Sixty-Nine (21 page)

Magnolia said, “I’m happy,” and her face seemed to agree. She didn’t want to ruin it. Not at this point in her life. Not at
the age of forty. Happiness was too hard earned.

Too difficult to come by.

Too very necessary.

“Good. Then that, your happiness, is all that matters.”

Magnolia spoke close to her grandmother’s ear. “Gigi, I heard the birds singing this morning. I mean they really sang. And
I really listened. It was beautiful. And I remembered what you told me on my birthday. To stay positive and get ready. That
God would bring me the right man when the time is right. You were right. Again.”

Gigi’s eyes looked pleased. “See, not saying I told you so, but it’s that ordained mate I was telling you about.” Gigi spoke
close to Magnolia’s ear as well, sitting next to her after Magnolia and Miller arrived at Gigi’s home that Tuesday after work.

“Yes. That and more.”

“More singing. More love. Well deserved.”

Today, Magnolia had driven Miller’s gunmetal metallic Jaguar to work, and he took her SUV. He had the locks and the alarm
system changed himself. They’d driven her car to Gigi’s house. And Magnolia had a new iPhone, with a new phone number.

Miller returned from Gigi’s bathroom and sat on the other side of the sofa, next to his new fiancée, his hand on her leg.
Her hand on his.

Gigi stared and said, “You two look good together. Very good.”

“Well, thanks, Mrs. Grace.”

“Oh no, please call me Gigi. I’m Magnolia’s Gigi. And as happy as she looks, glowing like she’s been plugged back in, I’m
your Gigi, too.”

Magnolia gave a snicker and watched him as he and Gigi smiled.

“Thanks, Gigi.” He confirmed her name with a respectful nod.

“Speaking of glowing, so, I’m going to be a great-grandmother, huh?” Gigi put her hand on Magnolia’s tummy.

“You are. And less than two weeks before my birthday.”

Miller said, “You see we didn’t waste any time.”

“God didn’t waste any time. It’s all God. He knows what He does, and why.” She slowly leaned forward, picking up the pitcher
of lemonade, pouring more into Miller’s empty glass. Magnolia’s was nearly full.

“Thanks,” Miller said.

“Sure. So, how’d you two meet?” Gigi set it back down and seemed anxious to hear.

Magnolia looked at Miller and then told her, “We met out. We were at a club and sat at the bar for hours. Just talking. I
mean, it was just like we were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. Gigi, the things he said were so similar to
the things I thought. It was crazy. And since then, I don’t think there’s been a day we haven’t seen each other, right, sweetie?”
She looked at her fiancé.

“Right.” He squeezed her leg.

Gigi grinned. “See, that’s how it’s supposed to be. I miss that. I remember when me and your grandfather Norm met, it was
just like that. It was just comfortable, not forced. When it’s time, it’s time.”

“I agree,” said Miller.

Magnolia gave a major smile. “Gigi, it was kind of funny, but yesterday, Neal called, and Miller answered my phone.”

Gigi looked surprised. “What? No.”

“Yes.” Magnolia bumped Miller with her arm. “I’m sorry, Miller.”

“No. Not at all. I took the phone because I wanted to. He wasn’t respecting you. Maybe he’ll respect me.”

Magnolia added, “Let’s just say, I doubt he’ll be calling back. He tried to get ugly, but Miller didn’t give him any room
for that. Besides, Gigi, he said he and Keyonna eloped.”

“Good. Very good.” Gigi said smiling. “Glad to hear it.”

“Me, too,” Magnolia said, giving her grandmother a matching look.

Miller noticed their bond. “It’s good to see Magnolia so close to you. My parents passed away, and I sure miss them. It’s
just nice to have a family connection like this. I’m glad to be part of it.”

“We’re glad to have you. I’m sure Magnolia told you, I’m like her mom. And I’m so excited about this baby coming. What a way
to end the year.”

“Yes, it is,” Magnolia said, and then she frowned and gave an exhale, hand on her stomach.

“Magnolia, what’s wrong?” Miller asked.

“I just feel a little dizzy. A little nauseous.” She scooted back and bounced her leg.

Gigi asked, “Do you need anything? Maybe all the sugar from that lemonade doesn’t agree with you.”

“That’s probably what it is.” Miller asked, “Do you want some water, baby?”

“Yes, please. I’ll just go to the bathroom real fast. My stomach is acting up. I didn’t eat much today.” Magnolia prepared
to stand.

“She barely finished her food. Here, I’ll help you.” Miller stood and reached down to take Magnolia by the hand.

She stood at a snail’s pace, bent over, and then squinted. “Ouch. Awww, ouch. Oh, it hurts, Miller.”

“Your stomach?”

“Yes.” Her face was pained.

“We need to get you to the hospital.” Miller eased Magnolia along, prompting her to take careful steps toward the front door.

“I’ll go with you. I’ll just grab my pocketbook.”

Miller said as Gigi stood, “Hurry, Gigi. Get her purse. I’ll get Magnolia to the car.”

Gigi looked in shock. “Okay. I’m right there, two seconds.”

Magnolia walked slow, assisted by Miller, thinking in her head what Gigi had said moments earlier,
He knows what He does. And why.

Magnolia said to herself, heart skipping a beat,
I just pray God’s will agrees with mine. Would that be too much to ask?

I
t was a Thursday, the day of the grand opening of Darla’s baby, Brown Sugar.

The glittery shimmer from the speckled caramel walls, pewter and glass gas fireplace, and gilded crystal chandelier were twinkling
in a celebratory sparkle. The soft silver sectionals faced each other, each with oval leopard pillows, and leopard club chairs
at each side. There were sheer taupe curtains with animal-print drapes with gauzy brown tiebacks. The bar area had leather
stools and birch cabinetry. And hot pink, shapely mannequins were garbed in colorful corsets and thongs and stockings and
spiked heels.

The look and feel was cozy and fancy and sexy.

Darla served banana penis cupcakes, pussy jellybeans, and lolly cocks. Virgin pink pantie cocktails flowed from the champagne
fountain.

The proud owner strutted around in a pink bustier with a tight white leather skirt and leopard stilettos. She held the rhinestone-studded
microphone, smiling hard.

Rebe, now seven months pregnant, wore a baggy T-shirt dress with white mules, and Magnolia, no longer pregnant, wore a short
black dress and animal print flats. They stood in the front of the crowd of over one hundred people. Miller stood beside his
woman, Magnolia, holding her hand while sipping his drink.

Darla spoke. “Wow. This store, my store, all came together in only a short amount of time. I really can’t believe that not
long ago, me and my girls, right here, Rebe and Magnolia,” she aimed her hand toward her friends, “all dared each other to
try and break out of our boxes and try something new. Well, here it is, evidence of beyond my box, my store, Brown Sugar.”

Rebe and Magnolia led the applause and everyone joined in.

Darla looked humble. Her face was aglow. “I want to thank all of you for being here tonight. I’ve got something naughty and
special for each of you in the gift bags we’ll be passing out later.”

Darla’s father sat in a chair watching and listening. He was dressed up as though going to church, in his Sunday best black
suit, white shirt, and black tie.

Darla smiled at him, convincing herself not to go full-out-kinky.

He smiled back, as though giving thanks.

“This is a dream come true. You are all witnessing something happening to me that I never thought I’d do. It’s more than the
thrill of opening my own retail store. It’s the thrill of coming out of a place where I was, as some of you know, after my
husband died years ago. At times I thought I wasn’t going to be able to make it through. Last New Year’s Eve, my friends and
I vowed to take a braver shot at life, even though in the back of my mind I still doubted myself. It was comfortable being
in that box. But God had other plans.”

The crowd again began to clap.

As they ceased she said, “I prayed and believed and took the steps. A couple of miracles happened along the way that pointed
to the fact that maybe, just maybe, this could become a reality. And as it turns out, it is.

“So, I won’t take up any more of your time with my words. I’ll let you look around and enjoy what Brown Sugar has to offer.
Also, we have plenty of pink drinks flowing, bottles of wine, champagne, and some desserts and appetizers all around. And
if any of the intimate merchandise strikes your fancy, I would appreciate your business. I want Brown Sugar to be your one-stop
intimate boutique, kind of a brown Victoria’s Secret and your local adult video store all rolled into one. In my videos, it’s
ladies first, though. Okay?”

She giggled and her audience laughed, nodding in approval.

“Again, I thank you, and ask you to remember to live your sexy dreams. Enjoy the sweetness.”

Again her patrons and friends applauded and one by one stepped up to her to give her their individual best wishes.

Magnolia hugged Darla close and placed one of the same sterling silver, engraved BFF key chains she’d given Rebe in Darla’s
hand. Darla’s initial was first. Magnolia winked and walked on with Miller, looking over the intimate apparel with a sparkle
in her eye. Miller pulled out his credit card.

Rebe already had her keys in her hand, and after giving a congratulatory hug, walking slowly, she left.

After all the excitement and glamour of her opening, Darla wore a silk royal blue and white polka-dot baby-doll with the stringiest
of matching G-string undies, lying on her back in her own bed, alone as usual, in bed early with the lights out.

Her head was filled with the thrill of her new business, the possibility of future sales projections, and the continued restoration
of her once bottomed-out bank account.

Life was great.

She was on a high.

All except fulfilling her sexual bucket list of allowing a man inside her body again for the first time in years, and hopefully
one who could satisfy her, taking her to the brink of satisfaction. She got up, slipped off her wedding ring, and got dressed.

Within forty-five minutes, Darla, alone, stepped inside of the Red Bar at the Catalina Hotel & Beach Club on Collins Avenue,
a contemporary two-level lounge just a few miles away from her condo. She’d seen the advertisements for the live weekend performances
when she’d walk by on the way to and from work.

Tonight, the soulful swaying jazz music was loud, and the room was cozy dark, with only bright gold shining neon lights here
and there, other than the bright lights on stage.

Darla was still wearing her fitted, polka-dot baby-doll. But she’d slipped on her perfect fit CJ jeans by Cookie Johnson,
and a black bolero jacket, with steel gray slingbacks. Silver hoops. Silver beaded bag.

She headed straight for a seat at one end of the triangular bar, sat down and straightened her back, stuck her butt out against
the back of the barstool, and adjusted the sheer fabric of her negligee along her waist, making herself comfortable, then
placing her purse on her lap, looking down and then to her left to see an older bald gentleman with a gray moustache nodding
at her. She nodded back.

To her right, a younger man with dreadlocks and dimples eyed her down and smiled. She smiled and reached into her purse nervously
as if she may have heard her cell ring, grabbing it, eyeing the display, which indicated nothing was missed, not a text, not
a call, nothing. She scrolled through the All Calls menu and carefully perused the entries as though she was really checking
for some unknown information that needed her attention. But she was simply looking busy enough to not look the men in the
eyes a second time.

It made her feel as though her intentions were obvious.

She felt on display.

And being there was bad enough.

The butter-blonde, female bartender approached. “Good evening, lovely. May I suggest one of our designer cocktails? An espresso
margarita maybe?”

Darla stuck her phone back in her purse and tapped her turquoise fingernails along the walnut bar top. Her mascara-glazed
eyes glanced toward the ceiling in thought and then met the woman’s gaze. “Well, I’ll have a red berry CÎROC with Sprite,
please.”

“You got it,” she said, winking while placing a napkin before her.

Darla rotated her body one-half turn to see the live quartet that played, led by a tall, dark, Afro-wearing saxophone player
with a rust and orange jacket and brown pants, as he blew into his horn, playing Smokey Robinson’s “Cruisin’.” His medium-brown
eyes met Darla’s and she grinned, and then looked down again. She was sure her face said she was new at going out to a bar
alone. And her jittery heart cosigned.

She looked to the bartender, who set her slender drink on the napkin, placing two black straws inside. “Here you go. Anything
else? An appetizer maybe? Our lemon-pepper wings are pretty popular. Not as pretty or popular as you, I see.”

Darla’s face flushed. “Oh really? Thanks. No. Not for now.”

“Okay.” The bartender put her receipt near her drink and stepped away.

Darla wondered why it seemed she was getting so much attention being alone, as opposed to with her friends, even from the
ladies. She always said when she was with Magnolia or Rebe, she was usually the last to be flirted with. They said it was
just her imagination. Perhaps it was.

She used the straws to stir her drink clockwise and then in reverse, then sexily sipped while finding herself bobbing her
head to the jazzy beats. She turned to look around the small room, noticing a few couples sprinkled here and there at the
bar tables, but for the most part, she was only one of a few unescorted women in the place. As she took another sip, a man
walked by and licked her from head to toe with his eyes. Just as she thought he’d completely passed her by, she heard a deep voice
in her ear. “Pretty lady. When this set is done, would you mind coming over to the table with me and my friend for a drink?”

She looked to her left and saw the same man standing just behind her, his arm next to her back. He took a small step before
her. He was average height, very slender, and had straight hair and dark features, as though he were Indian. His breath smelled
like he’d just had an orange Tic Tac. His eyes were big and sexy, and his lashes were long and thick. She liked what she saw,
even though he was shorter and thinner than what she usually preferred. She gulped and then replied. “Well, I suppose so.”

“I’m David. My friend’s name is Bill.” He pointed to an area near the wall.

“Okay. Hi, David. I’m Darla.” She playfully brushed aside her wispy bangs.

He focused on speaking to the side of her face. “Nice to meet you. I know the music is loud, but I’d love to talk to you when
they break, so please feel free to come over. I’ll buy you your next drink. We’re at that table near the window.”

She aimed her sight to where his eyes pointed and said, “I see,” and then focused on his dark brown skin as he leaned his
head closer to hear her. “I will. Thanks. That’s nice of you to offer.”

“My pleasure.”

Ten seconds after he walked away, the sax player stepped to Darla, still playing his sax, and stood to her left, serenading
her with a rendition of “God Bless the Child.” He played his instrument with an alluring glance, tilting his horn and grooving
his head to the flow. Darla looked around to see who was noticing her being the center of attention and blinked fast, feeling
flushed, readjusting herself on the padded barstool.

He continued to blow his specially designed musical breaths into his sexy brass sax, and she continued to bat her eyes while
he proceeded past her and winked, heading toward another woman who sat with a gentleman.

As the song ended, the sax man announced their fifteen-minute break at the same time Darla looked at her bar tab and took
a bill from her purse. Then the sax man said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got that,” just as she stood up to go back near the window
to sit with her admirer and his friend. The sax player nodded to the bartender, who nodded back, and then he took Darla by
her hand and began to walk toward the VIP area near the stage. Darla followed, trying her best to not look over at the table
where she knew the two gentlemen waited.

The sax man spoke with a deep, slow voice. “Baby, let me just say, you are by far the most beautiful woman to walk into this
place since I’ve been playing here. I saw you and it was like my mind and eyes froze. You are my kind of woman. I mean the
kind of woman I’ve imagined for years. Truly. If I’d drawn you myself, the image would look just like you. I’m Grainger. Grainger
Brown.”

In her head, his name sounded familiar. She thought back and only said, “I’m Darla.” He was known in Miami as a rising musician
on the brink of stardom.

His fans nodded to him, one tapped him on the shoulder, and he nodded back and waved along the way with one hand, holding
Darla’s hand with the other. “Hi Darla. You are a darling, now, I will say that. I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward,
or that you think I say this often. I promise you, I’ve never said this before. But, I just had to meet you. I couldn’t let
you walk out of here tonight and miss my chance to see if maybe this is just what I’ve been looking for in my life. You are
a bombshell. Lady, I’m telling you. I hear the song ‘Brick House’ when you walk.” He looked her up and down. “You are something
else.”

Darla’s ears spun. She blushed. “Well, I thank you for your compliments, but I’m sure there’ve been a lot of pretty women
in here, Grainger.”

He brought her over to a private section that had been reserved for him. There was a sofa and a table, and on the table was
an empty ice bucket and a plate of fruit. “I guarantee you, not like you. And you are wearing those jeans.” He motioned for
her to sit and then he sat beside her.

“Well, thanks.”

He asked, “Do you want to take off your jacket?”

“Oh no,” Darla replied. She shook her head to say no for extra measure. Darla told herself her sexy lingerie would make too
much of a first impression, and probably the wrong one. And that wouldn’t be right.