Dream Girl Awakened (32 page)

“I've spent so much time keeping people at bay. I woke up three years ago at the age of forty and decided we'd been passed on a bunch of crap in our family. I want to love and be loved. And I'm tired of wearing this forty-two-percenter tiara.”

“ ‘Forty-two-percenter tiara'?”

“Like you don't know that forty-two percent of black women will never get married. You really were sheltered, weren't you? It's rough out here. I'm just glad I met Foster. He found me; I didn't go looking for him.”

“I'm so happy for you. That's the best news I've heard in a long time.”

Victoria swigged the last of her tea. Thought about the magnitude of dating again. Thought of how ugly the last days of her marriage were. She heard Lillith's words: “You can't break the chains of love, but the links can come loose.”
I loosened a damn good thing.

S
handy Fulton was crushed. She'd taken it slow. Kept things professional. She only talked shop with James each time she visited Dixon's Hair Affair. As owner of the salon supply business, Fulton and Company, she hoped James would be the kind of man with whom she could build a beauty supply dynasty. In less than a month, he had purchased two dryer chairs, a pedicure chair, and a facial and massage bed. Usually men threw themselves at her, asking for her number, offering to take her out. James Dixon was a tough nut to crack. After he signed the checks for his equipment, he was back on his cell phone talking to customers or vendors. Where was he when he wasn't in his office crunching numbers and running his fingers through that curly hair of his? Did he play basketball with his boys? Or was he a workaholic that needed her special touch to help him unwind? When she asked around about his status, the most she'd get was, “He's off the market.” No one explained what “off the market” meant, but she hoped she'd find out tonight. That's why she waited outside the salon until he finished his last customer. She took care to look extra special tonight, treating herself to a manicure, pedicure, and magic mud facial. She selected a free-flowing dress that accented her slender frame. She ditched her normal cream-colored attire in favor of something red. Red said confidence. She wanted to radiate confidence in his presence tonight.

Shandy watched from her car as James removed the decorative smock from his last client, took her payment, and made light conversation. She walked toward the door as the young lady stopped to peruse the wall of beauty supply products. She waltzed into the shop before her confidence waned.

“Miss, I'm done for the night.” James did a double-take and recognized her. “Shandy, I knew you'd come back. I just thought it would be next week.”

“Back?”

“You're a workaholic, too, right? You're so busy, you forgot you left your appointment book and some orders. I thought I had your number stored in my cell, but I don't. I planned to call you, but I was swamped today.” James went to his office, retrieved her items, and handed them over. “You flew outta here yesterday like your house was on fire.”

“I had to meet with a warehouse rep. I'm all about the business.”

“I'm locking up before someone else tries to sneak in.”

James locked the door and offered Shandy a seat. She looked stunning in red and he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her how much he admired her work ethic, her drive, and commitment to growing Fulton and Company. Lately, he was deadlocked when it came to women. Dixon's Hair Affair became the go-to beauty shop overnight. It was nothing for women to slip him their numbers, invite him out for a drink and more. Shandy never approached him in a seductive manner. She came to the shop in uniform most days. He thought it odd that a business owner with an expansive client base would still make cold calls to shops. Shandy told him the way to grow a business was hands-on involvement. She wanted to be the face of Fulton and Company and networked whenever the opportunity presented itself. She
was different than any other woman he'd met, including Aruba.

The death of Tawatha's children and the divorce had taken its toll on James. He withdrew himself from the dating world altogether. Unbeknownst to her, Shandy planted a grow-the-business seed in his head as he launched an aggressive marketing campaign. In seven months since he'd met Shandy, he'd drummed up more business than he could handle. His biggest regret was that Aruba didn't enjoy the fruits of his labor, the realization of his goals. He looked at Shandy now, surprised that he was attracted to her. She was the opposite of everything that turned him on about women. He liked thick, voluptuous women; Shandy was at least six-one, thin, but had enough meat on her bones to know she was a sista. He liked his berries dark brown to deep chocolate. Shandy was golden and glowing. She was quick to smile, slow to get frustrated when she negotiated prices. Still, he'd had enough of dealing with women. The break had allowed him to dig his heels into the salon and nix the negative things said of him over the years.

“I didn't realize I'd left my things here. I'm slipping fast in my old age. Thanks for keeping them for me.”

“Old age. What are you? Twelve?”

“Plus fifteen. I'm an old twenty-seven. I'd love to retire by thirty-five.”

“You're definitely on track with the way you work. By the way, if you didn't come for your things, why are you here?”

“Friday night is Shandy night. Kinda my way of unwinding from a long work week. I'm eating close to the shop and thought I'd stop by to see if you were pleased with the products I sold you last week. I'm still twisting your arm about the manicure station, so let's say I'm getting a jumpstart on the next twist.”

“Me night, huh? I like the sound of that.”

“It's good to spend time alone. No one bothering you or invading your privacy.”

“What does your man think of that concept?”

“If I
had
one, he'd probably be disappointed. Or swear I was out cheating. I value being alone because I get in touch with myself. I meditate, do yoga, and treat my body as a temple. I gave up meat about five years ago. Since you're curious about my status, there are too many men playing games, so I'm single and satisfied.”

“Good for you. You seem like a nice young lady. You deserve someone who'll be good to you.”

“Since you're all up in my peach nectar, what's James Dixon's status?”

“I'm newly divorced and have a five-year-old son named Jeremiah. He means the world to me.”

“I didn't realize you were divorced. I've been told divorce is like death.” Shandy paused, hoping he'd divulge what happened to the union.

“It is. A lot of things die and you lose things you didn't realize you had.”

“I know how private I am, so I'll change the subject. We don't know each other well enough to discuss such things.”

She did it again. Why didn't other women who crossed his path take the hint and accept some subjects were off-limits? Shandy's stock was rising more and more by the minute. He had to get her out of the shop before he followed her to dinner.

“My dinner reservation is good 'til nine. I've got to get going. Thanks for keeping my things.” Shandy stood to leave. “By the way, call me Shan. You started out with Miss Fulton, then Shandy. Everyone, family and associates, calls me Shan.”

“Shan, have a nice evening.”

James watched Shandy drive away in a Toyota Prius Hybrid. He knew the type of car she drove because she went on and on about emissions and protecting the environment. He loved how natural she was. Someday, when the time was right, he wanted to find someone like Shandy to rebuild his life.

James checked the last of the bills, counted the night's till and prepared the bank deposit slip, taking care to place the bills in order by denomination. Another Shandyism. She swore that money grew when you honored it. Just as he locked the safe containing the shop's money bag, he saw the letter. He should have thrown it away, but it served as a reminder of why his life was in shambles. He turned it over and saw her name in the upper left-hand corner. The letter had arrived at the house a month after her incarceration. Tawatha, housed at the Indiana Women's Prison, awaited sentencing for the murder of her children. He hoped her time away from others would provide some semblance of mental stability, but she seemed worse. His saving grace was only he, Aruba, Lasheera, and Roberta knew he was the reason she had killed the children. When prodded by the media as to why she did it, she said it was for Magic. He opened it, read the words again:

Dear James:

I tried to give you a little time to come visit me. I put you on the visitor's list at the facility and hope to see you soon. I miss you and love you now more than ever. I think back on the night at your shop and I apologize for barging in like I did. I understand that you lied to me because you needed more time to break things off with your wife. I guess saying she had cancer was the best way for you to work things out. I should have been more patient. I dream about you every night. About the love we made. The time we spent together. All the plans we had together. I pray you know I did what I did for you. For us. I don't think you
liked the idea of me having different children by different men. They are no longer in our way.

S'n'c'r'ty came to me in a dream and said she forgives me. Grant and Sims don't talk to me, though. I want to take this time to apologize to you as well. Actually, you and Lasheera. The night I went to your wife's party, I wanted so badly to share my secret with Sheer. Or you. I know you were as weak for me as I was for you about two weeks before the party. The night you stopped by to tell me to stop calling and texting. We wound up making love like never before. I didn't really tie my tubes. I actually was taking Depo-Provera, but stopped it shortly after I met you. You deserve a daughter, and I'm giving you one the first of next year. I plan to name her Jameshia Dixon. I know she'll have your eyes, your curly hair, your devilish grin. I want Aunjanue to embrace her, but my mother won't allow her to visit me. Please don't leave me or our child this way. I long to see you and have things the way they used to be. I love you.

With My Deepest Affection,

Mrs. Tawatha Dixon

James sealed the letter, grabbed the bank bag, and headed to Chase Bank.
Lips, hips, and fingertips have cost me the best thing that ever happened to me.

A
ruba twiddled her thumbs, eavesdropped on diners, and sighed. Two hours had passed and Winston still hadn't arrived at Spago for their dinner reservation. She avoided firing off another text since he hadn't responded to the last three she'd sent. His late dinner arrival was a tiny infraction compared to the new life she enjoyed.
Sacrifice and a no-whining spirit will keep me living this fabulous life.
Aruba drained the last of her Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon from a sparkling flute and reflected on her life. The salon incident and the fire were the last straws in her decision to divorce James. She'd planned to move on with her life, but James's refusal to acknowledge Tawatha Gipson's craziness was an indication he'd lost
his
grip on reality. He compared his infidelity to her affair with Winston. He begged her to stay with him, to start anew, but she couldn't.
At least I didn't sleep with Winston.

Bria was slowly coming around and attempting to forgive her. Bria's question rattled around in her brain again at Spago. “How can you sleep at night knowing you took your friend's husband?”
Very well on thousand thread-count sheet
s,
thank you
. How could she explain to Bria how miserable she was in her marriage, how irresponsible James was during their union? Everyone didn't have a solid relationship like hers and Sidney's. Women like Bria annoyed her sometimes, throwing euphemisms and scriptures her way like
snake oil as a form of inspiration. Sure, James was doing well with his business
now,
but look at all the years she supported him with nothing to show for it. Winston had elevated her status a hundred-fold, and she'd forever be grateful for all he'd done. She and Jeremiah were enjoying creature comforts she thought only certain women obtained.

His proposal came as a pleasant surprise five months ago. He stopped by to check on her two weeks before she tendered her letter of resignation at State Farm. In the midst of a conference call with a district manager, Winston released the call, pulled out a Harry Winston box, and proposed. The ink was barely dry on her decree, but she said yes, stifling the glee behind her closed office door and planting a passionate kiss on his lips. Aruba locked the door after he entered her office, lest Bria came charging in, giving her that judgmental look she'd perfected since the divorce was finalized. They both needed comfort after their respective divorces. Victoria received a $3 million settlement; James received the house and everything else Winston convinced her to sign over. He promised they'd start life fresh.

Fresh was an understatement. When he accepted a position at Cedars-Sinai, he told her she had to get in gear as Mrs. Faulk and make the transition from Indianapolis to Los Angeles a reality. Winston handed over his checkbook and told her not to break the Faulk bank. Aruba knew she wanted to settle in Beverly Hills. After a short search, she settled on a beautiful Georgian estate that sat on nine acres. The ivy-covered porch beckoned her when she visited the property with the realtor. The seven-bedroom home would be a challenge for Aruba to clean, even with a live-in nanny. She would seek out neighbors' help for a good cleaning team, landscaper, and decorator. The walnut floors, crown molding, and the privacy offered by the cul-de-sac were no match for what sold
her on the property—the screening room that was once a guesthouse. With only a month to pull things together, Aruba went into overdrive outfitting the property fit for a king, her king Winston. She was proudest of the one-of-a-kind pieces she acquired: crème chenille sofas reproduced from similar pieces in Coco Chanel's Paris apartment; a baby-grand piano from Liberace's estate; the Irish mahogany console and hand-blown glass chandelier once owned by Hattie McDaniel. She couldn't wait to invite Bria, Dayton, Maxie, her mom and dad, and any other relatives willing to see how well she'd done for herself. She imagined parties near the pool house and all the children swimming in the lush pool recently refurbished in iridescent blue ceramic tile. She pictured Day and Maxie lounging in the sun and on the dark chocolate couches with monogrammed cushions and wicker tables on the upper deck of the pool house. She thought of children laughing and darting under the trellis covered with bougainvillea on the lower deck while she made lemonade, cookies, and sticky ribs. If Winston happened to arrive after three hours of doing what he needed to do, she wouldn't complain. Aruba perused the menu again, certain it was time to order for Winston. For starters, she'd order the sautéed Maryland crab cake for him, the endive and spring vegetable salad for herself. She called a waiter over to the table, but felt relieved when Winston approached her with a nervous smile and outstretched arms. She stood to give him a passionate kiss, a promise of more to come for the night. He kissed her, but it felt restrained, guarded.