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Having his sisters orchestrate her wedding was difficult enough to navigate, but this kind of publicity could jeopardize her job, more important, put at risk the people she was sworn to protect.
“Dammit!” She pushed away from the table. This was going to turn into a nightmare. She felt it in the pit of her stomach and she had no idea what to do about it.
* * *
“I just saw it,” Kerry said into the phone. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know, girl. I’m stuck between stunned that the rest of the world gives a damn who I marry, to furious that the rest of the world gives a damn.” She pushed out a breath of frustration. “It was bad enough when my own father had me followed when me and Rafe first started dating. At least I could get him to stop with his craziness. This is a whole other story and I have no idea how this is going to play out at work.”
“Hmmm, yeah, there’s that. But, hey, no way is the Secret Service going to allow photographers to trail around, taking pictures.”
Avery let her head flop back against the cushion of the couch. “I guess,” she muttered.
“If it helps any I haven’t heard any whisperings or gossip here at work.”
“That’s good, and I want it to stay that way.”
“Listen... I know how you are about privacy. It’s part of our job, but it’s also part of who you are. I know you. If you could move through the day without having to give over anything of yourself, you would. I get that your self-imposed isolation is a defense mechanism. If no one can get close, no one can hurt you. But now there’s Rafe.”
Even the sound of his name made her heart tumble in her chest.
“What you have going with Rafe is a whole new world for you. You’re going to have to find a way to deal with it, sis, if you want to marry him.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I just wish...it was the two of us, ya know. He has this big-ass family...”
“Try to look at it this way, you’ll finally have not only a husband but a real family, Avery, with sisters and brothers and cousins. You won’t be that motherless, only child anymore. Embrace it, instead of trying to keep it like a side chick.” They both laughed at her comparison. “You deserve a family,” she added softly.
It was true. She did deserve a family, although she had no idea what being part of one even meant. After her mother died, with no siblings or extended family, it was her and her father, Horace. Rather it was her. Horace Richards turned his entire life toward building his career in politics. She was on her own. Kerry was the closest thing to family that she had...until Rafe.
“I’ll try,” she conceded. “Anyway, stop by when you get off.”
“His place is out in Arlington, right?”
“On second thought, I need to get out of the house. Why don’t we meet for dinner? I can drive in.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Seven?”
“Works for me.”
“Let’s meet up at Baldwin’s. We haven’t been there in a minute.” Baldwin’s, named in honor of literary icon James Baldwin, was renowned for its excellent cuisine, but especially for the literati who frequented the establishment, often reading from their new works, performing spoken word or just chilling. The vibe was stimulating while simultaneously relaxing.
“Perfect. See you there.”
“Bye.” Avery disconnected the call and set the phone down on the table. She glanced around. What was she going to do with herself for the rest of the day? Maybe she’d go for a run, burn off some of her pent-up energy, clear her head.
She pushed up from the couch and went into the bedroom to change clothes.
“Alice,” she called out from the front door. “I’m going for a short run. Be back soon.”
“Sure.” She peeked her head out from the kitchen. “Should I fix lunch?”
Avery opened the front door. “Only if you promise to eat with me.”
Alice smiled. “Okay.”
“Great. Be back soon—in about an hour or so.”
Avery stepped out into the bright afternoon. A light breeze blew, perfect for running. She did a few light stretches, started off and never noticed the car parked across the street.
* * *
Baldwin’s, as always for a Saturday night, sizzled with energy. Music from the house’s jazz band played their rendition of “’Round Midnight,” beckoning every customer who walked through the door to bob his or her head to the rhythm.
Avery could see from peeking around the tinted windows that separated the seated guests from the hostess station, that there were barely any empty tables. There were two sets of customers ahead of her and Kerry waiting to be seated: a couple and a party of four. Hopefully the wait wouldn’t be too long.
Baldwin’s, beyond the cultural significance of honoring the author, activist and icon James Baldwin, held a special place in her heart. On one of several visits when Rafe visited her in DC, Baldwin’s was one of the venues where she heard him play. Was it that night that she fell irrevocably in love with him when he played Coltrane’s “Love Supreme” to a standing ovation?
Kerry nudged her.
Avery blinked. “What?”
“What are you grinning about?”
“Oh,” she laughed lightly, amused that she was caught in her daydream. “Just thinking about one of the nights I was here with Rafe.”
“Table for two?” the hostess asked.
“Yes. Thank you,” Kerry answered.
She took two menus from the holder on the podium and handed them off to a waitress. “Mia will show you to your seats.”
Avery and Kerry walked several steps behind Mia as they wound their way around the dark circular tables, which were topped with white linen and illuminated by votive-candle centerpieces. The space, which was reputed to be one of the Underground Railroad passages, was rife with alcoves, thick cedar-wood rafters, plank floors and carvings in the wood walls, which urban legend claimed are the names and dates of slaves who had escaped—a testament to their passage. Each area of the two-story restaurant was designated as music, art, science, law, literature and named after a noted black figure, like Sojourner Truth, Nat Turner, Thurgood Marshall, Toni Morrison, Dr. King, Malcolm, Ida B. Wells, Gil Scott Heron, Sonia Sanchez, of course Baldwin and many others. Periodically, the management would switch out a namesake and replace it with another noted figure. On the tabletops, along with the candles, were tent cards with writings from the icons. Coming to Baldwin’s was always an experience, as well as a mini lesson on the wealth of black history.
Tonight, Avery and Kerry were seated in the Thurgood Marshall section, which was off to the right of the stage, but still with great views of the comings and goings of the space.
Avery and Kerry settled in their seats and Mia took their drink orders, promising to be back shortly.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” Avery admitted. She flipped open the menu. “Yes, crab cakes!”
Kerry chuckled but then suddenly stopped.
Avery glanced up from the menu and landed on Mike, who was walking toward their table. She laid the menu flat.
“Avery...my God.” His dark brown eyes widened in genuine surprise, followed by a smile that was actually warm. He took it upon himself, pulled out the extra chair and sat. He leaned in toward Avery. “How are you?” he asked, his voice low and insistent.
Tonight, Avery desperately wanted to get away from everything that reminded her of Paris and what happened. Mike was a big reminder. They were both on duty the day of the explosion. When she came to, debris and bodies were everywhere. Mike was hurt during the blast. Her training kicked in and she began aiding the injured, one of them being Rafe’s father, another was Mike, among the dozen or so others. She and Mike had their standoffs during their time at the Secret Service, both personal and professional, and were both up for the same promotion. Ironic that Mike should be right as rain and she was...
“Good to see you, too, Mike,” Avery finally said.
“Word on the street is that you’ll be back this week. True?”
“True.”
He nodded. “It’ll be good to have you back, Avery. Really.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
“Well, good to see you. You, too, Kerry.”
Kerry umm-hmmed in her throat.
“Enjoy your evening.” He got up and walked away.
Kerry reached across the table and covered Avery’s fisted hand with her own. “You okay?”
Avery nodded. “Fine.” She pushed out a breath. “Going to have to get back to dealing with Mike sooner or later.”
“I still can’t believe that with all you went through, the heroics not to mention the injuries that you sustained, that Mike is even in the running for the promotion.” Kerry shook her head in disbelief.
“You know as well as I do that this is an old-boys’ club. The fact that women are part of the club at all, and rising up the ranks, still ticks off a lot of the establishment. If they can find anything to disqualify me, they will.”
Mia returned with their drinks and took their dinner order.
Kerry raised her glass. “To kicking butt and taking names.”
Avery tapped her glass against Kerry’s. “All day.” She took a long sip of her frozen strawberry margarita. She would not let anything or anyone stand in the way of getting what she rightly deserved, even if that meant lying to the doctors. No way would she stand down and let Mike walk in the shoes that should be hers. She picked up the tent card and read the inscription. It was a quote from Thurgood Marshall. “A man can make what he wants of himself if he truly believes that he must be ready for hard work and many heartbreaks.” Exactly, and she was ready.
Chapter 4 (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)
Even after all the time that had gone by, and Miami, Florida, had become her home for the past sixteen years, she still kept up with the news from Louisiana and DC, and of course New York City, from her online subscriptions. It helped in her ongoing recovery to read about things that were once so familiar to her. There were still, even now, parts of her life that she could not distinguish between reality or a false memory. But the one thing she knew for certain was that she had been deeply and irrevocably in love. Now he was in love with someone else, marrying someone else.
His smile still made her soul shift, her heart beat just a little faster. She ran her finger across his face on her computer screen. He looked happy, truly happy...without her.
She lifted her hand and touched the scar that ran the length of her forehead, which she covered with bangs or innovative hairstyles. The burns she’d sustained on her legs had healed well, and were barely noticeable anymore. Some days when the pain was really bad she used a cane, but most of the time the medication the doctor prescribed worked.
She tilted her head to the side, studied the image from an angle. His fiancée was beautiful in an understated way. A part of her knew that she needed to let him and the past go. But the part of her that remembered what her life had been like with him wouldn’t let her. He was the only thing from that time that she truly remembered. Them. The two of them against the world. The memory anchored her, kept her from losing the last vestiges of herself and falling into a dark hole of a manufactured past.
Sixteen years is enough time to move on. Rafe clearly did. She had for the most part. It was best—at least that’s what her parents had told her. She’d believed them even though much of what their relationship had been was more mist than substance. The fact that she’d survived at all was a miracle, the doctors said, and memory loss was the price that she paid for her survival. She’d done years of physical therapy, rounds of plastic surgery, seen countless specialists, but most of her life prior to that day was hazy at best. Except for Rafe Lawson. He was the only constant.
She longingly studied his picture before closing the cover of the computer. Much of what her life could have been was ripped from her, her body altered, her memory stolen. For years she’d been at the mercy of doctors and therapists and her parents, and bit by bit she began to create a new life. But she had to go back into the past. She owed it to herself and to Rafe. He loved her first and seeing her again would make him remember.
Chapter 5 (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)
Rafe returned to his Louisiana home, soothed somewhat by his aunt’s calming words. She’d pulled him to the side shortly before he left to remind him that Dominique was his reflection and could have been his twin instead of Desiree’s. Dom lived for excitement, upsetting the status quo and making a splash. Add in the fact that she adored her big brother and it was no surprise that she wanted the world to share her joy. Not to mention that Dominique Lawson thrived on attention, even if the attention was vicarious. He grabbed his go-bag from the trunk and carried it inside, thankful that he didn’t have to use it. He shut the house door behind him, picked up the pile of mail he’d left on the table and turned on the lights against the overhanging gray of a new day. His aunt J was right. He and Dom were two sides of the same coin. He tugged off his jacket, tossed it on a side chair in the living room and dropped the mail on the couch, before turning on some music. Truth be told, the announcements and the pictures didn’t really bother him, but they bothered Avery. So, somehow, he was going to have to get Dom to put a halt to her personal public-relations campaign, and for his sisters Lee Ann and Desiree to loosen the reins of wedding planning. And he had to do all that without starting WWIII. Lucky me.
He crossed the living room to the bar and fixed a shot of bourbon and then flopped back on the couch. He took a deep swallow, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. On Sunday he would get with Dominique and straighten things out. End of that story. But he still had plenty of other business to handle now that he was home, and he intended to make a quick pit stop to New York to get with Q, since it was unlikely that he’d bring Muhammad to the mountain, before returning to Virginia.
A lot had been put on hold since Avery’s and his father’s injuries from the bombing in Paris. Even though his nightclub and his foundation had good people at the helm, he kept his hand in. Lack of oversight was the downfall of too many businesses, and he had no intention of letting his become a statistic.
He finished off his drink and went through a mental checklist of everything he needed to take care of in the next few days. One thing that nagged at him, and something that he and Avery never really discussed, was where they would live. His businesses were in Louisiana, but her job was in DC. He supposed it was an unspoken understanding that he would be the one to relocate. It was easier for him, of course. Didn’t mean he had to like it.
He blew out a breath and stretched his arm to gather up the mail he’d dumped on the other end of the couch, flipped through the envelopes and relegated each to either take care of or ignore. He stopped halfway, tossed everything else aside as he stared for a moment at the embossed return address of which he was very familiar with—the family attorney. Or rather his father’s attorney that the family used. How had he missed this?
Frowning, he turned the envelope over, ripped it open and pulled out the thick sheaf of folded papers. His head jerked back as he read the first page for the second time.
“What the hell...” His eyes ran over the words in utter disbelief and rising fury.
His father had always tried to control the lives of his children no matter how old they were or how far away they moved. But this! He hurled a string of expletives, picked up his phone to call his father but stopped. This conversation deserved a stare-you-in-the-eye sit down.
He shoved the pages back in the envelope, got up and put it in his go-bag. After he took care of his business here at home and in New York, his father’s office in DC would be his next stop. He pulled out his cell from his back pocket and swiped to his phone calls. He pressed the phone icon, leaned back and waited.
“Hey, darlin’.”
“Hi! I’m just walking in the door.”
“Oh. Okay. Go get settled. We can talk another time.”
“No. It’s fine.”
He heard a door close. “Everything good?”
“Yes. Kerry and I went to Baldwin’s tonight.”
He chuckled. “Love that place. Who was on set tonight?”
“House band. What about you? How was your visit?”
“Went well.” His gaze drifted to his bag and the envelope that stuck out. “Anyway, cher, you get yourself together. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m kinda beat.”
“Okay. Tomorrow, then.” She paused. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, cher. No matter what. Rest well.”
“I will.”
Rafe pressed the icon to end the call and tossed the phone toward the far end of the couch.
Chapter 6 (#u40ac5182-f25d-56f0-9431-a07763e53e69)
Generally, after talking with Rafe, she always felt better, secure, uplifted, everything but what she felt now. She slipped out of her robe, turned back the sheets and crawled under the covers. Something was wrong. She felt it in the tone of Rafe’s voice. It wasn’t what he said, but what he didn’t.
Had he brought up her concerns about the wedding and it didn’t go well? Had he gotten into it with his sisters? She should have told him not to say anything. She was a big girl and didn’t need her husband-to-be running to her rescue. She was skilled in dealing with insurmountable obstacles. How difficult could three sisters be?
She turned on her side and switched off the nightstand lamp, but it was hours before she finally fell into an exhausted sleep.
* * *
