Blame It on Paradise (17 page)

“He’s at home with Beth. She’s looking really good these days.”

“Is everything okay between you two?”

“We’re good, Ma.” When the concern failed to leave his mother’s eyes, he added, “Honestly. We had a really good talk about a lot of stuff.”

Connie seemed to spend a moment weighing Jack’s words, then smiled. “I’m so glad.” She set the albums on the table. “Lina and I had a wonderful time at the Sham. The house was empty when we came back, so I thought I’d show her a few of your baby pictures. You were such an adorable baby, Jackie. You had the cutest little bum. You looked so beautiful naked.”

“Still do,” Lina said under her breath.

“Mom,” Jack said loudly, “Lina and I are going to head out now. She’s got an early flight to Madrid tomorrow morning and we—
she
—uh, Lina, I meant to say, needs to get to bed early.”

Connie’s smile melted a little. “Oh, well, if you have to go…”

“It’s just that Lina’s not feeling that great, Ma.”

“Are you coming down with something?” Connie moved around the table to lay one hand across Lina’s forehead and the other at the base of her neck. “You don’t feel warm. You actually feel a little cool. Have you eaten anything today?”

“Not since breakfast,” Lina recalled.

“Jack, shame on you.” Connie guided Lina back into her chair. “No wonder she’s out of sorts. I’ve got a lovely boiled dinner that I planned to serve before the cake. You two make yourselves comfortable, and—”

“Ma, honestly, we have to go.”

Lina grasped Jack’s forearm. “No, we don’t. Not yet. Please?”

Jack looked down at her, confused. “You want to stay here for dinner?”

Lina spent a moment watching Jack’s mother pull a heavy Dutch oven from the refrigerator and set it on the gas stove. She collected plates from a cabinet and set them on the table, and she gave Lina’s cheek a loving pat as she squeezed past her and Jack to collect cutlery. “I’d really like to stay, Jack,” she said softly.

He sat in the chair beside her and stared at the moisture suddenly glazing her eyes. “Why?” he mouthed.

“Because I miss being mothered,” she whispered.

CHAPTER 13

“Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“Where are all the black people?”

Harrison had discovered the source of the slight knock, but the BMW might have had worse problems if Jack had kept staring at Lina in stunned silence as he drove west on Berkeley. “What?” he coughed, focusing on the road before he jumped a curb and wrapped them around a fire hydrant.

“I haven’t seen any black people on Nahant since I arrived, and I’ve only seen a few working at Coyle-Wexler,” Lina said. “Where are the black people in Boston?”

Jack gripped the steering wheel a little tighter with his left hand and downshifted with his right. “They’re everywhere, Lina.” He scoured the sidewalks, feeling like an idiot as he looked for proof. “See?” He pointed to an attractive, older couple bundled in fur and leather on the opposite side of the intersection of Berkeley and Tremont Street.

Lina watched as the older gentleman approached a driver, who’d double parked a sleek, shiny sedan in front of a high-rise condominium complex on Tremont. The older man briefly touched hands with the driver, surely slipping him a tip, before opening the car door for a woman Lina took to be his wife after catching a glimpse of the big diamond on her left hand. The couple had matching silvery-gray hair, but the man’s complexion was several shades darker than that of his cocoa-brown wife. In keeping with the flow of traffic, Jack whizzed past them before Lina could see much more, but the sight of them did little more than beg more questions.

“That couple looked quite wealthy,” Lina observed. “I haven’t seen any regular black people.”

He slowed and brought the car to a stop at Columbus Ave. “Okay,” he mumbled around a noncommittal grunt.

Lina turned in her seat. “So you’ll take me to them?”

It took a moment for the heat of her stare to force a response from Jack. “You mean now?”

“We’re out, so why not?”

“It’ll be dark soon.”

“Your point being?”

“Some of those neighborhoods aren’t safe.”

“Oh honestly, Jack, you’re being ridiculous,” Lina chastised. “I’d really like to see people who look like me for a change. If you don’t want to take me, fine. I’ll have the Coyle-Wexler car drive me when I get back from Spain.”

Jack spent a full two seconds deliberating the choice he was about to make, all the time allowed him before the light turned green. He put on his left turn signal, then outraced an oncoming car to make the turn onto Columbus. Traveling south, he instantly regretted acceding to Lina’s wish.

“This is the more cosmopolitan part of Columbus,” Jack told her as they passed ritzy boutiques, chic gyms, gourmet restaurants and neat brownstones.

“I suppose it is,” Lina said, eyeing a young man in a furry pink parka walking a snow-white Chihuahua with a diamond-studded collar.

They drove several more blocks in silence before crossing Massachusetts Avenue. Lina sat up straighter, noticing how the brownstones had grown more depressed, with boarded windows and graffiti spray painted on front stoops. For the first time since landing in Boston, she saw a heterogeneous mix of people—black, white, Hispanic and Asian. Their skin colors varied, but they all wore the same dismal, flat expressions as they moved about their depressed neighborhood. The sight of them made Lina miss Darwin even more.

They passed an athletic center that, Jack explained, had been named for a Boston Celtics player who’d died young. Jack also pointed out Roxbury Community College. Lina wanted to stop and tour the campus, but she accepted Jack’s explanation that since it was Sunday, the buildings would be closed for the weekend.

Lina was amazed at how the neighborhoods here and in Southie were different yet painfully the same. The brick, multilevel rowhouses were similar, the automobiles were pretty much the same, too. Even the corner stores were alike, only as they traveled farther southwest, storefronts and sandwich boards changed from O’Grady’s Market and Paddy’s Subs & Salads to Almeida’s Groceria and Peoples Soul Food.

But when they approached a playground near the Jackson Square T station, where Jack was considering an illegal U-turn, Lina wouldn’t take no for an answer when he refused to pull over.

“But you like basketball, you said so yourself,” Lina argued, her face toward a group of lanky black men shooting hoops on the playground courts. “I’d really like to watch, just for a little while.”

Jack laughed in disbelief. A red light forced him to wait to make his turn, and Lina took that opportunity to exit the car.

“Lina!” Jack called after her.

She slammed the door, cutting off Jack’s yelling, and picked her way through the traffic idling at the red light.

Jack was boxed in by a divider on his left and another car on his right. He tracked Lina with his eyes, growing more annoyed by the minute as she walked to the basketball courts as though she’d been paid to officiate. He watched her so intently, the cars behind him had to use their horns to spur him into motion when the light turned green. Earning more angry honks from other drivers, Jack bullied his way to the right side of the road and wedged the BMW into the first available parking spot.

He exited the car so quickly, he almost got his door taken off by a low-riding Honda quivering from the reverb of a bass-heavy rap song. Spitting colorful curses, Jack jogged to the basketball courts. He found Lina sitting on the first row of the five-tiered concrete bleachers. Her hands on her knees, she leaned forward, intently watching the game with a smile.

“They’re really good, Jack,” she said, raising a gloved hand to point at a tall, muscular man wearing a strappy T-shirt and dark blue track pants. “Especially him. I haven’t seen a live basketball game since I left Stanford, so this is a treat. You should have seen the three-pointer he landed from the top of the key while you were parking the car.”

“While I was—!” Glancing at the men on the court, Jack forced himself to stay calm and to speak in low tones. “The only reason I had to park was because for some insane reason, you jumped out of my car! You’ve seen what you came here to see, so can we go now?”

Lina peeled her gaze from the three-on-three in front of her to look at Jack. “You’re scared.”

“The hell I’m scared,” he said.

Lina peered at him a bit more closely. “You’re scared to be in this neighborhood?”

“It’s Roxbury, Lina.” He kept his eyes on the distant sidewalk, where two young black men in baggy black jeans and hooded sweatshirts stood staring and pointing at his BMW. “Things happen here.”

“It’s not dark yet,” she said, “so we’ll be fine for a while longer.” She looked back at the courts and the tall, broad-shouldered men playing basketball. She felt a chill through her fashionable pea coat and Burberry scarf, so she was amazed that the basketball players could function stripped down to their T-shirts with their breath curling into the air.

“This isn’t the best place for either of us to be, Lina,” Jack said pointedly.

“I’m afraid I really don’t understand,” she said. “You’ll sleep with me but you won’t watch these men play basketball?”

Flames of embarrassment licked at Jack’s ears when the two players closest to the bleachers turned at Lina’s words. “Let’s just get back in the car and go home. Please.”

“I’m watching the game. Okay?”

“We got us a pretty lady to entertain, let’s go!” one of the players announced, clapping his hands.

Jack bristled at the overly appreciative grins Lina received from the players, one of whom glared Jack’s way. Their open interest in Lina wasn’t as unseemly as the best man’s behavior at the wedding, but Jack had known how to handle that situation. He had no idea what to do about six black men, each about his size, ogling his girl on a Roxbury playground. Holding on to the hope that it would be easier to reason with Lina, he said, “Five more minutes, and then we’re out of here. Understand?”

Her mouth firm and one delicate eyebrow arched in defiance, Lina pinned an accusatory eye on Jack. “Just because
you’re
scared, don’t try to bully me into—”

“I told you, I’m not scared of those guys,” Jack insisted. Quietly.

“Then what’s the problem? This is a public park. We have every right to watch them play.”

Jack answered her so quietly, she barely heard him. “I’m more concerned about other guys, the ones we can’t see right now. People get mugged and killed around here.”

“People get mugged and killed everywhere,” she said. “It’s a sad fact of the world we live in. Brilliant!” she cried, applauding a deft hook shot from under the basket. “Heavens, did you see that, Jack?”

He was totally unwilling to acknowledge the shot, which would have made the highlight reel on any sports broadcast. “Anybody can dump a hook from that angle,” he grumbled.

“Anybody in the NBA maybe,” Lina said shrewdly.

“I could make that shot,” Jack said.

She tipped her chin toward the game. “Prove it.”

Jack stiffened. “You want me to play? Now? With those guys?”

“Pocket your fear and go for a shoot-around,” Lina smiled.

“I can’t just come down here and cut into someone else’s game. This isn’t my neighborhood. That’s not how it’s done.”

“That’s too bad. I think I’d have enjoyed watching you work up a sweat.”

As much as Jack wanted to head north to his own neck of the woods, he was drawn to the action on the court. He’d left his coat in the car, and as the sun sank lower in the western sky, the air grew cooler. He warmed his hands by rubbing them along his jeans. The best way to warm them would be to step out onto the court and join the game. As much as he wanted to do just that, Jack sat on his hands instead. Football was his sport of choice, but he wasn’t a slouch at basketball or any other game that involved a ball. The men on the court were talented, and Jack thought it would be fun to test himself against such skill. It wouldn’t be a thing like playing in the pick-up games at Coyle-Wexler’s in-house gym. These guys were artisans, not overweight office hounds who illustrated the widely held belief that white men can’t jump.

Jack and Lina watched the entire game, which ended with a showy dunk by the man who’d promised to entertain his audience. Lina started to applaud, but Jack took her elbow. The streetlights were beginning to glow against the cobalt sky and Jack wanted to get back to his car. Which seemed so much farther away now that a few of the basketball players were approaching them.

“We on for next week?” one of the men called to the group as he tugged on a sweatshirt with
umass
emblazoned across the front.

“Yeah,” shrugged a man with a bald head that gleamed in the streetlight, “unless Mina drops the baby. Her due date is tomorrow. Doc says she won’t let her go more than a week past her due date ’cause of her blood pressure.”

“Page me at the office if I’m not at home and let me know what’s up,”
umass
offered.

“Still burning the midnight oil?” the bald man chuckled.

“Gotta meet the deadline for the Gillette campaign,”
umass
said. “It’s my biggest account.”

“Excuse me,” Lina interjected then, stopping them before they completely passed the bleachers. “That was quite a good game. You all were wonderful.”

“You lit a fire, girl,”
umass
grinned. “We always play better with spectators. The prettier, the better.”

“We’d better be getting home now,” Jack said. He smiled stiffly at the basketball player.

Lina took a tiny step forward, removing the possessive hand Jack had set at the small of her back. “Do you play here every week?” she asked
umass
.

“For the most part. There’s always somebody on these courts.”

Jack looked around
umass
to see another group of black men assembling to play on the court. The rest of the first group had finished dressing in sweatshirts and zippered jackets, collected their duffel bags, and were quickly closing the distance between the courts and the bleachers.

“It’s time to go home,” Jack said more stringently to Lina. He offered an awkward smile to
umass
. “We have a long drive ahead of us, so if you’ll excu—”

“It’s like that, huh?” one of the other players said, eyeing Lina with disgust. “You come slummin’ to watch the brothers play, but you go back home with
that
?”

The intensity of the man’s emotion made Lina flinch. “I’m sorry?” she managed, genuinely surprised at his sudden and unprovoked anger.

Clearly angry, the man dropped his duffel bag and made a move toward Lina.
umass
intercepted him, pushing him back a step. “Don’t you have to be at the shop early tomorrow, R.J?”

“I know my business, man,” R.J. spat. “I don’t need you tellin’ me.”

“Why you gotta be all up in somebody’s face?”
umass
asked him, still blocking his path to Lina and Jack.

“Why she gotta bring her doughboy to our ’hood?” R.J. persisted, his arms wide as he maneuvered around
umass
as easily as he’d moved on the court.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not from any ‘hood’ around here,” Lina said. “I saw you and your friends playing, and I—” She turned to Jack. “What’s a ‘doughboy’?”

“Ignore him, baby.”
umass
flashed Lina a disarming smile that hardened the muscles in Jack’s face. “I hope to see you around here more often, but right now I think it’s time to drive my friend here home.”

R.J. shrugged out of reach of
umass
’s grip. “Let me carry my black ass to doughboy’s ‘hood and see how much peace I get. You stay here and try to cure that snow-blind sister. I’ll walk home.”

“She ain’t even from around here,”
umass
said. “Didn’t you listen when she talked?”

Jack grew increasingly anxious as two of the new players on the court briefly turned toward the disagreement between
umass
and R.J. “Lina, let’s go,” Jack urged her.

“Where you from, baby?”
umass
asked Lina as R.J. stalked off. “I can’t place your accent.”

“I’m from Darwin Island,” Lina said.

“Never heard of it,”
umass
laughed. “Is it in the Bahamas?”