Black Lace (5 page)

By the time she got to her desk on Friday morning,
the butterflies in her stomach were whirling like they were on steroids. She had on her best black power suit and a brand new silk blouse. Unfortunately, she had to wear sneakers because her ankle refused to go into the pumps she’d wanted to wear. The shoes spoiled the overall look, but hey, it was all she had.

Since it was still early, Lacy took advantage of the quiet surroundings to scribble a few notes and to get her head into the game.

At eight-thirty Ida stuck her head around Lacy’s door. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

Ida grabbed the packets while Lacy maneuvered herself onto the scooter, then the two women headed back out to the elevator for the ride up to the mayor’s office.

The conference room was crowded. Lacy recognized some of the women and men as heads of various departments, but most of the faces were unfamiliar. She thought he said he was bringing in his cabinet. There seemed to be a lot more people here than that, but the confident Lacy eased the scooter to the front of the room.

Drake was having a conversation with one of the legal beagles about the upcoming contract talks with the city’s bus drivers union when Lacy and her scooter appeared in the doorway. Keeping the conversation going, he followed her progress through the crowded room with his eyes. She looked good in the black suit, and the open-necked white blouse looked expensive.
The long string of gray pearls around her neck gave the outfit even more elegance. Seeing the high-top Nikes on her feet made him chuckle inwardly. Evidently she’d chosen practicality over fashion, but even so, the lady had style.

Drake wanted to stroll over and talk to her, but forced himself to remain where he was. The graceful way her jaw melted into her neck, and the sparkle in her onyx eyes as she and Ida chatted, entranced him. The way the small twists in her hair framed her face and the curves of her sweet-looking mouth also drew his visual attention, but he’d promised himself he wouldn’t crowd her, and she was here to work. She probably wouldn’t appreciate him distracting her right now. So he gave the lawyer his undivided attention. There’d be time and opportunity to enjoy Lacy’s company later.

At precisely nine o’clock Lacy said to the gathering. “I’d like to get started. I know many of you have other appointments and meetings today and I don’t want to keep you here any longer than necessary.”

Someone called out, “I like her already. I vote yes for whatever she’s asking.”

The quip brought laughter, then the room slowly quieted.

Lacy saw the mayor standing at the back of the room. “Mayor Randolph, do you have anything you want to say before Ida and I get started?”

Drake liked the way she’d included Ida’s name in the presentation. For him, it said a lot about Lacy’s lack of ego. “No, Ms. Green. Go ahead.”

Lacy began by explaining the basics. “Basically, what I’m calling Blight Court is a set of administrative hearings devoted specifically to civil infractions committed in four areas. Property Maintenance, Zoning, Solid Waste Removal, and Illegal Dumping. In the past all of these citations and summons went through the Thirty-sixth District Court, but they’re so backed up on bigger cases they can only hear maybe fifty blight cases a week. Maybe. But with this plan the city could handle as many as seventy thousand cases a year.” Lacy could see the surprise on some of the faces and, at the back of the room, the mayor nodding his encouragement.

She continued. “The court would have three full-time members presiding over the hearings, and they could be attorneys, independent contractors, or citizens. That will be up the mayor.”

Someone asked, “What about enforcement? Right now, we can summon, but they don’t have to show up at court because they know their case isn’t high priority.”

“We’ll garnish their checks. We’ll slap liens on their homes or businesses. The legal precedents used successfully by other cities have been included in the packets I’ll pass out when we’re done.”

“Wow,” a woman said from the back.

A skinny balding man up front concurred. “Sounds like you’ve really done your homework, Ms. Green.”

“Thank you.”

Lacy talked about the Chicago model the Detroit
court would be modeled after and then, on the overhead projector, put up the stats showing the effectiveness of their measures. She talked about how steep the fines might be and the need for more city inspectors for the whole picture to work. In all, the presentation took thirty minutes.

When she finished, she turned off the projector and applause broke in the packed room. Surprised and somewhat embarrassed, she beamed. She could see people nodding their heads in agreement and smiling.

“Are there any questions?” she asked from her seat on the scooter.

There were plenty. Some came from the court officers present, others from the city’s lawyers. Lacy answered as best she could, though inside she was a giddy fool. Her program looked like it was going to be a go, and she couldn’t ask for more, except for maybe wanting this meeting to be over so she and Ida could go back to the office and celebrate.

Drake watched Lacy taking questions. She’d given an impressive performance. The material she presented had been clear and concise. Judging by the group’s response he wasn’t the only one excited about the plan. He had to go to the state capital later that day for a meeting with the governor, and he was looking forward to reading her materials in depth on the ride. In the meantime, while she shook a few more hands and accepted more smiles and congratulations on a job well done, Drake watched her with appreciative eyes.
Beautiful, sassy, and bright
, he noted to
himself. It was a wicked combination in a woman. A wicked combination.

As the room emptied, Drake spent a few moments talking with various people and fielding their enthusiasm for Lacy’s proposal. When the last person exited, he was left alone with Ida and Lacy. They were gathering up their materials to go back to their office. “Great job, ladies,” he said walking to the front of the conference room to join them at the table.

They replied in unison, “Thanks.”

“Real good job. Don’t be surprised if this winds up on the fast track.”

He sat on the edge of the table just close enough for Lacy to feel his warmth slowly mingle with her own. Ida was replacing the slides in a folder and trying to act as if she weren’t checking out Lacy and the mayor, but Lacy knew better.

“Didn’t Lacy do a good job?” Ida asked.

“Yes, she did.”

“She should be director instead of assistant,” Ida declared.

“You think so?” he asked Ida, but his eyes were locked on Lacy’s.

“I know so.”

Lacy wondered if this was how it felt to be mesmerized. She couldn’t seem to do anything but look at him. As a result, her voice came out a lot softer than she’d intended. “I don’t need to be director. I—”

“Lace. I’m going to take this stuff upstairs.”

And before Lacy could tell her to wait, Ida
snatched up the box they’d brought down and was gone.
Traitor!
she wanted to yell, but instead found herself trying not to concentrate on the vivid nearness of His Fineness. It was difficult. She wondered what it was about this man that made her feel so
aware
? His presence seemed to enhance her senses, making her note the faint scents of his cologne, the strong sound of her heart, and the feel of her lungs as she breathed in and out.

“I like the Nikes,” he told her.

She raised her foot and checked out her shoe. “Pretty jazzy, huh?”

“Yep, and they match your suit.”

Their smiles met.

He said then, “I heard about your car.”

“Then you know the bad news.”

“I do.” Learning from Rhonda that Lacy’s Escort was too cracked up to be repaired only added to the guilt Drake felt over the accident. “The city will compensate you. I’ll have Rhonda send you the forms. It may take a while for them to cut the check, so the sooner you get the paperwork done, the sooner you’ll get your money.”

“Okay.”

Silence settled again before Drake said, “I meant what I said about the presentation.”

“Thanks for liking the proposal. When I first started working here, I wasn’t sure anyone knew our office existed.”

“We do now.”

“And I can’t wait to get going.”

He paused for a moment, then asked, “When are you going to let me take you to dinner?”

She chuckled softly and looked up into his face. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“I keep telling you, I’m harmless.”

“No man with your reputation is
harmless.
”

He threw back his head and laughed. After composing himself, he told her, “You got me on that one.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied. “I need to go back downstairs so we can both get some work done.”

Once again their eyes locked, and Lacy could feel her blood begin to samba. After a moment she confessed without shame, “You’re very hard to say no to, Mr. Mayor.”

“Good,” he whispered.

As he reached out and slowly ran a gentle finger down her cheek, time seemed to slow. Lacy’s eyes fluttered closed in response to the power of his touch. “Very hard…”

He smiled softly.

Rhonda leaned into the door. “Mayor Randolph, I—”

Lacy jumped like a teenager busted kissing in the high school hall.

Rhonda saw the embarrassment on the young woman’s face and instantly apologized, “I’m sorry. I thought you were alone.”

He eased himself to his feet. “Rhonda Curry. Lacy Green.”

Lacy nodded, then said, “Hello.”

Rhonda smiled. “Hello.” Then she said to Drake, “Malcolm has the car ready. He said give him a ring when you’re ready to leave for Lansing.”

She turned to Lacy and said genuinely, “Nice meeting you.”

“Same here.”

Her departure left them alone again.

Lacy picked up a few papers Ida had overlooked and placed them in the scooter’s basket. “I should go.” Her senses were still blooming from his whispered caress across her cheek. “Thanks again for the support.”

“You’re welcome.”

Drake watched her drive out of the room. It took everything he had not to call her back.

Back in her office, Lacy joined Janika and Ida in a Hallelujah celebration. They were excited about the proposal going forward and proud that the mayor had rewarded them for all their hard work. Lacy sprang for pizza for lunch, and they ate the hot slices of pie around the big smiles on their faces.

At about three that afternoon City Councilman Reynard Parker stormed into Lacy’s office and threw a folder down on her desk. “Did you write this?” he demanded.

She checked out his angry round face for a moment, then picked up the folder and leafed through the pages. It was a copy of her Blight Court presentation. “Yes, my staff and I put this together. Is there a problem?”

“Yes. Under whose authority did you do this?”

“The mayor requested projects for the upcoming budget, so I gave him one.”

“This is a waste of taxpayer money.”

Lacy remained calm. “How so?”

“This will do nothing but harass small businesses.”

“Only if they’re breaking the law, councilman.”

“Is the mayor so hard-up for funds that he’s now targeting small businesses with petty fines?”

“That is not the intent.” Lacy wondered what this was really about. She didn’t know much about Parker other than that he opposed all of the mayor’s initiatives and had ties to the waste hauling interests in the area. “People who poison the city, or refuse to keep up their property, or don’t answer summons, are the only people being targeted.”

His brown face was grim. “Well, I don’t like it, and I’m going to do everything in my power to stop it!”

“That’s your choice, sir, but I’d hope you’d wait for it to be implemented before condemning it.”

He snatched up the report. “This is not good for the businesses of my constituents. You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then you need to learn the rules before getting into the game. You’ll be hearing from me.”

And he left.

Lacy realized she was shaking.

A wide-eyed Ida rushed in. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, but I think I just made an enemy.”

Drake’s meeting with the governor
took up most of the afternoon, but before he could leave the capital he had to meet with a few of the Detroit legislators. By the time he and Malcolm finally headed back to Detroit for the last meeting of the day, he was running late.

When he entered the large conference room of Chandler Works, the lights were already dimmed and the members of NIA were seated around the table waiting for the slide show to begin. NIA was Drake’s brain child. When he first became mayor, the city had been so overrun with drug-related violence that every time he picked up a newspaper or turned on the nightly news, there were stories of death. Because the country had spent billions fighting drugs in the major cities with only minimal results, Drake decided to try a different and yes, controversial approach. That ap
proach was NIA, which in Swahili, means purpose, and Drake’s purpose at the time had been to rid his beloved city of the drugs and its ancillary pestilence by any means necessary. It was an ongoing battle. They’d had success on some fronts and were still knocking on closed doors on others, but Drake refused to give up.

Relieved that the briefing hadn’t started, he quickly found a chair in the back and tossed his overcoat onto the empty chair in front on him. The first slide came up. The color shot was of a middle-age Black man Drake didn’t recognize.

“This is Lloyd Wheeler. For the past ten years he was the accountant at Parker Environmental, City Councilman Reynard Parker’s company. For the past six months Wheeler has been feeding info on Parker to our friends over in the Federal Building.”

The voice of the narrator belonged to Drake’s half brother, Mykal Chandler, the no nonsense CEO of the architectural firm Chandler Works and the titular head of NIA. Myk stood then, and Drake could see his tall frame in the light of the projector.

“According to Wheeler,” he continued, “Parker has been using his trash haulers to distribute drugs. That was verified this afternoon. One of his trucks was stopped by the border patrol at the Ambassador Bridge which connects Detroit to Windsor, Ontario. The agents found thirty-five trash bags of pot, or roughly about a thousand pounds.”

Somebody whistled.

“The driver’s in custody, but he’s asked for a
lawyer, so we have to wait and see if he implicates his boss.”

A woman seated in front of Drake interrupted. “How much more information does this Wheeler have? Various agencies have been trying to nail Parker for years.”

“No idea, because Mr. Wheeler went missing a few days ago.”

Drake asked, “Do we think he’s missing or dead?”

“Unfortunately it may be the latter,” his brother responded. “His wife has filed a missing persons report. For the moment, the feds are treating the disappearance as a missing persons case. She’s agreed to let them look at his home computer, and they’ll probably want to do the same for the one in his office.”

“What’s Parker saying?”

“He’s been talking back and forth with Wheeler’s wife, offering to help her look for him, telling her not to worry because he’s sure her husband will show up.”

“Are we looking at him as a suspect?”

“Yep, but proving he’s responsible is going to be the hard part. Especially with no corpse.”

Drake asked, “You’ll keep us posted?”

Myk nodded.

Drake wondered if Parker knew about the Wheeler partnership with the feds and had him killed because of it. He wouldn’t be surprised. He also wouldn’t be surprised if indicting Parker took a long time. The man was smart; too smart, it seemed. He was shaping up to be NIA’s most challenging foe since the deadly Clark Nelson, who had been a major player in the
Midwest drug rings. That case ended with Myk’s wife, Sarita, being shot and Nelson killed. Sarita had been hospitalized for weeks but made a full recovery.

Myk closed down the discussion on Parker, then reported on some of the other investigations NIA was involved in. One that caught Drake’s attention was a request from Adam Gary, an old friend of his from med school. Gary was now a celebrated metallurgist working on a revolutionary polymetal that had the Defense Department salivating over the metal’s unique properties. Apparently, the Defense Department wasn’t the only group interested. According to Myk, a few weeks ago Adam Gary had almost been abducted in Madrid after giving a lecture on his preliminary findings. The DOD wanted him protected until he finished his final analyses and they took possession of the prototype.

Myk opened the floor for comments, and Drake asked, “How about sending Max Blake?”

“Is she back from the Middle East?” someone asked.

No one knew. Maxine Blake was one of their best operatives. They decided to check on her status, and if she was available send her to protect the scientist. After that, the discussion moved to the next item on the agenda.

An hour later the meeting ended and Drake and Mykal were the only ones left in the room. Like their third half brother, Saint, they shared the same father but had been raised apart. Growing up, though, Myk and Drake spent summers together in Louisiana with
their paternal grandmother. They hadn’t known about Saint until a few years ago.

“So,” Drake asked, “how’s the little mama?”

Sarita was due to deliver in September. “She’s doing fine. Me, I’m a basket case,” he admitted as he put away the projector.

“Why?”

“I worry about her 24/7.”

“Pregnancy is a natural thing.”

“Maybe for women.”

Drake grinned. “How are the Lamaze classes coming?”

Myk shrugged. “Okay I guess. I just hope I remember what I’m supposed to do.”

“You’ll be okay. Older men than you have come through it.”

Myk shot Drake a look.

Drake just grinned.

Myk said, “Speaking of old men, what is this about you and Burton running some poor woman off the road?” He began gathering up his papers and reports and sticking them in a black leather briefcase.

Drake told him the story.

“Is she gonna sue?” Myk asked.

“I don’t think so, but man…”

Myk looked into his brother’s eyes. “What?”

“She is so fine.”

Myk chuckled. “Oh, really.”

“Yes, Lord, but getting her to talk to me is like trying to put shoes on an orca.”

Myk’s handsome face showed his smile. “Any
woman who can resist His Fineness is one I want to meet. Wait until I tell Sarita.”

It was Drake’s turn to shoot Myk a look.

“Wait until I tell Sarita and our little brother,” Myk teased.

Not sure he liked being teased, and hoping to turn the conversation to something else, Drake asked, “Speaking of little brother, how’re Saint and Narice doing?”

“She hasn’t put him out yet, so I guess they’re doing okay. Last I heard, they were looking at a villa in Tahiti.”

“Tahiti?”

Myk shrugged. “You know Saint. But he promised they’ll be here for Gran’s birthday party next month.”

Gran was their father’s mother and the woman who had raised Myk from infancy.

Myk added, “If you can get that woman to talk to you, you should bring her along as your date. Can’t wait to meet her.”

“I’ll bet.”

Myk laughed. “Have you had dinner?”

“Nope.”

“Sarita’s making jambalaya.”

Drake paused a moment. “Let’s see, Sarita’s jambalaya or pizza? Hmm.”

Myk grinned. “Get your coat and let’s go.”

Drake didn’t have to be told twice.

After sending Malcolm home, Drake joined his brother for the ride to Indian Village, where Myk and
Sarita lived. “How old is Gran going to be?” he asked.

Myk shrugged. “Two hundred.”

Drake laughed. “She’s going to get you for that.”

“Only if you tell her. Which you probably will.”

They shared a look. Myk had amusement in his eyes.

Drake asked, “You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”

“Nope,” and he chuckled. “You cost me a night with Charlene Reynolds.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Drake replied, unimpressed. “You were what, twelve that summer?”

“Thirteen.”

“Charlene the Bed Queen would’ve
hurt
your skinny little thirteen-year-old behind.”

“Maybe, but thanks to you, we’ll never know.”

The story revolved around Myk’s attempt to sneak fifteen-year-old Charlene into his bedroom one night, only to have the eleven-year-old Drake rat him out to their grandmother. Myk stayed mad at Drake for the rest of the summer.

“I wonder what happened to her?” Drake asked.

Myk looked over. “No idea.”

Drake thought back on the well-built Charlene. “Hindsight? She was fine.”

“Oh, now you admit it?” Myk laughed accusingly.

“Chalk it up to me being young. I was eleven. Didn’t care a thing about girls.”

“I know,” Myk answered sagely.

An amused Drake settled back and watched the streets go by.

Reynard Parker wasn’t happy. In addition to having to hold the hand of the Wheeler’s clueless wife, one of his haulers had been busted by the feds, and now the driver was in jail and the truck and its load impounded. Parker used his well-paid blond lawyer to disavow any knowledge of the hidden contraband. He also promised to help the authorities with their investigation. He looked at his watch: 10:00
P.M
. Where the hell was Fish? He had paged him over an hour ago, and so far Fish hadn’t called him back.
Probably between some woman’s legs,
Parker groused inwardly. He needed Fish to pay a visit to the jailed driver and let him know he’d be taken care of as long as he kept his mouth shut.

Ten minutes later the phone rang. It was Fish, and from the sounds in the background, he was at a club. The high-pitched laugh of women competed with the sounds of tinkling glasses and thumping music blaring over speakers. Parker shouted over the din, “When are you coming in?”

Fish yelled back in a slightly slurred voice, “Come in for what?”

“Something’s gone down that we need to discuss.”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“If it could’ve, I wouldn’t have called you now.”

“Okay, let me say ’bye to the ladies and I’ll be right there.”

He never showed.

By 2:00
A.M
., Parker had come to a decision. Fish had become unreliable, and an unreliable team player was a potential liability. He was too old to have his ship sunk by a fish-eyed fool who couldn’t keep his pants on. Sooner or later—more than likely sooner—Fish, in his effort to impress one of the topless dancers or streetwalkers he couldn’t seem to resist, was going to give up some vital information about his business, and who knew what might happen next. The incident with the pole dancer and the briefcase was a prime example. Women made Fish careless, and Parker knew that in his business, such carelessness could get a man fifteen to twenty years in the state prison. “And I’m not going down like that,” he said aloud. Not after all he’d done.

He hoped Fish had had fun tonight, because if he had his way, it would be Fish’s last. Parker picked up the phone to make the call, then set the phone back in the cradle. With the accountant Wheeler supposedly missing, it wouldn’t look good to have another employee disappear. Even though Fish had no immediate family, he had friends on the street, and having him suddenly vanish might bring more scrutiny. It would be better to postpone Fish’s fate. Only fools rush in, or so the song went, and Reynard Parker had never been a fool.

His encounter with the Green woman had also tested his patience, but he didn’t think he’d have any trouble making her see the light. The last thing he and his constituents needed were more inspectors nosing around in their business. According to the report,
Green was recommending six new people be hired. Fines for citations topped out at fifty grand and she wanted to put citizens and environmental representatives on the hearing board. No, she had to be schooled before this idea became a reality. He had enough on his plate; he didn’t need a tree hugger complicating his life.

Drake was in the office Saturday morning trying to catch up on the never ending paperwork that went with being mayor. His plan was to get as much of it off his desk as he could in the four or five hours he and Rhonda planned on being around, so he’d have less to face come Monday morning. Tonight he had a formal event to attend at the Charles H. Wright African American Museum—a scholarship fund-raiser for one of the city’s high schools—and he was looking forward to it. Right now there were papers to be signed, contracts to scrutinize, and City Council minutes to read and review. But the sun was shining, it was April warm, and just like a kid, he wanted to be outside. He thought about cruising over to Belle Isle and taking in the fresh air off the river. He thought about driving over to his sister’s and taking the kids for ice cream. He thought about a lot of things that had nothing to do with being cooped up inside on a gorgeous Saturday morning, but he had work to do, so he dove in.

But he couldn’t concentrate. The sunshine kept calling, and his mind kept turning to other things, like Lacy Green. He swung his chair around and faced the
window that looked out onto Jefferson Avenue and the sunlight playing on the river. The memory of how soft her skin had been was still a vivid one. Had Rhonda not interrupted, who knew where that short moment in time might have taken them? It was not like him to be so obsessed with a woman. Usually, if a woman didn’t want to be with him, he’d shrug it off and move on. Not this time. He thanked the brother above for giving the lovely Lacy such an impressive brain, because had she not come up with the proposal, he might never have been given the opportunity to know her better.

He turned back to his computer and brought up Google. He typed in Lacy’s name and hit
Enter.
Drake knew searching her out on the Net wasn’t a very gentlemanly thing to do, but he wanted to know as much as about her as he could before starting his campaign to woo her, as Uncle Burton was famous for saying. Drake didn’t really expect the search to turn up anything, so when hundreds of hits came up, he stared, amazed, then began to read.

The articles tied to Lacy proved to be real interesting. No wonder she was so standoffish. If the info was accurate, she had good reason. She’d been married to Wilton Cox, and their divorce had been all over the Atlanta papers. Drake had met Wilton Cox a few years back at an NAACP fund-raiser in D.C. The man had been so full of himself Drake had politely excused himself from the conversation and did his best to avoid Cox for the rest of the evening. Cox was one of those men whose view of himself and his own im
portance far outweighed anything else. The man was a legend in his own mind, as his mother was known to say.
What in the world had Lacy been thinking, to marry such an arrogant SOB?
There were no answers in the hits on Google, but he did find another interesting fact. Her mother was the well-known artist Valerie Garner Green. Unlike most artists, who operate in only one field, Lacy’s mother was known for creating in a variety of mediums. Watercolors, oils. Jewelry. She even sculpted. Many of her pieces were on loan to elite museums all over the country. Drake was impressed. Although he’d never met Mrs. Garner Green, he was aware of her celebrity status.
So, she’s Lacy’s mama
, he thought. He wondered if Lacy had inherited any of her mother’s talent. Again, he had no answers, but thanks to Google, he knew a lot more about Lacy than he had before.