Flamingo Place (Mills & Boon Kimani) (15 page)

“Y
ou
get a response from that man we think is D’Dawg?” Chere huffed as she pedaled the stationary bike. They were at Flamingo Place’s gym, seated on bikes next to each other.

Chere had asked Jen if she would let her use one of her visitor’s passes. She claimed she wanted to look around as she was considering joining a gym. Something or someone had prompted her to put forth the effort because out of the blue she was making a concerted effort to work on her weight. What was up with that? It hadn’t seemed to matter before. Chere
always proudly referred to herself as having big beautiful curves. Her men seemed to like her that way.

“Haven’t heard a word,” Jen admitted, pedaling furiously. “You think his mama told him I responded?”

“Hard to say.”

It bothered Jen that she had not heard word one from Tre ever since their passionate evening together. True, she had no hold on him. They didn’t even have an understanding, but it was still troubling that she hadn’t seen or heard from him. She’d already resolved it in her mind that if it was to be a onetime thing, at least she would have good memories.

“So why are you suddenly on this exercise kick?” she asked Chere after they switched to treadmills and Chere began a leisurely stroll on hers while Jen jogged.

“You inspire me,” Chere said sincerely. “I want to get into one of those cute little outfits you wear out. I want to look like her.” She pointed to the Latin woman, Jen recognized as the Pink Flamingo’s hostess. She was using the stepper while talking to a man Jen thought might be the restaurant’s manager. “I need to find me a professional man.”

“How about a nice guy, just someone who treats you decently?”

“I’ll settle for employed and one who’s not paying his ex an arm and a leg in alimony or child support.”

They
high-fived each other and giggled.

“Well, it’s nice to see you ladies making use of the facilities,” a male voice said from in front of them.

Jen smiled brightly and waved at Quen Abraham the health-club manager. He looked especially fit outfitted in his black T-shirt and khaki shorts. He carried a clipboard under one arm.

“Hey, Quen, you know a good personal trainer?” Chere yelled.

Quen stopped and turned back. “As a matter of fact I know several. Is it for you?”

Chere nodded. She’d poured herself into Lycra capris and a sports bra she had no business wearing.

“Normally I don’t do this, but I can make an exception. I’d work with you.”

Chere shut off the machine and hurried over to make her negotiations. Several minutes later she returned looking pleased.

“Quen’s letting me join the gym at the residents’ price. He’s also going to work with me three times a week.”

“That’s wonderful,” Jen said warmly.

Later, showered and dressed, Jen retrieved the messages on her cell phone. One was from her boss, Luis. He wanted her to call the office immediately. Jen wondered what could be so urgent. Things had been
relatively quiet now that the whole issue of “queer” had been resolved. She left Chere reading and cataloging and went into her bedroom to return the call.

Big mistake. The memories of her and Tre’s love-making were still very fresh and, as much as she’d tried to put it all behind her, she had to admit she’d developed feelings for the man.

Now she concentrated on what Luis was saying. “I got a call from WARP’s program director. He’d like to set up a radio debate between you and Doctor Love.”

“You mean Doctor Allen Fraser.”

“Exactly.
The Southern Tribune’
s raring to get you both on. They figure the PR will do them good, and I don’t think it will hurt us, either.”

“When is this debate supposed to be?”

“Primetime of course. Midweek, probably Wednesday, on the D’Dawg show.”

Like she didn’t have that one figured.

“We’ll do this remotely like the last time. I’ll call into WARP?” Jen asked.

“Well, actually no, the host wants you both to come down to the station.”

That just couldn’t happen. She needed to get out of this somehow.

“Why? That’s so inconvenient.”

“The program director mentioned something
about having you react to each other’s comments face-to-face.”

“I’d prefer to call in to the radio station,” Jen insisted. “I’m already behind with two upcoming columns. This will set me back even more.”

“You’ll manage,” Luis said, “You always do.”

And that was that. Now her cover was in danger of being blown.

She disconnected and returned to the living area to find Chere still at her desk. So far she had not been sidetracked by Jen’s kitchen or refrigerator. Chere was taking this business of getting into shape seriously. There had to be some particular reason. Jen strongly suspected it was because of a man.

Making a mental note to call the management office later, to let them know she might be interested in purchasing the apartment, Jen sat back down and involved herself in her work.

“Boris wants to see you,” Bill said the moment Tre set down his bulging backpack holding the everpresent assortment of CDs.

Tre scrunched up his nose. “What does he want?”

“Who knows? I don’t think he’s on the warpath. He’s actually been in a pretty good mood this evening.”

Then
it could be almost anything. Tre had shown up early at the radio station determined to have time to research his upcoming guests. He wanted to know more about this “love doctor,” and what made him a specialist on relationships. He also meant to find out everything he could about
Dear Jenna.
No point in having an on-air debate unless you were prepared to ask some uncomfortable questions. This broadcast was going to rock.

Boris had his feet propped up on his desk when Tre entered. His hands were folded under his chin.

“Hey, you,” he greeted.

“What’s up?” Tre flopped down in the seat facing Boris and waited.

“I wanted you to be the first to know WARP will most likely be sold.”

Tre was on his feet. “What? None of us had any warning of this.”

“It was unexpected and an offer only a damn fool would refuse.”

“What does this mean for me?” Tre asked.

“You’re one of the lucky ones. You’ve got a great following and with the recent controversy, your ratings have gone right through the roof. You have nothing to worry about.”

Tre inwardly heaved a sigh of relief, privately
thinking it was time to get word out on the street he was looking for a job. New management often meant uncomfortable changes. For the most part, he and Boris got along; but who knew what these new owners would be like?

Boris removed his feet from the console and stood up, signaling the audience was over. “I’ll be calling a staff meeting shortly. Until then I would like you to keep this under your hat.”

“Sure thing,” Tre said, turning away.

In the few minutes that the meeting had taken he’d been given a lot to consider. He was smack in the middle of negotiating buying his apartment and he’d involved himself with his next-door neighbor whom he’d not reached out to since that night. He needed a little space and time to think.

He would put Jen out of his head and focus on the impending radio interview with Miriam Young. He’d worked hard to get the no-nonsense Flip-Flop Momma on, and the day before the election at that. This was one straightforward woman. She wasn’t about BS, she was about addressing issues and righting wrongs.

Bill signaled. “Five minutes and you’re on the air.”

This gave Tre just a few seconds to scrutinize his notes. He was off and running.

“Yo, Flamingo
Beach. D’Dawg’s on the air bringing you some of your favorite tunes this evening. We have live from our little downtown area, Miriam Young, who many of you think is your new mayor. Or was that Mayoress?” He paused, looking to Bill for help. “I’m told Mayor is politically correct, y’all. Anyway, this Flip-Flop Momma’s not one to flip-flop on issues as the incumbent suggests. In half an hour or so we’ll hear where this frank outspoken lady stands. And of course we’re here to take your calls.”

Tre pushed a button on the console and broke for commercials. Something felt off tonight. He attributed it to not knowing what to do about Jen.

But something clearly needed to be done before his mother took matters into her own hands.

I
t was an
odd hour of the morning for Jen’s phone to ring. Most people would assume she was at work, not working out of the house. She was tempted to ignore it. Anyone Jen knew would reach her on her cell phone.

Today glancing at her caller ID wasn’t helping, either. It flashed “blocked call.” Totally useless. Still, something prompted Jen to answer.

“Hello.”

“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” the familiar voice said. “How is the most beautiful woman in the world?”

“Ellis!” Jen
screamed. “It’s been too long. Where are you?”

“Back in Paris. Jacques and I are simply exhausted. We trekked all over Spain and through Italy. Now we need a vacation after the vacation.”

“I almost didn’t answer,” Jen admitted. “At this hour I’m usually bombarded with telemarketing calls, but I’m glad I did.”

“Well, I’m glad you did, too,” her brother answered, his delight at hearing her voice coming across the airwaves. “Jacques and I worry about you, especially after what that jerk did. He’ll get his, I promise.”

“Don’t waste your energy on Anderson. I’m over him, fully recovered and moved on.”

“Good. I never did like the sound of him. So there must be someone new, tell your little brother.” Ellis must have picked up on something in her tone.

“Not exactly new,” Jen said carefully. “We’re exploring where we want to go with it.”

“In other words, mind my business. Haven’t I told you to move to Paris, the most romantic city in the world? The men here don’t play games. They go after what they want. There’s a substantial number of Algerians living here, not to mention the French men are crazy about African-American women.”

It
was an old conversation. Ellis the brother who’d had an even tougher time than she growing up, encouraging her to move to France where he felt comfortable and was fully accepted.

Ellis had been labeled the difficult child no foster family wanted. He and Jen had been split up more times than she cared to think about. What Ellis had been was confused about his sexuality and downright scared. They were two years apart and he’d loved playing with her dolls, grooming them meticulously and designing fashionable clothing for them to wear.

He’d been destined to be the successful designer he’d become. Ellis had been lucky to win a full scholarship to New York’s Fashion Institute of Technology, where he majored in lingerie design. He’d met Jacques, an exchange student, their senior year, and had moved with him to Paris after they graduated.

“Actually I like it here,” Jen admitted. “Flamingo Beach is quaint and charming. It’s such a southern town. The architecture is beautiful. Most of the homes have these wonderful gardens.”

“What about the people? How open-minded are they?”

Jen had to think about that carefully and the hubbub that had been caused over an unfortunate choice of words.

“Pretty
conservative,” she admitted.

“There, see? I rest my case. How about a visit then? I’ll send you a ticket.”

“I haven’t been working for
The Chronicle
long enough to get vacation,” she reminded Ellis.

“It would hardly kill them to give you a day off attached to a weekend. You mentioned in one of your many e-mails you spend some days working from home, so what does it matter whether you’re in Florida or not? As long as you have a computer you can deliver.”

So true, but she still needed time to think about it. They talked for a few more minutes, ending the call on an upbeat note that Jen would think about visiting for an extended weekend.

As usual she was left feeling connected and loved. Ellis made no bones about verbalizing how much he loved his big sister. Conversations like this one made her long for a family, a man she trusted, could confide in and feel safe with, even a couple of kids, a family unit.

Jen thought about the man next door who’d made no secret of wanting a relationship. But not with her she would guess. It had been several days since their passionate mating and nada since. Time to put an end to the cat-and-mouse game. She would knock on
his door and reassure him it was perfectly okay with her. They could be friends. He needed to know she was a big girl and didn’t have any expectations.

Besides, she wanted to see Marva again before she went home to Detroit. Tre’s mother was unconventional and meddlesome but she had a huge heart. She only wanted what was best for her son.

He should be at home at this hour. He usually was. Feeling nervous and more flustered than she was willing to admit, Jen stood in front of 5B. She raised a hand, prepared to knock and then tucked it back into her pocket. She stood for a moment taking deep breaths and composing herself before raising her hand again. This time she managed a tentative knock. No answer. Should she try again? Was it worth it? She’d give it one last try. This time she folded her hand into a fist and gave a resounding rap.

“Just a minute,” a female voice called.

She exhaled and tamped down on her disappointment, then reminded herself that because Marva had answered it didn’t mean Tre wasn’t home.

The door flew open. “Oh, child, it’s so good to see you. I’ve been after that son of mine to try to set something up. Maybe a dinner or something, but you know how that goes. Men just aren’t good at following through. Come in.”

Marva
stood aside to let Jen enter. “Are you alone?” she asked, looking around for signs of Tre.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. Tre had to run some errands then he was off to the gym.”

“Do you have lunch plans?” Jen asked impulsively.

“My plans are with the refrigerator in there.” Marva gestured toward the kitchen.

“Then let me take you to lunch.”

“I’d love it.”

“Just give me a few minutes to freshen up and I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes. Will that give you enough time?”

It seemed to work for Marva. Jen left her, glad that she’d taken the initiative to make contact again. For some strange reason it was important that Tre’s mother liked her, she couldn’t figure why.

At the appointed hour, Jen waited in the attractive lobby with its marble floors and mirrored walls. Pastel-colored sofas held plump pillows and were grouped around chrome-and-glass tables. The circular marble desk, behind which security presided, held two glass urns filled with calla lilies and ferns.

Marva came strolling out of the elevator wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, matching purse and what was becoming her signature—another wild-print dress. Spotting Jen, she advanced.

“It’s
so nice to be getting out with someone other than Tre.”

“I thought you were friends with Ida. At the reception the two of you seemed to be getting along quite well.”

“We are, and we do, but it’s still nice to be with someone young and energetic. So where are we going?”

“That depends on what you’d like to eat.”

Marva thought about it as they walked outside. “To tell you the truth, I’m sick of seafood,” she announced. “What I’d like is food that sticks to the gut. I’d like a good meat loaf, maybe a couple of pork chops and some juicy ribs.”

“I know just the place,” Jen said, linking an arm through Marva’s. “It’s not very fancy, though.”

“I don’t need fancy.”

When they were in the Miata with the top down, Marva said, “So have you seen Tre recently?”

Jen was careful to school her face from having any reaction. “Not since our day in the sun. I guess he’s been busy.”

“His radio station’s up for sale,” Marva confided. “I think he’s worried.”

“Worried that he might not have a job?” Jen asked carefully.

“No, they
assured him his job is safe. He’s one of the more popular DJs around. His ratings have been phenomenal—at least that’s what he tells me.”

“So why is he worried then?”

“Well he’s pretty much committed to buying his apartment, but now he’s thinking this might be a good time to start looking around. You know, while he’s hot. Tre has always dreamed of New York City. To him that would be the ultimate. It would mean he’s arrived. He’d consider L.A. although it doesn’t have the same cachet as New York, but it’s got a huge urban population.”

There was a knot in the pit of Jen’s stomach as she pulled in to the parking lot of Tante Ann’s.

“Let’s find someone to seat us,” she said, “then we can continue to talk.”

They were led to one of the banquettes and handed a menu.

“Service is slow but the food is good,” Jen warned.

“I don’t have any place to be. Do you?”

“No.” Just hundreds of letters needed to be answered. Chere, consumed by her new health-and-fitness kick, had started slacking off again.

They perused their menus, placed their orders and sat back to wait.

“Getting my lemonade sometime soon might be
nice,” Marva muttered, looking around at the primarily African-American crowd.

“I warned you. So what do you think Tre will do?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

Marva shrugged. “Hard to say. He’s always been ambitious, unlike my other son, constantly in and out of trouble with the law. That child left home at sixteen and never returned, which is just fine with me. Let him be somebody else’s problem.”

Jen had no idea Tre even had a brother. Now she realized she knew very little about him.

“What about Tre’s father?” she asked.

“What about him? He’s not around if that’s what you’re asking. He’s never really been around. We were married only long enough to have two children, then he took off.”

Their lemonades finally arrived.

“Thank you, Jesus,” Marva said to the waitress. “I could have dropped dead of thirst.”

“And you raised two children single-handedly,” Jen continued after the young woman had left.

“As best as I could.”

“You’re to be admired.”

“I did what any mother would do.”

And finally the food arrived. So far still no mention of the e-mail or photo she’d sent. Marva had
to have recognized her. She obviously read the
Dear Jenna
column unless she’d thought it was a joke. Maybe she’d thought someone was goofing with her and had scanned the photo right from the newspaper. There was always that possibility.

Marva ate her pork chops, greens and mashed potatoes with relish, then set her knife and fork aside. She ordered the sweet-potato pie, then told the waitress she hoped it wouldn’t take as long as the main course did.

Turning her attention to Jen, she said, “So what are you going to do about my son?”

The question blindsided Jen.

“Sorry, I don’t understand.”

“You do, too. Don’t give me that.”

Marva folded her arms over her ample bosom and waited.

“Tre and I really don’t know each other that well,” Jen stammered. “We’re pretty much just next-door neighbors.”

“I’ve seen you two together. It doesn’t appear that way to me.”

Curious to hear what Marva thought, Jen asked, “What were your impressions?”

“What I saw was a lot of tenderness. I saw two people very interested in each other but afraid to
make the first move. That boy had me worried for a moment, if you know what I mean. He was showing no signs of settling down. He had taken to wearing these hip outfits and that diamond stud in his ear. Well, that bothered me.”

Jen felt a compelling need to come to Tre’s defense. “He’s a radio personality. He has an image to maintain.”

“As long as it’s just an image. Anyway, the two of you need to work out your situation and get on with it. Whatever it is. You’ve got my blessing.”

“I don’t think Tre is that interested in me,” Jen admitted, not adding that he hadn’t called her or tried to make contact since that night.

“I think you’re wrong. The mistake most of you young women make is that you still wait for the man to declare himself and that’s just not going to happen. We’re dealing with the fragile male ego here.” She held a hand up. “Now I’m not suggesting you get pushy or anything but the secret is to make them think it’s their idea. Plant a seed in their heads and let them take it from there. But you know that.” Marva sat back looking at her.

Was that a shot? It certainly sounded like the type of advice she’d give someone who had written to her. But there was still that matter of Tre not knowing who
she was and his reaction when he found out. He might very well feel deceived and decide he wanted nothing to do with her.

But he hadn’t initially told her who he was, either. She’d found that out by other means, although his reasons for omitting mentioning who he was, were different than hers. He hadn’t intentionally set out to deceive her the way that she had set out to deceive him. He’d just wanted to make sure that it was he she was really interested in and not the radio persona.

Marva’s eyes sparkled but her tone was deadly serious. “Put your
Dear Jenna
hat on and follow her advice.”

They smiled at each other.