Guilty of Love (6 page)

“
Parke, call me when you
get in. I have some exciting news to share with you!”

Often they chatted over lunch,
attended parties together, and shared wonderful news about what was
going on in their lives. Annette sounded like she was about to fly.
Smiling, he checked the time. She had called about an hour ago. He
punched in her number. “Okay, my girl, what’s got you so
upbeat?”

“
I’ve been waiting forever
for you to call me back!”

“
So, what’s up?”

“
You know I’ve been
attending this Holy Ghost-filled church.”

Yeah, she reminded him of that every
time they talked. Parke nodded as if she could see, and slumped to
the bottom step.

“
Well, I’ve met this guy
who seems to have the same hunger and thirst for righteousness. And
you know what God says about that, don’t you?”

“
No, but I’m sure you’re
going to tell me,” Parke said sarcastically.

“
Of course I am. God says
He’ll fill us to the brim. It’s in that Bible I brought you. The
one you probably stuffed in a box and packed away in the basement,
but if you ever decide that you’re hungry, check out Matthew
chapter five or Luke chapter six.”

Parke didn’t want to engage in a
sermon with Annette. With her new salvation thing going on, he’d
learned ribbing Annette would only cause her to pull out her
Bibles—she had more than one, Sunday school notes, or find pages
she marked in one of her latest Christian Living books. Nope, he
was keeping quiet.

“
I feel in my soul that I
can grow with him. He could be the one God has for me.”

All Parke heard was “he could be the
one,” and his big brother protector role kicked in. “I need to
check him out, Nettie.”

She giggled. “Why do you think I
called you, dude?”

“
Name the time, place, and
day. I’m there.”

“
Next week, revival
service, seven o’clock,” she recited.

“
You played me.”

Annette didn’t try to conceal the
triumphant laugh. “Yep. Did it work?”

“
Nope.” Parke grinned. He
imagined Annette was pouting or stomping her feet.

“
I used a side door
approach on ya, since inviting you through the front entrance
wasn’t working.”

“
Talk in plain English,
Nettie.”

“
PJ, you’re a historian
slash broker. You’re a magnet for information. Aren’t you a little
curious about my conversion and fascination with a Book that has
sustained wars, copies burnt, yet the Word lives on, and people all
over the world, regardless of their language and culture, know who
Jesus is? The Bible will change you. ”

“
Since I like the way I
look, live my life, enjoy the company I keep, and even the way I
smell, I’m as content as a baby with a warm bottle and a dry
diaper. I’m cool. I see I’m going to have to meet your guy on my
territory, not yours. Listen, I’ve got to go.”

They ended their call, agreeing to
eventually disagree. Then Parke debated if it was the time that he
and Annette should go their separate ways. He shook the absurd
thought from his mind. God wasn’t big enough to break up their
friendship. Sex was.

Hours later at Keiner Plaza, a hot
spot for any public celebration from sport championship rallies to
holiday parades, Parke was ready to have a good time at the
Juneteenth Heritage and Jazz Festival. He pushed the conversation
with Annette to the back of his mind, so he wouldn’t feel guilty
about the pursuit of his happiness.

Tim Cunningham and his assemble
serenaded thousands with his signature saxophone melodies. Vendors
lined Market Street, selling anything from authentic ethnic dishes
to apparel sewn from the finest African fabrics not generally
available in the U.S.

Parke linked his fingers with his
date’s manicured ones. They strolled through the maze of people
sampling food and chatting with acquaintances either of them ran
into.

Spying Malcolm’s arm around Hallison,
Parke waved them over. For some reason he couldn’t comprehend why
Malcolm liked all his women tall and medium-brown. Parke preferred
petite honeys in all shades. He considered them daintier, more
feminine, and full of surprises.

Hallison was at least five-foot-ten.
Golden highlights streaked the dark brown hair that swayed past her
shoulders. She wore a long sleeveless dress that flowed inches
above her ankles. Seductive long side splits offered peeks at her
tanned legs as she and Malcolm glided toward him. They looked
ridiculously content and happy.

Releasing Hallison, Malcolm nodded,
gripping Parke in a handshake and hug. Standing back, Malcolm
smiled at Parke’s date. “Monica.”

Parke cleared his throat, then made
introductions, “Ah, Monica couldn’t make it.”

His date’s eyes glared at him.
Hallison’s and Malcolm’s eyes bucked from embarrassment. Parke
ignored their expressions.

“
Change of plans. Nyla,
meet my younger brother, Malcolm, and his lady, Hallison.” He
whispered an apology in her ear, “I asked you because I wanted you
here.”

Forcing a smile, Nyla did a terrible
job of recovering from the humiliation. She took a deep breath and
tilted her head. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“
Hey, Malcolm, ah, good
turnout,” Parke commented, searching for a diversion. “Was it like
this last year, man?” A business conference had taken him to Texas,
so he attended festivities there.

Malcolm shrugged. “It was
bigger.”

“
Well, you’ve got to get
down to Galveston. I’m talking serious. They go all the way out for
their celebration.”

Parke chanced a glance at Nyla. She
looked bored, struggling with the residual effects of the
identification mix-up. He felt bad for her. He’d never purposely do
anything to degrade a woman. It was an honest mistake. He may be a
“dog” as Annette called him, but he was a pedigree. Parke was
well-mannered and respectful. He squeezed her hand.

Nyla squeezed back. Still, Parke felt
the woman had to work through her own insecurities. He had told her
up front he wasn’t committed to any one woman. She had boldly
retorted, “I don’t recall asking for one.”

Back on track, Parke continued to
discuss the different exhibits with Malcolm and Hallison until
Nyla’s whining voice interrupted them.

“
Juneteenth is a made-up
holiday like Kwanzaa, right?” No one responded. “I mean, Nelson
Mandela created Kwanzaa after he was released from prison,
right?”

For some unexplained reason, a
scripture that Annette had forced on him came to mind. Hosea 4:6:
‘My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge: because thou
hast rejected knowledge…’
Parke had plenty of knowledge about
plenty of things, so he imparted some ancestral knowledge to
Nyla.

“
Nope, it’s the oldest
known African-American celebration, dating back to June 1865. It
symbolizes the end of slavery,” Parke explained. “Dr. Maulana
Karenga introduced Kwanzaa in this country in 1966. The name means
celebration of first-fruits, and some say the celebrations are
recorded as far back as ancient Egypt.”

Nyla frowned, but listened.

“
Now, back to Juneteenth.
People of all races, nationalities, and religious backgrounds
acknowledge that dark period in our history and commemorate slaves’
freedom for a day, week, sometimes, celebrations can last a month,”
Malcolm added.

Fascinated, Nyla’s eyes widened. “Wow.
I thought Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation in
1863.”

“
He did, but millions of
Blacks throughout the Deep South didn’t get the word,” Malcolm
advised as he unconsciously stroked Hallison’s arm. “Many masters
kept Blacks enslaved for two-and-a-half years longer.”

“
Let me tell my favorite
part of the festivities,” Hallison interjected
excitedly.

“
Tell us, baby, like Parke
and I don’t already know.”

“
Imagine more than eighteen
hundred union army soldiers—no doubt the strongest, finest, and
most determined Black men marching into Galveston, Texas. Imagine
them parading in grand style with authority, proclaiming the
slaves’ freedom. Whew, rescue me.” Hallison fanned
herself.

“
God sent me to rescue
you,” Malcolm cooed.

“
He had nothing to do with
it,” Hallison stated, her expression blank.

A week later

“
You change your dates more
than a woman changes her lipstick,” Malcolm teased Parke over the
phone.

“
There is a reason behind
my madness, as you call it. Not that I’m an extremely religious
person, but I feel God is leading me to somebody.”

“
I doubt it, PJ. Your
recent choices are causing you to lose your mind. If it’s
contagious, then stay away from me.”

“
Okay, I agree that Nyla
was a mistake on my part. It’s partially your fault, too. I’ll
never tell you another one of my dates’ names.”

“
I’ll never ask again.”
Malcolm laughed.

“
I admit I strayed away
from my protocol with that one.”

“
With that one? Try all of
them. You need a woman like Hali. Say the word and I’ll ask her
about some of her girlfriends when I surprise my baby for lunch
later.”

“
I don’t need any
help.”

“
Oh, you need help, all
right.”

“
Is Hallison so much a
woman that she’s got you in a headlock? I can’t see a woman putting
me in that position. I’m not ready to be tangled up like
that.”

“
Suit yourself. Have a
crummy day, big brother,” Malcolm barked, laughing and ended the
call. He was happy he didn’t build barriers like Parke. Picking up
another file scheduled for an audit, Malcolm hoped he could crunch
the numbers on three companies’ records before noon so he could
surprise Hallison. They worked about ten blocks apart, and met for
lunch when they could get away.

Hours later, Malcolm walked out the
automatic doors from his office in the Metropolitan Square Building
downtown without a care in the world. All was good, and according
to the three sistahs in the elevator he had stepped out from
moments ago, he looked delicious. One cooed, another whispered, one
boldly complimented him on his intoxicating cologne. Malcolm
appreciated the kudos, but ignored their overtures. Like his
brother, he enjoyed the attention of beautiful women, but only one
set his soul on fire.

At one-minute after one in the
afternoon, Malcolm entered the revolving doors to the Bank of
America lobby. He scanned the wall for the building directory. With
his finger he line-read the names until he found
Personnel.

On the same floor to his right,
Malcolm smoothed his paisley print tie against his shirt as he
walked down a short hall and opened a glass door. Suspenders
complimented his smoke-gray pleated pants. His worn, but polished
shoes squeaked on the tiled floor.

One side of the office housed a row of
computers. A few applicants glanced up. When Malcolm removed his
sunglasses, a few women ogled him. Hallison said his glasses made
him look sexy, rugged, and dangerously appealing.

He approached a large executive-style
desk that seemed to separate the ‘common’ area from the private
offices. A dark-skinned woman with fashionable glasses and a head
full of twisted curls glanced up. She dropped her pen. Staring, she
caught her breath.

To keep from disturbing the job
applicants, Malcolm leaned forward and whispered, “Is Hallison
Dinkins in?”

The receptionist gave him a milk-white
smile. “Your name, please, sir?” She scanned an appointment
book.

Stuffing both hands in his pockets, he
cocked his head to the left. “Malcolm Jamieson, Miss Dinkins’
personal Certified Public Accountant.”

An odd expression masked her face. She
pushed back from her desk, stood and locked her desk. Without a
word, she turned and her shoes began a two-tap rhythm across the
room. She didn’t instruct Malcolm to wait, so he
followed.

Unlike the common area, a maroon thick
carpet arrested her noisy heels. The woman stopped at a closed door
where Director of Human Resources was centered on a distorted
portrait-size glass window.

Malcolm was impressed. At least he
knew his baby worked in a nice environment. He hoped she liked
surprises. Knocking, the receptionist stuck her head in the office
and then waved Malcolm forward, aware that he had trailed
her.

Entering Hallison’s domain, Malcolm’s
eyes were transfixed on Hallison’s blossoming smile. “Roomy place,”
slipped from his mouth, but he would get a better look around
later. “I was hoping I’d get this reaction.” Strolling to her desk,
Malcolm leaned over and took her lips in a slow kiss before
whispering, “Hi.”

She pulled away, gulping for air. “Hi,
back. What are you doing here?”

Aware of his seduction, Malcolm pecked
soft kisses on her lips. “Oh, convincing my lady to have lunch with
me.”