Ex-Terminator Life After Marriage (7 page)

T
he drive to Pappadeaux was full of anxiety. Sylvia didn’t know what to make of seeing Kenny after all these years. He looked amazing, like hot fudge dripping over a large scoop of chocolate ice cream. Of course, he had aged, but so had she. Although he was covered in fine linen, Kenny still possessed a muscular body. The thought made Sylvia shiver.

Interstate 85 ran through the heart of Atlanta. Sylvia was smiling as she drove along, waving to folks she didn’t know as they drove past, admiring the Atlanta skyline that made the Peach State the most talked-about place to live. She realized that her speedometer was on 80 and immediately reduced her speed to 65. Was this a sign? Was she moving too fast with Kenny? She was only going out to dinner with an old friend. She needed to get a grip. The man only asked her to dinner; he never uttered a word about sleeping together
.

S-c-r-e-e-c-h!
Sylvia hit the brakes to avoid hitting the car in front of her. Daydreaming about Kenny was going to get her killed. A sudden chill came over her as she moved toward the right lane as she passed the mile marker for Jimmy Carter Boulevard.

The night Kenny walked out on her played out in her mind. They had a heated argument about Kenny running around with other women while they were dating. He denied it, but Sylvia had proof. She had done her own detective work, taken her own pictures. Kenny told her that she didn’t control him and he was going to do what he wanted to—and if she didn’t like it, there was someone else to take her place. Sylvia tried to block the doorway to her apartment to keep him from leaving, but he pushed her aside and walked out the door. Sylvia had not seen him since, although he had called her once or twice. And now, here he was after twenty years and a broken marriage, talking about dinner and who knew what else.

She pulled into the parking lot at Pappadeaux and reassessed her reason for being there. “Dinner, that’s all,” Sylvia said out loud.

Even at three in the afternoon the restaurant was crowded. She looked around for Kenny, but he hadn’t arrived yet. She moved toward the hostess and put her name on the list.

“St. James, two, nonsmoking.”

“It’ll be thirty minutes,” the hostess replied.

Fifteen minutes passed with no sign of Kenny. Sylvia’s heart skipped a beat and she immediately regretted accepting Kenny’s dinner invitation. Another five minutes passed, and soon her name would be called, but instead of two there would be one.

Fuming, she got up to leave. Just as she passed through the double doors, she bumped into Kenny. He was carrying a dozen red roses in his arms.

“You leaving?” Kenny questioned, his eyebrows arched. “These are for you.” He pushed the roses into her arms.

“No, I…I…I was going to the car to see if I left my cell there.”

“Didn’t think I was coming, so you were going to call me.”

“I don’t have your phone number, Kenny,” she pointed out.

“St. James, party of two. St. James, party of two.”

“They’re calling us,” Sylvia said, thankful for the reprieve. “Thank you for the roses. They’re beautiful and smell good, too.”

“For a special lady who is more beautiful than the roses she’s carrying.”

A broad smile rose on Sylvia’s face. “Thank you.”

“Follow me,” the hostess said.

Sylvia and Kenny were seated and gave the waitress their drink order.

“I love this place,” Kenny said.

Sylvia continued to smile. “I do, too.”

“Brings back old memories—good memories. I guess you might say that this was our spot.”

“Something like that.” At Kenny’s puzzled look, Sylvia added, “I’m sure you brought all your women here at one time or another.”

“Now why do you want to spoil a perfect day?”

“Am I telling the truth?”

Kenny laid his hand over Sylvia’s as she fingered the cloth napkin. “I’ve been a lot of places in my life and time, but for your information, this was
our
place. You were the only special person in my life, although I didn’t act like it much of the time. To answer your question, I only took the special people in my life to Pappadeaux. It holds a lot of memories for me, Sylvia. That’s why I suggested it today. And I have changed.”

“What was my favorite dish?”

“Salmon. That wasn’t even a test.”

“And you liked the steak and shrimp plate, and the seafood gumbo.”

“You remember!” Kenny exclaimed, pleased.

“Why didn’t we work, Kenny? My whole life was you,” Sylvia said.

“That might have been the problem, Sylvia. You were holding on too tight. We weren’t married, but you had me in this stranglehold, and I was way too young to commit to anything that sounded like forever.”

Kenny couldn’t keep his eyes off of Sylvia. He didn’t look up when the waitress brought his iced tea and asked for their dinner order. At his silence, Sylvia said to the waitress, “Give us a couple of minutes, please?”
Snap, snap
went Sylvia’s fingers. “What’s gotten into you? You’ve left me again.”

A rush of air escaped Kenny’s lips. “I’m sorry. I’m amazed that I’m sitting with you in our favorite restaurant. My mind had gone back some years. You are beautiful, Sylvia. Wouldn’t it be something if we got back together again?”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Kenny looked hurt. “My husband and I have only been divorced nine months, and it has been a hard adjustment for me. Twenty years of marriage, a daughter, and…I truly loved Adonis. I don’t know if I would take him back this very moment if he came running in here and asked me, but the consideration is there,” Sylvia said honestly.

“I see. Why don’t we order since we know what we want?” Kenny motioned for the waitress.

“Very presumptuous of you. I might have a taste for something different tonight.”

Kenny smiled. “Taste for something different?”

Sylvia blushed. “Now, Kenny, you are making this difficult.”

“I only repeated what you said, but I like different. Will I be able to get your telephone number tonight?”

“Ask me at the end of dinner.”

“I will. This feels so right, Sylvia.”

Sylvia blushed, then cleared her throat to speak. “Well, what has Kenny Richmond been doing with his life?”

“I’ve started my own computer support business.”

“You what? I mean, I knew you were smart…but a computer business? I would never have equated the two.”

“I’m your poster child for the wayward child found on the Damascus Road. I was given another chance at life, and I made good of it. Now I provide computer support to the school system. My clientele has grown since I’ve added the school system to my list of clients. I started with a few businesses, but my reputation is gaining.”

“That’s wonderful, Kenny.”

“What about you? What has Sylvia been doing besides playing house with a man that doesn’t know your worth.”

“Remember, even though a lot of time has passed, you were not the most caring mate.”

“Ouch! You’re right; how soon we forget. But I promise if you give me a chance, Sylvia St. James, I’ll show you what I’m really made of.”

“What’s that?”

“You answer your question first.”

“I’m an event planner for a large corporation. I schedule high-profile meetings for some very high-profile customers. My beautiful daughter, Maya, recently got married and I now have the house to myself.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“It isn’t.” Sylvia looked up into Kenny’s searching eyes. “I lied. It’s very lonely.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Our food is here,” Sylvia said, glad for the interruption. “Say grace.”

Kenny said grace, and they tabled their discussion for later. They ate in silence.

“Thank you for a wonderful meal and good company,” Sylvia said, trying to avoid Kenny’s eyes.

“The pleasure was all mine. I’d like to do it again.”

“Let’s take it a day at a time.”

“Okay. I’ll walk you to your car.”

Sylvia felt her adrenaline flow as Kenny walked close to her. They were silent until she felt his arm go around her shoulder. She stiffened, drew her lips together and let out a small bit of air but did not remove Kenny’s arm because it was definitely the end of the road.

“Your hair smells good.”

Sylvia did not respond. Her car was in view, and in a moment she would be driving home alone, left to recount the events of the day and contemplate her method of recovery from
this
Ex-file.

“This you?” Kenny said, as Sylvia stopped behind her BMW.

“This is me, and again thank you for a lovely meal.”

“Now will I be able to get your phone number?”

Sylvia had hoped she’d get away without having to give up the coveted numbers. “I guess so. You were a good boy.”

“Hmmph.” Kenny smirked. “I was on my best behavior. I’d like to see you again, Sylvia. You stoked the fires of my heart tonight.”

“Kenny, I can’t promise you anything, but it would be nice to hear from you
occasionally.
”

“Whatever you say,” Kenny said, not oblivious to the word
occasionally
.

Sylvia wrote her telephone number on the back of the church program. She was upset that she didn’t have another piece of paper to write on, but her memories of Kenny didn’t include him worshipping at any church service.

“I look forward to hearing from you.” Sylvia tried to sound sincere.

“It won’t be long. If I could have come home with you tonight, I would have been at your side.”

“No, Kenny. Not now or ever.”

“We’ll see, my love. Drive safe and until I see you again.”

“Good night.”
I hope this isn’t the devil that’s come to steal my joy because he’ll have a hard way to go,
Sylvia thought.

Kenny swiftly pulled Sylvia to him—their mouths inches from each other. Sylvia’s breathing was labored, and Kenny’s eyes were hypnotic. He moved closer, touching her closed lips with his own. Sylvia’s eyes were frozen wide-open—two large, almond-shaped nuggets pasted on her face for eternity.

Kenny held Sylvia in a tight embrace, his lips still seeking refuge. He let his hands rove the small of her back, hoping to thaw the stiff woman he held. Kenny kissed her lips again. Then there was movement. She kissed him back—those same frozen eyes fixed on him.

G
reen bits of cilantro crowned the tops of the Creole-seasoned crawfish cakes that Mona arranged on the porcelain platter. She delicately draped slithers of grated carrots mixed with red onions and a hint of parsley around the border of the platter, yielding an eye-catching and mouthwatering dish. Large urns were filled with delectable seafood gumbo—its rich aroma wafted from the pot and the steam kissed Mona’s nose as she lifted the top to make sure there was enough crab in the thick stew. Fruit from the sea hugged the seasoned rice they called jambalaya as if it had ownership; hot oil bubbled from the searing heat that licked the bottom of the pan-fried, petite redfish fillets as they cooked, then relaxed when Mona pulled them from the skillet. Saran-wrapped tomato and crab salads were kept refrigerated, to be pulled out just before the 100 guests were to arrive.

Entertaining was Mona’s forte, and she had built quite a reputation in Atlanta for catering the most lavish parties. Dress it up or down, Mona gave the best anyone’s budget could afford.

The evening’s clients were Atlanta’s favorite philanthropists and socialites, Kessler and Kohara Gordon. The Gordons owned the only black cable television station in Atlanta, SILK
—
Soul Interest in Life’s Kaleidoscope—and, like their television company, they were visionaries about to change the world.

Tonight’s affair was a fund-raiser to raise awareness about breast cancer, a disease that had almost wiped out Kohara’s female relatives. She was a five-year survivor and had ridden some tough waves, but there was nothing mysterious about the prayers Kohara’s family sent up for her down in the bayou. And she and Kessler were living the life, and Mona envied them.

With hands on her hips, Mona sashayed the length of the room in an Izzy Camilleri nylon tube top accentuated by matching belted wide-leg pants. A silk scarf of the same fabric pulled back her braids and hung just below her buttocks. She wore four-inch gold leather peep-toe heels. She sucked her teeth and marveled at her own knack for being able to turn the mundane into something spectacular. Mona posted herself on a high, leather-backed bar stool, crossed her legs and waited for the hosts to arrive.

Laughter streamed into the room and mixed with the slow, sultry voice of India Arie. Kessler and Kohara sauntered through the double doors of the SILK Palace dressed in black—a tux for him and a long halter gown for her. Mona slid from her seat ready to usher the Gordons to the colorful buffet table for final inspection, although one wasn’t needed.

Thirty minutes later, guests began to arrive—the up-and-coming as well as the most prominent people in Atlanta society. They milled about greeting acquaintances or introducing a spouse to a new business partner, all part of a ritual already performed at least a dozen times this year.

Mona moved casually through the crowd in hopes of sighting Sylvia, hoping that she would come after the Gordons had so graciously extended her an invitation at Mona’s request. There was no sign of her yet, so Mona eased farther into the crowd, checking and rechecking to make sure appetizers were being provided by her able staff.

Exotic and glamorous evening gowns dusted the hardwood floor, moving as effortlessly as the women who were draped in them. It was awe-inspiring, Mona thought, to see so many of her own kind, her Black people, so distinguished and well-refined.

One day, Mona would be one of them. She was nearly there, but she needed the perfect mate to complement her. She brushed back a braid that had slipped over her shoulder and daintily lifted a champagne glass off the silver serving tray as it passed by, giving a sly wink to the waiter.

Eyes closed, Mona let the fruited passion tumble down her throat. She puckered her lips in satisfaction, and when she opened her eyes a dark, handsome, bald gentleman filled her vision.

For a moment, Mona felt uncomfortable as the man stood off to the side, eyes locked into position, and analyzing every one of Mona’s emotions.

The gentleman moved from his resting place and moved toward Mona. He took her hand, lifted it to his lips and placed a subtle kiss on the slope of her fingers. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Mona’s eyes were quizzical, dancing and darting at the same time. She withdrew her hand from the man’s gentle embrace. “I’m sorry. You did startle me.”

“You were enjoying your drink, and I guess you never noticed me standing in the corner.”

Mona eased up and let out a little chuckle. “You were not there when I put the glass to my mouth.”

“Oh, but I was. I wasn’t sure you had winked at me or the waiter, but it didn’t matter because I saw before me the most beautiful woman I’ve seen all night.”

Mona batted her eyes and smiled. “Flattery will get…”

“Michael Broussard.”

“Mona Baptiste,” she said, shaking his massive hand. She looked at him again two minutes too long to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. “I’m sorry for staring, but you remind me so much of someone I used to know.”

“Well, I’ve never met you before, and I hope to cause a different reaction if you’d allow me a second chance. Hello, my name is Michael Broussard.”

Mona smiled again. Her smile was long and broad.

“I’m Mona Baptiste.”

“Are you here with anyone? It would be a shame if you were.”

“I’m the—”

“Mona.” The voice rang through the crowd followed by a few
clickety-clicks
. Sylvia’s timing was impeccable, Mona thought, although she couldn’t believe her eyes: Sylvia was stepping up in this party with the likes of Kenneth Richmond! “Hi, sweetie,” Mona said as she extended her right cheek and placed an affectionate sister kiss on Sylvia’s left cheek.

“You remember Kenny?”

“How could I forget him,” Mona said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes to the top of her head, and then turned slightly—right into the charming face of her new acquaintance. “Oh, Sylvia, this is Michael Broussard. Michael, this is Sylvia St. James and Kenneth uhh”—she snapped her fingers a few times—“uhh—Kenneth Richmond.” A nasty smile crossed her face. “My dear friend Sylvia is newly divorced.”

Sylvia jerked her head in disbelief and gave Mona an
I know you didn’t go there
look—not with Kenny standing at her side.

Michael shook the couple’s hands. Mona saw the puzzled look on his face, but she didn’t care. She was having a little fun at Sylvia’s expense, and the champagne she consumed a few minutes earlier only egged her on.

“It was nice meeting you, Mona,” Michael said. “Maybe we can talk later.”

“That would be nice,” Mona whispered in a sexy voice. He blew her a kiss, and Mona watched him become enveloped in the crowd as he walked away.

“Who was that?” Sylvia begged. “He is so fine.”

“Some guy I met only a few minutes before you walked up. And what are you doing with that gonna-break-your-heart jackass?” Mona replied.

“Mona, he’s standing right here.”

Mona rolled her eyes and squeezed her lips together.

“Excuse me, ladies. Would you like something to drink?” Kenny asked Sylvia.

“Yes, I would. Thank you, Kenny.”

“I’ll be right back. Sounds like the two of you got some catching up to do. And I love you, too, Mona.” He winked at her and headed for the bar.

“Damn, Sylvia.”

“It’s nothing serious, Mona. Ran into him at the grocery store a couple of weeks ago. You know how they say don’t go into a store when you’re hungry? Well, even though I was in the store to pick up a few groceries, I was also in need of some TLC. There he was, and he was it because he was there,” Sylvia said with a shrug.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“It’s just a date. When you asked me to come to this shindig, it felt good knowing that I had someone to accompany me, and I didn’t have to sit all night and watch married men parade around with their wives while the wives take sideway glances at me. I’m not sleeping with him, Mona; I’m smarter than that.”

“You seem a little desperate, and he looks as if he already hit the honey pot.”

“Don’t be so crude; it doesn’t become you. Don’t make me regret that I came to this party. I don’t care who’s giving it.”

“Lighten up, my sister. Didn’t mean to pounce on you. It’s just that Kenny was the last person I expected to see you with.”

“Well, get over it and let me enjoy this evening. Anyway, that handsome guy is still watching you. I say your hands might be full.”

“He
is
good-looking. I don’t know, Sylvia. I get the distinct feeling I’ve met him before, but yet I can’t recall ever seeing him before.”

“All your running around is catching up with you. And you have the nerve to talk about me.”

“Watch it, girl. No, I’m sure I have not met Michael Broussard before. My spirit says otherwise. Well, here comes Kenny. Enjoy yourself, but not too much.”

Sylvia winked.