Healing Inc.
Authors: Deneice Tarbox
Healing Inc.
Copyright: Deneice Tarbox
Published April 2, 2012
© 2012
by Deneice Tarbox to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities that between the characters and real persons is purely coincidental. Music and places mentioned are in no way an attempt to profit by the author. All credit is given to the artist. This book contains adult situations and language that is not appropriate for children.
Acknowledgements
To, Burlinda, Dawn and Dan Thanks for being my test subjects and giving me the encouragement needed to complete this baby. I couldn’t have done it without you. To my husband and son, I thank you for your patience, help and support.
Dedication
I proudly dedicate my first novel to Mr. Phil, the best brother-in-law a girl could ever have. Although you are not here to read it, the song of your laughter forever rings free in my heart. And no… we’re not fighting.
Although the day was uncommonly beautiful for March in Oklahoma City,
Tyler Moriatti wasn’t feeling it. The blessing bestowed upon his $4000 Armani suit by a bird in flight first thing this morning should have been a sign that things would not be going smoothly today. At the tender age of forty, he felt that he should be above letting a little bird shit dictate how his day would go. He wasn’t. For the third time that week he was running late on account of his daughter. He could pretend all he wanted that no woman would ever control him. Cecile knew different. She knew that as his only child she was his life and quite often used that fact to get her way with him. Lucky for him, she had turned out to have one of the biggest hearts a person could have and didn’t take advantage of him as often as she could have.
Between the increased demands of his growing business and his personal contributions to Cecile’s upcoming birthday party, he was seriously going through it. His mood was sour. He could feel his blood pressure rising, resulting in his head throbbing. Part of his current disposition was due to his aversion to tardiness. He strongly believed that such poor behavior could never have propelled him from the days of relying on public transportation to having his very own personal driver. Waiting on others and being waited on were two pet peeves of his.
The recent increase in dealings with his ex-wife, Abby, as Cecile’s eighteenth birthday drew nearer was more than likely another factor influencing his present state of being. He found it ironic that he had fled New York City, after she left him for another man, only to end up having more contact with her lately than he ever had during their fleeting marriage. Although when she first left he felt the sting of rejection from a failed marriage, he had to admit that he was somewhat relieved that it had happened. Within a year of marriage he had started to sense a darkness within her. He thought he might be paranoid, but his suspicions of her grew to the point where he had almost sought out the protective hands of his powerful family. Eighteen years later, those ominous feelings hadn’t completely dissipated.
“I still can’t believe that I actually fell for a Bona fide dragon lady,” he couldn’t resist saying out loud. He closed his royal blue eyes and began rubbing his temples, thanking god for the glass between him and his driver. It kept him from having to share his mood or explain his derogatory comment.
He wasn’t use to the present pain in his head. Being at the peak of physical fitness didn’t usually lend to such ailments. Abby had called his office, just as he was about to leave for the day, to vehemently express her disapproval of the facility he was renting for Cecile’s party.
“Cecile tells me you’re allowing her to have her party at a bar in one of those…those neighborhoods that she should not be hanging around in,” Abby started. “Have you lost your mind? Why would you allow her to do that? She was a debutant for Christ sakes! You could have easily convinced her to book one of the halls at the club Ralph and I belong to or the least you could have done was insisted that she have it at one of your hotels!”
“Have you even shown enough interest to ask her why she wants to have it at Chanelle’s?” he asked a little too sternly. He was allowing her dig at the small diverse community to get to him. After all these years it still didn’t cease to amaze him how out of all the black women in the world he had married one with such disdain for her people. Granted she was only one quarter black, but still.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about half the time. She said some nonsense about a band she knows or something like that… It doesn’t matter! You, as a good father, should be trying to help her better herself instead of encouraging her to dawdle in such places.”
“First of all, that’s a lot of unwelcomed advice considering you weren’t a part of her life until two years ago. Lastly, you need to acknowledge that she is about to be an adult, one more than capable of making her own decisions. She has her reasons for wanting this and I see no justification in not supporting her.”
With that said, he had ended to call. He hadn’t felt it necessary to remind her that he had full custody of their daughter because it would have only prolonged the agonizing exchange. Besides, he didn’t want Abby to know that the purpose of his trip to the so called ‘bar’ was twofold. Otherwise he would have entrusted such a menial task as handling the arrangements of the birthday party to his long term assistant.
He had heard great things about Chanelle’s from his daughter. The corporation that owns Chanelle’s used a portion of the profits gained when bands perform to aid the area homeless and those deprived souls living below the poverty line. They also gave new talent a chance to gain recognition in the community, giving those musicians who are willing to work for it a leg up toward being discovered. This potential endeavor would be well outside of his accustomed business in real estate and hotel ownership, but he was actually considering investing in it if the owners were willing.
Few knew that as a child he had lived with a black couple, the Wilsons, on and off while his mother struggled to get her act together. They couldn’t have kids of their own and welcomed the time spent introducing him to African-American cuisine, soul music, dancing and what love is supposed to feel like. Mr. Wilson had trained to be a boxer for many years and schooled him in the sport. Tyler was always grateful when his mom would leave him there for months at a time.
They were more like parents to him than his own mother, and presented the perfect example of what a couple in love should be like. He had hoped to one day have a love like theirs but Abby had pretty much ruined that for him. Cecile and her deep desire to save the World had revived that part of his soul that longed to give back and be more like the Wilsons. Although she knew he feigned protest when she presented him with some of her granola ideas, he would never admit to his daughter that he was forever grateful to her for saving that part of him.
As his driver pulled into the parking lot of Chanelle’s he noted that he was close to half an hour late for his meeting with the owner. With his head pounding and his stomach in a knot, he made his way toward the moderately sized brick building, hoping she would still be there and that she would be forgiving of his unpunctuality.
He entered the dwelling to find the front lobby empty. “Dammit!” he cursed under his breath. He was angrier with himself than he was with Anita Vasquez, with whom he was supposed to meet, for not waiting for him. After all, she did have other establishments to attend to.
While impatiently trying to pull his cell phone from the pocket of his long designer coat, he suddenly ceased all movement. Music made its way through the large doors to his right. At first, pure curiosity started his feet in the direction of the large room. But, as he drew nearer he could hear that it was not just music or a recording, someone was singing live. The song tickling his ears was very familiar, in fact one of his favorites,
Some Day We’ll Be Together
by Diana Ross and the Supremes. The way that the mistress of the voice was working the song captured him at that moment and wouldn’t let him go.
He stood in the back of the dark room with the only available light highlighting the captivating song bird and the band that backed her. She belted out the words, throwing her wild haired head back while simultaneously grabbing the microphone stand. As she brought her luscious burgundy colored lips back toward the mic, a single tear fell from the corner of her left eye. It rolled down her beautiful high boned brown cheek unnoticed by all the others in the room. The tear, however, did not escape Tyler.
