Black Lace

  “I hope so.”

  Dr. Carson returned. He stooped in front of Lacy and once again gave her ankle a few gentle twists. “We’ll have to cut off the foot of your stocking.”

  Resigned, she nodded her approval.

  Once her foot was cut free of the nylon, he proceeded to tape and wrap the bare ankle as if she were an injured athlete. When he finished, only the tips of her purple painted toes were visible. “How’s it feel?” he asked.

  “Like it’s wrapped up.”

  “Good. Stay off of it for the next three days. No work. No nothing but laying up like Cleopatra.” He then gave her the crutches. “Do you know how to use these?”

  “Yes, broke the same ankle about five years ago.”

  “How?”

  “Went out for a pass and stepped in a hole,” she explained before adding, “But I have to go to work.”

  “Not for the next three days you don’t. Did you catch the pass?”

  She nodded. “Yep, and took it in for the score. Had to go straight to the E.R. after that, but hey, my team won.”

  He looked over at the mayor. “Fine, and plays football? I see why you ran into her car.”

  Drake chuckled softly.

  Reg asked Lacy, “So, can we have dinner?”

  Lacy shook her head and tossed back, “I never date my doctors.”

  Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “How about I give you a week off of work?”

  She laughed. “No, in fact I can’t even afford these three days. I have meetings and—”

  “I’ll talk to your boss,” the mayor said.

  Lacy started to protest that she was the boss, then thought about being home for three blissful days and decided to take the gift and hush up. “Okay.” It occurred to her then that she should try and call work again and let them know she wouldn’t be coming in. “I need to call the office.”

  The mayor nodded. “Go ahead. Reggie and I’ll wait outside.” The men left the room to give her some privacy.

  The phone in her office rang six times before it was picked up by her fire-plug-shaped administrative assistant. “Hey, Ida.”

  “Girl, where are you?”

  “I was in a car accident. I’m at Henry Ford, and the doctor’s making me take three days off.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Mostly. I’m waiting on a pain prescription. I jammed my ankle.”

  “How’s your hoopty?”

  “Totaled, looks like.”

  “Well, no great loss. You needed a new car anyway.”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  Ida laughed before asking in a more serious tone, “Was anyone else hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Was it your fault?”

  “No. I’ll call you tonight and give you the 411.”

  “Okay. I’m going to cancel everything for the rest of the week.”

  “That’s fine. I should be back by Wednesday the sixth.”

  “Do you need a ride home? I can come get you.”

  “No. I’ll take a cab or something. Nobody should be on the roads today.”

  “Okay,” Ida replied, “but make sure you call me when you get home.”

  “I will. ’Bye.” Lacy closed the phone. She’d deliberately downplayed the details surrounding the accident because, like Val, Ida would start fantasizing on her hooking up with the mayor, and right now she wasn’t up to it. She gingerly moved her neck. The stiffness was getting worse and she could feel it spreading into her spine and shoulders.

  Denise’s aide finally came back from the pharmacy with the prescribed meds. The mayor handed Lacy a paper cup of water, and as he placed the pills in her hand, his skin brushed against hers, sending a sweet shock up her arm. Her surprised eyes flew to his. His eyebrow arched speculatively. Grabbing ahold of herself, Lacy tried to play the whole thing off, but her hands shook a bit as she put the pills in her mouth and washed them down with the water.

  She placed the empty cup into his outstretched hand but was careful not to touch him again.

  Dr. Carson gave her his business card and a yellow instruction sheet detailing care for the ankle once she was home. “If the swelling doesn’t go down or if it gets worse, you call me.”

  Lacy glanced at the sheet. “I will. Thanks.”

  “Nice meeting you.”

  “Same here.”

  He then shook the mayor’s hand. “Your Honor, I’ll see you soon.”

  “Thanks, Reg.”

  Dr. Carson waved as he exited.

  Once she and the mayor were alone again, Lacy could feel whatever was going on between them rising in the silence. She tried to talk it away. “Do you think Denise has a city phone book around here somewhere?”

  “Probably. Why?”

  “So I can call a cab to take me home.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  The richness of his tone coupled with the depth of his gaze made her voice softer than she intended. “That’s not necessary.”

  “As your attending physician it’s my duty to make sure you get home.”

  That said, he walked over, took hold of the handles on her wheelchair and slowly propelled it forward.

  They both waved good-bye to Denise.

  Lacy picked up the conversation while he rolled her down the hall. “Your duty?”

  He stopped the chair. “Yes. My duty.”

  Lacy studied him for a long moment. She didn’t mind that he was trying to charm her; the man was fine. However, she hoped he didn’t think this whatever-he-was-playing-at would go any further than her front door. She tried to downplay the fact that every time she met his eyes her heart did a weird kind of samba. “As my attending physician, and as one of the people responsible for me being here in the first place, giving me a ride home is okay, I suppose.”

  He flashed that legendary smile. Admittedly, it touched her, but she shook it off. He was a heartbreaker for sure, and she was too old to be picking herself up and dusting herself off.

  As he wheeled her toward the exit, she spotted a gaggle of reporters and TV camera crews waiting by the door. Someone must have dropped a dime on the mayor’s presence in the hospital. Lacy wasn’t pleased to see them. Neither was he, if the soft curse he gave was any indication.

  He stopped the chair. “I’m real sorry about this.”

  She shrugged and smiled. “It’s what I get for hanging out with you.”

  He smiled back. “Let me see if I can convince them not to put you on the six o’clock news.”

  “Good luck,” she answered.

  His approach to the reporters was met by a hail of shouted questions and flashing cameras. Some of the cameras were aimed in her direction, but she quickly shielded her face with her hand. The scene brought to mind the whirlwind that had swirled around her during her divorce. Because Wilton was an influential city councilman at the time, every news outlet in Atlanta had been in her business, and no matter where she went, the press hounded her like pit bulls gone wild. One of the benefits of getting Wilton out of her life had been having the press lose interest too.

  But because of today’s car accident, she assumed that disinterest would change. The mayor was popular. He was also handsome, rich, and single. Any woman associated with him on any level was considered fair game by the city’s reporters because everything about the mayor was news. Lacy could already see her face plastered across the front pages of the papers and hear the television anchors filling their viewers in on her past links to Wilton Cox. Then if they dug deep enough, out would come the story of her having been fired from her last job. Insubordination, her supervisor had called it. She sighed.

  Drake, on the other hand, was trying his best to keep the press hounds at bay. He answered each question truthfully. “Yes, my driver accidentally hit her. Yes, he will be ticketed.”

  When another reporter asked Drake to give up the victim’s name, Drake refused. “You’ll have to talk to the lady. I don’t have her permission to tell you that.”


  He then ended the mini press conference by saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, I need to get her home.”

  A flurry of questions followed that statement, but Drake turned on his heel and went back to the grim-faced Lacy. “You ready?”

  She glanced at the eager pack of reporters. “No, but let’s go anyway.”

  He nodded and pushed the wheelchair forward. Lacy shielded her face with her big tote as best she could. Cameras flashed and questions were shouted, but she didn’t respond. Instead she let the mayor roll her outside into the cold, where the limo sat waiting with its engine running. As she and her crutches struggled into the warm sanctuary of the backseat, next to the mayor and one of his bodyguards, she continued to ignore the reporters, their cameras, and their questions.

  By the time the car pulled away from the curb, Lacy’s pain meds had kicked in and she was floating in a land that was all fuzzy and soft. The mayor asked her for her address. She remembered replying, but a heartbeat later she was asleep.

  She awakened slowly in response to someone calling her name. Then there was the mayor’s handsome face hovering from above. The drugs in her system made her smile up at him and say, softly, “Hi.”

  He grinned. “Yes, you are. You’re also home.”

  Lacy struggled to clear her head. A look to the window showed that they were indeed in the snow-filled lot of her building, but truthfully, she didn’t want to move. Feeling no pain because of the meds, she was content. However, spending her three day hiatus in the backseat of the mayor’s limo was not an option, so she forced her brain to concentrate on gathering her belongings and her crutches.

  Burton, who hadn’t spoken a word to her since their initial conversation, turned and said, “You take care of yourself now, and again, I’m real sorry about what happened.”

  Lacy nodded. What more could she do?

  Drake looked at the snow piled up between where the limo was parked and the front door of the apartment building’s. There was no way she’d make the trek across the huge parking lot on crutches, and the drifts wouldn’t let them park any closer. “You may need some help.”

  Lacy asked, “Why?”

  “Too much snow for those crutches.”

  She looked around and had to admit he was right. Trying to negotiate the wintry mess would probably result in her spraining more than an ankle. She paid a pretty penny in association fees for services like snow removal. The crews were usually prompt and did a good job, but because of the suddenness and severity of the storm, she wasn’t surprised to see that the walks and parking lots were still choked with snow. The last thing she wanted was to be carried to her porch by the playa mayor, but she didn’t have much choice.

  “I can carry you,”

  “Let me,” the guard sitting beside her in the backseat offered. “Name’s Simon Lane, Ms. Green.”

  Drake looked at Simon as if the man had lost his mind.

  Lacy said, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Lane.” He was as big as the other man, Cruise, but his skin was lighter and his hair had just a touch of gray.

  Drake said to him, “How about you go get the wheelchair out of the trunk?”

  Lane grinned. “Yes sir,” he said, and got out.

  Drake looked at Lacy. “As I was saying, I can carry you, if you want.”

  Lacy didn’t comment on the men’s exchange but she was inwardly amused. “Only if you promise not to drop me.”

  “I promise.”

  A second later she was lifted up into his strong, coat-cushioned arms. Her face only inches from his, she studied him, and once again felt herself touched by his nearness. Then a strong wind came up and effectively shut down the moment. She turned her face into his coat and yelled, “How do you people live here?”

  He chuckled and, with Lane preceding him began a slow trek toward the building. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “But I don’t want to!” she wailed. As the icy wind continued to swirl, she kept her face against him and heard the deep rumbles of laughter in his chest.

  Drake was enjoying her. She didn’t weigh much, and he thought she fit perfectly in his arms. His enjoyment aside, wading through the heavy, deep snow was like walking through knee-high liquefied cement. His feet were freezing in his thin wet gators but he concentrated on each step. She would never talk to him again, for real, if he dropped her, and he wanted her to talk to him, more than he cared to admit.

  He finally made it to her walk and nodded at Lane to open the door. Inside, the shadowy foyer was a testament to the building’s age. The Towers, as they were called, had housed only rich White widows when Drake was young. Now the residents were mostly young and middle-age Black professionals.

  Lane unfolded the wheelchair, and Drake set Lacy gently on the seat. “I can take it from here, Lane.”

  He nodded. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Green.”

  “Same here,” Lacy said genuinely.

  While Lane went back out to the car, Drake followed Lacy’s directions to the elevators.

  She lived on the fifth floor and when they reached her door, she handed Drake her keys so he could open the locks.

  Lacy was glad the place was clean, so he wouldn’t know what a slob she was, but she was proud of her apartment. Although the building was old, the place had good bones. She had two bedrooms, a large kitchen, a spacious open living room, and a step-down area off the living room that she planned to turn into an office one day. There was also a dishwasher and her own personal washer and dryers. But best of all, there were seventeen windows, and the bulk of them looked out onto the river.

  Drake wheeled her into the quiet and looked around. “I like this.” The space was large and unfurnished except for one yellow upholstered chair and a TV sitting on a turned-over red milk crate.

  “I haven’t had time to get furniture, as you can probably see, but soon.”

  He walked over to look out at the river. “You have a patio.”

  “Yes. Can’t wait to sit out there in the summer. Read, do some grilling. Those flower boxes were there when I moved in, so I threw in some bulbs in October.”

  “Something’s coming up in this red one.”

  “Tulips.” She watched him look up at her high ceilings then check out the gleaming hardwood floors.

  “Real nice place.”

  “Thanks. I’m looking forward to making it my own soon as I get the chance.” There were a few framed pieces of African art on the walls, but that was it. “Thanks again for the ride.”

  “No problem. Do you need anything before I leave? Need me to run to the store? Do you have enough food?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine.” She hobbled over to the lone yellow chair and sat.

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I’m okay,” she said with a soft laugh.

  “Sorry,” he said, an embarrassed grin on his handsome face. “It’s the gentleman in me.”

  Lacy smiled. “I see. Tell your mama she raised you well. But now I want you to go.”

  “But—”

  “Go home, Mayor Randolph. You have a city to run, remember?”

  Drake didn’t want to leave. The meeting he’d been racing back to attend had been cancelled because of the weather, and the other work waiting for him at the office would be there no matter how long it took him to arrive. He reached into his coat and removed his silver business card holder. Pulling out one of his embossed, fine as linen CITY OF DETROIT business cards, he scribbled a number on it and handed it to her. “Here’s my home number. Call me if you need anything.”

  Lacy glanced at what he’d written. “Thank you,” she said, then added truthfully, “but I probably won’t call.”

  “Why not?”

  He looked so stunned, she almost laughed. She wondered if he’d never had a woman turn him down before. “Your Hippocratic duties are over and appreciated,” was all she allowed herself to say.

  Lacy wasn’t made of wood. The raw power of
him radiated over her like heat in July, but because he probably affected women worldwide the same way, she knew better than to read anything deep into his interest. “Thanks again, Mayor Randolph.”

  He smiled. “All right, I can take a hint.” But he didn’t move. Instead he stood looking at her sitting on the yellow chair while the need to know more about her filled him in ways that for the moment he couldn’t explain.

  “Take care of yourself,” he said, then moved to the door. “Let me know what happens with your car.”

  “I will.”

  He nodded and was gone.

  Lacy hobbled over to the window to wait for him to appear in the parking lot. After a little while, there he was. The man was definitely fine, and what she’d seen of his personality, she liked, but according to the gossip, His Fineness had more women than Keebler had cookies, and she had no desire to be one of many. So she watched until the big Lincoln drove from sight, and then she and her crutches went into the bedroom so she could lie down.

  Three

  On the ride back downtown, the dark-eyed Lacy stayed on Drake’s mind. She was witty, sharp, and fine. He most definitely wanted to see her again, but getting her to agree might be difficult, considering her lukewarm reaction to him. He never had to pursue women. For as far back as he could remember girls had always lined up for his smile. If he said, “Jump,” they’d ask, “How high?” But this Lacy Green, with her fine ebony self, didn’t impress him as the how high type.

  Burton asked, “Thinking about her?”

  Drake nodded.

  “Pretty lady.”

  “Very. Not that she seemed real impressed by me.”

  “Well, we did run her off the road,” Simon Lane remarked sagely.

  “No. Burton ran her off the road,” Drake pointed out.

  “You said you were late for the meeting,” Burton said.

  “And I told you three or four different times to slow it down.” Drake loved Burton. He was his great-uncle and had always been Drake’s hero, but after today’s wreck, blood or no blood, he had to go. His bat out of hell driving was exposing the city to unnecessary lawsuits, not to mention the safety issue. Burt’s need for speed came from driving the Negro race car circuit back in the forties and early fifties. Few people knew about the postwar, Black pioneer drivers like Burton Randolph, but Drake and his sisters had grown up hearing the stories and marveling at all the trophies and ribbons he’d won.