Back to Your Love Page 5

  Backing his car down the inclined driveway, he cast a glance at her upstairs window. She stood there, watching his departure. Her tear-damp eyes met his for a few long, powerful beats. He stared back, letting his gaze tell her that he was determined to have her and intended to pursue her despite her protests.

  Her eyes retreated from his. Then she turned away and disappeared from the window.

  Confused and concerned, Xavier headed home. As he drove the familiar streets, lined with the showy red and gold branches of century-old oaks, he turned over her words in his mind.

  You think you know everything about me, but you don’t.

  What in the world was she hiding from him?

  With no answer to that question, he focused his attention on the road as he headed the car toward Tyrone’s house.

  As he left downtown and traveled down Glenwood Avenue in the direction of the tony neighborhood where his friend lived, he popped a CD into the car’s disc player. The melodic sounds of jazz guitarist Earl Klugh filled the interior, providing a soundtrack to his thoughts of Imani. He’d never seen her look the way she had when he’d left her. The pained expression on her face had tugged at his heart, reawakening the old protective instincts he’d had for her since the first day they’d met.

  When he pulled up to Tyrone’s massive two-story mansion, he slid his sedan into an empty spot on the circular driveway and cut the engine. The front door was already open, and he could see the glow of the light inside flowing through the glass storm door. Letting himself in, Xavier crossed the foyer and entered the front parlor. Inside the cherrywood-paneled room, he found Tyrone leaning over the pool table, lining up a shot. Behind him, on an overstuffed, tan leather sofa, Maxwell Devers reclined, feet up, smoking a cigar. His black slacks had risen up to show the black socks he wore with his Stacy Adams wingtips.

  Seeing his two frat brothers lounging helped to break his tension. He nodded to Tyrone. “Hey, T.”

  Tyrone made his shot, then stood to his full height. The black T and jeans he wore were his standard uniform when he was away from the law firm. “What’s up, Xavier?”

  Flopping down on the comfy sofa next to Maxwell, Xavier greeted his friend with the Theta handshake. “How are you, playboy?”

  Maxwell exhaled a cloud of spicy-smelling cigar smoke. “I’m good, man. So we gonna talk campaign shizz tonight?”

  The loud crack of two pool balls hitting each other signaled Tyrone making another shot. “Yes, we are, Max,” he called over his shoulder.

  Dropping the cigar butt in the crystal ashtray on the polished cherry table, Maxwell chuckled. “Y’all do remember me saying I was a silent partner in this thing. I just wanted to donate some bread to help my frat brother out.”

  “I still like to run things by you, man.” Xavier ran a hand over his head. “Your funds went a long way in getting my campaign ads on television.”

  Waving his hand dismissively, Maxwell smiled. “I trust you, man. I wanted to help fund your quest to change the world. But I do enough strategizing at work.”

  Xavier knew that to be true. Without Maxwell’s brilliant mind for strategy, however, Devers Architectural Development would never have existed. He appreciated his frat brother’s help, in whatever capacity he wanted to give it, so he decided not to press him.

  A clanking sound drew Xavier’s attention, and he looked up to see Tyrone at the minibar. “What are you drinking, X?”

  “Jack and Coke.”

  “Straight Scotch on the rocks for me,” Maxwell called.

  Tyrone prepared the drinks, then brought them over to his friends on a glass tray. He sat down in the fluffy armchair across from them and took a sip from his own drink. “Either of y’all heard from Orion?”

  Maxwell swallowed a mouthful of Scotch. “Yeah, the Young’n called me last week. He’s touring with one of the label’s new groups. He was in Houston then. Who knows where he is now?”

  Tyrone nodded. “Yeah. That’s our little man. I did get a text message from Bryan today.”

  “He sent it to me, too.” Xavier remembered seeing the message earlier in the day. “He’s gone to close a distribution deal in Paris and won’t be back for a few weeks. I appreciated him wishing me good luck, though.”

  Maxwell released a deep, rumbling chuckle. “That’s the busy life of an industry executive. Who knew when we were knuckleheads back at Central that we’d be so successful as adults?”

  Xavier shook his head at the memories of their college shenanigans. “I bet our professors didn’t. I know I was slack-ass in most of my classes.”

  “So was I, but we always got our papers and exams in on time and on point.” Tyrone tented his hands in front of him. “We got ourselves together where it counted.”

  Nodding his agreement, Xavier pushed away his lingering thoughts of Imani. Right now, he was on a mission to better his city. After all, improving the community is what a Theta brother does best. Leaning forward, he asked Tyrone, “So, what’s our strategy for these last few weeks?”

  “First things first, man. I know you got with your ex during the wedding festivities.” Tyrone took a drink from his glass.

  Xavier frowned. “Yeah, what does Imani have to do with the campaign?”

  “Plenty. You can’t be dating right now, X. You’ve got to put your full focus on the campaign. Remember what happened the last time you were involved with a woman during a campaign?” Tyrone fixed him with a stare as he referenced Xavier’s first attempt at a campaign. He’d only gotten as far as declaring himself a candidate before he’d had to withdraw.

  Having the incident with Jess brought up made Xavier groan. “I know, I know. Jess almost ruined my political career before I ended it with her. I haven’t forgotten.”

  Maxwell added, “Ty is right. Better play it safe this time, man.”

  Xavier rolled his eyes. “Max, I thought you were a silent partner. And, Ty, don’t go there with me on this. Imani is different.”

  Tyrone shook his head. “Man, I’m telling you. You’ve got to take it easy with her.”

  Xavier, taking a long sip from his glass, shook his head. “Like I said, Tyrone. Imani is different. Now quit lecturing me about her, and let’s talk some real campaign strategy.”

  Chapter 4

  “Dr. Grant?”

  Imani snapped out of her reverie and back to reality. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Flynn. What were you saying?”

  “I asked if you had any recommendations for treating my eczema.” The petite woman reclining in the exam chair looked none too pleased with having to repeat herself.

  Imani took a deep breath. She was only two patients into her first day at her new practice, and already she was losing focus. “Yes. Since it’s mild, I’ll recommend twice-weekly oatmeal baths. Make sure the water is warm, not hot, because that dries the skin more and exacerbates the condition.”

  Mrs. Flynn nodded, sweeping a wayward red curl away from her fair-skinned face. “Is there something you can prescribe for the rough patches on my elbows and knees?”

  Nodding, Imani retrieved her prescription pad from the breast pocket of her lab coat. “This should help with the itching and dryness, and reduce the redness over time.” She jotted the name and dosage of the drug, along with the dispensing instructions, onto a sheet and tore it off. “Give it about four weeks to work. If things don’t improve, or they get worse, come back and see me, okay?”

  Gathering her things, Mrs. Flynn took the prescription. “Thanks, Dr. Grant,” she called as she left.

  After her patient’s departure, Imani glanced at her wristwatch. It was ten minutes to eleven, and she didn’t have another appointment until eleven thirty. Rising from the revolving stool she sat on during consultations, she went to the break room for a much-needed cup of coffee. As she sat at the round table, waiting for the single cup brewer to make her hazelnut latte, Maya entered t
he room.

  “Whoa, what’s the matter?” Maya filled her ceramic mug with hot water and rifled through a box of assorted teas for a bag that appealed to her.

  “Still recovering from Sunday dinner with Xavier, I guess.” The timer sounded on her coffee, and she rose to grab it.

  “I got it,” Maya said. She retrieved the coffee, along with her own cup of tea, and brought them to the table. “Now what’s the problem?”

  Imani blew a puff of air over the coffee to cool it a bit, then took a small sip. “He was sitting at the table, making all these grand declarations about marrying me, and he and Mom discussed it as if I weren’t even there.”

  Maya sighed as she drizzled honey into her mug. “Does he really annoy you that much, or are you just worried he’ll find out about your…activities while you were away?”

  Imani cringed at the mention of her secret. “Maya, I’m so ashamed of it, I just don’t want anyone else to know.”

  “I know.” Maya grasped her hand. “You should give yourself credit for what you’ve accomplished. Look, you did what you had to do, and there’s no shame in that.”

  “I mean, even if I was feeling chatty about it, the gag order is still in effect.” She released a long sigh. “I was just a kid trying to pay for my education, you know? I didn’t want to burden Mom, especially after Dad’s death.”

  Maya gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s okay, Imani. You have to remember, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  She responded with a watery-eyed smile. “Who would have thought taking on a secretarial job would lead to all this drama?”

  “Not me.” Maya winked, obviously trying to soften her cousin’s mood. “Still, I think you should be honest with Xavier. He’s a good guy.”

  Imani scoffed. “Yeah, but don’t you think it might affect his campaign?”

  “Only if someone else found out. And you know I wouldn’t dime you out.” Maya’s soft smile held sympathy and humor. “Aunt Alma still doesn’t know who spilled her hundred-dollar bottle of perfume, remember?”

  Silence fell as she thought about the incident Maya referred to. The memory made her smile in spite of her mood. When she and Maya were younger, they’d loved playing in her mother’s makeup and beauty supplies, even though Alma forbade it. They’d try on lipstick and eye shadow and, most of the time, managed to wipe it off before they were caught. One time, while rushing to escape the scene of the crime, Imani had knocked over a bottle of French perfume, spilling the contents. Even though Maya had witnessed it, she’d never turned her in. To this day, Alma thought she’d knocked over the bottle herself.

  “I know I can trust you, Maya,” she admitted. “You’re the only one in my circle who knows, and I just don’t think I can tell him. Besides, I won’t have to if we don’t get involved.”

  “You always were the type to play it safe.” She finished her tea and stood. “If I were you, I’d just tell him. I’d bet good money he’s willing to overlook it.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Her cousin usually gave sound advice, but for now, that was all the commitment Imani could muster.

  “I gotta get back to the reception desk.” With a wave, Maya departed.

  Imani swung by her personal office to touch up her makeup. Looking at herself in the mirror, she could see the worry she felt so vividly. She quickly refreshed her lipstick and stood back to evaluate her appearance. Brushing a bit of lint off the black pencil skirt and lavender blouse she wore beneath her lab coat, she tried to “fix her face,” as her mom would say. She relaxed the tense muscles in her jaws and forehead as best she could, and put on a smile she vowed to wear for the rest of the day. Just because she was in turmoil over something personal didn’t mean her patients had to know. She needed to project an image of competence and professionalism if she wanted to build a regular clientele.

  Leona, one of her two nurses, stuck her head in the open door of the office. “Dr. Grant, your eleven thirty patient is here.”

  “Put her in room two, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  After the nurse was gone, she took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied with her reflection, she went to meet her patient.

  Imani did examinations, gave consultations, and wrote prescriptions for her remaining four patients of the day. By four thirty, her last appointment was done, and she returned to her office to put the notes she’d taken into her computerized patient files. The nurses left at five, after the exam rooms were cleaned and prepared for the next day, leaving only her and Maya in the building. Around five thirty, Maya appeared with a stack of folders in her arms.

  “Here’s all the insurance and billing stuff for the day.”

  Due to limited space, the hard copies of patient files and financial records were being stored in three tall filing cabinets along a wall in her office. “Just go ahead and stick them in the file cabinet,” she instructed, still typing into the computer’s database. “We’ll sort them all at the end of the week.”

  After putting the papers away, Maya asked, “How much longer are you gonna be?”

  “About ten minutes. I’m almost done.” Imani spoke without looking up from the computer screen as she entered more patient data.

  “I’ll wait for you up front.”

  When she’d finished her work and shut down the computer, she carried her purse out into the waiting area. Spying the silver picture frame still lying in the box on the reception desk, she took it out. As Maya looked on, Imani stared at the photo for a few quiet moments. Then she walked back to her office, set the picture on the desk next to the one of her parents on their wedding day, and walked out, closing the door behind her.

  Maya was waiting with her fists propped on her hips. “What was that about?”

  Imani shrugged, smiled with feigned ignorance, and said nothing. Admitting to Maya that she’d given Xavier’s gift a place of honor on her desk would only start a conversation she was loath to have right now. When it came to Xavier, things were just too complex for her tastes. A loving relationship was the thing she wanted most, but could never really have. At least not until she conquered the specter of her past.

  Her cousin, wearing a look of amusement, shook her head, then followed her out into the fading light of dusk.

  * * *

  Xavier walked into the H. R. Revels Youth Outreach Center, letting the glass-and-metal door swing shut behind him. The center, affectionately dubbed “the Yoc” by the kids who frequented the place, served as a second home for him. When he wasn’t in his office or doing things for his parents, he spent the bulk of his free time there. Volunteering gave him a sense of connection to the historic Oakwood community he’d been raised in. He felt an obligation to the young people coming of age in the area now and wanted to have a positive influence on their futures.

  The building was a sprawling, two-level brick structure that had once been an elementary school. On the lower level, a common area dominated most of the space. The commons had a variety of comfortable seating, foosball and air hockey tables, and a cabinet stuffed with board games. Behind the commons was a small gymnasium, where the kids often gathered to play basketball, as well as a cafeteria where they were served healthy snacks. Between the cafeteria and the gym lay a large office area, where the dedicated staff that kept the place running had their cubicles. The upper level of the building housed eight classrooms; there was a computer lab in one of the rooms. The other rooms were used for tutoring in various subjects and for private counseling for kids who requested it.

  As Xavier moved farther into the common area, he passed the bust honoring the center’s namesake, Hiram Rhodes Revels. Mr. Revels, of nearby Fayetteville, North Carolina, had been the first African American to serve in Congress. Ironically, the seat Mr. Revels had filled had been previously occupied by Jefferson Davis, who became president of the Confederacy at the start of the Civil War. Xavier recalled
the discussion he and the rest of the board members had had while trying to come up with a name for the youth center. While many potential names had been mentioned, they’d all eventually agreed that Hiram Revels didn’t get nearly enough recognition for the role he’d played in American history.

  It was just after one o’clock, so the center was nearly empty. In a couple of hours when school let out, the place would be filled with the bustling activity of twenty-five or more kids, ages eight to eighteen.

  The sound of someone whistling cut through the silence. Xavier smiled, knowing exactly where the sound was coming from. “How are you doing, Kel?”

  O’Kelly Barnes, the aged janitor, rolled his cart down the hallway and into Xavier’s line of sight. “Pretty good, Xavier. How are you?”

  “Can’t complain. How bad was it back there?”

  “The cafeteria? Not bad at all. You all do a pretty good job of reminding the kids to clean up after themselves.”

  Xavier nodded as O’Kelly strolled by with his cart. A retired mechanic, O’Kelly worked part-time at the center, stopping by two or three days a week to keep it tidy. The old man had been a fixture in Xavier’s life since his own youth, when he’d hung out at O’Kelly’s auto shop after school, soaking up his encyclopedic knowledge of cars.

  Xavier moved down the corridor to the office and made his way to his cubicle, along the back wall. The office setup was nothing fancy, as the donations and grants that kept Revels running were much better spent providing food and resources for the kids who used the place. Only two people worked as paid employees for the center, and neither of them were full-time. For now, he had the cavernous room to himself, since no one else was due to come in until two.

  He settled into the seat behind the glass desk and set down his water bottle. Then he pulled out his ledger. His Thursday routine meant leaving his accounting office for lunch, then reporting to the center to go over the books. The limited funding available to the center made financial discretion a top priority, and his weekly checks of the records helped keep things on the right track. The largest monthly expenditures for the center were food and utilities. Since the five board members had each chipped in several thousand dollars to buy the building from the city, and added donations from local businesses, there wasn’t a mortgage. Televisions had never been used in the center, since he and his board agreed that kids got enough TV elsewhere. Still, running the lights and computers, and feeding the kids healthy, organic snacks free of charge drained the center’s coffers every month.