Читать книгу Tropical Fantasy - Monica McKayhan - Страница 11

Chapter 2

The view was breathtaking—a picturesque scene of turquoise waters and white sand. Sasha wanted nothing more than to slip into a sundress—one of six that she’d purchased at Macy’s last summer—and relax on her patio for the rest of the morning. She opened the blinds in the living room of her condo to let the sunshine in, and then hit the power button on the stereo. She slipped her shoes from her aching feet and brushed her toes against the red carpet. The decor in the condo was beautiful—a mixture of tropical colors: red, blue, yellow and green. She danced her way into the bathroom and started the shower.

As the warm water began to cascade over her body, thoughts of Vince popped into her head. What was he doing there—in her head? Especially when she didn’t particularly like him. He’d been rude and insulting. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get his face out of her mind. He was sexy and had a great smile—the two things that she found most appealing about a man. The two things that were at the top of her list, just below intelligent, educated and successful. But he couldn’t be all of those things without substance. He needed a heart and soul. He had to have character and love his mama. And he couldn’t be boring. He needed a sense of humor, and he had to be romantic.

She knew it was a lot to ask, which is why she’d been single for so long. She wouldn’t settle again. Not as she had with Kevin. He’d been sexy all right—taught her to explore her own body and to let go of her inhibitions. He was even intelligent and educated, but that’s where it stopped. His soul was empty, and he had been selfish. He’d hung on to her coattail for years with talk of doing something with his degree in architecture, but never following through. She’d funded too many business ventures that had nothing to do with architecture, and all had failed to produce any substantial income. But she loved him, and for that reason she hadn’t seen any of the red flags.

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped the thick robe around her body. The local radio station was playing a Rihanna tune and Sasha sang along. She pulled her laptop out of its bag and logged on, deciding to answer a few emails before meeting Bridget and the crew in the lobby. She decided to give Keira a call and see if she’d received any messages.

“You are on vacation, Miss Thing. Why are you calling me?” Keira asked, with attitude. “Do you know how expensive international calls are?”

“I’m just checking in,” Sasha explained. “Anything going on?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. You having a good time?”

“The weather is beautiful, and I love my condo,” said Sasha.

“But?” Keira detected something in her voice.

“I need to be in Savannah for that retreat. I feel like Kirby’s up to something.”

Kirby. The Antichrist is how Sasha often described her. She came on board soon after Sasha had been promoted to senior associate. She had been an intern—fresh out of law school. Sasha had taken Kirby under her wing and taught her everything she knew. She immediately liked Kirby because she was energetic and ambitious, yet modest and conservative. She was like a sponge, absorbing everything, and Sasha loved her enthusiasm. She wasn’t even surprised when Kirby was quickly promoted to junior associate. But soon after Sasha noticed a change in Kirby—her long conservative skirts soon became four inches shorter and her blouses became more tight-fitting and showed more cleavage than necessary. And she was spending way too much time with the firm’s senior partner, Kyle Johnson. With the two of them behind closed doors, it was obvious that something more was going on than practicing law. And when Kirby became a senior partner in half the time it took Sasha to achieve such a feat, she knew she’d have to step up her game just to stay above water.

Sasha didn’t have a problem with Kirby’s accomplishments—even if she had pretty much slept her way to the top. But it was the sudden cockiness and the disrespect that Kirby displayed toward Sasha that she couldn’t deal with. It was as if Kirby had forgotten where she’d come from and had made it her point to compete with Sasha on every little thing. She wanted the corner office with the view that Sasha had had her sights on since the day she’d walked into Johnson, Johnson and Donovan. With older partner Louis Johnson retiring soon, one of the two ladies would be promoted.

“Of course she’s up to something. She wouldn’t be Kirby if she wasn’t. But you’ll be there soon enough. I have you booked on a red-eye tomorrow night. You’ll be there first thing Saturday morning. You won’t miss a thing,” said Keira. “If anything goes down before then, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay.”

“Now, please try and enjoy yourself. You’re in the Bahamas, for crying out loud! And it’s your sister’s wedding. Try to be there for her, Sasha.”

“I’ll do my best,” Sasha said, smiling at her assistant’s advice.

Over the past two years, Keira had become more than just an assistant. She’d become Sasha’s friend—someone she trusted and confided in. If anyone knew Sasha well, it was Keira. Keira could see right through Sasha’s hard exterior. As soon as Sasha made partner, her first business decision would be to give Keira the raise she deserved. Being a single parent with three children made it hard for Keira to make ends meet, but Sasha intended to change all that.

“Now, get off my phone, Sasha Winters. You are not allowed to call me anymore today. Unless you’re calling to tell me that you met some sexy Caribbean hottie on the beach and he’s about to ravish you without mercy.”

“You’ve been reading too many romance novels,” Sasha said with a laugh.

“It could happen,” Keira said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a client on hold. Take lots of photos and send me a few by text message.”

“Will do.”

“And Sasha—” Keira put on her serious voice “—try to have fun.”

“I will.”

She hung up, logged off of her computer and decided on a strapless white sundress.

* * *

With a few minutes to spare, Sasha decided to take a quick tour of the resort. She took in the gorgeous palm trees blowing in the wind just outside her door. The beautiful ocean with waves crashing against the shore caught her attention as she made her way to the front of the resort. The three pools and Jacuzzi mandated that she find time for some relaxation. She ended up at the poolside bar and climbed onto a wooden stool.

“I’ll just have a ginger ale with a lemon wedge,” she said to the bartender.

“And I’ll have what she’s having,” said a familiar voice.

Vince climbed onto the bar stool next to hers. Immediately she felt a tingle in the pit of her stomach. His cologne was intoxicating.

“I was hoping to bump into you,” he said.

“Me? Why?” she asked. “So that you could insult me some more?”

“I owe you an apology. I was a bit rude earlier today. Accusing you of being a workaholic,” he said.

“And shallow,” Sasha reminded him, “and insisting that I eat conch salad when I said I didn’t want any.”

“Yeah, that too.” He smiled and raised his glass to her. “Truce?”

“Truce,” she said, raising her glass to his.

“But you enjoyed the conch salad. I saw you secretly eating it and scraping the bowl.”

“I wasn’t scraping the bowl!”

“You all but licked your fingers,” he teased.

“You’re a trip.”

“So I’ve been told,” he said with a smile. “So...what are you getting done at the salon today? Your hair is already very beautiful.” He unexpectedly brushed his fingertips against her forehead and pushed her bangs from her eyes.

Who gave him permission to touch her?

Once she gathered herself, she said, “I’ll probably just have it shampooed and styled for the wedding. And I’m long overdue for a manicure.” She reached her hand out to show him her fingernails.

He grabbed her hand in his in order to get a better view of her tattered nails, and it felt as if a surge of electricity rushed through her. Her bare nipples strained against the fabric of her sundress. They instantly became erect, and she hoped he hadn’t noticed. There was no doubt this man’s touch did things to her body. She was definitely attracted to him, no matter how much she tried to deceive herself. The feeling reminded her of the eighth grade when Todd Valentine had grabbed her hand and leaned in for a kiss. Her heart had pounded and her stomach had done somersaults. This was ridiculous—feeling this way about a man like some silly schoolgirl.

“Your nails aren’t that bad,” Vince said as he caressed every one of her fingers with his thumb. She wondered what she would do if he placed one of her fingers into his mouth.

“So you made it.” The sound of her mother’s voice killed whatever moment she was having with Vince. “I’ve been all over this property looking for you!”

“Mother. Hi.” Sasha hopped from the barstool and gave her mother a hug. She peeked over her mother’s shoulder and noticed her father standing there, too. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hello, sweetheart,” her father said and went in for a kiss on the cheek. “Glad you made it in safely.”

“You both know Vince, right? Derrick’s friend. Um...he’s the best man.”

“Of course,” Brian Winters reached his hand out to Vince for a firm handshake. “We’re still on for this afternoon, right?”

“Of course, sir. Looking forward to it.”

Sasha wondered what Vince and her father had planned for the afternoon.

“The girls are waiting for you in the lobby,” Charlotte Winters said, casually changing the subject. “If you don’t get going, you’ll be late for your appointment.”

She felt as if she should say something to Vince, like hope to see you later, but there was no time. Her mother nearly dragged her down the sidewalk toward the lobby.

Rubbing her fingertips across Sasha’s brow, Charlotte said, “Sasha, make sure that you do something with these eyebrows. Get them arched. And make sure that when you get your manicure that your nail polish is a neutral color. Nothing outlandish. In fact, just a French manicure would do just fine.”

“Ma, please.”

“I know you’re conservative, sweetie. You don’t really need this speech, but some of these girls just don’t know any better. Those girlfriends of Bridget’s...” Charlotte lowered her voice to a whisper, “...one of them is actually wearing a tattoo, right there on her boobs. What is this world coming to?”

“Ma, she’s young.” Sasha knew that her mother was referring to Deja. “And it’s trendy to have a tattoo there. I think it’s cute.”

“Cute? It seems slutty to me,” said Charlotte. “How is that going to look in the wedding photos? The dresses are low-cut, and...”

“Ma, no one will even see it in the photos.” She couldn’t understand why she was even having a conversation about the boobs of Bridget’s friend with her mother. She thought it more appropriate for her mother to have this conversation with the bride. Or even Deja for that matter, “Ma, I love you. We’ll talk later...when I get back. I promise.”

It wasn’t unusual for Sasha to have conversations like this with her mother. In fact, they disagreed about most things. Even if Sasha had said the sky was blue, her mother would have challenged her and sworn that it was red. If Sasha had said up, Charlotte Winters would have strongly said down. When Sasha had settled on law school and decided to follow her father’s career path, it was as if Charlotte’s hopes and dreams for her daughter were lost. She’d wanted Sasha to do something more meaningful—such as being her first daughter to marry, becoming a homemaker, and giving her some grandchildren. Those were Sasha’s duties as a daughter. Women didn’t pursue such careers. They married men who pursued those careers.

Sasha had been unable to completely please her mother. It seemed that while she couldn’t do anything right, Bridget was the one who favored her mother. She would be the first to marry, she’d be the perfect homemaker, and she’d give their mother beautiful grandchildren. Bridget had gone to college, but instead of pursuing a career in her field of accounting, she’d opened a little boutique—sold items on consignment, which barely took care of the overhead. But that was fine, because she’d managed to snag a great husband in the process. And she showed up for Sunday dinners.

After kissing her mother’s cheek, she caught up with Bridget and the rest of the bridal party. They were already climbing into the back of a black SUV when Sasha took the front passenger’s seat and secured her seat belt. The SUV made its way out of the resort’s circular drive and down the hill. As they drove down Bay Street, Sasha noticed the straw market and made a mental note to stop there on the way back. She loved the shops and fraternizing with the Bahamian women who peddled their handmade souvenirs. She loved the Bahamas.

They took a water taxi to the spa on Paradise Island, where they were greeted with glasses of wine and fresh fruit. With an herbal-scented green mask on her face, Sasha relaxed while a young Bahamian woman rubbed her feet with hot oils and another manicured her nails. She closed her eyes and savored the moment. It had been months since she’d enjoyed a manicure and pedicure. Bridget sat in the leather chair next to hers.

“Thank you for coming, Sash. It really means the world to me that you’re here,” said Bridget.

“Glad I could be here for you,” said Sasha.

“I know that it’s not the most convenient time for you, but I appreciate the sacrifice that you made.”

“Don’t sweat it,” said Sasha, closing her eyes again.

“I love you, Sasquatch,” said Bridget, using her pet name for Sasha that had stuck through the years.

They’d been close once—inseparable even. That was long before Kevin had shattered Sasha’s heart, and before she’d buried herself in her work to escape the pain. Her sister had been her best friend and confidante, but all that changed when Sasha decided to shut everyone out of her life and to make her career a priority. Nothing else mattered except passing the bar. And once she’d accomplished that, her journey from intern to junior associate was inevitable. It wasn’t long before she’d snagged a senior associate position, and in just six years, she was already being considered for partner.

Sasha hadn’t been on vacation in three years. There was never time. She barely made time for hair appointments, manicures or pedicures. More often than not, she’d stop by Ray’s in the City—one of her favorite restaurants—for takeout on her way home. She’d grab a bottle of wine and eat dinner alone in her large kitchen, with its stainless steel appliances and hardwood floors, law books scattered about in front of her. She had a knack for cooking—was an undercover chef. Had law school not worked out, she’d have gone to culinary school, she often thought. She was a great cook. Yet, her evenings had been reduced to expensive takeout and a bottle of Chardonnay to wash it all down.

“I wish you wouldn’t call me Sasquatch,” Sasha told her sister. “I’m not a big, hairy Bigfoot-looking thing.”

Sasha was far from big. With her petite frame, medium-brown complexion and short bob haircut, she often turned heads when she walked through downtown Atlanta wearing one of her tailored suits and her designer heels.

“I think it’s a cute nickname,” Bridget said with a giggle. “You’re too uptight, Sasha. You need a man.”

Sasha was tired of people telling her what she needed. Just a few hours earlier she’d had a confrontation with Vince, and then had to deal with her mother, who always told her she needed to spend more time with the family, needed to show up for more Sunday dinners. And now her sister was swearing that she needed a man, which, in her opinion, was the last thing that she needed. Men always complicated things, got in the way. What she needed was that corner office with the view of the city.

“Have you sworn off men forever, Sash?”

“No, not forever. Just for right now,” said Sasha.

“You think you might get married someday?” Bridget asked, out of the blue. “Are you ever going to forget about what Kevin did and settle down with someone new?”

“I don’t know, Bridge. I’m really married to my career right now. And I like it that way.”

“Your career can’t keep you warm at night, or take you on romantic walks through Piedmont Park,” said Bridget. “And what about sex? When was the last time you...?”

“Bridget, please!” Sasha eyeballed the Bahamian woman who was massaging her feet and wondered if she was eavesdropping. The woman smiled as if she was waiting for Sasha’s response to her sister’s inappropriate question.

“I’m just asking. I mean, there are probably cobwebs in there. And everybody needs a little maintenance every now and then,” Bridget told her.

“See, this is exactly why you and I don’t have these types of conversations.”

“I’m sorry, Sash. I’m just teasing.” Bridget smiled, then said, “But seriously, don’t you want to get married and have some babies one day?”

“One day...yes.”

“I know you don’t like to be set up, Sasha, but I was thinking...”

“Oh, here we go,” Sasha groaned.

She knew that her sister was probably about to fix her up with Vince, which is why she’d sent him to the airport instead of coming herself. She’d wanted the two of them to hit it off. And Sasha could understand why—Vince was gorgeous. As a matter of fact, he’d danced around in her thoughts since the moment she’d left the resort. But she didn’t appreciate being set up, and she was tired of people thinking that it was okay. She was fine being single.

“Paul,” said Bridget. “He’s one of Derrick’s groomsmen. He’s the fair-skinned one. Not very tall, but he’s such a sweetheart, Sash.”

Such a sweetheart. Interpretation: “He’s not very attractive.”

“When I found out that he was a judge in DeKalb County, I knew the two of you would hit it off—seeing as though you’re in the same line of work and all. I can’t wait to introduce you to him. I told him all about you.”

“What? No more matchmaking, Bridget.”

“He graduated from Harvard...cum laude.”

“That’s nice,” Sasha said sarcastically.

“And he’s single,” Bridget urged, “drives a Maserati. Can you believe that? How many black men you know are driving around the city of Atlanta in a Maserati?”

“Not very many.”

Sasha was ready for the conversation about Paul to be over. She’d seen Paul once or twice and hadn’t found him the least bit interesting. He was the type her mother would choose for her. No matter what he did for a living or what type of car he drove, he definitely wasn’t her type. Although she hated to admit it, the truth was she was more interested in knowing more about Vince.

“So how long has Derrick known Vince?” Sasha asked, trying not to appear to be interested.

“Girl, all his life. They grew up together. Same high school...same college,” said Bridget, “but Paul he hasn’t known very long. A couple of years maybe.”

“He seems a little arrogant,” Sasha said. “Vince, I mean.”

“He comes off that way sometimes, but Vince is a nice guy. And he’s good-looking too, but not really your type. You’re career-minded. He’s a dreamer.”

“What do you mean dreamer?”

“He doesn’t really take life seriously. I mean he has a degree in dentistry, for Christ’s sake. He should have his own private practice or work in one of those upscale dental offices in Buckhead. Instead he chooses to work at that low-income health center in the heart of Atlanta for nothing, giving away his services for free. He’s got a little matchbox office down there and he makes a small stipend, but I’m sure it’s pennies compared to what he could make. Might as well go work at McDonald’s.”

“Isn’t that noble? I mean, giving back to his community and all?”

“Noble? I think it’s absurd.”

“Our father did the same thing for years, Bridget. As a young attorney, he worked for Legal Aid, and he offered his legal services pro bono to many underprivileged people over the years.”

“Thanks to Mama, he didn’t completely lose his mind though. Thank God she talked him into working for that law firm and making a decent living for us. It’s because of that firm that we were able to live the way we did.”

“But Daddy wasn’t happy at that firm. He was happier serving others.”

“Serving others is fine, but it doesn’t put food on the table, nor does it secure the future of your children. Which is why I’m marrying Derrick. Besides the fact that he’s drop-dead gorgeous and can give me beautiful babies, he’s successful and he’s the sole heir to his father’s business. My children will have the best of the best.”

“So you’re not marrying for love?”

“Of course I’m marrying for love! It’s just that love wasn’t exactly at the top of my list. It was just below ‘Must have six-figure salary,’” said Bridget with a giggle. “But don’t get me wrong, Sasha. Love is important. And I hope that you find it someday, or it finds you.”

“Well, I’m not exactly looking,” said Sasha.

“That’s okay. Sometimes love finds you anyway. Especially when you’re not looking,” Bridget said. “Just make sure when it finds you it comes with a nice 401(k).”

“You’re a mess!” Sasha exclaimed and laughed.

“I know, but you love me anyway.”

“I do love you, sis, but your view of life is pretty twisted. Derrick had better make sure he has a prenup in place,” teased Sasha. “Have him give me a call and I’ll draw up the papers for him. There are still a few hours before the wedding.”

“He’s already had one drawn up,” Bridget said candidly.

“Really?” Sasha asked, rising in her chair to give her sister a closer look. “How did you feel about that?”

“It’s okay. I mean, he’s not going anywhere and neither am I. Besides, our future is already secured.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sasha asked.

Bridget laid a gentle hand on her stomach, and smiled.

“You’re pregnant!” Sasha exclaimed.

“Shh. Keep it down,” Bridget whispered. “I don’t want anyone knowing before it’s time. Except you, Sasha. I can trust you.”

“How far along?”

“About seven weeks.”

“You haven’t told Derrick yet?”

“He can’t know before the wedding,” said Bridget.

Sasha gave her sister a sideways look.

“Don’t look at me like that, Sasha. It’s complicated,” Bridget whispered. “He’s got this...this plan. It’s so stupid. He says he doesn’t want children until two years after we’re married.”

“Then why didn’t you respect his wishes?”

“Who can live with that kind of pressure? Two years is a long time, and I’m not getting any younger. I hate clichés, but my biological clock is ticking. And I know that once this baby comes and he lays eyes on it, he’ll change his mind.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“He will.”

“You’re not trying to...you know...replace the other baby, are you?”

Bridget dropped her head, didn’t want to respond.

“One doesn’t have anything to do with the other.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“That was so long ago, Sasha. I was a kid. And I’d managed to forget all about it until now. Thank you very much.”

Bridget’s abortion wasn’t something that could easily be forgotten. Sasha remembered how well her sister had hidden the pregnancy. But it wasn’t long before Charlotte Winters caught wind of it. And when she did, there was no conversation about it—abortion was inevitable. Keeping it was never an option for Bridget. Their mother had worked too hard to build a perfect image for her daughters. A teen pregnancy would’ve tarnished that image beyond repair, and Charlotte Winters wasn’t having that.

Sasha remembered the tragedy as if she’d had the abortion instead of Bridget. She remembered the dull gray walls at the abortion clinic, and the Hispanic lady who handed them a ton of papers to sign. She remembered the pain in her sister’s eyes and the deep sadness on her face. She’d also remembered the grueling whimpers as Bridget cried herself to sleep that night. It was the saddest time in both their lives, and for that she blamed their mother. Their father would never have allowed such a thing to go on. They weren’t allowed to breathe a word of it to their father, or anyone else, for that matter. Sasha thought it to be a horrible secret for young girls to be forced to keep, but she had no choice. They simply did as they were told. In fact, they never even talked about it again between themselves—until now.

Sasha recognized her sister’s need to replace the unborn child she’d once lost, but she was going about it all wrong. Derrick had put up with a lot of things in their past. She just hoped their relationship could survive this one.