Читать книгу Pieces of Dreams - Donna Hill, Donna Hill - Страница 10

The past two days were hell—it’s the only word to describe it, although I could probably think of something more graphic. The folks that worked for me were busy doing their computer thing all around me, but I wasn’t really seeing them.

I was just sitting there trying to figure out where things had gone wrong between me and Max.

I should have known this day was coming, sooner or later. I figured I’d be prepared, that’s all. But there was that part of me—maybe male ego, maybe plain stupidity—that made me think that Maxine and I had this perfect, incredible thing happening between us that would last forever. You know, like in the great American romances. Ha, what a joke. I guess she had other thoughts all along. That’s the thing that’s tearing me up inside. She was playing me.

Suddenly I felt as if I didn’t know her anymore, what she was about. That everything we’d been planning, handling, and dealing with on the day-today these past three years was all a crazy dream. It wasn’t real, not if it could crumble to pieces with one phone call—make her start lying and hiding things from me.

Naw, it isn’t right. I thought, this whole thing is wrong, and it seems there isn’t a damned thing I can do about it. So here I am, thirty-five years old, with my own business, a solid future, and it doesn’t mean a thing.

I looked up, and CJ was grinning down at me. “Hey, Man, you just going to stare at the computer screen all day, or what?” he asked me, punctuating his question with a slap on my back.

Calvin Jackson and I have been hard and fast running partners since sophomore year in high school. Man, the things we haven’t done together could fit on the head of a pin. He’s the closest thing to family I have.

“Just thinking, Man. That’s all.”

CJ pulled up a chair next to my desk and sat down. His brows knitted in concern.

“You look like a bad pot of grits, Man, all lumps and mush. I can give you a razor to get rid of that shadow, unless you’re going for a new look.”

I had to laugh. CJ came up with the most ridiculous visuals. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah. That’s the watered down version. What’s happening? You been walking like a zombie for days. You’re not sick, are you?”

“Naw.”

“Everything cool at home? ’Cause I know that business is booming. So that ain’t it.”

I looked away for a moment and stared at the web page design I’d been pretending to be working on for the past few hours.

CJ and I started WebMasters about five years ago, just the two of us. Now we have a staff of ten graphic designers and five technicians, and more business than we can handle. He was right. It wasn’t business.

“It’s Max,” I blurted out, as if those two words would somehow explain everything.

“Is she all right, Man? She’s not sick, or anything?”

I shook my head, almost wishing it were something that simple—that she could just take something—a pill, some cough syrup—and everything would be cool.

“No. She’s not sick.”

“Oh, that’s good.’ He waited a beat. “So—what is it?”

I shut off my computer. Couldn’t concentrate, anyway. “It’s that brother from New York, Man.”

CJ’s eyes widened, then narrowed, in that look he always has seconds before he gets really pissed off.

“What about him? Don’t tell me he’s trying to make a move on Maxine. Not after all this time. That’s bulls—”

“It’s not him. At least not like that. It’s Maxine, too.”

“What!” He sat straight up in his seat. “Naw, you’re gonna spell this one out for me, my brother. Not Max,” he hissed between his teeth, then caught himself and took a sidelong glance around the office.

CJ had been the one who’d cautioned me from day one about getting involved with Maxine—especially with her being pregnant with another man’s baby.

“Are you out of your mind, Ty?” he’d asked me one Sunday afternoon in the park after we both nearly collapsed from exhaustion after a game of one-on-one. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself involved in. What if this Quinn dude pops back up and wants to lay claim? This is all rebound, man. You deserve better than that. Just chill a minute before you rush into this thing. I don’t want to see you get all messed up.”

I hadn’t listened. I didn’t want to.

From the first moment I laid eyes on Maxine, I knew she was my soulmate, the one person, who—after years of emotional denial and detachment—turned the light back on in my world. Maxine made me want to trust in being in love and loving again, something I’d thought could never happen. She’d opened her heart to me without expecting anything in return. At the same time, she needed me—and it had been far too long since I felt needed by anyone.

It all happened so suddenly, like an accident, nothing planned—not a blind-date thing. It was as if fate had stepped in and said, “Here, Man, ‘this Bud’s for you.’”

How it went down was that we had just landed our first big client—a corporation with outlets in ten major cities across the country. They wanted us to design their website, as well as install computer systems at all of their locations. This was it. CJ and I had just hit the big time.

The CEO of the company wanted the two of us to fly down to Atlanta to meet with the execs from all of his locations, sign the deal, and start work as of yesterday.

CJ was busy pulling together our bag of tricks for our presentation, and I was assigned the task of handling the flight arrangements. Our hotel, ground transportation, and food were being taken care of on the other end, which was really cool.

There was a travel agency I passed every now and then on my way in and out of town. I believed it was black-owned, and I was all for keeping business “in the family,” so I figured I’d give it a shot.

For the life of me, I couldn’t remember the name of the place, so I went in person which was okay, too, since it was sort of on my way home.

I pulled up in front of the place about six-fifteen or so, just as a woman—who I later discovered was Marva—was hanging the Closed sign in the window.

Dashing across the street I ran up to the door and knocked on the glass.

The same woman who’d just hung up the sign came to the door and mouthed, “We’re closed.” She had the most incredible blue eyes, set against pale skin.

Just as I put on my best “begging” expression and clasped my hands in prayer, the absolutely finest woman I’d seen in a while walked up behind her.

Being what I considered a connoisseur of gorgeous women, I knew this one was way up on the Richter scale.

She was a brown, svelte beauty, the color of mouthwatering chocolate, with a close-cut hairdo that framed her near-perfect face. She had wide, expressive brown eyes and full, kissable lips. Her body was a Playboy photographer’s dream, with long dancer’s legs displayed beneath a short denim skirt that had me thinking all kinds of wild thoughts. She wasn’t busty but full, bringing to mind peaches, ripe and sweet for the picking.

She said something to the woman next to her, who stepped aside as the beauty opened the door.

“Hi. Can I help you?”

Her voice, rich and sweet as honey, slid all over me, and her smile with that little gap in front—oh, Man. I forced myself to concentrate on why I was there.

“I hope so. I know you’re closed, but I’m desperate.”

“We can’t have that.” She grinned. “Come in and let’s see what we can work out. I’m Maxine Sherman,” she said, leading the way into the small, but cozy office.

“Taylor Collins.”

“I’m going to head home, Maxine. Will you be okay?” Blue eyes gave me a sideways glance.

“Sure, Marva. Go on. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night,” she said to both of us.

“Night,” we harmonized, and turned to each other and laughed.

“So, where are you so desperate to go, Mr. Collins?” Maxine asked, taking a seat behind a cluttered desk.

“Atlanta. Day after tomorrow.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. It’ll just cost you a bit more. The short notice,” she added by way of explanation.

“No problem, as long as I get there.”

“Please, have a seat,” she said, indicating a chair next to her desk, and I noticed the slenderness of her long fingers—and no rings.

She shuffled some papers around, actually moving them from one pile into another, and turned on her computer. With a few quick strokes of those lovely fingers she had the reservation screen up. She bit down on her lip in concentration as the information scrolled in front of her.

“There’s a seven a.m. flight available through American Airlines. Is that okay?”

I forced myself to concentrate on what she was saying to keep from focusing on the smoothness of her skin, the sensual movement of her bare fingers, and the way her mouth became an erotic orifice every time she spoke.

“Uh, sure. That sounds fine. I’ll need two tickets. For my partner and me, Calvin,” I added, for some reason, needing her to know that a woman wasn’t involved.

She smiled. “When will you be returning?”

“At least a week. It’s a business trip.”

“Really? I can get you a good rate.” She keyed in some more information. “What kind of business are you in?”

“Web design and computer installation and maintenance.”

“That must keep you busy.”

“Very.” I smiled. “As a matter of fact, this trip is to close a deal with one of the first big clients we’ve had.”

“Congratulations. I hope everything works out for you.”

She continued to type in the information. “Can I arrange for hotel, or car rental?”

“No. The people we’re going to see are taking care of that.”

She smiled again, and I thought my heart had stood still.

“Aren’t you lucky?”

“We’ve worked hard. It’s been a struggle but things are finally coming together.”

She leaned back a bit and looked at me. “I know the feeling.” Her eyes roamed the space. “There were days when I first opened the agency that I thought I’d made a major mistake. But it was my dream, and I was determined to make it work.”

I nodded, experiencing the same thought myself on too many occasions. If not for CJ convincing me to hang in there, I might have given up. Who did she have to cheer her on?

“You’re not from here,” I said after a moment, the rapid pronunciation of her words finally settling in.

“New York. I’ve been here about four years.”

“No kidding? I visited there a couple of times. Tough city.”

“That it is,” she said in what sounded like a faraway voice.

“Miss it?”

“At times.”

She looked away then, but not before I caught the flicker of some painful shadow in her eyes. Her open demeanor seemed to shut down, her body tense every so slightly. I was pretty good at reading body language. That said more to me than anything that came out of folks’ mouths, which was generally whatever they wanted you to believe. But the body—now, that didn’t lie—and Maxine’s body was speaking all the words her lips refused to say. There was a history in New York, one which she’d chosen to put behind her, or so she thought.

She cleared her throat. “How will you be paying for your ticket—cash or charge?” she asked, now all business, the easy banter of moments ago gone in a key stroke.

“Charge. Visa.” I reached into my back pocket, a bad habit, and pulled out my wallet. I handed her my credit card.

“What’s the last name of the other party, your partner?”

“Jackson. Calvin Jackson.”

She processed the card without another word and handed it back. Moments later my tickets were printed out.

“Here you are.”

She smiled, but the sparkle was gone from her eyes. I wanted to ask her what was wrong. Was it something I’d said? But some instinct told me to leave it alone.

And then all of a sudden she looked at me, her eyes glistening as if she were about to cry.

“You ever wish you could go back and do something over?” she asked, suddenly. “Something you’d really screwed up, something that maybe if you’d said something, had done something, everything would have been different?”

I wasn’t sure where the question had come from, or where the conversation was heading, but I could see that this was no out of the blue inquiry that could be tossed off with some pat response. She really wanted—needed—an answer. A truthful one.

I thought about it for a moment. Yeah, there were definitely some episodes in my life that I’d like to go back and fix. Like the fact that I didn’t know who my family was, or that the one woman who I’d finally given my heart to, Karen Long, had gotten rid of our baby that she’d carried.

“How can I have a baby from a man who doesn’t even know who he is? Suppose there are some maniac genes or something in your family?” she’d said, as if she’d done nothing more than take out the garbage. Humph, garbage.

But maybe she was right. I didn’t know and had no way to prove otherwise. For as long as I lived I’d never be more than one big question mark.

That was almost six years ago, but the revelation took its toll. From that day on, I never looked at relationships with women, family, or myself the same way. And I believed there was a part of me that would never be whole. How could I offer myself to anyone when I didn’t know who I really was?

“Yes,” I finally answered, “but you can’t go back. All you can do is deal with the reality, make the best of it, and move on.”

She looked at me, wide-eyed and hopeful, and a place inside of me seemed to shift, crack open. I almost heard the hinges creak from lack of use. A part of me that had been dead—stirred, struggling for resurrection. But everything I was, had been, had ever been dealt, beat it back down.

Shoving the tickets into my shirt pocket, I stood. “Thank you for all you help. Sorry to have kept you. I’m sure there must be a family to go home to.”

She hesitated a moment. “No. Just me.”

Her answer pulled me up short. I couldn’t imagine a woman like Maxine not having something waiting for her to walk through the door.

I slung my hands into my pants pockets, and for the life of me, right up to today, I don’t know where the next words that fell out of my mouth came from.

“Hey, since, I kept you—if you don’t have any plans—maybe we can go for a quick bite to eat.”

She smiled, not a come-on smile or anything, but sort of shy and unsure.

“That’s really nice of you, but I don’t think so. Thank you, anyway.”

I shrugged. “Hey, no problem. Just a thought. Thanks for your help.” I turned to leave.

“Maybe some other time.” It was more of a question than a statement, halting me midstride, cast out like bait on a hook.

I turned back around, and there was that half-smile again.

I nodded. “Cool. Some other time, then. Maybe when I get back from Atlanta.”

“Okay.”

“Take care, Maxine.”

“You, too.”

The entire week that CJ and I spent in Atlanta, all I could think about was Maxine. I couldn’t quite put my finger on whatever it was about her that had hit me. Maybe it was that moment of vulnerability I saw in her eyes, or the sensation that she’d stirred in me that made me want to take care of her and protect her—even though she seemed to have it all together, cloaked in an undeniable aura of sensuality.

Whatever it was, I couldn’t seem to shake it, and the realization unnerved me. For too long I didn’t allow myself to experience any real feelings for a woman, and I wasn’t sure what to do with them now, how to handle it. I figured I’d rap with CJ about it. Even though he wasn’t married or anything, he’d been hooked up with Tracy for what seemed like forever. What was always cool about my friendship with CJ over the years was that we could always be honest with each other, even about the dumbest stuff, how we felt from deep inside, crazy ideas we had, the things that scared us. And it was always cool.

CJ was the only person besides me who knew the real deal about me and my family, how it made me feel like half a man not knowing who they were, and what Karen had done to our baby. No one but CJ knew how that almost destroyed me, but he hung in there with me, stayed solid, stayed my man.

But even for me, trying to explain what was going on with this chick Maxine was a bit much.

We were sitting in the hotel bar in Atlanta, relaxing, taking in the sights and sounds. CJ was on his second screwdriver, while I nursed my rum and Coke. Can’t quite say when we decided these were our drinks of choice. Maybe one of those Saturday night basement parties from back in the day—the ones where it was black as pitch, with the purple light that made all the lint show up on our clothes, and almost all of the music was slow so that we could grind with our girls up against the wall or in some corner, and B.Y.O.B. was a requirement for entry. Yeah, maybe it was one of those. But that’s another story.

Anyway, CJ and I were just kicking it, not talking about anything special, just some of the stuff we needed to be ready for the next day, when CJ spotted these two fine sisters sliding onto the stools on the opposite side from us.

“Hmm. Check them out,” he said over the rim of his glass.

I looked. One reminded me of Iman, the supermodel, and the other looked like an older version of Brandy, the singer. Neither one of them looked like Maxine. Maybe Iman, around the eyes.

“Not bad,” I said.

“Not bad! Brother, are you blind?”

“Not the last time I checked. Just not interested. And with Tracy back in Frisco waiting for you, you shouldn’t be interested, either.”

He gave me a hard, get ready to rumble look, but knowing that those days were behind him I just ignored it.

“You know, Ty, I hate it when you’re right.” He took a sip of his drink. “But hey, just because I’m in love doesn’t mean I have to roll over and play dead.” He chuckled and ordered another drink. “My eyes are still workin’, even if my heart is under lock and key.” He patted his chest for extra drama.

I glanced at him for a moment and knew from the faraway look in his eyes that he was thinking about Tracy. That was my opening.

“CJ, Man—”

“Yeah?”

“How did you know that Tracy was the one for you?”

The corner of his mouth curved up in a slow grin. “Hmm.” He took another sip of his refreshed drink. “Sometimes I think it was when we first made love.” He shut his eyes for a minute and shook his head. “Blew my mind. But then other times I think that couldn’t have been it, because it wouldn’t have been that fantastic if everything else wasn’t already in place.” He turned to me. “Know what I mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Humph. Other times I think it was our first kiss, or the time we both cut out from work and had a picnic in the park.”

His brows rose and fell in thought. “But I guess it was the way she made me feel almost from the moment I met her, Man. It was just easy and right, like we’d been waiting all our lives for that day. Something just clicked.”

He angled his head in my direction and flashed me that scowl again.

“Why, Bro? Think you’ve run into Ms. Heavensent?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Oh, no.” He chuckled. “You’re not gettin’ off that light. Let’s hear it. Who is she, and why haven’t I met her?”

“I just met her myself—at the travel agency when I went to get our tickets.”

“And—”

“And that’s it.” I took a long swallow of my drink.

“Oh, no it isn’t. I know you just want to spill your guts. So you might as well get it over with.”

I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face. He wasn’t going to let up until I told him, and I wanted to, anyway.

“I don’t know, Man,” I said, trying to find a way to explain what was going on in my head. Then it dawned on me. “I guess it’s like what happened with you and Tracy. Something just clicked.”

CJ just stared at me, seemingly at a loss for a quick comeback, which was his usual style.

“Man, don’t sit there looking at me like I have two heads.”

He stared cracking up. “Ty, Man, I never thought I’d see the day when something clicked for you. I always figured you’d stay on the prowl until they had to cart you away. Tracy is going to love this. Now maybe she can stop playing matchmaker.”

Tracy’s mission in life was to hook me up with everyone from her second cousin and her hairdresser to her sorority sisters. If nothing else, she was persistent. Should things work out with me and Maxine, then maybe I could safely visit CJ on a Saturday night without the fear of a setup in the works.

CJ tossed down the last of his drink and then grew serious. He turned to me. “So, what’s she like—”

We returned to Frisco late in the day Friday and, like a man possessed, the first thing I did when I dropped my bags at the foot of my bed was to call the travel agency.

“Sherman Travel. May I help you?”

I started to hang up. It was probably a stupid idea, calling like that. She was probably just being nice when she said—

“Hello? May I help you? Hello?”

“Uh, hello. I was trying to reach…Maxine…Sherman.”

“Hold on, please.”

Oh, man, this was not a good idea. I felt like a total idiot.

“Hello?”

That voice again. My insides started to knot up. “Hello, Maxine?”

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“Taylor Collins, from the other day. I bought the tickets—”

“Hi! How are you?”

She actually sounded happy to hear from me. The knot started to loosen. “Fine. Just got back in.”

“How was your trip?”

“Hectic, but productive. Thanks for working things out for me.”

“Please…no problem. It’s what we do.”

“So, how have you been?” I asked, feeling more ridiculous by the minute.

“Incredibly busy.”

I heard her soft laughter and it made me smile. “That must mean business is good.”

“Absolutely. I’m not complaining.”

We were both quiet for a moment. I could hear voices in the background and I guessed her assistant, Marva, was tapping on the computer keys for a customer.

“I, uh, guess I should let you get back to work. I know you’re busy.”

“Okay. It was good hearing from you. I’m glad you had a successful trip.”

“Thanks again.”

“Sure.”

We both seemed to be suspended in air, holding our breath, hoping that the drop wouldn’t be fatal. Then we both spoke at once.

“Taylor, I—”

“I was hoping I could—” We both laughed. “Ladies first.”

She cleared her throat, then hesitated as if maybe she’d changed her mind. “I thought maybe if you weren’t busy tomorrow night, there’s an outdoor jazz concert in the park—”

I chuckled. “I was getting ready to ask you the same thing.”

“So I guess that’s a yes?” I could almost hear the smile in her voice.

“Definitely. Maybe we could grab a bite before showtime, then head on over.”

“I have a better idea. I, uh, try to be careful what I eat…these days. So why don’t I fix some snacks and we can take them to the park?”

“Well, I don’t want to just be bringing my long arms. What can I do?

“Hmmm. Bring a blanket and something to drink. Juice or water,” she added quickly.

Guess she didn’t drink, I thought, and stored the information away. “No problem. I think I can handle that. Is six good?”

“Fine.”

I let out a relieved breath. “So…I’ll see you tomorrow at six.”

“Yes. Six. I’m working tomorrow, so you can pick me up here.”

“Yeah, me, too. I’ll be there. Good night, Maxine.”

“Night.”

And it was then I knew I wanted to say good night to Maxine every night of my life.

By the time I pulled up across the street from Sherman travel for my date with Maxine, I was shaking like something with a bad case of the willies. I’d been pretty much useless at work, couldn’t stay focused. All I could think about was that I wanted tonight to be perfect. I knew I was acting like this was the first time I’d been out with a woman, which was far from true, but I couldn’t get rid of that twitchy sensation in my stomach. And if CJ said, “Just be cool,” one more time, we would come to blows.

“Maybe Tracy and I’ll come and check you out at the park,” he’d said just before we got ready to head out for the day.

Although most computer firms did the regular five day, nine to five, WebMasters was a twenty-four hour, seven-day-a-week operation. I couldn’t count the times in the beginning when we got calls at home in the middle of the night from clients whose systems went down. After a few months of that, we decided to expand the hours. Then it was days. It was rough at first with the small staff, but now twenty-four-seven was a way of life.