Like Slow Sweet Molasses (27 page)

“You
disgust me,” Angela hurled at Jason. Then to Philip, but in a more respectful
tone, “How much longer before the contract is ready?”

“I’ll
check.” He returned to the desk and buzzed to get the answer.

Angela’s
cell rang in the meantime. The readout showed a call she couldn’t miss. “Excuse
me. I have to take this.” Moving to the far corner of the office abutting the
window, she answered with a smile on her lips. The voice on the other end
lifted her spirits.

“I
miss you.”

“Not
as much as I miss you.” She had to be careful for to say too much could jeopardize
everything. “I guess you’ve met up with Kelsy?”

“You’ve
guessed right. She’s here as we speak.”
He laughed aloud. “
Looking me dead in my mouth. Keeps
asking me ‘who is this Angela’?”

“What
have you been saying about me?” She kept an eye out to keep track of the
others’ movements.

“Just
singing your praises, I guess.”

“Better
not to mention me anymore. You don’t want to alienate her before remedying
whatever’s wrong, do you?”

“You’re
probably right, Angel. How are Lee and Connie this evening?”
She hedged just a little which
prompted him to punch up his next question. “
Something’s going on. Has there
been a setback?”

“No,
no,” she jumped to correct his assumption, easing closer to the tinted glass.
“He’s been up and walking the halls with assistance.”

“Let
me holler at him.”

“Uh,
I’m not in the room at the moment. Tell you what. I’ll tell them you send your
regards. Okay?”

“Dad?”

“Are
you ready?” Jason’s gruffness sent waves crashing around the room.

Angela
hurried to cover the mouthpiece to avoid arousing Chance’s suspicions. Too
late.

“Who
was that?”

“Someone
in the area.” Angela redirected Chance to his daughter’s cry for attention.
“You’d better go see to Kelsy.”

“I’m
sure I know that voice.”
He searched his memory for recall drawing a blank for his efforts. “
I’ll
call back to check on you when we land in New Orleans.”

“No,
I’ll call you,” she panicked. Realizing the implications, she readdressed the
slip. “I’m in and out so much I don’t want to disturb them.”

“I
understand.”

“Your
feelings are hurt. Chance, I love you and there’s nowhere I’d rather be than
with you right now.”

She
was right on the money. His feelings were hurt. But, her attempt to make amends
by proclaiming her love soothed his chafed feelings. “
I’ll be waiting.”

“Love
you.”

“Loved
you first.”

He
was gone and in his place her misty eyes recorded the people in the room of
which there were now four scrutinizing her as she worked to maintain her
composure. Angela used the excuse of replacing her phone to sever her emotional
connection to Chance, thereby, stepping into her untouchable facade. Her eyes
clipped each as she pointedly stated, “Yes, I’m ready?” The attorney stamped
forward to fan papers across Philip’s desk for her review.

“Is
everything acceptable?” her biological father inquired.

Angela
signed indicating her agreement and passed the pen to Philip.
 
Jason witnessed the transaction though
unmistakably galled at having to be a participant in the procedure. Monica
looked on in silence much like Philip’s trusted barrister did. A heaving sigh
implied Angela’s resolve to follow through on the obligatory commitment. She
was in deep, now and the sooner they left the sooner this whole ordeal would be
over.

Philip
buzzed his chauffeur to bring the car out front. “We’ll take you to the hospital
and introduce you to the performing surgeon.”

“All
I need from you is the doctor’s name and the hospital’s address. I’ll get there
on my own.” Objections weren’t long in surfacing. Objections she batted down
for her mind was made up. “Also,” she paused to jot on a slip of paper, “fax a
complete copy of the contract to this number. I’ll verify its receipt later
tonight.” Her brows shifted upwards denouncing all opposition.

“It
will be done,” the lawyer promised.

“One
last thing.” Angela extended her hand and rewarded her father with a firm
handshake. “I wish no ill-will on anyone present. My hope is for a positive
result and an optimistic and speedy recovery for you.” That said she took her
leave.

Those
words were the last ones spoken to the Haperiskis prior to the successful
procedure.

Chapter Seventeen

Thanksgiving
Day progressed normally as herds of people milled around in the airport,
stranded due to numerous canceled flights. It was that trickledown effect
brought on by the terribly bad weather in other parts of the country. Angela
felt badly for the unfortunate ones as she wheeled her overnight case through
the noisy arena on her way to long term parking. Again, thank heavens for Mrs.
Thatcher’s antique. Or she’d have no choice but to hitch a ride and from the
looks of the taxi stand outside there would be a monumental wait.

The
long trip to the car expended the last of her stored energy and practically
laid Angela on the steering wheel until she improved enough to head out. Her
recovery period of five to six days is what the physician outlined in her
detailed instructional visit the day she harvested the blood marrow. The
expected side effects were plentiful and not all donors suffered from every one
of them. So far, the banging in her head and the lack of stamina meant the
healing process had begun.

New
Orleans lay below her as she whisked along the elevated expressway on her beat
to Chance’s. The omission of her whereabouts over the last few days during the
various conversations with him weighed heavily on her conscience for she could
count on one hand the number of times she’d called him dishonest. All she could
imagine, if she’d shared her plan with him, was his disapproval and concern for
her safety. No doubt, he would have second guessed her decision based upon the
episodic meeting they engaged in with the Harperiskis. Even now, the knowledge
of children benefitting from her decision bolstered her spirits and she
couldn’t wait to share everything with him.

Holiday
traffic this late in the night was very light, meeting with her approval. Soon,
she tooled the LaSabre up to the curb in front of the loft. Angela took a
couple of deep breaths to stabilize her equilibrium before exiting to approach
the fortified door. She rang the bell and stepped back into the street to allow
him to see her.

The
ceiling lights illuminated a portion of the jagged sidewalk blocks under the
window. As she watched, a dark shadowy form outlined against the asphalt at her
feet forcing her to squint into the window above. The apparition disappeared so
quickly she thought it a figment of her imagination. Until the door opened and
a willowy, silky haired blonde wearing one of Chance’s tees shocked her into
gulping down the asphyxiating knot in her throat.

“Yes?”
she questioned in an agitated grind.

“Is
Chance home?” Angela found her voice but it didn’t sound normal.

“He’s
unavailable.”

Angela
noticed she’d get no other explanation and turned to leave without another
word. Doing so riled the woman in the doorway. It was as if Angela insulted her
by giving her back and she retaliated viciously.

“Whatever
you’re selling or have sold to Brock, in the past, is no longer required.”

Angela
whipped around, surprised at the level of her energy burst, but provoked by the
uncomplimentary inference of the statement in time to see the door slam closed
in her face. Her first instinct was to ring the bell again. Pride bubbled
inside dispelling the notion of retaliation. Her parents instilled in her
governing principles of self-respect, dignity and honor. She wouldn’t lower
herself or her standards because of Chance’s unscrupulous behavior. Angela
mustered all of her strength to leave the premises as her eyes welled with
water that threatened to overflow.

Unknown
to her, Chance, at that very moment, took up squatter’s residence in Trell’s
den like a man balancing on a cliff. Each man choked the long neck of a bottle
of beer as Trell waited on Chance to get to the reason for the late night
visit. The fireplace roared, the game on television blared and no one said a
word until Sasha insinuated herself in the picture.

“Can
I get you guys anything before I turn in?”

Trell
answered, “Nothing for me. Thanks.”

“Bro?”
she nudged when Chance remained quiet.

“Oh,
no, thanks, Sasha.” He lowered his eyes as she intently studied him.

“Ooo,
woman trouble if ever I saw that look,” she chortled in delight. Her husband
signaled “foul” with the abrupt clearing of his throat. “Angela?”

Trell
jumped in. “Don’t answer that, Bro.” To his wife, “It’s none of our affair,
busybody.”

Chance
understood the cunning glances passing between Trell and Sasha wishing to have
that closeness in his life. “I have a mutinous daughter camped out at my
aunt’s, a deceitful ex-wife entombed in my loft and the woman I love only God
knows where and with whom.” There. He said it aloud. A confession that would
jeopardize a lesser male’s manhood.

“You
want to talk about it?” Sasha asked eagerly, propping a hip on her husband’s
chair.

“Not
with you, dearie,” Trell warned comically through clenched teeth.

“You
didn’t ask me. But, I’m going to tell you what I think.” Her husband released a
long, tormented sigh. “You mean something to the girl. That was crystal that
day at Pops’. Ya’ll need to talk.” Sasha left her statement hanging as she faded
from the room.

“Pull
in your hooks and scram, Bro or you’ll end up with a Dear Blabby like me.”

“I
heard that,” Sasha rebuked from another room in the house. “Goodnight, Bro.”

“Goodnight,
Blabby,” he joked. Lowering his voice, “Seriously, though. My hooks are too
deeply embedded. I love this woman.”

“She’s
got your nose wide open.” Trell quizzed, “Then what’s the problem?”

“You
know her father suffered a heart attack and I visited them in Chicago. Well, I
thought that’s where Angela was all week. Each time I called to check on her I
got voicemail.” Chance saw Trell’s interest in his story by his posture. “She
always returned my calls, some sooner than others. And never for extended
periods. Nor did I ever get to speak to her parents on those calls.”

He
took a drag of his beer.

“So?”

“So,
I called her father’s cell to—”

Trell
supplied tongue-in-cheek, “Check on the lying sistuh.”

“No!”
he blasted. “To really see how he progressed. Of course, the topic of Angela
came up. Her parents enthusiastically support our relationship, Trell. They’ve
given me nothing but encouragement in the pursuit of their daughter.”

“I’m
confused.”

“Welcome
to my world,” he admitted balefully. “They talked about the trip she was on.
One planned long before we met.”

“Her
father had a heart attack and she still took a trip?”

“They
persuaded her.”

Still
disbelieving, “And she went.”

“Yes.
That’s where my problem comes in. Lee and Connie realized they’d let the cat
out of the bag. That Angela’d not mentioned her plan to me.”

“I
can see where you’re coming from. I’d have a problem with a solo trip, too.”

“That’s
just it,” Chance said. “I don’t think she’s alone.”

“You
suspect she’s cheating?”

“That’s
rather harsh.” He refused to condemn her as his mind slung him back to his
marriage’s blow-out and its subsequent demise. “I do know the male voice she
denied engaging in conversation was treacherous sounding and steeped with
malice.” He listened to the voice in his head. “Trell, I don’t know why but I
think she’s in over her head.”

 
Chance looked at Trell. Trell looked back at
him. “I tried her cell today. No answer all day. I’m worried.”

“Her
parents know her whereabouts?”

“They
say they don’t and I believe them. Said they tried the hotel in the islands
where she had reservations only to find she’d canceled.” He rustled the hair on
his head. “They didn’t seem alarmed because of their daily conversations. That
and the fact Connie convinced her she needed time to herself.”

“It
seems to me, Bro, the lady has a secret,” Trell accused.

“What
do I do about my suspicions? I mean,I trust Angela. I don’t trust the
circumstances surrounding her disappearance. She’s not gullible but she’s an
overtly compassionate soul.”

“You
do have a conundrum.”