Wrong Chance (35 page)

“Promise?”

“Yeah, you promised that you would not let anything happen to me. Cash didn't do it, and Chance is still out there. I'm the only one who wasn't punished for the wrong he feels we inflicted on his family.”

Something did irritate Hakeem, but he didn't know what. But it was there in the caverns of his mind digging and clawing its way to the surface. An unformed thought that stubbornly refused to gel. And he needed to know what that something was no matter how long it took. “I promise.” He studied Keebler's movements for a moment. “I come here once a week to talk to him. He would have been sixteen today.”

“Well, you get to talk to him for real today.”

He was quiet, then said, “What will I say to him?”

“Whatever you need to say, Mr. Eubanks. Whatever you can't live another day having not said to him, because he's ready to cross over. That's why we're here today.”

“You're really serious, aren't you?” He watched her looking at someone he couldn't see. “Jaden, come over here.”

J
azz rubbed Keebler's head, impressed with the beautiful animal. “I almost hit you, you know that? You gotta stay out the street.” She squatted and stroked Keebler's body. “Whenever you're ready, Mr. Eubanks, Jaden can hear you.”

Jazz watched as Jaden stared at his father like he wished he could hug the man.

“Uh, where is he?” Hakeem was clearly nervous. His flushed skin perspired in spite of the cold.

“Standing in front of you.”

Jaden said, “Tell him that I can tell he's stressing and not taking care of himself or sleeping like he did when Mom passed. Tell him to stop.”

“Your son says not to stress and take better care of yourself and find a way to rest at night. That you can't do the same thing you did when your wife passed.”

“It's hard,” Hakeem said.

She knew he had to be feeling awkward about talking to someone who had passed away with the understanding that he was actually being heard.

“I miss you so much, son.” His words got caught up in his throat. “I still come home and look forward to working on that jumpshot with you. My life is so empty without you and your mother. It's like there's this big hole in me and everything is spilling out.”

Jaden told Jazz what to tell his father.

“He says he misses you too and that he's all right and that he didn't suffer. Never felt a thing.”

Hakeem broke down in tears. “Thank God,” he whispered to himself.

“He wants to know,” Jazz said, still stroking Keebler, “that you won't let this beat you and that he'd be happy if you promise to live your life to the fullest for him and his mom.”

Hakeem nodded and sobbed. “I promise, son. I promise.”

“He wants to know if you used the season tickets y'all had for the Cavs' games?”

“I couldn't, son. I couldn't go without you.”

Jaden said, “Tell him that I love you, Ms. Smith. That you've been like a mother to me, so I don't want him to be mad at you. You're special to me, Ms. Smith, so I want y'all to be friends and for him to look out for you when I'm gone.”

“I'm not saying that, Jaden. I'm honored, but no.” Her eyes watered, but she checked her emotions so the tears wouldn't fall.

“Tell him.”

“No, I don't feel comfortable repeating that.”

Jazz felt Hakeem watching her seemingly go back and forth with herself.

“Say what? What don't you feel comfortable saying?” Hakeem said.

She sighed. “He wants you to know that he looks at me like a second mom and he loves me. So he asks that you hold nothing against me for what happened.” She looked to the tumbling leaves on the ground, feeling ashamed. “He wants us to be friends and look out for each other when he's gone.”

Jaden said, “That's not exactly what I said, but I cosign it.”

“Jaden, son, I love you with all I am. There hasn't been a single hour that I haven't thought about you. And there won't be a day that I won't miss you for as long as I live. Because of you, Jazz and I will always be bonded.”

“Thank you,” Jazz said, then listened to Jaden. “He says he loves you too and not to pay me any attention when I have my mean spells.” She shook her head. “I'm not mean, Mr. Eubanks. He was deliberately trying to drive me crazy bouncing that darn ball in the house.”

“Tell me about it.” Hakeem chuckled.

Jaden pointed. “It's time for me to go.”

Jazz saw a woman in the distance waving Jaden to her.

“That's my mother.”

Keebler saw the woman and started barking and pulling, excited to near hysteria.

“What's wrong now, girl?” Hakeem tightened down on Keebler's leash, fighting to hold her back.

“It's Gwynn. She came for him.” Jazz burst into tears as Jaden went to his mother.

Hakeem's tears flowed too. Keebler barked and barked. With his bad leg he fought to hold Keebler back. “He's leaving, isn't he?”

“Yes,” she said through a cracked voice.

Jaden stood next to his mother and waved. “I love you, Dad. I love you, Ms. Smith.”

“We love you too.” To Hakeem, she said, “Wave bye, Mr. Eubanks.”

They waved until Jaden and his mother were gone. Jazz turned to leave.

Hakeem gestured to Jaden's headstone. “Your sunglasses and cap.”

“I won't be needing them anymore.”

A
spen stepped onto her bathroom scale; she weighed
perfect.
She smiled. A fresh pack of Newports sat on the vanity table among all the items that amplified her pretty. The sight of the cigarettes kicked her nicotine jones into overdrive. She tapped out a stick to feed the need. Then she saw it. The OB Complete starter kit. “It's one or the other. Can't have it both ways,” she said, running a fingertip over the box of prenatal supplements. She gave herself a serious look in the mirror and found the cigarette pinched between her lips unattractive and unhealthy. “You can do this, Aspen,” she said to herself, then tossed the cigarette in the toilet. Then she tapped the rest of the pack into the toilet. With her finger on the handle, she stared at the floating cigarettes. She pulled in a deep breath, then flushed, carving the decision in stone. Slipping out of her robe, she eased into a scented bubble bath in an in-floor tub that would make Tony Montana blush. Thinking of Jaden's sixteenth birthday, she wondered how Hakeem was doing. She swallowed a supplement, dialed his number, and relaxed against a cozy tub pillow.

•  •  •

Hakeem limped into the Homicide Unit with a new outlook on life. Allowing life to pass him by wouldn't be what Gwynn would
accept from him. He had to thrive. That much he owed to the memory of his family as much as he owed it to himself. During the car ride from the cemetery to the office, Hakeem prayed and swore to God that he wouldn't break his promises to Jaden or Jazz. He was through feeling sorry for himself and beating himself up with blame. He'd left those negatives at Jaden's gravesite next to Jazz's sunglasses.

Keebler stretched out alongside his desk. He hung his leather coat on the back of the chair, then settled himself into it. He contemplated his cluttered desk. Among a stack of case files was a Priority Mail package addressed from Gus Hobbs. Hakeem almost got angry but thought better of it. He opened the mail with Aspen's letter opener and found a videotape inside. A note was rubber banded to the tape that read
Peace Offering.
Hakeem jerked his bottom drawer open and tossed the Priority package in with all the other junk he'd accumulated over the years that he had no use for. Reaching for the turned-down picture frame, Hakeem knew he was on the right track. He stood the picture right side up for the first time since the accident. He had almost forgotten what they looked like.

Jaden, a boyish version of Hakeem, wore a Cavaliers jersey, holding a game ball autographed by Boobie Gibson. Gwynn, hair framing her slender face and a splash of freckles covering her light skin, had her arm around Jaden as they posed for the picture in the Quicken Loans Arena. Hakeem remembered the moment he snapped the picture and smiled. Even from the picture, Gwynn's eyes penetrated Hakeem's soul.

He reached down and ruffled Keebler's head. “You miss them too, don't you, girl?”

Keebler whined.

Hakeem focused back on the picture. “I promise to live again, and I'll always love y'all.”

His cell phone rang. After digging it out of his leather coat, Hakeem said, “Communicate.”

“What are you doing?”

“Restoring order to my life. Figured I'd start by cleaning up my desk. Why? What are you up to?”

“Taking a bath.”

He tried hard not to imagine that. “Aspen, you didn't call to tell me that.”

“It doesn't bother you, does it?”

“It's awkward.” He took the restraints off. He couldn't help himself. Now he pictured her chocolate skin wet with bubbles. Her hair pinned up in a bun…and those dimples.

She said, “Well, now you don't have to add
talk to Aspen while she's naked and in the tub
to your bucket list.” Then: “A deal is a deal, Hakeem.”

Hakeem said nothing.

“Get quiet all you want. I'm not letting you back out of this.”

He leaned back and put his eyes on Jaden and Gwynn. “I'm not trying to.”

“Okay, that was too damn easy. What in the hell did you do with the real Hakeem Eubanks?”

“When is the date, Aspen?”

“Tonight.”

He pulled out a pen and found something to write on. “Phoenix Lovelace, right?”

“You remembered.”

“Where?”

“X & O in the flats. Ten o'clock.”

“How am I supposed to know what she looks like?”

“Don't worry about it. She knows what you look like. Just be there.”

“Bye, Aspen.” He clicked off and turned to Keebler. “Girl, what did I just get myself into?”

S
he wasn't paying attention, but he was. She was too caught up in the relationship section in Barnes & Noble to notice. When he first saw her hit the aisle, he knew. He stood still, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of the
The Truth About Love.

She drew closer; his heart beat faster.

She was a tall and regal sister with a supermodel strut and the serene demeanor of an A-list celebrity. He observed every nuance of her: Long fingers, manicured nails, no wedding ring. Silky black hair tumbled down her back in loose curls. Skin the color of Werther's Original candy, and he was sure it tasted just as sweet. Her jeans and sweater were sensual and vibrant. Her long strides were efficient and arousing. This goddess was gorgeous enough to make a man look twice. But he only needed one glance. He was hooked. He put the book back on the shelf and reached for another.

That's when it happened.

They grabbed each other's hand. It felt sexy. It felt right. She looked up at him with eyes the color of old pennies. Clear. Calm. Steady. It was impossible to ignore the way her eyes bored into him. Instinctively he closed his eyes to pray this moment was real and caught a flashback of their initial eye contact. He opened his eyes because he had to see her again.

•  •  •

There you are, Jazz thought as she went to pluck a copy of Elizabeth Clare's
Soulmates and Twin Flames
from the shelf but grabbed a hand instead. She looked into his luminous black eyes. Then the energy of his touch registered. It surged through her body and landed down
there.
She giggled. Jazz had written about this intense feeling and look a thousand times. She intellectually knew it. She just never thought she would experience it or the look would truly be aimed at her during this lifetime. Love. Longing. Desire. Need. She loved it. The longer they held gazes, the deeper their souls connected.

“Whatever is happening here,” he said, not one ounce of artifice, “I don't want it to stop. I'm really enjoying it.”

Her pulse quickened. “Me too.” She smiled a thousand watts of power.

“I'm Oasis.”

She blushed. “Jazz.”

“Well, Jazz, since we're already holding hands, how about you let me take you next door for lunch. See if we can figure this out, because I can't spend the rest of my life wondering about the what ifs of this moment.”

She looked down at their hands, not even realizing they were still clenched together. It felt good. She threaded her fingers with his to test the fit. Her common sense screamed exchange numbers and build up to a lunch date, but her heart said this was God's doing. She squeezed his hand.

“Does that mean yes?”

She nodded, not sure if she was capable of words. “Yes.”

“Your eyes,” he said as they walked to the exit, “they're inspiring. Makes me enjoy smiling.”

H
akeem knew there was a crimp in his plan to be cordial to Ms. Phoenix Lovelace and leave without promises of another date when a curvy petite goddess in a couture Gucci Première gown with a thigh-high split sashayed into the room. She wore a Cartier necklace worth an MIT tuition. A V of naked flesh stretched from her delicate collarbone to her outie belly button. Usher's “There Goes My Baby” accompanied her spectacular entrance. The moment Hakeem met her gaze he knew it had fiery consequences. It flipped his switch. The intensity of it turned up his thermostat. Hakeem didn't know whether to approach Aspen or flee.

He had never seen Aspen more beautiful. She stopped and smiled at him under a chandelier; its light catching her diamond-drop earrings. He took a sip of wine the color of water, placed the glass on the bar, and went to her. Never once giving a conscious thought to his lilting gait.