Through the Fire (10 page)

R
ae arose with the sun. Though she felt as if she could remain forever curled beside Quinn, her swirling thoughts pushed her from the bed. She sat in the neat kitchen sipping an early morning cup of tea.

There was no doubt that what happened between her and Quinn was no less than mind altering. Her body was still buzzing and humming from their lovemaking, the ache between her thighs a clear indicator that it was no dream.
But something else had happened as well. Something she hadn’t banked on. For all her pronouncements about no ties, no promises, she knew in her heart of hearts that’s what she’d wanted. She’d taken a big gamble. And now, as she sat there she wasn’t sure if Quinn made love with her because she gave him that easy option, or because he truly cared about her, at least half as much as she cared about him.

Now, not only did she have their relationship to consider, however it turned out, but the reality of his relationship with this Maxine, the mother of his son. He’d been real curt about it, almost matter-of-fact, and that more than anything put her on notice. It wasn’t as cut-and-dried as he’d pretended. Even in the dimly lit club, she could see that look of longing, possibly regret in his eyes.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you get up.”

Rae turned on the stool. “Hi. Couldn’t sleep.” She scanned his face for a sign, any sign that last night meant as much to him as it did to her. She couldn’t read him. “Want some tea?”

He smiled and her heart, as always, stirred.

“Yeah, that would be cool.”

Rae made a move to get up.

“Naw, stay put. I can get it.” He fixed a cup of tea and settled on the stool opposite her. “So what’s on your mind, Rae? And no bull, awright?”

For a moment she was taken aback by his directness. Quinn was usually the one to skirt an issue for as long as possible, unless you nailed him to the wall. She swallowed a sip of tea and tried to collect her thoughts.

“Well…um…I know this sounds like a cliché, but about last night…”

He chuckled and the knot in her chest eased somewhat.

“Yeah.” He angled his head to the side. “What about last night, baby?”

When he looked at her like that it was hard to keep her thoughts in order, say what was really on her mind. She looked away, regaining her balance. “I, um, meant what I said about no ties, no pressure. So I don’t want you to think that I’m going to be on you like glue, because we…”

“Made love, Rae,” he supplied.

She nodded briskly.

“I see. So it’s cool if things just stay the way they are?” He rose from his seat, slowly moving toward her. “What happened with us was just a thing, no big deal, right?”

He was up on her now, and she couldn’t breathe. She needed to get away, but she couldn’t seem to move.

“Look me in the eye, Rae, and tell me it didn’t mean nothin’ and I’m out, okay. No hard feelin’s, no regrets.” He tipped her chin with his palm. “Tell me.”

“I…it…”

“Tell me, Rae. I need to hear the words. I need you to tell me that my loving you last night didn’t mean anything to you.” His gaze bore into her, challenging her.

“Damn you, Quinn!” She tugged away and he let her go. Wrapping her arms around her body she walked into the living room and sat down on one of the pillows, breathing heavily.

Quinn appeared in the doorway. Tenuously, she looked up at him. Why was it so hard for her to say what was in her heart, what was on her mind? Maybe it was because she knew the power of words. They could live with you long
after the moment is gone. And once they were said, there was no taking them back. If she lived in her mind, holding on to that last piece of herself, she couldn’t have regrets, wouldn’t have to take things back, wish she hadn’t said them, be condemned by them, measured by them. But if she didn’t speak them, at this moment, she knew that something more would be lost. And she would be no different than the person Quinn was evolving from, the one she’d insisted that he let go.

“No,” she said quietly. “It…wasn’t just a thing. Not for me.” She swallowed. “I lied.” She smiled weakly when she saw his expression soften to one of relief.

“Lied? I’m surprised at you, Rae,” he teased, moving toward her. “Not a nice quality. But I’m sure you had a good reason, right?” He reached for her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Wanna tell me what it is?” he said quietly.

“Tell me about Maxine,” she said, shifting the weight from her to him, a momentary way out.

“Is that why you said what you did, because of Max?” he asked. “You’re worried about Max?”

“She is your son’s mother. She must have meant something to you.”

“Once upon a time,” he countered, his unresolved issues with Maxine and his son still raw.

“Did you love her?”

His eyes darkened. “What is this about, some relationship I had years ago?” he tossed back, his tone growing edgy.

“It’s not just
some
relationship, Quinn, and you know it. If it was, you wouldn’t be so bent out of shape. She must have meant something to you. She’s raising your son.”

That hit his last nerve. “Yeah, she and Taylor, the happy couple, are raising
my
son! Happy now—that what you wanted to hear? Did you also want to hear that she never told me about him until he was three years old?” His voice cracked as he stood stock-still, his body vibrating with pent-up rage. “Came to Nikita’s funeral to tell me about Jamel. What kinda shit is that, huh? You got the answers to everything. Tell me.”

“Quinn…I didn’t…”

“You didn’t what, Rae? Didn’t think it would bother Quinn, huh? Just figured you’d back
him into a corner again. Get the goods on him and run, right?”

“Quinn—”

“Save it, Rae. You were right. It’s best no strings, no promises.” He stalked across the room, snatched his coat from the hook on the wall, and slammed out.

“Rae, stop crying and tell me what happened,” Gail insisted, trying to make sense of what her friend was saying between her rambling and her tears. “You got me over here, now tell me what’s going on, girl.”

“I really blew it, Gail.” Rae sniffled loudly, and curled up on her bed, still rumpled from her session with Quinn.

Gail took a quick look around, saw what she assumed was Quinn’s discarded shirt still in a heap on the floor. The scent of sex lightly lingered in the air. Gail’s mind shifted into sinister.

“Did he hurt you? ’Cause if he hurt you—”

“No. No,” Rae mumbled, shaking her head. “It wasn’t him…it was me…being a witch.”

Gail frowned. “Rae, I swear if you don’t
explain yourself,
I’m
gonna hurt you. Start from the beginning.”

Rae snatched a tissue from the box on her night table and wiped her eyes. Finally she sat up and painfully began to unfold the events of the previous evening; from the club, to his departure, leaving nothing out.

“S
ometimes you have to not listen to your body, because it’ll lie to you,” Gail said matter-of-factly. “I can’t count the times I’ve slept with guys, then wondered what the hell I was doing. You have to slow things down so you can see the whole picture before you jump off and do something stupid. You know what I mean, girl?”

Rae wiped her eyes with a tissue, then blew her nose. “Well, it’s too late for that now.
Where were you when I needed you to talk some sense into my head?”

“Yeah, the damage is done now,” Gail said, sitting on the edge of the bed, “but what’s next?”

“I don’t really know,” Rae said, tossing one of the pillows into a chair. “I think I screwed up. Maybe I was too easy. Who knows what he thinks of me now.”

Gail grabbed one of the blankets, folded it over, and put it on the chair with the pillow. “It’s too late to second-guess about giving him your body. The thing that worries me is your reasoning, why you gave it up like that. Do you love him? That’s the real question here.”

Yes, that was the real question. Did she love him? Or was it something else? Maybe she’d just wanted to get her swerve on, get laid. If it was that, then she had to be honest with herself and not play mind games. Hell, she didn’t know where she stood with him. He was so in a funk, it could have just been physical release for him. No strings, no com mitment—isn’t that what she’d said? Still, if
that was the case, why was she pissed about it? And then there was this other chick, Maxine, and the child. That was definitely something she hadn’t figured on.

“I think I love him, Gail,” she said. “But he’s got a load of baggage. A dead wife, another woman and a kid. Man, if I had good sense, I’d run like hell away from him. But I can’t. Something in me wants me to stick, to play it out to the end.”

Gail pulled the end of the sheet up from the mattress. “Did they have any kids?” she asked, wondering what other skeletons were in the closet.

Rae sighed long and deep, and tugged at the sheet from her end. “No kids, thank God. They weren’t married long. But he still hasn’t gotten over her—what happened. I think he was really in love with her. I don’t know what he feels about his son’s mother. That worries me.”

“Talk about complications. How old is the child?”

“I guess he’s pretty young. Quinn hasn’t filled in all of the details for me, so I’m in the dark about most of it. So of course my mind is
working overtime. I’m sure he’ll tell me, at some point,” she said, not really sure at all.

“You need to know the whole story before you go any further into it. But hey, it might not be as bad as you think. If they live on the West Coast, at least they’re not all up in your face. You can deal with that. There is no magic formula to love. It comes in the strangest packages. You remember my thing with Edwin?”

“Sure, that was a trip,” Rae said, placing the folded sheet on top of the blanket.

“And he had a kid he was raising, Zachary,” Gail said, grinning widely. “We had a ball for quite a while, until his job sent him down South. He was one hot brother, had everything a woman could want. But I understood why he took the transfer, to make more money for the boy. I still think about him sometimes.”

“Yeah, and you guys were great,” Rae said. “I really liked you together. Do you still hear from him?” she asked, relieved for a moment to take the spotlight off her.

“All the time. He sends me letters, pictures of the boy, news about what he’s doing. The one thing he never says in his letters is that
we’ll get back together and I dig that because at least he’s honest. I hate dudes that lie all the time. Edwin never did that.”

“I don’t know if I can be friends with Quinn, if things don’t work out,” Rae said. “He’s so volatile, on edge. Raw. He needs so much and I don’t know if I’m the one to give him what he needs.”

“Then why do you think it’s even worth it?” Gail asked, always one to get to the crux of everything.

Rae sighed. “Because underneath all of the bluster, the macho jive, there’s a really beautiful man there, with so much going for him,” Rae replied, reaching into the cabinet for fresh linen. “I don’t think he even knows how much he has going for him.”

“That’s all well and good, but you don’t want to get into a rescue mission, because that has nothing to do with love,” Gail said sternly. “I’ve done that, trying to change guys, save them from themselves, and that never works. He has to want to change. In the end, too much rescue work can eat away at whatever love you have for him. It’ll kill it dead. Rae, be honest. Is he
too injured emotionally for you to get into a real relationship with?”

“Yes, Quinn’s messed up right now. But I think that’s only because he’s trying to deal with a lot of changes and challenges in his life. The pain he’s feeling now is from growing. It ain’t easy to throw out old stuff that’s deep down in your soul. And that’s what he’s trying to do. He wants to grow and change. Just like me.”

“Are you sure of that, Miss Girl?”

Rae slipped on a pillowcase and looked over her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Cool. About these arguments, you’ve got to get to the point where you recognize each other’s differences, allow room for that,” Gail counseled. “Don’t try to make yourselves into duplicates of each other. That’s fatal. Listen to what each other has to say. If things are too heated to do that, take a time-out, get a drink of water, go to the bathroom, or out for a walk. Cool down before you get back into it. If you’re in a relationship, winning shouldn’t be the big thing. Working things out is more important than scoring points. Edwin taught me that. Before I met him, I had to win. I lost two guys
like that, running my mouth and not knowing when to shut up.”

“When did you get so wise?” Rae said, laughing.

“When I stopping thinking like a teenybopper and started acting my age,” her friend said. “As long as you know you want to be with him, hang tough, be yourself, and let things flow. Don’t try to force anything. You can’t make him love you. He has to come to that decision for himself. He could love you and not even know it. That happens a lot with men. They’re not as in touch with their hearts as we are.”

“What about this other woman, this Maxine?”

“Rae, there’s not much you can do there,” Gail said, shrugging, tucking one end of the sheet under the mattress. “You let him tell you what’s going on there. You get all of the facts, then you make up your mind. But don’t jump the gun. Wait. If it’s just about his child, about how he misses him and all that, that shouldn’t stop you from getting with him. Hey, be thankful that he cares like that about his kid. A lot of brothers don’t.”

“Hey, I know that,” Rae said, smiling. “Yeah, Quinn’s a good man.”

“Well, that’s settled,” Gail said, tossing a pillow at her friend. “Now go get him, tiger. Never let a good man slip through your fingers. They don’t grow on trees. What time is it?”

“A little after one.” She threw a pillow back at Gail but the woman ducked and laughed at her.

“Rae, I’ve got to get out of here,” her friend said, walking toward the door. “Called the dentist yesterday. Got two back teeth that need work. I hope he doesn’t have to use the drill. Hate that thing. Or worse yet, have to pull them, hours in that chair. Anyway, see ya, honey. Got to run. Stick it out with Quinn. He sounds all right. Give him a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

After Gail left, Rae stared at the pile of soiled linen, the evidence of her torrid night with Quinn. She walked over, grabbed the sheet that was ripe with the aroma of their love, husky and carnal, and sat on the bed. Without a second thought, her hands brought
it up to her nose and she inhaled deeply as though she were going underwater.

For some reason, Quinn stopped at the door of B.J.’s, watching the group of black men sitting and squatting on the cars a half block down from the bar, shooting dice. They were having a friendly game of craps, no arguing, no scrapping. He smiled and nodded before pushing open the old Plexiglas door. As usual, Turk was behind the bar, serving a few early afternoon regulars some brews. Other guys lined the long wood glancing up at the Saints-Vikings football game, bickering about which NFL teams would make the playoffs, which quarterback had the strongest arm, and which defense unit gave up the least scores. Turk paid them no mind. He perked up when he saw Quinn walk in.

“Whassup, stranger?” the bartender asked, all smiles. “What you been up to?”

“Nothing much,” Quinn answered, looking around. “All’s cool.”

“You lookin’ for Remy? He’s in the back, getting his gear together. Today’s his fishing day, out on that rickety boat of his. He loves
that piece of crap, thinks he’s Captain Ahab or somethin’. Go on back, kid.”

“Thanks, man.”

The back room was still small, a little larger than a cell in lockup, and just as rank smelling as usual. Sweat, booze, bodies, perfume, you name it. Nobody remembered to put in a stronger lightbulb, so the glow in the room was faint, eerie, almost otherworldly. Quinn squinted his eyes, trying to make out the faces of the handful of people gathered near a battered pool table in a corner of the room. At least the pictures of the women on the walls had been changed. Remy, ever the mack, loved a pretty woman. Out of the shadows, Smalls, the ever faithful bouncer, waddled over to Quinn, about to frisk him, when a familiar raspy voice cut through the cigarette fog.

“Leave the man alone,” Remy said, appearing out of the crowd, holding a fishing pole. “Come on over, kid, and let me check ya out.”

Quinn and the older man hugged as men do, patting each other on the back. They remained that way for three seconds until Remy, dressed in casual fishing gear, stepped back. He looked
at his young protégé long and hard, nodding his head in approval.

“Look good, my man,” the slickster said in a grumble. “Whatcha been doing since I seed ya last?”

Quinn noticed the once salt-and-pepper hair was now more salt than pepper. The years were passing. He smiled, his heart warm at the sight of the old man. “Hey, I’m hanging, doing my thing. Everything’s pretty decent but I would like some words with you, Mr. R.”

“No problem. Had some business I had to wrap up with my man over there. You remember Willie Stiles, once was the big man around here. All through Harlem, even up in the Bronx. Ran girls, numbers, a couple of after-hour clubs, hot sheet hotels, had his hand in everything. Well, one of his girls turned up dead. They pinned the rap on Willie, did a long stretch up in Sing Sing. Just got out. Willie, come over here. Wantcha to meet somebody.”

Willie looked older than Remy, had the stoop of somebody who’d been inside a long time, thin and gaunt. His face was like that of an eagle, all angles and corners. He was dressed
all in black, turtleneck and pants, long coat and cowboy boots. Shades hid his eyes and an old-style stingy brim covered his head. Anyone could see that Remy had much respect for the old-school gangster by the way he deferred to him.

“Glad to meet you, youngblood,” Willie said, his lips barely moving. “Remy, we can conversate on that other thing later this evening. Call me when you get back from the water.”

He shook Quinn’s hand, the diamond ring on his pinkie throwing off rays, then he was gone. Remy started talking to Quinn about how the numbers game wasn’t what it used to be, with the lotto and all, how the young thugs were muscling in on a lot of the other hustles, how heroin, or “boy” as he called it, was making a comeback. He talked as he gathered up his fishing gear, the rods, the box with his lures and bait.

Once outside, they walked to his new ride, a brand-new Jaguar, two-door. Fire-engine red. Quinn could tell he was proud of the car by the way he patted it before opening the door on the driver’s side. “Hop in. We can talk while we
ride,” Remy instructed. They pulled away from the curb, cruising slowly.

“Quinn, guess what?” He turned west, going toward the river.

“What?” He loved watching the old man, his style, his sense of cool. They didn’t make black men like him anymore, strong, polished, and solid.

“Man, I’d love to go down to the Keys one day and fish for marlin and swordfish,” Remy said, his eyes sparkling. “I love this fishing thing. Relaxes you. You get on the water, throw your line in, and the world just drifts away. You need to get back out here to cool you right out.”

Quinn remembered once going with his “Uncle” Ike and his crew fishing off Long Island, the men wrestling with the big ones, and the rows of long gray fish strung along the block and tackle, their insides removed and fins cut off. Ike drank, smoked his cigars, and bragged about the ones that got away. They had a good time. It was one of the first times he recalled feeling like a man, a real man, hanging out with the old guys. Chilling.

They parked the car near the water, locked
it up, and walked over to the pier. Remy pointed out his boat, a not-so-small fishing craft with an outboard motor on the back. It had sleeping quarters, a galley, a TV, and a modern guidance system. The old man got him onboard and cast off, heading out to sea. They didn’t say much until he got out beyond the harbor into the open water. He offered Quinn a cold beer and the two men sat for a while, catching up on old times.

“How you doin’? You okay?”

Quinn noticed the boats out on the horizon, some fishing, others carrying cargo. “Yeah, I’m dealing. But I’ve got a bunch of other stuff gnawing at me, Remy. My life’s all messed up. I got a son I never see, you know the deal with that. Still can’t play. Haven’t written a word for my book that’s overdue, and now I’ve got this new woman who wants to get close to me. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”

“Hmmm,” was all Remy said, as if that was enough. And for the moment it was. All Quinn wanted right then was some peace and a willing ear, no accusations, no judgments.

There was a stiff land breeze from Remy’s right. He moved the gear and box to the middle
of the deck, watching the water, its eddies and currents moving in a steady dark stream. Quinn was glad that he had come. The serenity of the sea took his mind off his problems for a while but he knew he had to talk with the old man, get it out, settle the confusion. Overhead, a group of large gulls sailed, glided, then dived into the water after food.