During a break, the wedding coordinator introduced herself to me as Ms. Melba. She handed me my bridesmaid’s dress. The cranberry velvet was beautiful, but the style looked like something one of Cinderella’s stepsisters would wear. I could certainly never wear it to another event.
As the rehearsal continued, Ms. Melba wore herself out trying to get everyone to follow her instructions. She must have had us start over ten times. Not once did we stroll down the aisle to her specifications. After a couple of hours, she finally gave up and declared the group as ready as we were ever going to be.
The wedding party piled into cars and drove to a nearby steak house for the rehearsal dinner. A cute hostess escorted us to a back room, where at least fifty people were already seated—all friends and relatives of the bride and groom. The room was nothing fancy. The décor was typical steak house: dark lighting, booth seats, and brick walls.
Dion asked for a Scotch on the rocks as soon as he sat down, and he downed one drink after another all evening. I wondered why Eden didn’t seem concerned or even annoyed by it. Then I remembered that her dad used to drink a lot, and Dion’s father was a heavy drinker, too. I think that’s what helped them to bond while we were in college. It was something that they had in common.
Eden’s dad must have felt guilty about the very thing that bonded Dion to his daughter. After everyone arrived, he got up and had everyone raise their glasses for a toast. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry I wasn’t the best daddy always. But I love you, girl, and I’m so happy for you.”
Eden’s father kissed her cheek and bragged to the rest of us about what a wonderful wife she was going to make. Their embrace was warm, but left me feeling a little melancholy. Her dad might not have been perfect, but at least he was there.
I sat by Eden’s mom, not wanting to engage in fake small talk with people I didn’t know. She ordered the lamb, I decided on the pork chops, and pretty much everyone else asked for steak.
As we waited for the food to arrive, I noticed one of the groomsmen passing around a bottle of liquor under the table. By the time the meal was served, most of the guests were buzzed.
After dinner, I tried to get to Eden, but she was surrounded by friends and family, all chatting happily about her big day. Bored, I headed for the rest room.
As I approached the bathroom door, I heard whispered voices—a man and a woman. I rolled my eyes and stood there, not wanting to interrupt someone’s secret tryst, but really needing to use the toilet. I lowered my eyes and pushed the door open an inch or two.
When I looked in I stifled a scream. Chyna had Dion pinned up against the corner wall. It took everything in me to hold back.
Chyna leaned in to Dion, her arms around his neck. “Are you sure you’re ready to give up being a single man?” she crooned.
When Dion didn’t respond, she kissed his cheek. “Even if you’re set on getting hitched tomorrow, maybe we can have a little fun tonight. I’m in room 212. Maybe I can convince you to change your mind about getting married. At least to Eden, anyway.”
I could have ripped every strand of sandy-brown hair off her conniving head in two seconds. And my foot had some definite plans for Dion.
Then again, maybe there was a better plan. That fickle jerk wouldn’t have to make a decision about whether or not to get married. With one word to Eden, I could stop the wedding myself.
As I started to ease the door closed, I heard Dion’s voice. “Quit tripping, Chyna. You’ve been pulling this kind of stuff for a long time now, and it’s got to stop. I’m about to get married to a woman I love, who’s supposedly your friend. She cares about you a lot, you know. You just can’t keep doing this. No more pushing me into bathrooms.”
“Fine,” Chyna seethed. “Fine.” She stormed toward the door, and I quickly ducked behind the tall greenery.
Dion came out behind her and walked past her without another word. She stared after him, probably hoping he’d turn around and give in to her. Disappointed, she stomped in my direction. I grabbed her tightly woven hair and yanked as hard as I could.
She dropped back a couple of feet, her eyes wide. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?”
“No,” I answered, my fist still full of her hair. “You’re the one who’s crazy. Dion doesn’t want you. He and Eden are happy together. If you want a man, get one that’s not already taken.”
“Let go of me, Chris,” she cried, squirming.
I opened my clenched fingers and she grabbed her scalp. “I’m gonna be watching you, girl. If you even breathe in Dion’s direction, I’ll do a lot more than pull your hair.”
Chyna sighed and smoothed her hair. “Okay, so you caught me. But let’s be clear—Dion followed me into the john. I still have a thing for the guy. If he had left me alone, those feelings probably would have stayed suppressed.”
“But I heard him telling you nothing’s there,” I said.
She rubbed her brow. “Yeah, I heard him loud and clear on that one, too. Now I know where I stand. Eden gets the prize…if you can call him that.”
“What do you know that I don’t about this guy?” I asked, trying to hear her out.
Chyna touched my shoulder. “Stuff you don’t want to know.”
We held eye contact. When she let her hand slide from my shoulder to my hand, I knew she was also concerned for Eden. I looked away.
“Eden totally knows him. She wants to marry him, and maybe they will be okay,” she said, tightening our grasp.
I glared at her for a moment, then nodded as we let go. She headed back to the group and I went to use the rest room.
Once I left the ladies’ room, I finally got Eden’s attention. “Any after-dinner plans?”
Eden grinned at me. “I’m headed back to the hotel. If I can’t get any sleep tonight, I might just come over for some late-night girl talk. Would that be okay?”
“Sure, I’d like that,” I said.
We drove separate cars to the hotel, then hugged in the lobby and went to our rooms. When a knock on my door woke me up at three-thirty, I wasn’t a bit surprised. I knew Eden needed me.
I dragged myself to the door, pulled open the chain, and unlocked the dead bolt. But when I opened the door, there stood Max, looking ever-so-fine in a maroon turtleneck sweater and loose-fitting black jeans. What was I gonna do now? Slam the door—or explore?
Chapter 3
Uphill
The love of my life was standing at my door. For a moment, it was as if no time had passed, and then he opened his mouth and I remembered Max had changed.
“Dang, girl,” he roared, “you look tore up.”
I wanted to slam the door in his face. “I wasn’t expecting any company. What do you want, Max?”
“I was just playing,” he said, barging into the room. “Give me a hug.” He wrapped his arms around my waist before I could pull away.
“Get off of me,” I snapped, smelling a little nip of something other than punch on his breath.
He moved farther into the room, pushing me with him. “Hey, don’t be like that. You know you still love me.”
I pulled out of his arms, fiddled with my hair, and put a robe on over my flannel pajamas. “Don’t flatter yourself. What do you want?”
“Just to see how you’ve been.”
“We can chitchat tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow we have to take care of our friends,” he said, flopping onto the bed. “I want tonight to be about us. Last time we were together we had a good time.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s three in the morning. I no longer need you in that area. I’m well covered, thanks.”
“I just want to talk,” he said. Unable to keep a straight face, he added, “Well, maybe I was hoping for more. Besides, whoever you’re with can’t make you feel like I can.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “You are so cocky.”
He came over to me and ran his fingers along my arm. “Admit that it turns you on.”
“Do not even go there,” I
said, pulling away. “I’m not gonna play games with you. We want different things.”
He stood beside me, his gorgeous brown eyes boring into mine. “No, I’m ready to settle down now. I’m still living in New York. Now I’m a full-fledged investment banker. I’ve paid all my dues, and now I’m starting to handle some accounts on my own. I want a family.”
“You always wanted that. You just couldn’t forgive what I did,” I said angrily as I sank my bottom on the bed. I looked at him. “Yeah, we’ve kicked it over the years, but I don’t really want anything serious anymore.”
Max got the nearby chair, pulled it in front of me, and sat down. “I love you. I was wrong. I know we need to spend some time dating seriously, but my goal is to make you my wife. I’m hoping your interest in the same hasn’t changed.”
Okay, so I was totally caught off guard. But wasn’t that just like a man? Wanting things when he wanted them. There were so many days when I wanted Max to want me in his life forever, but I got tired of waiting.
“Too late,” I said to him as I remembered the anguish he put me through.
He took my hands in his and spoke softly. “Honey, I have dated many women since we broke up.”
“You mean when you broke up with me,” I said, slightly salty, wishing I could have been more mature.
“That’s fair,” he said. “No one fills me like you used to. Most are only interested in my growing bank account. You only wanted my heart.”
The first time Max told me he loved me, we were sophomores and we’d been dating for over eighteen months. I’d told him how I felt several times before then, but he’d always held back.
The day he finally told me, he’d just gotten back from his father’s funeral and I was comforting him at his apartment. “I realize life is short, Chris. But mine is meaningful because I found love.”
“I know you loved your dad,” I said. “You’ll always have the memories.”
“Being home and dealing with all that, only thinking of you got me through. I know I love you.” He kissed me and it was like the first time.
We had many days of happiness back then. I knew when he had a headache and he knew my menstrual cycle. We were that close. I’d not found anyone since then to love me so fully, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted a relationship with him again.
“Hey, did you hear me?” His gaze searched mine. “I haven’t forgotten about how or why I ended things. I’m sorry, Chris. I really do want another chance.”
We’d only been together for ten minutes and he was pushing all the right buttons. After all this time I was still emotionally attached to him. But no, I reminded myself, Max Cross was a part of my past, and that’s the way I wanted it to stay.
“I can’t do this right now,” I said, looking away.
He gently guided my face back to his. “Then let’s not deal with the heavy stuff. I’ve heard a lot about you, Miss FBI Agent,” he said, smiling. “One of only two hundred black women, and there’s something like fifteen thousand FBI agents?”
“Yeah,” I perked up, “and actually, it’s more like sixty black female agents. But I’m about to take a temp assignment with the Secret Service.”
“Wow. You’ll be guarding the big man?”
“Not on this assignment,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll only be guarding one of the presidential candidates. But who knows—he could win and sit in the big chair.”
“For real?” Max shot me a skeptical glance. “Which one?”
“Steven Stokes,” I bragged.
He slumped back in his chair. “He is a high-profile candidate. Some people I work with think he’s got a good shot.”
“Yeah,” I said with a casual tone.
Caressing my hand, he said, “Then please be careful. The more he gains in the polls, the more danger he’s in.”
“He’s already had some death threats,” I said, taking my hand out of Max’s. “But don’t worry—I know how to protect myself.”
I strode to the door and opened it. “Look, I really need to get some sleep. I think you should go now.”
Max took his time shuffling his feet toward the door. He tried to kiss me good night, but I turned from his lips. Then I nudged him out into the hallway.
Ten hours later, Max was walking me down the aisle of the church. The sanctuary was beautiful, all decked out with fresh orchids and long, glowing candles. The nearly one thousand guests in the pews smiled at us. I felt beautiful in my floor-length, form-fitting, wine-colored gown. The serious look in Max’s eyes when he appraised the way I looked told me he really did regret that I was no longer his.
“I meant everything I said earlier, you know,” he mumbled.
I simply squeezed his arm, letting him know I felt something, too, but now wasn’t the time. When we reached the altar, I gave Chyna a warning look. She kept herself in line, and the wedding went off without a hitch. Eden was a beautiful bride. The tears she and Dion shed at the altar made it clear they were a match. I only hoped it was one made in heaven.
Near the end of the ceremony, the bride and groom had their attendants surround them in prayer. I did hope that for their sakes, God would bless their union forever. Though I was happy for Eden, I was worried about Dion’s drinking. I just wanted the best for her.
The bridal party was shuttled to the reception in limos. Eden’s mom had elegant taste and it showed in the lovely, upscale Beaux Twenty Club dining room she chose for the reception. There were about one hundred round tables, each with two white silk tablecloths layered one on top of the other. The ten chairs at every table were also covered in white silk, and the floral arrangements and candles created a scene out of the pages of Southern Homes & Gardens.
“I love you, Christian,” Eden said to me as we stood near the band. “You’ve been a great maid of honor.”
“Yeah, right.” I chuckled. “I didn’t even make it to the bridal shower.”
“But you helped out so much over the phone, especially with your advice about how to handle all the pressure. Nothing’s stealing my joy.” However, she looked away as if her joy was stolen.
I grabbed the hand she wasn’t using to hold her bouquet. “Tell me what’s got you upset. You know you can handle the honeymoon, girl.” I tried to lighten her mood.
She gave me a big hug and and I felt her shaking. What was my best friend not saying? What didn’t I know? As she squeezed my shoulder, I sensed a bit of fear.
“What’s the matter?”
She let go and shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle it.”
The wedding coordinator called, “Mr. and Mrs. Jones—to the floor, please. It’s time to throw the bouquet and garter.”
Eden turned to oblige the request. Before she could walk away, I got beside her and escorted her across the room. She wasn’t going to hint that Dion was beating her and then act as if she’d never said a word.
“Wait—is he abusive?” I asked.
“No,” she said unconvincingly, holding back tears. “Everything is fine.”
As quickly as she opened up, she shut down. Eden went over to her new husband, and he attentively helped her sit in her chair. I watched Dion’s every movement, trying to see what was really up with him. Realizing he was on his best behavior in front of the crowd, I only hoped Eden wasn’t in danger, that whatever the situation was, it wasn’t what I was imagining.
As the reception got into full swing, I filled a plate from the buffet of chicken wings, shrimp cocktail, and dinner rolls, grabbed a glass of red punch, and found an empty table in a back corner where I could watch the other guests.
Within a few minutes, Max approached my table. “So, you didn’t try to catch the bouquet?”
“Not today,” I teased, motioning for him to sit.
He nodded and took the chair beside me. “So can we at least go out after this and really get the party started?” His eyes smiled into mine.
“I don’t think so,” I said, popping a shrimp into my mouth.
??
?Come on, say yes,” he said as he ran his hand up my back.
I took a sip of punch, keeping my focus on everything but him. He was making something in me respond to all the attention. From the corner of my eye, I noticed he was checking me out. I scooted my chair away from him.
He leaned back. “Okay, I get the hint.” He reached in his wallet and gave me one of his business cards. “I know you’re real busy with your job and all, but next time you come through New York, call me and at least let me take you to dinner.”
“Why, Max?”
“I’ve been telling you why since this morning.” He placed his hand close to mine on the table. “One day I’m gonna get you back, my lady.” He moved his hand enough to touch my fingers.
That was my cue to leave. I couldn’t let Max back in. By the time I got to my hotel room, I had resolved not to waste another minute of my time thinking about Max Cross. Instead, I focused on my new assignment.
I headed to my mom’s house as soon as I got back in town from the wedding. I loved November in D.C. The leaves were a myriad of reds, browns, yellows, and oranges. There was a slight chill in the air and sometimes a few snowflakes would fall from the sky. It looked like one of the paintings in the living room of my mother’s house.
It was nice to be going home, and I was all the more relieved to know I wasn’t pregnant. I’d taken a test the night before leaving Texas—I was still wondering why my cycle hadn’t come yet. I hoped I hadn’t taken the test too soon.
When I entered my mother’s newly renovated, two-bedroom home, I knew my mom wasn’t home. Her car wasn’t in the drive. There was, however, a black low rider parked outside. My fifteen-year-old sister was supposed to be at school, but when I heard moans coming from her bedroom door, I knew she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. I immediately threw my purse and keys down on the leather chair in the nearby living room.
After pounding on the door, I roared, “Crystal—girl, get out here!”