Sins of a Siren (10 page)

So busy looking at the decorations, Trenda failed to notice the admiring stares of a middle-aged man across the room from her. After reading a plaque on the wall from the mayor, Trenda's eyes met her admirer's eyes. She gave the walnut-colored man a glint of her emerald eyes and white smile.
Hmmmm…sexy black man…I love a man with a little gray hair on his temples.

The mid-sized man adjusted the color of his charcoal gray suit, folded his copy of the
Oakland Post
, stood and walked over to Trenda's booth. “Hello, lady.” He extended his manicured hand to her. “Please excuse my staring at you, but didn't we meet at the Guitars and Sax's jazz concert last month in Sacramento?”

Trenda smirked and shook his hand.
The game don't change; just the date and location.
“No, handsome…I just got in town last night.”

He was genuinely shocked. “
Really?
I mean…it would be impossible
to mistake those eyes.” He dropped his stare. “My name's Walter Secrease…and you?”

She noticed the lack of a ring on his ring finger. “I'm Mya.” She favored the scent of his cologne. His diction told her he was an educated man. She sat back and watched him adjust his burgundy tie. “So, how was the concert?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “Hmmm?
Concert?
”

“Yes…the concert you claim you saw me at.”

“Ohhh…
that
concert…well…” He took a deep breath and smiled. “You got me. I used that as a line to get your attention.”

She took a sip of her water, folded her hands on the table and looked in his ebony eyes. “Well, it didn't work…but your cute dimples did.”

His smile expanded. “That's good to hear! I was hoping I wouldn't have to take off my jacket and flex for you.”

“Don't assume…I might just ask you to do that.” The waitress arrived with her meal. Walter stood aside as Trenda's food was served. She sprinkled hot sauce on her omelet. “Did you already eat, Dimples?”

“Yes. I was getting ready to leave until I saw you.”

She chewed a small bit of her omelet. “Am I holding you up or are you gonna sit down and keep me company?”

He beamed. “You must be a mind reader.” He walked over to his table, got his paper and briefcase, returned and sat across from her. “So, what brings you to Oakland, Mya?”

“I needed a change from the D.C. lifestyle so I hopped a train and here I am.”

“Are you always that spontaneous?”

She sipped her orange juice and licked her lips. “When it comes to most things, I am…why do you ask?”

He sat back, laced his fingers and placed them in his lap. “I asked because I'm in a spontaneous mood.”

She read a twinkle of devilment in his eyes. “You gotta be more specific, Dimples…what is it you want?”

He checked his watch and grinned. “I had a meeting to attend this morning but I've decided I'm not going. I'd rather take you for a ride and work on our relationship.”

She cocked her head. “
Relationship?
I heard you brothas in Cali were different but
damn
! You movin'
waaaay
too fast for me.”

He laughed. “I don't believe in beating around the bush—I like the direct approach.”

She watched him laugh as she added jelly to her toast. “I'm serious…what do you think my boyfriend would say if he heard you talkin' like that?”

He shook his head. “I know you don't have a man…no way would he let you come way out here by yourself. You might have
had
a man, but I'll bet my first born you are single.”

“I see…what's your first-born's name?”

“I have no idea. He/she hasn't arrived yet.”

“You tryin' to tell me, that a man your age, and as handsome as you are, has no kids?”

He stroked his salt-and-pepper goatee. “Not all fifty-year-old men have kids, no matter what your favorite talk shows have you thinking.”

Her jaw dropped. “
Fifty
! I was thinking that maybe you were in your late
thirties
!”

“You can thank my gym membership, no smoking, no drugs and my daily jog around Lake Merritt for that.”

She finished her hash browns. “Okay, Dimples. So let's say I agree to go with you. What would be on our agenda?”

He hunched his shoulders. “I have no idea…we could start by getting in my car and driving. See where we end up.”

Her pussy senses were tingling. Something about Dimple's confidence made her clit wiggle. She pushed her half-eaten omelet
away from her. “Okay, Dimples. Let's take a ride.” She stealthily eased her butterfly knife out of her bag and slipped it in her pocket.
He might be a little charmin' but I'll be damned if I let him get me somewhere way out and try and rape me.

Trenda got her wallet and summoned the waitress. Once she arrived, Walter handed her a twenty. “Keep the change.”

They exited the café and he walked her across the street. Among the many cars parked along the curb, she mentally tried to guess which one was his. She spotted a new-ish, silver, convertible BMW with a license frame that read: Secrease Funeral Homes. (510) 555-8888. He slowed his pace as they approached the car. “Let me put your bag in the trunk.”

“Death business must be good these days.”

He gave her a curious look as he closed the trunk. “What?”

She pointed at the license plate frame. “Is that where you work?”

He looked at the license plate. “You could say that. My brother and sister help me run the family business.” He walked her to the passenger side, clicked the electronic keypad, unlocked the door and opened it for her. “What do you do for a living?”

She eased into the supple gray leather seat. “I used to do hair back in D.C.”

He grinned and rubbed his short haircut. “Cool! I was looking for some new hands to put in my hair!”

“Yeah, well, first I have to find a salon that's hirin'.”

“I see…” He closed the door, walked to the driver's side and entered the car. “There's plenty of hair salons out here in the Bay Area.”

After he started the car, she lowered her window. “Before I find me a job, first I have to find a place to live.”

He removed a pair of dark shades from inside his jacket pocket and put them on. “Damn…you really did just up and leave, didn't you?”

Her mind flashed back to the image of Piper sprawled on the floor of her kitchen, twitching. “Yeah, I seriously needed a change in my life.”

He lowered the convertible top, then removed a cell phone from his hip. “Let me make a quick call; then we are out of here.”

She listened as he called someone named Byron and informed him to have the meeting without him and he would check in later. She lowered the visor mirror and checked her face. She fingered the cut on her face.
It looks a hell of a lot better than it did a few days ago.
She closed the visor as he wrapped up his call. “Where are we goin', Dimples?”

“Let's see. Since you are new in town, I feel obligated to help you get yourself settled. How about we go find you a place to stay?”

She looked at him out the corner of her eye. “Hold up, Mr. Man. I didn't say I needed
you
to take care of me…I can find a room on my own.”

He smiled, looked over his left shoulder and pulled into traffic. “Relax, my red-headed friend. I don't do this for
every
fine woman I see in a café. I just happen to be in a very good mood after closing a big deal.”

“Oh really? What kinda deal?”

“We just finalized a deal to open up two more funeral homes in Los Angeles and one in San Francisco today. That's what the meeting I was supposed to attend is about, closing the loose ends.”

She could almost smell money on him. “That's all good. How many funeral homes do you have?”

He drove them north on Broadway, into the heart of downtown Oakland. “We now have five. I run the combination funeral home and crematorium here in Oakland and the other funeral home in San Jose. My brother and sister are going to run the two new locations in L.A.”

While sitting at a red light, an AC Transit bus pulled next to them. The burly driver looked into the convertible, made eye contact with Trenda and gave her a wink. She smiled, then turned to face Walter. “Okay, Dimples, where is the woman that helps you spend all ya cheese?”

He laughed aloud. “You are the epitome of a hardcore, East Coast sista. I'm going to have to teach you how to mellow out.”

They drove past several blocks lined with car dealerships. “Don't give me that shit. Quit tryin' to change the subject. Where is yo' woman?”

He shook his head as he pulled to the curb. “You ever heard the saying, ‘Don't look a gift horse in the mouth'?”

She turned from him and watched as they stopped in front of the Hotel Oakland. “Why you stoppin' here?”

He shut off the engine. “You need a place to stay, right?”

She looked up at the sixty-year-old, fifteen-story-tall, historic hotel. “You must be trippin'! You better find me a Motel Six! I'm not tryin' to spend all my money at once. I bet it cost a grip to stay here.”

He exited the car. “You should spend more time enjoying life instead of always looking for flaws in everything.”

She got out before he could open the door for her. “I'm not playin'. I'm on a serious budget.”

He removed her bag from the trunk, handed it to her and waved his hand toward the entrance. “Please…just come inside.”

Walter nodded to the uniformed door attendant, let her enter the brass and glass revolving door, and then followed. She took in the ambiance of the majestic lobby. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the tan, vaulted ceiling. A large multicolored wall tapestry hung on the wall next to the registration desk. Well-placed paintings and small sculptures gave the lobby an elegant
feel. The young Lebanese woman at the counter greeted them with a smile. “How may I help you?”

Walter smiled and took Trenda's hand. “Do you have any vacancies?”

“Yes we do.” She looked from him to Trenda. “This is a non-smoking hotel; is that okay?”

He let go of Trenda's hand, reached inside his jacket pocket, removed his wallet and looked at Trenda. “Well?”

Trenda was no stranger to receiving favors from men. The look in Walter's eyes reminded her of Reverend Swearington, the husband of her mother's best friend. She recalled how, at the age of sixteen, he used to gaze at her when no one was looking. She could read the lust in his eyes as they examined her well-developed breasts. Once, as he drove a vanload of kids to the Six Flags amusement park, he continually glanced in his rearview mirror at her. Trenda found she liked the attention the short, skinny, high-yellow, forty-eight-year-old man paid her. She purposely and repeatedly made eye contact with him, sometimes stretching in her seat giving him a nice view of the tight T-shirt covering her womanly tits.

Inside the amusement park, he did his best to stay close to the sexy teenager. While standing in line to get on the roller coaster, he managed to get paired with her. Once the ride started, he let his hand fall on the part of her thigh her denim shorts didn't cover. She recalled how the feel of his hand made her virgin pussy quiver. She made a meek effort to remove his hand, but he instead let it creep between her thighs. As the roller coaster sped over the rails, she screamed along with the rest of the kids—although her scream was from passion. The Reverend rubbed the hot spot between her legs fast and hard as she reached her first orgasm. As the roller coaster approached the end of the line,
she looked at him and saw a nervous grin on his sweaty face. She looked in his lap and saw a dark stain near his zipper.

She saw him quickly un-tuck his shirt to hide the stain, dig in his pocket and come out with a fifty-dollar-bill. He pushed it in her pocket just as their car stopped for them to get off. She gave him a shy smile, hopped out of the car and went to join her friends. From that moment, she knew men were meant to be her playthings.

“Mya? Is that okay?”

Trenda shook off the flashback. “Yeah, that's cool. I don't smoke.”

The receptionist did her thing and minutes later produced a pair of electronic card keys. She placed them on the counter. “How will you be paying for the room?”

Trenda gave him a crooked grin. “Well?”

He opened his alligator-skin wallet and placed a Platinum Visa card next to the room keys. “I'd like to pay for two weeks in advance.”

Trenda glanced at the invoice as it printed out.
Goddamn! The rooms here are two-hundred-twenty dollars a night! Dimples just spent over two grand and don't know me from shit!
After he signed for the purchase, he attempted to pick up the cardkeys. She intercepted them. “I'll hold on to
both
of these, thank you.”