A Private Affair. Donna Hill
can imagine. Where is the lady of the house?”
“She just got out of the shower. Hang on, I’ll get her. Take it easy, Aunt Nik. Come out and see me before I go back.”
“I’ll try.”
A few moments later Jewel’s softly Southern voice came on the line.
“Hey, girl. It’s been too long. How are you?”
“Pretty good. Just needed some girl talk.”
“In that case, let me assume the girl talk position.” Jewel fluffed two oversize down pillows behind her, crossed her legs and sat back. “All right, who is he?”
“Why does it have to be a he? Maybe I’m just calling to get your opinion on a new outfit.”
“Girl, pleeze. I know good and well you didn’t make this toll call from Long Island to Connecticut to ask me about some clothes. Unless we’re trying to devise a way to keep that thieving Parris out of our closets!”
They both erupted in a fit of laughter, thinking of all the missing items that mysteriously turned up on Parris’s long, lean body.
“Yeah, Parris thinks she’s in Paris when she shops at my house,” Nikita said, chuckling.
“I just don’t understand it,” Jewel continued. “Girl makes enough money to buy her own department store.”
“Don’t I know it. But she says it keeps her close to us because she’s away all the time. She keeps a little piece of us with her.”
“I know,” Jewel replied, sobering. “Whatever helps. I know I couldn’t lead that kind of life for all the money in the world. I need roots.”
“That’s the truth. At least she has a man who understands and accepts her lifestyle.”
“Which brings me back to my original question—who is he? And take as long as you want to tell me all about him. It’s your quarter.”
Nikita took a breath. “Well, his name is Quinten Parker…”
“So, you have nothing in common. He acts and talks like the characters in that Sugar Hill movie with Wesley Snipes. You’re not sure what he does for a living and don’t want to think about it, and you can’t wait to see him again. That about right?” Jewel brushed another coat of clear polish on her toes.
“Gosh, Jewel, you don’t have to make it sound like that.” The scenario did sound rather awful.
“If it’s not like that, then tell me what it is like. I mean, be real and tell me.”
Nikita took a long, thoughtful breath. “I know he represents everything I’ve been told to stay away from. And on the outside he seems like a real character. But beneath it all is a humanity, a sensitivity, a goodness. I can just feel it. I know this all sounds crazy, but—”
“Listen Niki, nothing is crazy when it comes to a person and their feelings. They can’t be explained most of the time. There are no real rules or regulations. Sometimes you just have to go with how you feel and hope for the best. Don’t worry about how everyone else is going to feel about your decision. You’re the only one who has to live with your choices. If I’d worried about how everyone was going to feel about me and Taj, I would have never married him, and I’d have missed out on the greatest experience of my life.
“Sister, I can’t sit here polishing my toes and tell you he’s the wrong one for you. I can’t tell you he’s the one, either. Only the two of you and time can tell.”
“Yes. You’re right. I was feeling the same way. I guess I just needed to hear my thoughts out loud. The truth is, I don’t know how it is,” she blew out in frustration. “He scares me—in an I-want-to-get-back-on-that-ride-again kind of scary. He’s not like the men I’ve dated. He’s crude, but sensual, and as much as he puts on the tough guy act, there’s something else there. Something gentle and needy.”
“The only advice I can offer is to go slow. And be sure of your reasons for getting involved.”
“Yo, Max!” Quinn called out of his car window, simultaneously blowing his horn.
Maxine slowed her long-legged strut and turned in the direction of the familiar voice. When her gaze rested on Quinn’s smiling face, the heavy baggage of her day, of dealing with corporate backstabbing and annoying customers, seemed to slide from her shoulders. She hadn’t seen Quinn since he moved out of the neighborhood. She’d asked around and heard through the vine that he was still looking good and doing well. He’d taken some time off from working for Remy, but word had it that he was back.
Quinn pulled alongside Max and put the car in park. “Hey, baby. Long time. Lookin’ good.”
Maxine jutted her hip and accessorized it with her hand. “You don’t look so bad yourself—stranger. Just forgot all about your friends.” She adjusted her shoulder bag. “How you been?”
He shrugged and half smiled. “Awright. Hangin’ in. Where you headed?”
“Home. Where else?” she joked.
“Get in. I’ll take you.”
“That’s what you better have said,” she teased.
Quinn broke out laughing and realized that he actually missed seeing her.
Maxine slid in next to Quinn and all the months without seeing him slipped away. His scent, those delicious dimples and that cool arrogance. Damn, she’d missed him.
“So what’s been happenin’, Max? I been kinda out of touch, ya know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Their gazes touched in silent understanding.
“I finished that course I told you about,” she said, moving away from the painful memories. “Got my certificate and everything.”
“Congrats, baby. Knew you could do it. No doubt. We gonna have to celebrate,” he grinned. “What you wanna do? Name it, you got it.”
“No shit?”
Quinn looked at her and burst out laughing. “Yeah, no shit.” He’d forgotten how regular Max could get when she wanted to. “So, what’s it gonna be? Your call.”
“You know what I’d really like to do, Quinn?”
“What?”
“I’d like to see your new place. See what you’ve done with it.”
Quinn nodded. “Cool. Here we go.”
Chapter 7
Letting It Go
“This is n-i-c-e, Q,” Maxine said, walking through the spacious duplex. “You always did keep a fly place.” She ran her hands along the polished wood of the old piano and her chest constricted with memories. She’d gone with Lacy the day she’d picked it out for Quinn’s birthday. “I know he’ll love this,” Lacy had said. “And he’ll never do it for himself, so it’s up to me. Crazy man needs a gentle push every now and then,” she’d added, giving Maxine a you-need-to-take-this-advice-and-run-with-it look. But she hadn’t. She just couldn’t. She needed Quinn to see for himself without any pushing from her. “You still play?”
“Naw. Not really.”
“Because of Lacy?” she asked gently.
He shrugged and crossed to the other side of the living room and turned on the stereo. “Somethin’ like that,” he mumbled. He sat down on the couch and stared down at his folded hands. Maxine took a spot next to him, placing her hands atop his.
He looked at her, then turned away.
“Lacy wouldn’t want you to stop being all you could just because she’s not