Déjà Vu (5 page)

“Why are you both looking at me like that? Angelica? Malik? What are you guilty of, Angelica?”

“Margo, Malik and I were talking about how I let you down as a friend.”

“We’ve talked about it, but I thought we’ve agreed to move ahead with our lives.”

“I plan to do just that, and the only way to do that is to get a real job that pays.”

“Malik, can’t you pay Angelica? I was wondering why she would opt to do it for free.”

“I’m not sure that Angelica wants to be hemmed up around computers all day,” Malik said.

“Right. I don’t think anyone’s going to let me be a buyer for their store, but maybe doing a little retail, which is my love, would better suit me,” Angelica said.

“You can cut the charade. I don’t know what happened between you being excited about working for Malik and this very minute, Angelica, but whatever it is, it’s on you. I was going to ask you both out to lunch—I just sold a four-hundred-thousand-dollar house—but since you’re being so secretive, I’ll take myself to lunch.”

“But…” Angelica tried to say. Margo held her hand up, palm side to Angelica.

“No, no. You and Malik continue your little conversation. You know that everything hidden eventually comes to the light.”

Silence. Margo swung around and looked from Angelica to Malik. “It will come to the light.” Margo turned and left, swinging her purse over her shoulder.

Malik moved to within an inch of Angelica. “You have opened old wounds. Margo is not going to rest until she finds out what we were talking about.”

“If I’m not going to tell her and you’re not going to tell her, how is she going to find out?”

Malik pondered the question for the moment. “You have to leave Fayetteville. You are a constant reminder of the past and, as long as you remain, Margo is going to want to know what we don’t want her to know.”

“So, Mister I’ve Already Got This Figured Out, you’re going to tell me that I have to pack up my belongings and get out of Dodge so you and your girlfriend can live a peaceful life without having to dance around me and worry about me being up in your face? You know you want this, Malik.”

Angelica removed the top button, then the second button on her jacket. “Mighty tempting, don’t you think?” She teased Malik while he stood staring at her breasts, which were encased in a lime-green plunging, push-up bra.

“You’re not going to trap me in your web, Angelica. I kill spiders, especially black widow spiders with the venomous spot on their heart. You can take your spindly legs and try to wrap them around me, but you don’t want to mess with me.”

Angelica looked up into Malik’s eyes. Her movements were sensual and slow as she lifted her mouth to his and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. She removed her lips and saw that Malik’s eyes were closed, his lips poised for another round. She tasted his lips again while slowly pawing her way down the front of his
plush knit shirt. Angelica waited for him to open his eyes while she stared, daring him to resist her.

Ashamed, Malik threw his hands out and moved back suddenly. Angelica continued to stare at him with eyes that were like magnets, drawing Malik closer the more he resisted.

“You’re fired.”

“Was never on the payroll. You want me to leave?”

“Yes,” Malik said weakly. “Please put your clothes on and don’t bother to come back.”

“Jefferson also found me irresistible, you know. He fought the urge like you’re doing, but it didn’t take much encouragement to lure him in.”

“I’ll never be one of your victims, Angelica. You can count on that.”

“Oh, on the contrary. You enjoyed the touch of my lips on yours. I was taking you to the brink, and you know you wanted to test the water, brother. But it’s all right.”

They turned when they heard the bell. Angelica’s eyes grew large at the sight of the man in braids. He wore the same tattered jeans but had on a white, loose-fitting, crinkled shirt that buttoned down the front. His feet were curled up in a pair of brown sandals, and he wore a cap that partially covered his hair.

“Hello there, missy. I thought that was you when I passed by a minute ago. Look different all dressed up in a suit and some high heels.”

“Can I help you, sir?” Malik asked.

“No. Just thought I recognized the pretty lady. She and I rode the bus to Fayetteville last week. We have some common interests.”

“Is that right? Well, I think you make the lady nervous.”

“You her man friend?”

“No. I’m looking for a job,” Angelica spoke up. “Are you following me?”

“No, in fact, I was headed to a job interview myself. I guess I better be going. Miss, you should close your jacket before another customer comes in.” The man saluted and walked out the store.

Angelica had all but forgotten that her jacket was unbuttoned. She pulled it together and fumbled with the buttons until she had them all fastened. With a slight tremble in her hand, she held onto Malik’s arm for support and then let go. It could not have been coincidental that Walter, the man in braids, happened to be on the same street at about the same time. Malik may have hit the nail on the head. It was time to go—to leave Fayetteville—because the town gave her very little room to start a brand-new life.

S
he bought a one-way ticket to New York. The city made Angelica feel as if she belonged. Bright lights, tall skyscrapers, and the vast city with its millions of people seemed to welcome her with open arms. Lady Liberty waved her torch while the Empire State Building stood alone in the middle of Manhattan without the support of the Twin Towers.

The plane circled the city and eased onto the runway at New York’s LaGuardia Airport. A surprise phone call from Hamilton’s cousin, Donna, had made leaving Fayetteville an easy decision for Angelica.

Donna Barnes Reardon had established herself as one of New York’s notable fashion photographers. Having graduated at one of the top schools of the arts, her portfolio was a collection of rich and flamboyant designs modeled by Donna’s exotic friends from Brazil and Trinidad that she’d met years earlier while a student. There were trips to the island beaches of Jamaica and Bermuda where Donna took advantage of all she learned to advance a career that was in need of a jump-start. It didn’t take long for Donna’s work to be noticed and then for her to be hired by a well-known modeling agency.

Donna needed an inexpensive subject for a personal project she was working on and remembered how excited her cousin’s wife, Angelica, had been about her work. Angelica loved fashion,
which was evident by her love for the fashion retail industry. On a chance that Angelica might accept, Donna invited Angelica to come to the Big Apple and, much to Donna’s surprise, Angelica was available and on her way.

This was going to be the new life Angelica craved. Far away from the place that swallowed her up and advertised her sins on a billboard 24/7, Angelica was grateful and flashed a full set of teeth, so beside herself was she at her newfound fortune.

Hailing a cab, Angelica instructed the driver to take her to Manhattan. She sat in the back with the window down and let the breeze flow through her hair. Tranquil blue water from the East River separated Queens from Manhattan and the drive across soothed Angelica’s nerves.

Much to Angelica’s disappointment, Donna was out on a shoot when the cab arrived at the high-rise condo. The phone call had been simple and abrupt with instructions for the doorman to let Angelica in. Angelica had expected red-carpet treatment on arrival with Donna talking a mile a minute about the new project, where she was going to take Angelica for dinner, who the who’s-who in town were and what fabulous stars they would be cozying up to. With no welcome in sight, Angelica sighed, put her hair into a ponytail, and willed her body from the cab along with her three pieces of designer luggage and her Hobo handbag.

The doorman was an attractive, middle-aged Greek whose graying temples made him look distinguished. His cap sat atop a crop of thick, wavy curls that dropped below the hairline. His maroon and black doorman’s jacket fitted him like an Armani garment, custom-made for a movie star’s body.

Silence engulfed the elevator during the ride to the twenty-fifth floor. The doorman stole glances at the tall, statuesque beauty.
Four-inch stilettos adorned her feet, while a green three-quarter-sleeve, retro cotton and linen jacket sat on top of a sheer, green-and-black, cheetah-print, short-sleeve silk blouse. White wide-leg cotton and spandex pants completed her look. Their eyes connected, and Angelica forced a smile when the doorman winked.

The doorman let Angelica in as Donna had instructed. He placed her luggage in the foyer and stood back by the door. Angelica fumbled around in her large Hobo handbag, but when she finally pulled the money out, the doorman had already gone. She would have to get his name in case she needed someone to talk to.

Angelica’s jaw dropped as she walked through the foyer and gazed around the room. It was a penthouse suite decorated for the rich and famous. Angelica walked through the huge living room/dining room with its mod furniture in colors of tangerine, chartreuse, blue, banana yellow, and coffee brown. The walls were painted custard yellow with off-white baseboards and trailer boards running the length of the rooms. The room was airy and light, but the highlight was the tremendous view of the city with a generous view of the Hudson River to the West and Central Park to the North.

Museum-quality art hung on the luscious walls. On further investigation, she found that huge blown-up photographs of Latin-looking women done in black and white, probably Donna’s work, adorned the walls of another large room that was most likely Donna’s studio. Angelica fingered the work as if she were appraising it for auction. She went from one portrait to the next, admiring what everyone in New York already knew—an award-winning photographer lived here.

Angelica walked around until she doubled back into the living
room. For the first time since her arrival, she stepped into the stainless-steel jungle with the white and black tile running the length of the floor. Opening the refrigerator, Angelica had not expected to find it bare. A lonely, four-pack wine cooler that looked to be off limits sat in the back next to a block of cheese. Angelica took one of the coolers, went into the living room and sat in the chair closest to the window to take in the view.

“Angelica.”

Angelica jumped at the sound of Donna’s voice that was deep throat with too much “put-on.” It had been a long time since she had seen Donna, but to a casual observer, Donna looked like a young woman in an old person’s body. Too much make-up and her perfume was overpowering. Donna’s cocoa skin was beginning to show cracks—a sign that she was letting the industry suck her under.

How long was Angelica asleep? She wiped her mouth and noticed that the wine cooler still sat on the coffee table where she had left it.

“Donna.”

“Have you made yourself comfortable?”

Angelica wasn’t sure if that was a slur about Donna finding her asleep on her best chair or if she really meant it.

“Exhausted. Since I left Fayetteville so abruptly, I had to get someone to take care of my condo, my car, and stuff like the mail. I was so excited about getting away and coming to New York, I threw a few things together and caught the first thing smoking.”

“You’ll come to love New York like I do.”

“I think I already do,” Angelica said as she casually got up from her seat and stood in front of the window to peer out of it for the umpteenth time.

“Well, I have an exciting project that I’m sure you’ll enjoy. The pay’s pretty good and, who knows, you may end up on the twenty-fifth like me.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Have you eaten? If not, I know this great little jazz club in SoHo. We can have a bite to eat and talk about the project.”

“Sounds great. I would like to know, Donna, why you called me. We haven’t spoken in a long time. Frankly, since Hamilton and I are no longer together, I thought I’d be the last person you’d call.”

“My cousin, Hamilton. He’s probably getting what he deserves, sitting in that rotten prison. He’s my blood, but I’ve seen too many lives ruined at his hands.”

“I wish someone would have told me before I married him.”

“I understand he met you in a strip joint.”

Ouch, that stung like a cattle rancher’s brand,
Angelica thought.
Where is this woman coming from?

“Yes, Hamilton met me in a strip club. Haven’t you had some hard times? That’s why I was there.” Angelica moved away from the window and stood face to face with Donna.

“Didn’t mean to offend you, Angelica. Just ironing out some facts. Let’s get started on the good foot. Give me some love.”

Angelica didn’t feel like giving any love. She could feel her days being numbered at the penthouse, but she would go along with the program until something else came along. Right now, she was far away from Margo and Malik, and ready for a new adventure. She reached over and gave Donna a hug. “Thank you.”

“As soon as I change, we’ll be on our way,” Donna said. “I think we’ll take the subway.”

Angelica smiled. “Can’t wait.”

T
he doorman opened the door as Donna and Angelica approached. He gave Angelica another once-over as she glided past him in a flirtatious way, she turning slightly to see if he had noticed. Angelica still wore the outfit she had arrived in while Donna had slipped into a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a cream-colored satin blouse with a high collar and plunging neckline.

“You trying to make a move on Ari?”

“Of course not, Donna. I was being playful my first day in New York.”

“Well, I hope so. Girl, there are bigger fish to fry, if you get my meaning. This town is full of those who have money and those who don’t, but money’s easy to get if you know the right person. And you will get to know the right person in this business.”

“So, have you fried your fish?”

Donna laughed. “You’re funny, Angelica.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Let’s say I wouldn’t be living in that fab Manhattan pad if I didn’t know the right people. My work speaks for itself, though. My degree and my training have not gone to waste. I know how to play the game because I’ve watched some of the masters at work, and if you want something bad enough, you do what you have to in order to get what you want.”

“I may have lived in Fayetteville, North Carolina, but I know what I like.”

“Let’s catch the subway. Sometimes I like to feel New York the way it touches everyday folk.”

Angelica walked briskly, trying to keep in step with Donna. Donna was an intriguing person, and Angelica could not quite put a finger on her pulse. It would all unravel soon, and she hoped that in the days ahead she would be trading her small condo in Fayetteville for a high rise in Manhattan.

They entered the station, walked down the stairs and purchased metro cards. Angelica wasn’t feeling the subway, but Donna seemed right at home.

At Donna’s direction, they jumped on the train headed for SoHo. The train was crowded with business types headed to places unknown. The people seemed disinterested, deeply into themselves. There were no friendly hellos or the smiles that she was accustomed to in North Carolina.

The train lurched and pulled into a station to let people on and off. A young woman carrying packages and a briefcase got on and held onto the pole in front of Angelica. As the train began to pull out of the station, the woman held the pole tightly with her hands and wrapped her thighs around the middle. Her bags were trapped between her feet and the bottom of the pole. The strap of her purse was slung over her shoulder. The movement of the train made her body swing along the pole like she was dancing on stage, and as the woman sought to hold on, Angelica had a flashback of her life before Hamilton.

Angelica was a lot like the woman holding the pole. She held the pole like she owned it, making love to it with gestures that aroused the gentlemen who stared at her partially clad body. They
begged her to take it all off. The woman at the pole had done this many times before because she moved with the train, squirming and leaning up against the pole when the moment called for it.

“You all right?” Donna asked Angelica. “You seem to be in a daze.”

“Thinking about life,” Angelica said.

“Well, get ready, because the next stop is ours. We’ll have a light dinner, enjoy some jazz, and meet some people I’ve asked to join us.”

“Oh,” was all Angelica could say.

They got off at the next stop, Angelica following Donna like a lost puppy. Dusk had fallen quickly, but the feel of the nightlife was overtaking Angelica. And she liked how it felt.

“Why do they call it SoHo?” Angelica asked.

“Because it’s south of Houston Street. It’s not just that, though. This is the place where artists come alive—galleries full of artwork and boutiques that sell cutting-edge fashions. Here’s the place.”

The music floated outside. Laid-back business types sucked on draft beer, trying to relieve the stress of the week, and others sipped martinis to set the mood for the rest of the evening.

Angelica followed Donna to a table in a corner where three very attractive ladies sat. They could have easily been the women in the portraits that hung on the walls in Donna’s studio. Their makeup was flawless and the weaves on their heads cost at least a thousand dollars a pop. Broad smiles were on their faces as the two approached.

“Hey, sweetie,” Donna said to each woman in turn, while pecking each with a dainty kiss to the lips. “This is my cousin, Angelica. She’s the one I was telling you about.”

Angelica extended her hand and sat down. She would not be placing any kisses on anyone’s lips or jaws.

“Hey, Angelica, I’m Jazz. This is Madeline to my right and Coco on my left. Glad to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine.”

“Angelica flew in from North Carolina,” Donna offered. “She’ll loosen up after a while.”

“We’re fashion divas,” Jazz said while the others laughed, including Donna. “Your cousin is a model’s gift to the big time.”

“That’s what I hear,” Angelica said. “It appears she is very successful.”

“So why have you come to the Big Apple?” Jazz asked, her accent thick and deep. Her facial features seemed exotic. Angelica figured her to be West Indian.

“To get away from my past,” Angelica said with a frown. These women were beginning to annoy her, and she hadn’t been in the place five good minutes.

“So what is your past?” Coco asked, opening her mouth for the first time.

Angelica looked from Coco to Donna. She wasn’t sure what Donna had shared with these ladies, but her past was none of their business.

“My past is just that—my past,” Angelica responded. “I need a drink.”

Donna waved the waitress over and ordered two martinis. Angelica let out a small sigh. She wasn’t used to someone taking control over her every movement. She was a grown woman capable of ordering her own drink. In fact, Angelica was not very comfortable with the little group that was assembled. Maybe she was tired. Tomorrow would be a new day.

“They have wonderful sandwiches here, Angelica,” Donna said. “I think I’ll have a beef sandwich au jus.”

“Order two,” Angelica consented.

“Angelica, these ladies are part of the project I was telling you about,” Donna began. “We are going to do a photo shoot for a new magazine. I’m really excited about it because I’m the exclusive photographer for this magazine, and the monetary reward is more than generous.”

A smile trickled across Angelica’s face. For the first time tonight, she had something to smile about. “That’s great, Donna,” Angelica said. “And you’re willing to take a chance on a non-model.”

“Well, my contract said that I had to have a set number of women in the shoot. I happened to be talking with my mother and aunt on three-way when they told me you had been released from prison. I remembered how you loved to dress in the finest and command attention at every family event I ever attended. Then it came to me that you might be the person I was looking for.”

Angelica sat in silence. The waitress placed her drink in front of her followed by her food. Her privacy had been violated with Donna’s announcement. The fact that Angelica had just gotten out of prison didn’t seem to faze the ladies, though—Donna had probably given them her bio long before her plane landed in New York. It sucked, and Angelica wished she were back in Fayetteville in her own condo—a place she had left without even telling Margo she was leaving.

The cafe was crowded, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. It was hard to hear at times, but the light jazz put Angelica in a melancholy mood. She had tuned out Donna and her friends and turned to get a better view of the two brothers who sat a couple of tables over. They glanced over a couple of times, but Angelica failed to keep their attention.

Turning around, she saw Donna slide her hand over Madeline’s
arm. It might have been an innocent gesture, but it reminded Angelica of the way Ms. Macy would handle the new inmates when they came to quad L.

“So what kind of ad are you shooting?” Angelica asked Donna, making an attempt to belong.

“There will be several, which is why the pay will be lucrative. Angelica, you will not make as much as the other girls because they are on union scale, but you will make enough to be independent.”

“When do we start?”

“On Monday. You have the whole weekend to rest up because we’re just getting started. I hope you’ve got on your dancing shoes.”

“I’m ready.”