What the Heart Wants Page 12

  He’s a gentleman.

  She smiled as she recalled what he’d done when they’d left the restaurant—more because the place was going to close than a desire to go back to their individual lives.

  After a goodbye hug, they’d parted ways. Then, Cameron had sent her a text, asking her to promise that she’d let him know when she got home safely.

  We connected that night. There’s no denying it. Maybe he’s changed his mind, though? Maybe he got what he needed and just wants to move on with his life? Certainly I’d have to respect that.

  But he held me in his arms for such a long time, much longer than what was needed.

  Life went on, though, and that dinner wasn’t the only thing on her mind.

  She sighed as she closed her eyes and grimaced.

  Dad. Shit.

  The true heart of a woman was her intent. But which woman? Brooke or Emily?

  I can’t tell him about what’s going on, even though I’d like to. I definitely can’t tell my friends, either. They’d have the same reaction as Dad…actually, much worse. I’ve been avoiding everyone. People have been asking too many questions. But what could I possibly tell them? “Oh, guess what? I think that heart I got is controlling my thinking and desires, now I do the same crap that the donor did when she was still alive.” I even like dogs now and eggplant and here’s the cherry on top: I’m a bigot. Yeah, that’s not new, but I just realized this about myself, so that means I must have racist friends, too. Cool, huh? YIIPPPEEEE.

  She rolled her eyes at her thoughts, then lowered her head, trying to figure out how in the hell this had happened, and why her? Why not? She picked up her phone and clicked on the number she wanted.

  I’m going to call my father and just try my best to explain what’s going on.

  But then she hung up.

  She winced each and every time she thought about that tense conversation with him.

  It was ugly and raw.

  She’d bumped heads with her father at times, but never to that degree. Never had she sunk her fangs into him that way. She worshiped her father, but she’d gone at him like some ravenous lion galloping after an antelope. More importantly, the topic of conversation was one that stained her mind like a bottle of spilled red wine, and she was intoxicated with the aftermath, never becoming fully sober. She sometimes lay in bed thinking about her feelings regarding such matters.

  Why do I automatically vote the way I do? I never even review the Democratic ticket. I don’t even do any research for it at all. I just assume that each and every one of them is a bleeding liberal out to destroy the foundation of this country. Does conservatism equal racism, or is it like Dad said, they are independent of each other? Is there no correlation between the two and I’m now relying on stereotypes to find my way? Why was I so upset about some of the NFL players’ national anthem protests but didn’t feel as outraged about the alleged ruthlessness from police officers against people of color that fueled those actions in the first place? Why did I not read the article about police brutality in the newspaper that time? It was right there on the front page. Instead, I flipped past it and read about a new art exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

  Why do I cross the street if I see a bunch of Black guys, or wait for the next elevator if one of them is on there, alone? Why is it that when I see a Hispanic or Black young woman with children, I automatically think she is on public assistance, taking my tax dollars while she pumps out more kids she can’t take care of because the system is rigged to reward her being a baby factory? I do in fact believe the system is flawed, but that doesn’t mean every young woman fitting that description is actually on welfare. Why do I do that? How does that benefit me? What does that say about me as a person?

  There were so many damn questions, ones that bothered and haunted her now, like the matter of her heart.

  She couldn’t explain why it didn’t feel right anymore being in the skin she was in, and she wasn’t even certain what exactly was wrong with her thought patterns in all instances, either. Perhaps taking them on a case-by-case, individual basis would be best, but they suddenly felt wrong now, as if they needed to be examined to the fullest.

  I’m driving myself crazy with this. It’s an obsession. None of this is helping.

  She took a sip of her coffee and ran her fingers through her hair.

  I can’t stop, though. I have to figure this out. I have to make it make sense. Who am I kidding? It’ll never make sense.

  Fact was, examining them would be tantamount to admitting she’d been wrong. A fall from grace.

  I should probably call my father back and this time not hang up. Apologize to him. I hate apologizing, but if I want my job back anytime soon, it’s probably the smart thing to do.

  Since their verbal altercation, every time she’d spoken to him he seemed friendly enough, but there was definitely tension between them that she wasn’t certain would be bridged anytime soon. After taking another sip of her coffee, she placed it down on the clear desk next to her computer and googled more photos of Brooke.

  Her lips curled in appreciation as she studied her features.

  She liked looking at her, studying her qualities.

  Her wild, curly, dark brown hair was like a mass of soft coils, or at least she imagined they were soft. Her skin looked extremely smooth, practically blemish free, and her full lips were often covered in sheer or neutral lipsticks. The singer’s sense of style was rather unique, though she’d seemed partial to shades of green, accented with gold. She favored draped clothing that only allowed a shoulder or a sliver of her taut stomach to be exposed. She wore wooden jewelry, large earrings—often hoops—and an interesting collection of rings and sandals, and wedge or bedazzled high heels. She was a beautiful woman, there was simply no denying that. Her smile belied both kindness and wisdom. She looked younger than her years, but her eyes held the secrets of a million lives, decades upon decades of civilizations.

  Emily turned on some soothing classical violin music as she continued to look at the pictures on the screen.

  After a few minutes, she let out a blood-curdling scream, almost falling back in her chair. Scrambling to stand, she looked down at her computer, but the problem was no longer there, or had it been there at all? The picture she was looking at was Brooke in a park, leaning against a large stone. Her hair was flowing, and she wore a dark brown crop top and baggy dark brown and gold printed pants, paired with a taupe pair of sandals. Fashion aside, Emily could’ve sworn that Brooke had just winked at her and smiled. It wasn’t a video but a photo, one of her favorites that she’d saved.

  I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.

  She shut the computer down, climbed into bed, and plumped her pillow. She prayed for plummy thoughts and visions, pleasant dreams. Perhaps some much-needed sleep would be the magic cure to her sudden bout of hallucinations. Yet somehow, some way, she knew that Brooke was tapping on her shoulder, trying to get her attention once again, and closing her eyes would not be the means to tune her out.

  *

  Cameron stood facing the stage in his navy-blue blazer, a trail of sweat meandering down the side of his neck. After swiping the sweat away with a cocktail napkin, he tossed it in the trash and cursed under his breath, taking note of the time on his watch. The air-conditioning was on the fritz in the club, and Cameron had grabbed every industrial fan he could find and placed each one in a strategic position about the place before patrons started to flood the doors with their dancing shoes and snapping fingers. The DJ was just then setting up.

  “What tha fuck? It’s hot as hell up in here, man. You gotta do somethin’, Cameron,” one of his employees called out before disappearing into a back room, a scowl on his face.

  “Really, Lamar? Thank you for telling me that. I would’ve never known had it not been for your extensive knowledge and infinite wisdom. You think I’ve been standing here doin’ a two-step, huh? Out here whistlin’ love songs and slicing up pickles for tiny picnic sandwi
ches or some shit, having a good ol’ time?” He watched the guy walk farther and farther away, ignoring him.

  “I can’t work in this heat,” someone else called out.

  He felt ganged up on, and his temper flared.

  “You think I’m standing here living my best life? What the hell is wrong with you people? I’ve been trying to get it fixed.” Cameron muttered a few more curses before he snatched his phone out of his pocket and dialed the heating and cooling company again, but only got the voicemail.

  “Yo, this is Cameron Davis at the 6th Dimension Club, man. Someone was supposed to be here two hours ago. I have a full house coming tonight and it’s hotter than the crack of the Devil’s ass, so if you don’t mind, I need someone here like you said you’d be. This is my last call, and if someone isn’t here in thirty minutes to fix this shit, then I am calling an emergency number that’s going to cost me an arm and a leg and then I am going to leave a bad review for y’all on Yelp, Angie’s List, all that shit. This is completely unprofessional. If someone is running literally hours late, then they need to call. Period. You’re playin’ with my time and money, and I don’t take that lightly.”

  He angrily hit the END button, snatched his blazer off, and cast it on the stage before making his way to the empty bar. Sade’s music played in the background, mocking his uncool, uncalm, and uncollected mood.

  I need to change the name of the club to SAD—Sweaty Ass Draws.

  “Hi.”

  He spun around and met eyes with Emily. She sported a white button-down shirt and form-fitting black slacks. White-and-black polka-dot heels with ankle straps were adorned with a small silver buckle. They looked fun and sexy at the same time.

  “Oh…hi.” He gave a slight smile as confusion reigned. “It’s uh, it’s nice to see you. What are you doing here?”

  She made herself comfortable at a nearby table.

  “Just thought I’d check out this place.” She began to rummage through her purse. “I read about it. Great reviews.” She then pulled out a small, electric handheld fan and he couldn’t help but snicker. She turned it on, and he could hear the little buzzing sound. Drawing closer, he looked down at her. “But no one mentioned that it was hotter than a cat on a tin roof in their review.”

  He chuckled and clasped his forehead.

  “It’s not usually like this. I thought you told me that you were born and raised in New York?” He pulled out a chair and sat across from her, elbows on the table.

  “I was.”

  “Then how would you know about that saying, ‘hotter than a cat on a tin roof’? That’s a Southern saying.”

  “Must’ve heard it from somewhere.” She smiled and shrugged.

  “Let me get you an ice cold glass of water.” He returned moments later and placed the glass before her, garnished with a thin slice of lemon.

  “Thank you, Cameron.” She quickly placed her fan down and took a big gulp.

  “You’re more than welcome.”

  “Anyway, so what do you have planned tonight?” She looked around the place, then back at him. “Being Saturday, I am stunned that your establishment feels like this. Going for a Texas theme?” He snickered. “Today is unseasonably hot. We’re in the fall after all, but hey, maybe you miss the summer. I recommend some blow-up beach balls and a sand pit,” she teased.

  “Nah, this definitely wasn’t planned. I’ve actually been waiting for a repair guy to come out, but he stood me up. This sucks. I know people are going to be complaining, and rightfully so.” He shrugged. “I might have to run downtown and get some more air conditioners, box fans, as many as I can and put them all over the place.”

  “You’ll just be blowing hot air.” She whipped out her phone.

  “Funny, I’ve been accused of that before.”

  They both had a good laugh at that. She leaned back in her seat and crossed her long legs.

  “Hi James, it’s Emily Windsor. Yes. I’d love that.” She laughed gayly as she looked up at the ceiling, exaggerated mirth in her eyes. “Look, I have a bit of an issue. I have a friend whose bar had the central air-conditioning go out. I know it’s late notice and you’ve closed at noon, that’s why I’ve called you at home, but he’s got a big show tonight and it would be a true shame to have his patrons sweltering in this ungodly heat. Umm, hmm, of course. It’s called the 6th Dimension. Yeah, mmm hmmm. I don’t think it’s more than twenty-five minutes from your apartment, actually, if memory serves me correctly…Oh yes, that makes sense.”

  Emily began to swing her leg back and forth as she toyed with the thin silver chain around her long neck. “Can you swing by in the next, I don’t know, thirty to forty minutes, tops? He’s really short on time and this is an emergency.” She glanced down at her watch. “I understand. I’ll pass that on to the owner. Okay, beautiful. Yes. I owe you one. Kisses to Pam and the little ones.”

  She disconnected the call and gave him a pleased as pudding grin. “In thirty minutes, either James himself or one of his technicians will be here to take a look. If it’s simple, he’ll get you up and running. If it’s complicated to the point that parts need to be ordered, then he may be able to do a patch job if possible, but they’ll need to see what the problem is before they can say either way.”

  “Look at you working magic. You are amazing. Thank you so very much.” He smiled wide and adjusted himself in his seat. Finally, he just may get some results.

  “Am I the GOAT?” Cameron cackled at her question. “See? I remembered.”

  She laughed as she turned her handheld fan off.

  “Yes, you did, and yeah, that’s a goat move for sure. So uh, you just happen to know AC repair people who will drop whatever it is for you like that, huh?” He steepled his fingers and crossed his ankles.

  “Don’t give me more credit than I deserve.” She smiled coyly as she placed her fan back inside her purse. “I used to date his brother many years ago.” She rolled her eyes as if the mere memory made her nauseated. “So, after Chase and I were done and over, his brother and I remained friends. In fact, I remained friends with his entire family. James needed a loan for his company a few years back, but no one would help out. So, I sat him down and gave him some free advice, a consultation if you will. I told him exactly what to say to the bank he had an appointment with the following week and what papers to take so he’d get approved right then and there.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, and it doesn’t have shit to do with the story, obviously, but why did you and Chase break up?”

  “My tryst with the two-timing slime ball sibling was ridiculous. I can handle a lot of things, Cameron, and I’m not unreasonable. Relationships have ups and downs, they ebb and flow, I get it, but cheating? No.” She shook her head. “That’s totally disrespectful and I will never tolerate it. In fact, any woman who does is weak. There are too many fish in the sea to keep chasing the one that’s swimming after all the shit-eating, bottom-feeder catfish. I tell my single but looking friends to find themselves a shark and live happily ever after. At least a shark will eat you right.”

  “Ouch.” He grinned, enjoying the banter. Emily was no softie, that was for sure.

  She shrugged. “I call it as I see it. Anyway, James is a great man and thanks me for helping him in his time of need, so, as they say, he’s just paying it forward, I suppose. Well, I know you’re busy. I won’t keep you.” She got to her feet and placed her purse across her shoulder.

  “Oh.” He stood slowly and pushed his chair in. “You’re leaving so soon? I was hoping you’d stay and hear some of the talent tonight. You could even call a few of your friends to come through. Drinks on the house for them. Hey.” He eagerly snapped his fingers. “I know. Maybe you’d like to sing tonight.”

  She shook her head, her face pale as if she’d seen a ghost and began to make her way to the door.

  “No way, Cameron. In front of all of these people? Anyway, I got what I needed. I just wanted to see your business and you too. It’s really nice,
and so are you.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “You have a great night, okay? James is very reliable, so I trust you won’t have any problems. If you do, give me a call. I always have a plan B.”

  “Wait, Emily.”

  She threw him a glance from over her shoulder.

  “Yes?”

  “Did Brooke wanna come down here to see me, or you?”

  Emily looked at him long and hard for a while. “It was me I suppose this time.” Her feet turned a bit inward, as if a case of nerves was overcoming her. “It was maybe my intuition that you needed help, who knows? I don’t feel she had anything to do with it, or it could be wishful thinking on my part. I’m not sure any of that matters anymore.” She turned to leave once again.

  “Emily, hold up. What’s your schedule like next weekend, on Saturday?”

  “My father fired me. Well…” She smirked. “He told me I can’t come back yet until he believes my heart can take it, so, in other words, I’m a free agent.” She crossed her arms. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Let’s get together Saturday around two. I’ve got a speaking engagement at the Weeksville Heritage Center. I’d love for you to come. Maybe we can do something afterward. A play? Movie? We can figure that out later.”

  “I’ve never heard of the Weeksville Heritage Center before. Sure, I’ll come.” Her cheeks bloomed with color.

  “Good.” He waved to her as he took several steps backward, motioning toward the exit. “Thanks for comin’ down, good looking out.” He smiled wider than he wanted to, but he couldn’t help it. “I’ll call you.”