After Hours (18 page)

D
ina secured her seat belt, reached for her cell phone and punched the speed dial for Lance's home number. He answered on the first ring. “Hey, baby girl.”

She smiled at his greeting. “I'm getting off early.”

“I'm on my way.” The line suddenly went dead.

She knew Lance was still uneasy about her claim that she'd had to seek medical attention to alleviate her menstrual cramps. She'd only taken three doses of the pain medication before flushing the rest down the toilet; she hadn't liked the adverse side effects that caused dizziness and a slowdown in her reaction time. The images of her mother stumbling, falling and mumbling incoherently hadn't faded even after ten years.

“Are you getting a ride home?” Sybil asked, concentrating intently on the taillights of the car in front of hers. The driver was tapping his brake every three seconds.

“Yes. A friend is picking me up.”

Dina turned and stared at her boss's profile. It was the first time she'd seen Sybil with makeup. Blush, mascara and a light coat of lipstick had transformed her from nondescript to glowing.

“Do you drive, Dina?”

“Yes, but I don't have my license. After I get it, then I'll consider buying a used car.”

“How are you getting back and forth now?”

“I usually take public transportation during the day and a car service at night.”

“The car service must be costly.”

Dina nodded. “It is, but it's safer than waiting for a bus.”

Sybil took a quick glance at her employee. “Money shouldn't become an issue once you begin working the private parties.”

“How much do you estimate I'll earn for each party?”

A silence ensued as Sybil stared out the windshield. “I'm surprised you didn't ask me before.”

“I wanted to,” Dina confessed, “but I decided to wait and see if I could trust you to do right by me.”

A rush of color darkened the older woman's face. “
You
were testing
me?
”

“No more than you test me.” Dina ignored Sybil's slight gasp. “When Karla asked you to interview me, you had no idea whether I'd work out until I was put to the test. It's become a win-win for both of us because I have a job and you hired a dependable server.”

Sybil smiled. “Modest, aren't you?”

“No, Sybil, just confident.” Although last hired, she had become one of the better servers at SJC. She never forgot a request, hadn't dropped a tray or broken a single glass. She was always pleasant, quick to smile even when she didn't feel like smiling.

“You're right about being a dependable server. Fletcher tells me that you're one of the best. I didn't hire you because Karla asked me to.”

“Why
did
you hire me?”

Decelerating and coming to a complete stop at a red light, Sybil's fingers tightened on the leather-wrapped steering wheel. “I hired you because of your face and body. You have an exotic look most men find appealing. And there's no doubt you're aware that most of my patrons are men who prefer dining and entertaining in a more private setting. That was the reason I set my business up in a former home with less than three thousand square feet. These same men also retain my services for more discreet gatherings in private homes or hotel suites.”

“Services as in female entertainment?”

The light changed and Sybil took off in a burst of speed, maneuvering around a slower-moving car. Accelerating, she glanced up at the rearview mirror to see if the police car that had been parked alongside the road had taken off after her. Exhaling, she settled back against the seat. She'd gotten three speeding tickets in the past four years.

“Yes, Dina. And that's all you'll ever be to them—entertainment. The men know beforehand not to try to proposition you, and vice versa. Now that you're going to be joining me, I'll renegotiate my fee.” She angled her head. “If they accept my price, then you'll earn at least two thousand dollars. And, that's not counting tips.”

“Sw-e-e-e-t!” Dina drawled.

“Yes, it's quite sweet,” Sybil confirmed.

“Do you also dance, Sybil?” The chef shook her head. “Then what do you do?”

Sybil's expression changed as a look of withdrawal crossed her face. “You'll see.”

Dina knew Sybil's cryptic reply meant she wasn't going to tell her. She would just have to wait to see for herself.

“Are you coming in?” Sybil asked Dina after she'd pulled into her reserved parking space.

“No. The weather's nice, so I'm going to wait out here for my friend.”

Keys in hand, Sybil peered closely at Dina. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Dina said much too quickly. “Why?”

“I noticed you wincing.”

“Menstrual cramps.”

“Do you take anything for them?”

“No.”

“I have something in my office that should help take the edge off.”

Dina shook her head, her ponytail swaying with the motion. “No, thank you. I don't take drugs.”

“Ibuprofen isn't a controlled substance, Dina.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass.” Dina forced a smile. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

She'd unceremoniously dismissed Sybil because she didn't want to field her questions. Whenever she lied, then she had to tell another one to cover the previous one. Her body hurt and she was still under the influence, and that attributed to her possibly contradicting herself.

The sutures were tightening, pulling her flesh taut, and whenever she moved too quickly she was reminded why she'd undergone the procedure. As Dina Gordon she needed and wanted a man's protection, and Lance Haynes had become the perfect candidate. He was solvent, kind, generous and
single.
There were no ex-wives or children with whom she had to compete or share him.

And it wasn't the first time that she wondered, had she remained Adina Jenkins and met Lance would she have messed over him? Would she have recognized his good qualities or just viewed him an easy mark?

She watched Sybil punch in the code on the keypad of the door that led directly into the kitchen. Alone at last, she went over and sat down on a sturdy plastic crate to wait for Lance.

D
ina pushed to her feet when she recognized the make and model of Lance's car. She waved to get his attention.

Lance approached Dina, cradling her face between his hands and kissing her. “Have you been waiting long?”

She shook her head. “Not too long.”

Dropping his hands, he cupped her elbow and led her to his car. He noticed there were only a few cars in the lot. “It looks like a slow night.”

“Very slow,” Dina confirmed as Lance opened the passenger-side door for her. “One party canceled.”

He closed the door. “How are you feeling?” he asked when he sat beside her.

“Okay.”

Lance stared at Dina, his gaze lingering on her profile before moving lower to her fisted hands. The lights on the dashboard threw shadows across her delicate feature. “You're tense.” His voice, though soft, was accusatory.

“You make me tense, LL.”

He smiled. “You make me tense, too, but I'm not complaining.” She turned to look at him. He sobered quickly. “Do I frighten you, Dina?”

“Not as much as I frighten myself.”

“Talk to me, baby girl.”

Even though she wasn't prone to tears, Dina felt like weeping. She wanted to fall into Lance's arms and unburden herself. Maybe it was the lingering effects from the anesthesia, the codeine or the ongoing pain, but she'd found herself drowning in a maelstrom of uncertainty. “I'm confused.”

“What are you confused about?”

“You. Me. Us.”

“What about us, Dina?”

“You say we are friends.”

“We are friends. Dina,” Lance insisted.

“Why is it I don't want us to be friends?”

A silence ensued as he replayed her query in his head. If she didn't want to be friends, then what did she want? “What
do
you want?”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know? Do you want us to stop seeing each other?”

Dina shook her head. “No, Lance.” She sucked in her breath and gritted her teeth. Pain ripped through her lower abdomen like a lighted fuse, tearing, burning in its intensity. Sybil had offered her something to take the edge off, and she'd refused it. “Take me home,” she pleaded, fighting tears. “Please.”

 

Lance followed Dina up the staircase to her apartment, waiting until she unlocked the door and stepped inside. She was confused as to their relationship, and he was even more confused. What did she want from him? Dare he pray she wanted more than friendship?

“Are you going to be all right?” he asked.

She affected a silly grin. “Call me in the morning to check whether I'm still alive.”

His hand shot out, pulling her up close to his chest. “Cut the bullshit, Dina! What's the matter with you?” She went limp, and he caught her before she fell.

Tears she'd held in check during the drive from West Orange to Irvington rolled down her cheeks. “Please don't leave me, Big Daddy.”

Lance felt as if someone had ripped out his heart. He kicked the door closed, locked it, then carried Dina into her bedroom. The street lamp and a three-quarter moon bathed the space in silvery light. Bending slightly, he placed her gently on the bed, removing her blouse, slacks and shoes. He stood motionless, watching her. Awash with indecision, Lance vacillated whether to stay or walk away from the woman who'd twisted him into knots.

Seconds turned into minutes as he stared. Eyes closed, her breathing deepened as her chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. She'd fallen asleep

Slowly, methodically, Lance undressed, leaving on his underwear, and got into bed. Dina had asked him not to leave her and he wouldn't.

Not now.

Not ever.

 

Dina woke to find Lance in bed, his head resting on a forearm, staring at her. She was in her own bed but didn't remember how she'd gotten there. A slight frown appeared between her eyes as she pulled the sheet up to her neck.

“What are you doing here?”

Sitting up, Lance pressed his back to the headboard. He wanted to pull Dina into his arms but knew if he did touch her, then he would break his promise not to make love to her without her consent. “Last night you asked me not to leave you.”

A flash of humor softened Dina's face. “Do you always do everything someone asks?”

He winked at her. “It depends on who's asking.”

“You undressed me.” Her query was a statement.

“In the dark—and I swear I didn't look.”

“What else did I say?” Dina prayed she hadn't said something that would jeopardize her new identity.

Lance gave her a smile parents usually reserved for their children. “Don't worry, baby girl, your skeletons are still in the closet.”

Dina felt a momentary panic that gnawed away at her confidence, confidence she'd spent years developing. It'd been Adina Jenkins's quick mind, quicker tongue and duplicity that had gotten her out of situations others may have deemed impossible. But she had to remind herself that Lancelot Haynes knew nothing about Adina because Dina Gordon had assumed her identity to reinvent herself.

“I don't have skeletons in my closet,” she said deadpan, “but I do have…”

Her explanation died on her lips as she observed Lance through lowered lashes. Pinpoints of light coming through the lacy window sheers fired the warm color in his eyes, reminding her of sparkling new pennies.

She'd always felt herself incapable of loving or a caring for someone other than herself, but each time she saw Lance her attraction to him was stronger than it'd been before.

Dina hadn't known if it was passion because she couldn't acknowledge what she'd never experienced. Yet she reacted to him like a heroine in a romantic movie or novel who'd found herself completely taken by the hero. Unknowingly he'd become her hero, protecting her from harm and all that was seen and unseen. He'd promised to take care of her while asking for nothing in return.

“If you don't have skeletons, then what is it you have?” Lance asked Dina after a comfortable silence.

“I have nightmares.”

“Do you want to talk about them?”

She shook her head. “I can't, LL. It would be the same as reliving them.”

She was six when she experienced the lurid scene for the first time, and she'd relived it every night until accepting the realization that her mother was gone and never coming back. She'd come home from school to find Bernice slumped over the bathtub with a hypodermic dangling from her arm. Her screams brought neighbors and eventually the paramedics, who'd revived Bernice before she was taken to the hospital. She'd thought her mother dead, but the rumors were that she'd “OD'd on some bad shit that had junkies dropping like flies.”

Dina held the sheet against her breasts and reached for her slacks at the foot of the bed. She managed to slip into them without exposing too much flesh. Although her head was clearer than it'd been in days, the discomfort in her lower belly and between her legs persisted. The doctor had predicted that the pain would be similar to what she'd had following childbirth, but she didn't remember it being this extreme, making her question whether she should've had the procedure.

What if she didn't heal before she was to meet with the dance instructor?

What if she and Lance never became lovers?

What if she'd spent forty-five hundred dollars for nothing?

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she gritted her teeth and pressed her hand to her abdomen. She took a step, then another. All she wanted was to get to the bathroom without embarrassing herself.

“You're not going to work tonight.”

Dina stopped but didn't turn around. “I have to.

Lance got out of bed, picked up his jeans and slipped into them. “Why do you have to?”

She turned and glared at him. “If I don't work, I don't get paid, and I need this weekend's pay for next month's rent.”

“I'll pay your rent.”

“You will not!” she countered. “You paying my rent will make me a kept woman.”

Lance decided to try another approach. “How much do you make?”

“Why?”

“Just answer the question, Dina.” His tone was cold, impersonal.

Lancelot Haynes had become a stranger. There was no softness in his gaze or warmth in his voice. She told him how much she made an hour. “I'll double it—no I'll triple it if you take off this weekend and rest.”

Dina's eyes widened as she shook her head. As Adina Jenkins, she would've taken his money, but Dina was different. “I can't take money from you.”

“Why not?”

She dropped her gaze and pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “I just can't.” Turning on her heels, she walked out of the bedroom.

Lance was rooted to the same spot until he heard the soft click when Dina closed the bathroom door across the hall. She didn't sleep, live with or take money from a man. Just when he thought he'd figured out Dina Gordon, she confounded him with her old-fashioned virtue. He shook his head. What was he going to do with her?

He wanted to curse her grandmother for shielding her from the realities of life to where her hell-and-brimstone sermons hadn't permitted her granddaughter to experience why she'd been born female.

He realized the older woman had wanted to protect Dina from the harsh realities of her mother's addictions, but in the end she'd done her a great disservice. There was a lot of ugliness in the world, but there was also a lot of good.

Lance went over to get his running shoes. It was time, he thought, to show Dina that life was wonderful, and it could be fun—if only she trusted him enough to let him make it happen for her.