Bittersweet Chocolate (3 page)

In Philadelphia, quite a few people didn’t own cars. The transportation system was more than adequate. Bus stops were within easy walking distance to homes, the routes connected in one way or another, intersecting the subway, elevated trains, and commuter trains. Moreover, public transportation was cheaper than gas and parking fees.

The threesome walked along Diamond Street to Broad Street without incident. She attributed their calm passage through the Avenue’s domain to winter temperatures.

Crossing Broad Street put her on Camac and Diamond turf, and for all her outward bravado, she did have a few qualms about traversing that particular boundary. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if members of C and D took exception to her coming into their territory. Lord knows, she hoped Brad had as much control over his gang as she’d heard.

She didn’t want a gang war started over her―
damn,
the girlfriends. She was an unknown; they might see her as a challenge, and what a hell of a time to think about that.

They turned off Diamond onto Park Avenue. Marissa looked around in surprise. Her mother had grown up on this side of town when the tall imposing three-story row houses were single-family homes. Most were now multi-apartment buildings.

Climbing the steep front steps of the designated house, Brad opened the outer door, and they stepped into a vestibule with a black-and-white tiled floor. There was a bank of mailboxes built into one wall, and a row of doorbell buttons beneath them. The setting reminded her of the old movies she watched, and she wondered if these buildings had those metal fire escapes at the back like in the films.

She snapped out of her rumination when she heard the muted, rhythmic sound of music. Pulse throbbing to the beat, she faded into her own world, until Brad’s voice intruded into her space.

“If anybody gives you trouble, let them know you’re with me.”

She nodded. Not a clue if she’d heard the entire content of his conversation, but she agreed because she thought Brad expected it.

He pressed one of the buttons and she heard the faint sound of a buzzer, then the metallic click of the latch on the glass-paneled doors. Pushing against the heavy door, he held it open. She and Darien passed through, Brad released his hold, and she watched, fascinated, as the door closed and locked automatically.

Smiling, she turned around and the tall imposing figure of Alex Stamford waited to greet them at the door of the first-floor apartment. Nicknamed Pookie, it was Alex’s party. She’d never met him before, but Darien had told her about most of the guys in the gang. He took their coats and directed them down a hallway toward the back of the apartment.

Marissa moved along the dimly lit corridor, peering into darkened rooms as she went. For an apartment, the rooms were large and spacious. She reached the back room and came to an abrupt stop on the threshold. Used at parties to set the mood, red, blue, and green lights shrouded the room in a neon glow. The lights had the desired effect, until a narrow beacon of white light from a partially opened door spoiled the ambiance. But what held her enthralled and motionless in the entryway was the amount of people crammed into the room. Some dancing, while others sat talking, drinks in hand.

“What will you have to drink?” Alex asked close to her ear.

Turning, her gaze swept over his husky frame before she answered. “I’d like a ginger ale, if you have it.” She didn’t miss the way Alex stared at her, and not one for shyness, she returned his look. He was cute, but Brad’s age, and contrary to what Brittany thought, after her foolish association with Matthew, she’d take a rain check on another old head hookup.

“Coke for me,” Darien said.

“I see you brought a couple of lightweights, Boo.”

Smile forced, Brad said, “Watch it, Pookie. Darien and Marissa are my cousins, only sixteen, and I’d be pissed if anything happened to them. Understood?” Alex held Brad’s hard gaze for several seconds, then nodded and moved away.

Brad turned to both girls. “I’m going to mingle, enjoy, and stay out of trouble, especially you, Marissa. Call out if you need me.” He wandered off.

Hands on her hips, she frowned. “Why did he single me out? Like you’re Miss Innocence?” Darien giggled and Marissa sighed. “Let’s find some seats.” It wasn’t long before Alex found them, gave them their sodas, and hastened away.

Marissa tuned into the music, tapping her foot while she watched the dancers, but she wasn’t so far out of it she didn’t notice the tall, good-looking man approach. He introduced himself as Dan, asked Darien to dance, she accepted, and the couple walked to the dance area. Left alone, she made herself more comfortable and drifted back into the rhythm of the music.

It wasn’t long after Darien’s departure that she had the distinct impression of someone watching her. Looking around, but unable to make out any discernible features, she gaffed it off, thinking Alex watched her from somewhere in the room.

Hmm, not bad.

She’d imagined all gangs had drunken, rowdy parties like the ones she’d witnessed the few times she’d hung out with the gang she’d joined. Oh yeah, during one of her stupid periods, she had joined the 30th & Norris streets gang. It had been a lark, and challenge, to see if she could endure the process. She’d had to go outside of Valley territory to do it, because Frank refused to let her join his crew.

In most gangs, hierarchy for males and females consists of four factions. Old heads are twenty-one and older. Seniors are eighteen to twenty. Juniors are fourteen to seventeen. Midgets are ten to thirteen, and an ever present younger than ten is a runner, a wannabe. To prove herself, she’d had to fight six female members, the best from each group, except the wannabes.

She snorted. Fight. A novel term, considering what she’d had to endure had been down and dirty―boxing. There had been few restrictions. Kudos to Frank, for his years of tutelage had paid off.

Her affiliation with 30th and Norris didn’t last. It became too much of a hassle with her cousin and friends razzing her about belonging to such a chicken-shit gang. But she’d gone to a few of their parties that weren’t anything like this one. She hadn’t expected gangs on this side of town to be so urbane, and wasn’t her snobbery showing, or—flinching, she jerked back.

Hand extended, a tall attractive guy stood in front of her. Mouth moving, he was speaking, but it was an effort to focus on what he was saying because he kept smiling. And
daa-yamn,
what a smile. Eyes wide, lips parted, she couldn’t take her gaze off him. How had he managed to get so close without her noticing?

“Want to dance?”

Unable to look away, she reacted and reached for his hand. Warm touch, deep sexy voice—
damn it, slow dance.
Her mind flashed back to silly childish memories of sweaty palms, sweaty faces,
eww.
Already on her feet, she mentally kicked herself for her distraction. Intending to pull back and apologize, her gaze strafed his body, and a shiver of excitement vibrated through hers. All right, for him, she’d tolerate the ick factor.

She went into his arms, and they had started moving to the music before he spoke again.

“Hello, I’m Joel Raines.

Ooo, so formal.

“Hello, I’m Marissa Wells.” She tried to match his formality without laughing.

“Marissa.” He said her name as though savoring the sound of it. “I like.”

“Yeah, I-me too...like it.” Laughter erupted out of her and he grinned.
Damn, he’s cute.
“Are you with them?”

“By them, you mean part of the gang?”

“Yes.”

“Well, yeah. Does that bother you?”

She snorted. “Not likely.”

“Oh, I guess this environment isn’t new to you, yet I’ve never seen you around here. Where are you from?”

“Valley, but I don’t belong, and had to go outside to join 30th & Norris.” Anyone familiar with North Philly gang structure would recognize both gangs. Valley, her neighborhood gang encompassed several areas, making it the largest gang in North Philly. The gang she had joined was on the fringes of her home territory.

Joel whistled. “They let you come over to this side of town?”

“Let me? They couldn’t stop me. I don’t
belong
to them. I grew up with the guys, I’m like a kid sister, and as long as I don’t get hurt...” Eyes hooded, he glanced down at her, expression enigmatic, and she shrugged. They completed the dance in silence and he walked her back to her seat and walked away.

“Whoa, who was that?”

Marissa frowned. “You don’t know him?”

“
Nooo,
he must be new to the gang.” Openmouthed, Darien peered into the darkness for a few seconds then inquired, “So who is he?”

“Close your mouth, Darien. His name is Joel, and he’s taken.”

“By whom,” Darien remarked.

Marissa grinned.

“Okay, you saw him first. I’ll back off, for now. But fair warning, if you don’t keep him on a short leash, I’ll be on him in a hot minute.” Darien wiggled her eyebrows and giggled. “What do you know about him?”

“Only his name.”

“Huh, losing your touch?”

“We’ve only had one dance, give me time.”

Marissa glanced around the room and saw Joel propped against the nearby wall, staring in her direction, trying to give the appearance of casual observance. Another slow song began and she watched him approach, and took the opportunity to assess his physical attributes, marveling at her distraction the first time.

A bit taller than her, maybe five-ten, five-eleven, with a short, probably soft curly afro, and judging by the fit of his sport coat, he had broad shoulders. Said coat partially hid other contours of his upper body, but she caught glimpses of well-defined pecs bulging against the soft material of his t-shirt. Dungarees encased long legs, narrow hips, and a trim waist, and the sexy way he walked drew her attention to the slight bulge―hell. Heat strafed her cheeks when she realized where her interested gaze had strayed.

“Dance?”

Reluctantly, she dragged her eyes up to his face, stood, and walked into his arms, anticipation palpable. While they danced, she examined his features, noting his facial structure seemed more Caucasian than Negro. He had a mustache, but it didn’t disguise the fact his top lip was almost nonexistent, his bottom lip thin and firm, and his nose had a narrow bridge. His caramel-colored skin was a shade lighter than hers, and she wondered if he was of mixed heritage.

Joel must have sensed her scrutiny. After maneuvering a turn in the dance, he looked down at her as a flash of bright light illuminated his features. Breathing hiccup, she missed a step.

“What’s the matter?”

She didn’t respond, simply frowned up at him until the music ended, then she pulled away and hurried back to her seat next to Darien.

“Marissa, what happened? I saw you pull away, did he get out of line―Marissa!”

Taken aback by her discovery, she stared blindly at Darien for several seconds. Then she whispered, “His eyes...”

“What about them?”

“He has blue eyes.”

“What! Get out of here.”

“Blue eyes, Darien.”

“You’re lying. Colored people don’t have blue eyes.”

“Well, he’s a Negro, and he has blue eyes.”

“I don’t believe it. They’re probably hazel, he has light skin―you’re kidding.” Marissa kept nodding her head. “You have got to be joking.”

“It threw me for a moment. But just because we’ve never seen or heard talk about Negroes with blue eyes, I’m sure it’s possible. Though not a regular occurrence or the old folkes would have talked about it like the person had been cursed,” Marissa stated. “Besides, his skin isn’t as light as yours, and only a shade lighter than mine. Check it out for yourself. Here he comes.”

Joel stopped in front of them, and Darien, who never tried to feign discretion, blurted out, “Do you have blue eyes?”

Joel released his breath on a forced sigh. “Yes, I do. No, neither parent is white.”

Marissa nudged her friend until Darien stood and peered closely at Joel’s face before walking away. Marissa turned back to him. “Sorry about that. I was surprised.”

“No problem, I should be used to it by now,” he admitted, then quickly changed the subject. “Who did you come with?” Marissa simply stared, forcing him to clarify his question. “You and your inquisitive friend must be here with a member of the gang. Who―”

“Oh yeah, we came with Brad, my friend’s cousin.”

“Hmm, Boo.” He nodded. “Tell him I’ll walk you home. Or do you want me to tell him?”

“No, I’ll tell him,” she responded, regarding him with narrow-eyed speculation.

Who said she wanted him to walk her home? His arrogant assumption...usually, she would have taken offense, but he intrigued her. There was something about him, not just the blue eyes, even though they held a certain fascination. No, something else about him, she couldn’t put a name...a chill of apprehension swept her body...
whoa,
cue the
Twilight Zone
theme.

Shaking her head, she dismissed that brief sense of disquiet. Probably nothing more than her spooky sixth sense trying to raise its ugly. That’s what Brittany always said, and Marissa always ignored it then, as she chose to do now. She went looking for Brad.

“Boo, tell me about Joel? You know him, don’t you? He wants to walk me home. Will that be okay?”

“Hey, slow down, one question at a time.” Brad chuckled. “I guess Joel’s okay. He’s been in the gang for a couple of years. We’re not close, he hangs with the younger members, but most of the time he’s pretty much a loner. Did I cover everything?”

“Yes, mister smart ass. I think you’ve covered the vital issues, thank you.” Marissa rolled her eyes, started to turn away, but Brad’s next words made her pause and look back.

“Go straight home, Marissa. I’m responsible for you tonight, don’t cause me any grief.”

“Don’t worry about me, Brad.”

“You...worried about you? I’m worried about Joel.”

“Funny, Brad.” She stuck out her tongue and sauntered back to where Joel waited. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Where’s your coat?”

“Alex put it in the hall closet.” They retrieved their coats and left.