagement ring, and the two point three kids with a dog.”

“Please, don’t act poor when we get upstairs, Talisa,” Mya admonished. “Just pretend we at least know what money is.”

“You mean just pretend we have money we don’t,” Talisa said, her head waving from side to side.

“It’s all tax-deductible and I need as many deductions as I can get,” Leila said. “Besides, we’re here to support the cause, remember?”

“I’m here to catch me a rich husband.” Mya laughed. “You can be here for any reason you want.”

Crossing through the lobby, the four women made their way to the elevators on the south side of the building, pushing the button to the upper-level suite reserved for the occasion. Excitement filled the space around them as they traveled the quick distance from one floor to another. Talisa smiled warmly at the three women who stood beside her.

She and Leila had been best friends since kindergarten, when Talisa broke the red crayon in her Crayola box and Leila had offered her own in replacement. They’d been inseparable after that, even following each other to Georgia Tech when they graduated high school. Mya had joined the duo when they’d been in the fourth grade. They’d met her in church two weeks after her parents and twin brothers had moved from Baltimore to Atlanta. Mya had captivated them with her vocal cords, bellowing big hymns out of her tiny body that had made them all stop and take notice. She’d also been the more daring of the trio, enticing them to get into more trouble than any one of them cared to remember. Benita had been Mya’s college roommate, evening out their threesome as they’d moved into adulthood.

Leila had graduated college a year early, moving right on to Harvard Law School for her law degree. It had been the first time she and Talisa had been apart, the telephone and e-mail the lifeline between them. Talisa had marveled at her friend’s dedication and commitment to her career, still having no idea what she wanted to do with her own life, despite her degree in journalism.

Benita was working her Spelman College marketing degree by running a small advertising agency. Her business was growing rapidly and Talisa envied her ability to build something out of absolutely nothing. Free-spirited Mya was her sister-friend most intent on marrying well, believing that the right union would lift her well above her family’s days of food stamps and government housing. Talisa sighed as they giggled beside her, energy flowing from one to the other.

As they stepped inside the tastefully decorated suite, handing their tickets to the woman at the door, their excitement level rose tenfold. Forty good-looking, well-dressed men turned their attention to the entrance as the women stepped inside. Scanning the room from one corner to the other, Talisa felt as if they’d just experienced sensory overload, one human confection more delectable than the other. Every nerve ending in her body was tingling with anticipation and as Mya pushed her way past them, extending her hand toward three men who stood in conversation in front of the bar, Talisa looked to Leila for support. The woman stared back at her and grinned.

“Happy birthday, girlfriend.”

Talisa laughed. “I owe you big-time, my friend.”

“Just make sure I don’t have to wear pink ruffles at your wedding and we’ll call it even.”

“Ditto for me,” Benita said before turning to say hello to a man with a linebacker’s build who’d stepped in to greet her.

Talisa suddenly stood alone and nervous as Leila disappeared into the crowd. She followed the clear path toward the buffet table in the center of the room, a smile pasted on her face as she brushed past one good-looking man after another.

“Hello, my name’s Charles, Charles Barrow,” a voice said from behind her as she reached for a clean plate and a canapé.

Talisa turned to stare up into the dark brown eyes of a heavyset, mocha-colored black man. He reached to shake her hand, then gestured to the green-eyed blond beside him. “And, this is Mark Hayes.”

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” Talisa said, nodding ever so slightly. “My name’s Talisa. Talisa London.”

“Beautiful name,” the man named Mark said, her hand still caught in his as he held on to the handshake a touch longer than necessary.

“Thank you.”

“So what brings you here this evening?” Charles asked.

Talisa’s grin widened. “It’s my birthday. I thought making a donation to a worthy cause would be a great way to celebrate.”

The man chuckled. “Ahhh. A woman comfortable with being alone, enjoying her single lifestyle, and not desperate for a man to spend the rest of her life with. A woman here for the larger cause. That’s refreshing,” he said, a wealth of sarcasm tainting his tone.

Talisa gave him a wry smile. “Yes, it is. It’s also nice to be in the company of men who are interested in supporting those in need and not just needing to inflate their overly excessive egos with what they think will be a quick, one-night booty call on someone else’s dime.”

The man laughed. “Touché,” he said.

An awkward silence fell between them as Talisa pushed the food from one side of her plate to the other.

The man named Mark grinned at the obvious dislike his associate and the stunning woman had taken to one another. “Do you participate in these things often?” he asked politely, making a second attempt at conversation.

She shook her head. “No, this is my first time. So why are you two participating?”

Mark shrugged. “I don’t know about my partner here, but I’m desperate for a date.”

Talisa laughed. “I’m sure it’s not that bad for you.”

Smiling wryly, the man shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe just how bad it is.”

“So, what do you do?” Talisa asked, suddenly wishing she’d spent more time studying her auction brochure.

Mark smiled. “We’re both anchors on Good Morning, Atlanta. Charles does the news and I do the weather. I take it you don’t watch much television.”

Talisa shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. “Sorry.”

Charles winced, his feelings clearly bruised by her lack of knowledge about who he was and what he did. “Figures,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to either of the two standing beside him.

They all looked toward the door as the lights flashed on and off. The ticket taker was gesturing for their attention. “Excuse me. If I can have your attention, please.” She paused for a quick second, her gaze skating across the faces in the room. “We’re about to start the auction in a few minutes. We’re going to ask our ladies to please return to the ballroom and take your seats so our guests can have a few minutes to get themselves ready. Thank you.”

Talisa smiled as the duo suddenly appeared anxious. She tossed Mr. Charles Barrow a look that let him know clearly that she had no intentions of pursuing any further time in his company. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Mark,” she said, placing the china and half-eaten canapé onto the tray of a passing waiter. “Good luck this evening. Oh,” she added as an afterthought, “and you, too, Charlie.”

Charles winked. “Same to you, babe.”

As Talisa turned toward the door, a tall man standing off in the corner caught her attention. His expression was pensive as he stood alone, knee-deep in thought. From the stern expression, his eyes narrowed to thin slits and his jaw locked hard and tight, the lines chiseled in his face, one could have mistaken his demeanor for brooding. But Talisa sensed that there was something more going on inside the man’s mind, something deeply personal and consuming. His face was familiar and she stopped short in her tracks as she stared blatantly in his direction.

The good-looking man suddenly jumped as if startled, his gaze locking tightly with hers. He stared at her boldly, appraising every inch of her with obvious appreciation before lifting his mouth in a deep smile, nodding his head slowly in greeting. The silent exchange of eye contact spoke volumes, whispering promises Talisa suddenly found disconcerting. As a wave of recognition swept over her, nervous energy filled the pit of her stomach. She stood frozen, staring intently as the man slowly crossed the carpeted floor in her direction. Turning a quick gaze to the door, Talisa saw Leila and Mya waiting at the entrance, both staring curiously. Benita still stood chatting with the football player on the other side of the room.

Jericho Becton stopped directly in front of Talisa, smiling warmly. Standing well over six feet tall, he was dressed in an expensive black tuxedo. With his long and lean stature, the formal suit fit him to perfection. His thick hair, the color of black licorice, was pulled into a neat ponytail that hung down his back, stopping just below the line of his shoulder blades. Contrasting nicely against his rich, caramel complexion, his bright white smile washed over her, and Talisa suddenly found herself tongue-tied.

He extended a well-manicured hand. “Hello, my name’s Jericho Becton. Have we met before? You look very familiar.”

Talisa smiled back and shook her head, her gaze sweeping over the man’s face. Her name being called pulled at her attention and she glanced from Jericho to Mya and back again. She stammered, searching for her words, lost in the sensation of her small hand lost in the soft, warm palm of his.

“I…I was just…thinking the same…thing,” she finally managed to say, the room seeming to spin in a slow circle around her.

The man nodded, his head slowly bobbing up and down against his broad shoulders. “You didn’t look like you were having a good time,” Jericho said, his gaze flitting toward the newscaster and back.

Talisa smiled, a sweet bend to her mouth that made Jericho suddenly want to kiss the sugar from her lips. The sudden thought sent a chill throughout his body, a quiver of energy that set his nerve endings on fire.

“You were watching me?” Talisa asked coyly, her own excitement shining brightly from her dark eyes. Her hand was still lost beneath the clasp of his.

“I couldn’t help myself,” the man answered, his voice dropping into a seductive whisper.

Talisa finally pulled the appendage back, dropping her palm to her abdomen. The deep tone of his voice seemed to swallow her whole, her control lost somewhere in the depths of his intense stare. She inhaled a quick breath, willing the oxygen to calm her nerves.

The woman at the door flicked the lights for a second time, once again directing them back to the ballroom. Jericho nodded, his intoxicating smile still caressing every nerve ending in her body. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Miss…?”

Talisa’s own head bobbed up and down. “London. Talisa London.”

Jericho’s gaze brushed warmth over her. Talisa felt as if she were on fire beneath his stare. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss London. I hope we’ll get an opportunity to talk more later.”

Talisa continued nodding, then turned on her very high heels to catch up with her friends. Behind her, she could feel Jericho still staring, his ocean-blue eyes calling her back to him.

Back at the table, the four friends were talking over each other, concentrating more on their personal thoughts than each other’s conversations. Talisa flipped quickly through the pages of her catalog, searching for one picture in particular. The photographic image of Dr. Jericho Becton smiled up at her as she read the brief biography about the man who’d captured her total attention just minutes before.

“He’s a surgeon,” she said, leaning to whisper toward Leila. “He was my surgeon. He operated on my appendix.”

Her friend shook her head. “And he didn’t remember you?”

“I don’t want him to remember me!” she exclaimed in a low whisper. “Do you know how bad I looked when they brought me into the emergency room? Besides, he wasn’t supposed to be there. There was another doctor who was supposed to be covering the emergency room but they couldn’t find him. He was the doctor who was filling in.”

Leila grinned. “So, do you plan to bid on him?”

Talisa grinned back. “I don’t know. Do you think I should?”

Her friend nodded her head up and down excitedly. “It is for a good cause. You could use a man.”

Talisa laughed, the warmth of the vibration causing her to shake in her seat.

Mya turned to stare curiously. “What are you two whispering about?” she asked, looking from Talisa to Leila.

“Talisa’s trying to decide whether she should go after a doctor or not. What do you think?”

“If she doesn’t, I surely will. I’ve got my eye on John the attorney, Bradley the basketball player, and Stephan the general contractor. Any one of them will do quite nicely.”

Benita rolled her eyes. “Do you have that kind of money?”

Mya shrugged. “I’ve got Visa, MasterCard, and American Express. One, or the other, or all three of them will buy me a man this night.”

The group laughed. Their chattering was interrupted by an elegant black woman who approached the microphone at the podium, gesturing for the few persons standing to take a seat. Standing prim and proper in a classic-cut, blue pinstripe suit and a white lace top, she epitomized the mood of the evening. Talisa imagined her to be as old as her own mother was, but her obvious wealth enabled her to wear her age well. This woman lacked the tired stress lines that graced Talisa’s mother’s face. The woman’s Hershey’s dark chocolate complexion was virtually blemish free. Wherein Mary London rarely bothered with manicures and had never had a pedicure, it was obvious that their hostess for the evening probably never missed her weekly appointments. With her dark hair pulled back into a neat French twist, she was sophisticated and beautiful and Talisa couldn’t help herself from wishing that time would serve her at least half as well. She leaned forward in her seat and listened intently as the woman clasped her hands in front of herself and spoke into the microphone.

“Good evening and welcome to our first ever bachelor auction! My name is Irene Becton and I’m the president of the Center for Women’s Resources. We are absolutely thrilled to welcome you all here tonight. I’m not going to bore you with a long speech about why this evening is so important to the center and the hospital. I know all of you are here because you want to make a difference in someone else’s life. I’m also sure all those handsome, intelligent, sexy men who are standing backstage waiting to walk the runway for you had no influence whatsoever on your decision to be here.” Irene paused and smiled as the audience laughed heartily.

“So, allow me to say thank you in advance. The donations you make tonight will make a significant impact in a child’s life and your support will make all the difference in the world. So, with no further delay, I’ll turn our program over to our guest auctioneer, local radio personality, Mr. Jarred Nelson. Please, sit back, enjoy, bid, and bid well!”

Talisa watched as the woman made her way to the rear of the stage and disappeared behind the black velvet curtains. She wondered if the woman was any relation to Jericho—they had the same last name. His mother, perhaps. Her thoughts shifted back to the auction as the lights in the room dimmed ever so slightly and the piano player revved up his tune. A spotlight fell on the tall, mocha-toned, gray-haired man who stood in the space Mrs. Becton had just vacated.

The maple-syrup timbre of the man’s voice filled the room, sending a chill up the spine of every woman who sat listening as he introduced the first of many men who were scheduled to make an appearance before the evening was over.