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Had he just called her shallow?
“I beg your pardon. You don’t know anything about me! And I’m not shallow.”
“I’m sorry for calling you shallow. I meant to say that you made a shallow comment.”
“I’m just saying...why couldn’t she just do a simple little ceremony in Atlanta? Why fly to another country just to say ‘I do’?”
“You should consider it an honor to stand up for your sister on such an important day.”
“I have things going on in my life right now,” Sasha retorted. “And this trip here, right now...this is inconvenient.”
“That’s too bad,” said Vince. “You’re completely missing it.”
“Oh really?” Sasha asked. “So I guess you have it all figured out.”
“I have a pretty good handle on things. I know what’s important. In fact, when Derrick asked if I could fly to the Bahamas and be the best man at his wedding, I didn’t give it a second thought. I knew I had to be here.”
“How noble of you,” Sasha said sarcastically and then stared out the window at the palm trees as they rushed past. She was done talking to this man.
An awkward silence suddenly resonated through the car, and Vince adjusted the volume on the stereo. As the sound of Caribbean rhythms filled the air, Sasha pulled her iPhone out of her purse and checked her email. The music wasn’t very successful at drowning the silence, and the short drive seemed so much longer than it really was. Sasha wished her sister hadn’t sent Vince to pick her up from the airport. She’d have been more comfortable taking a taxi. At least the driver would’ve kept his opinions to himself.
“I have to make a quick stop along the way,” Vince said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Not at all. Won’t take but a sec.”
Soon Vince pulled into Potter’s Cay, the island’s fish market and fruit stand tucked away under the Paradise Island Bridge. Potter’s Cay, a place where Bahamians shopped for the fresh catch of the day and the freshest produce on the island, was an attraction that Sasha and her family had visited on occasion.
“What are we doing here?”
“I’m in the mood for fresh snapper.”
“Fish?”
“There’s nothing like it.” Vince smiled as he turned off the engine and removed the keys from the ignition. “Let’s go.”
“Let’s go?”
“It’s pretty hot, and you’ll roast in the car without air-conditioning.” He smiled but still seemed adamant that she get out of the car.
She immediately caught the smell of conch fritters and fried fish. She and Vince strolled along the sidewalk, taking in the eclectic stalls where food vendors sold their freshly cooked items. Friendly female vendors sat placidly in front of fruit and produce stalls bursting with bananas, plantains, papaya, red peppers, tomatoes and yams. In front of many stalls were cages of swarming black crabs and other seafood. Fishermen in rubber boots hoisted giant bags of fresh fish and cleaned the catch of the day with sharp knives right there as customers looked on.
Interspersed among the row of stalls serving cooked food were several stands selling fresh fish. The constant calls of “fresh fish, fresh fish,” were heeded by car after car of customers who pulled up next to the street-side stall for plastic bags filled with fresh snapper.
Vince stepped up to a fresh fish vendor and said, “I’d like a pound of snapper, please.”
“Some fresh conch salad too, sir?”
“Yes!” he exclaimed and gave the brown Bahamian woman a warm smile. “I love it.”
“What about you, my lady?” The woman smiled at Sasha. “Fresh conch salad or a conch fritter?”
“No, thank you.”
“What? You have to have one or the other,” said Vince.
“I don’t...I don’t eat that.”
“I’ll have conch salad,” said Vince, “and one for the lady too.”
“I said I didn’t want any,” Sasha said, but Vince wasn’t listening.
The Bahamian woman handed each Vince and Sasha a bowl of the native fare. Sasha reluctantly took hers, wondering who Vince thought he was—ordering for her like that and insisting that she taste something she wasn’t accustomed to eating. He was presumptuous and arrogant, she thought. But she tasted it, and it was delightful against her tongue. She’d never tried it before; the name conch just didn’t appeal to her. She’d always wondered how something with such an ugly name could possibly taste good.
Not wanting Vince to know that she was enjoying her salad, she toyed with the fork a bit, picking over the food. They moved down the sidewalk to a fresh produce stand, where Vince purchased tomatoes, bell peppers and onions. He seemed to know his way around the island and carried himself as a native. If it weren’t for the crisp slacks, polo shirt and shined shoes that he wore, he could’ve easily been mistaken for an islander. The precision haircut and carefully manicured nails were a dead giveaway also. She immediately admired his confidence, although she hated to admit it.
“So, obviously you cook,” Sasha stated.
“I do,” Vince said. “What about you?”
“I dabble a little. I always said that if I didn’t make it as a lawyer, I’d become a chef.”
“What’s your specialty?” he asked.
“Deep-dish pizza,” she boasted, “and I make my own crust.”
“Really? That’s impressive,” he said. “Are you part Italian?”
“No,” she answered with a laugh. “What’s your specialty?”
“Fried chicken, fried fish, fried pork chops...”
“Don’t you know that fried foods are bad for your health? That’s why everyone in the black community suffers with high blood pressure.”
“I know, but it’s so darn good,” he admitted. “My arteries are probably already clogged with fried fish grease.”
“You should try baking your chicken, fish and pork chops,” Sasha said. “It’s much healthier.”
“I’ll consider that,” he said. “Maybe you can show me how it’s done.”
Sasha realized that she’d let her guard down and needed to put her wall of resistance back up. She said, “I doubt it.”
* * *
“Velcome to da Bahamas,” said the chocolate-brown man as he swung her door open and held it for her while she climbed out of the car. He wore a red concierge uniform, with a name tag that read Robert. Robert’s graying hair and beard seemed to be a little matted, but his eyes were a pair of the friendliest ones that Sasha had ever seen. “Right this way, please.”
He escorted her through the massive lobby, with its buffed floors and modern furniture. Women in short skirts moved their hips to the sounds of Caribbean music being played by a live band. As the music filled the air, a young woman greeted her with a tray filled with beverages.
“Rum punch, my lady?” the woman asked in a soft voice.
Sasha checked her watch. It was nine-thirty in the morning, a bit early for something harder than orange juice.
“Sure. What the heck?” said Sasha as she grabbed a glass and headed for the counter to check in.
A group of women dressed in bikinis and giggling like teenagers headed in her direction.
“Sasha! You made it.” Bridget was wearing a white bikini with a blue sarong draped across her hips. She gave Sasha a tight squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re here. Your mother is really working my nerves—between her and Aunt Frances, I don’t know who’s worse. But you’re here now. You can run some interference for me. Give them someone else to drive crazy.”
“Hey, Sasha.” Their cousin Vanessa popped up from among the crowd and hugged her. “Girl, we have to do something with this hair of yours.” She brushed Sasha’s bangs from her face.
“Our hair appointment is at eleven. Will you be checked in and ready to go in an hour?” Bridget asked.
“I’ll do my best.” Sasha managed a smile and then caught a glimpse of Vince.
He was engaged in a conversation with the concierge, and she couldn’t help but stare. Her eyes traced his hairline and then made their way down to the curve of his strong cheekbone.
“Did you hear me, Sash?” Bridget was asking.
“No, I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Was Vince the perfect gentleman? I warned him to be nice.”
“Oh, yeah. He was just...fine,” Sasha said, “but next time, I can get a cab. It wasn’t necessary for him to come.”
“He insisted,” Bridget explained. “Besides, he rented that stupid car and thinks he knows his way around the island.”
“He can pick me up anytime, anywhere with his fine self,” said Deja, Bridget’s friend since elementary school. Even with a full figure, she still managed to squeeze an oversized set of caramel-colored breasts into a yellow bikini top. “He doesn’t even know how fine he is.”
“Don’t be so brazen, Deja,” said Kim, Bridget’s tall, slender friend wearing a one-piece bathing suit. She pulled her long sandy-colored hair into a ponytail. “Less is definitely more.”
“Sasha, we’ll meet you here in an hour. We’re taking a water taxi to the salon,” said Meka, Bridget’s other maid of honor. She was carrying a notepad and following along on Bridget’s heels.
“Fine, I’m gonna get a shower and relax for a minute. I’ll see you all later.” Sasha smiled and then took a long sip of rum punch.
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?”
