Someone Like Me Page 14

  His receptionist has already left for the day, but I find David in his office, staring at a picture of Michelle. I knock on the open door softly, and when he looks up at me, I can tell that he’s been crying.

  “You caught me,” he says as I take a seat across from him.

  “Maybe you need to give yourself more time before coming back to work.”

  “No. I need to get out of that house. Everything there reminds me of Michelle and Justin. Coming here allows me to focus on something else, like helping you find a great insurance company.”

  “Helping others always makes one feel better,” I say, hoping it will bring even a faint smile to his face.

  “Exactly. I know I’m still going to have moments like the one you caught me having just now. It’s part of the healing process, as everyone keeps telling me.”

  I nod, wishing I could say something more, something comforting like Michael would. “So, what great insurance company did you find for me?” I say, hoping to at least lighten up our conversation some.

  Finally, I see a smile. “One that you’re going to love because they were able to give me a yearly rate for what you were expecting to pay for six months. Plus, they’ve been around for a long time and have the reputation to show for it.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  David loosens his silk silver tie, leans back in his leather chair, and folds his hands on top of his antique desk. “You know, I’ve known Michael for a long time. Our broken homes were right next to each other.”

  “Michael told me that. I can relate to a broke home; my mama was a nurse and a single mother.”

  “I bet you remember making those mayo sandwiches.”

  We both laugh as I nod and say, “I do.”

  I ease back in my chair and wait for him to ask the question that’s obviously lingering on the tip of his tongue.

  “You know, Michael really cares for you.”

  I place my hands in my lap and look David in the eye. “I really care about him, too. I love him.”

  His shoulders relax. “I can tell, but as his best friend, I’m glad to hear you say it.”

  “You think Michael and I are moving too fast, don’t you?”

  “I’m a romantic. I wined, dined, and married Michelle three months after meeting her.”

  This time, I’m the one to relax. “Sounds like a great story that you’re going to have to tell me some day.”

  He smiles. “I will.” Then, he grabs a yellow file out of a basket on his desk. “Okay, let’s talk more about this great yearly rate that I got you.”

  As I lean over to examine the documents, I can’t help but smile at David. I can’t blame him for taking our conversation where he did. It’s what people who care about you do. I’ve learned that from Jack and Mary.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  I hear Michael knocking on my door, so I grab my purse so we can head right out.

  “No Nina Simone today?” he asks as I step out into the hallway and close my door.

  “Not tonight. I’m too excited about going shopping,” I say as a huge smile spreads across my face.

  “I see that. I feel like we’re going to get ice cream instead of a sofa.”

  “Come on,” I say, gently pulling him toward the steps. “I want to have enough time to look around.”

  “Okay, I’m good with that. Cute dress, by the way. That pink color looks good on you.”

  “Thanks. I still haven’t had a chance to do laundry, so I don’t have any clean jeans.” I glance over and notice that he’s still in work attire. “Since you have on dress pants and a dress shirt, I guess I’m glad I didn’t have jeans to wear.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t get home in time to change. It’s been a very busy day.”

  “I saw David yesterday. But he probably told you that,” I say as we walk to his car.

  “He did. I was surprised he went back to work so soon.”

  “I thought you were going back to your place after you left Jack and Mary’s on Sunday.”

  “I was, but I think I need to stay a bit longer.”

  “Are you sure that’s what he needs?” I ask.

  “You don’t sound like you think my staying is a good idea. I thought you understood why I’m still there.”

  I offer a neutral smile. “I can’t say whether it’s a good or a bad idea. I’m sure it’s going to take David some time to get used to being in the house by himself.”

  “Last night he mentioned selling it,” Michael says as we both put on our seat belts.

  “You don’t think David should give it some time? He might have different feelings about it in six months.”

  “Ultimately, it’s his decision to make,” he says with a slight frown.

  “But you feel he should sell it?”

  “It would sell quick. It’s a great house that’s been well cared for, and it’s in a good Midtown neighborhood. I looked at the comps this morning; he would make a good profit from it.”

  “That was a little eager, don’t you think?”

  “Looking at the comps? I wanted to see what David’s options are, just in case. Like I said, it’s his decision to make.”

  I detect a hint of anger in his tone as he merges into traffic. “You sound upset with me.”

  “It sounds like you’re suggesting that I’m putting ideas in his head just for a sell.”

  “I’m just asking questions. But, since you mentioned it, are you?”

  “Of course not. I know David. He’s not like me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It can take me a minute sometimes to make a decision and act. David, on the other hand, just dives in, so I wanted to be ready and have something to show him when he pulls the trigger.”

  Is he trying to tell me he isn’t ready to propose?

  Michael exits the expressway and turns into the parking lot of the furniture store. We sit there for a minute or two, not saying a word.

  “Did we just have our first argument?” I ask as I reach over and place my hand on top of his.

  He grins. “I think we did.”

  “Good. I’m glad we got that out of the way.”

  “Look at you, using my words.” He leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “You’re so cute when you get mad. I hope you stay that cute after…”

  “After what?” I ask when he doesn’t finish his thought.

  “After we’ve been dating a while.”

  I give him the side-eye as we get out of the car.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Picking out my new sofa doesn’t take as long as I thought it would. A few minutes after entering the store, I spot the one I want. Thankfully, it’s a floor sample and on clearance.

  “You make buying a sofa exciting and quick,” Michael says as we walk back to his car.

  “I can’t believe the great deal I got on it. I almost got the accent chair.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “You’re right. I should have gotten it. Jack gave me the money for it so you would have a place to sit.”

  Catching onto my meaning, he chuckles and then grabs my hand. “Let’s go back and get it then. For Jack, at least.”

  We both belt out a good laugh and head back into the store, much to the salesperson’s delight. Twenty minutes later, we walk outside again with the receipts for the chair and the sofa stuffed into my purse.

  “I can’t wait for them to be delivered on Friday.”

  “It’s ironic; they actually match the one chair that I have.”

  “Is that why you liked both of them so much?” I ask playfully.

  “Maybe.”

  “We’ll have to get them all together one day.”

  “We will.”

  This flirting with Marriage Lane is driving me crazy.

 
“Since you mentioned ice cream earlier, why don’t we go and grab some?” I suggest.

  We stand in front of his car, enjoying the evening air.

  “I think I’d prefer some actual food. I didn’t get a chance to grab lunch earlier, and my stomach is starting to remind me of that.”

  “That sounds even better. Jack mentioned this new jazz restaurant yesterday. It’s in this area.” I glance down at my watch. “It’s seven thirty, so they should be open. Let’s go and check it out.”

  “Maybe they’re looking for a singer.”

  “That would be nice, but no dragging me up on stage this time,” I say with a wink.

  “Too bad I didn’t know about this place beforehand. You know I would have called to see if I could arrange it.”

  “You are so much like Jack.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says, unlocking my car door.

  “It is. He’s always looking out for me.”

  He nods his head in agreement. “We can use my cell to call information and get the address.”

  “Okay, where is it?”

  “In the glove compartment.”

  “Great. I’ll get it.”

  “Hey, wait,” he says, stopping my hand with his before it can open up the compartment.

  I look up at him curiously. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just remembered that I left it at David’s. I’m still getting used to carrying that thing around.”

  “Okay, maybe we can see if someone inside knows where it is?”

  “I’m sure they do. Let’s go see.”

  A few minutes later, we have with the restaurant’s address and are happy to learn that it’s just around the corner.

  Chapter Forty

  Stepping into Jazzmyne’s is like stepping into another world, one filled with cobblestone streets, soft candlelight, and crystal stemware. The atmosphere is a pleasant mix of classic jazz icons blended with a dash of country, blues, and funk influences. The vibe that seems to travel from table to table enters into my bones and makes them come alive. My eyes study the female waitresses dressed in all black with a silver brooch, and I admire the men who have on white bow ties to match their crisp white uniforms. Lights and crystal chandeliers line the ceiling, and pictures of musical legends hang on the walls papered in linen cream. As we head to our table, my ears tune in to the band that’s on stage, belting out a fresh take on a Billie Holiday song.

  “Wow. This place makes Marco’s look C-rated,” Michael says as we take our seats.

  I gaze around the large space and nod. “It’s definitely more upscale.”

  “The band even sounds better,” Michael says, snapping his fingers to their harmonious beat. “That guy on the bass is bringing the funk.”

  “I didn’t realize you were a guitar man,” I say.

  “I prefer the saxophone, but after tonight, I might be changing that.”

  “The food sounds appealing,” I say, scanning the menu.

  “I could see you singing here.”

  “That would be amazing, but I’m sure they have a long list of people trying to get this gig.”

  “That doesn’t matter. The important thing is that they’re not you.” He reaches over the table and takes my hand in his. “I mean that.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to have to see about getting an audience with the owner.”

  “I’m sure she’s here somewhere.”

  “I doubt she would want me engaging her in a conversation about a job during business hours.”

  “You never know. That’s probably her coming up on the stage now,” he says, directing my eyes to the front of the room.

  “Good evening, and welcome to Jazzmyne’s. I’m your host, Jazzmyne Mitchell. I thank each of you for choosing to visit our family tonight. Everyone you see on this stage has been with me for many years. We’ve performed locally and overseas, and I hope that you are enjoying what you’re hearing. Here at Jazzmyne’s, we play music that touches heart, mind, and soul.”

  My eyes follow her as she moves gracefully around the stage in a blush evening gown, commanding our attention. Her jet-black hair is tucked behind her ears in a sleek shoulder-length bob. Her deep-set blue eyes scan the audience as she rests her hands on the microphone. Her high cheekbones, skin that looks as if it has been gently touched by the sun, and slender nose calls the singer Vanessa Williams to mind.

  “Did you know that each of you here tonight makes music? It’s true. The beautiful sound you make when you put your hands together lets us know that you’re feeling the lyrics that we’re sending to your hearts. Can I get a little of that love now?” The audience responds accordingly. “Thank you. Now, I’m a firm believer in word-of-mouth advertising. That’s how many of you heard about us. So, I’m going to share some information with you tonight. We’re looking for a lead singer here at Jazzmyne’s. Don’t get me wrong. I love performing for you all—I do—but I need to ensure this place stays at the level you have come to love and expect, so it’s time for me to pass this mic to someone else. If you know of anyone, send them to us and we’ll see if their lungs can blow.”

  Michael stands up, but I slide down into my chair as the spotlight moves to our table.

  “Looks like one of you out there is eager to share or sing. Which one is it, sir?” Jazzmyne asks.

  “I don’t sing, but this little lady crouched down in her seat can really blow.”

  “Is that right? Well, ladies and gentlemen, maybe we should turn this evening into an audition. What do you think?” The crowd began to clap again, so Jazzmyne motions for me to come up on stage.

  Michael nudges me out of my chair. “Come on, show her what you can do. We may not get another opportunity like this.”

  I nod and head toward the stage.

  When I join her, Jazzmyne looks me up and down. “You’re a beautiful little thing, but can you blow?”

  “I can.”

  “Nice. I like that confidence. What’s your name?”

  “It’s Mýa.”

  “Well, Mýa, let’s see what you can share with us.”

  Jazzmyne moves off the stage as I step in front of the mic and take a deep breath. “I’d like to sing something originally performed by Nina Simone. It’s called ‘Four Women.’”

  “That was nice,” Jazzmyne says later as she shakes my hand. I search her facial expression as we chat, trying to determine if “nice” is good enough to get the gig or not. By the time she moves back to the stage, her unenthusiastic demeanor hasn’t changed, and it’s discouraging, to say the least. But she does call over her shoulder, “Leave your number before you leave.”

  “What did she say?” Michael asks eagerly as I return to my seat.

  “Not much. Jazzmyne said my performance was…nice.”

  “She loved you.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “I watched her as you sang. Her head was bobbing. You don’t bounce like that if the music isn’t moving you.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Look, if she doesn’t call, we’ll find something else. This is Atlanta. Music is happening here.”

  I take a sip of my water. “You’re right.”

  “I wish I had a tape recorder to capture you saying that.”

  “You sound like Jack.”

  “I’m sure Jack yearns to hear Mary say he’s right about something. Every man in love secretly wants to hear that from his woman.”

  “All I know is that it’s been a loving battle between them for over forty years.”

  “One day I hope to be married as long as they have.”

  Just drink your water, girl, and smile. Smile a lot.

  Chapter Forty-one

  August 20, 1994

  There’s a slight spring of excitement in my step as I walk into work, thankful that it�
�s finally Saturday and that ten hours from now, I’ll be slipping on that red dress to “put it on” Michael, as Mary had once so elegantly said.

  As usual, I head to the kitchen to grab coffee and breakfast.

  Speaking of Mary, she slides into the seat across from me as I sip on my coffee, trying not to stare at the clock, and eagerly asks, “You ready for tonight, Mýa?”

  “Funny. I was just thinking about tonight.”

  “I’m sure.”

  We exchange a knowing glance, and I feel myself blushing.

  “Come back to the office; I want to give you something.” Mary stands and I follow her to Jack’s office. She removes a box from the bottom desk drawer and hands it to me. “These will go perfectly with that red dress you told me about.”

  I slowly open it and gasp at the sight of a pair of dangling diamond earrings. “Mary, I can’t wear these.”

  “Why not?”

  “Are they real?”

  “Child, there isn’t a point in wearing anything else in my book. Not when you’re going to an event like the one you and Michael are headed to tonight.”

  “They are beautiful.”

  “Jack gave me those when this restaurant started turning a profit. It was his way of telling me that he was glad that we made it happen together.”

  “I didn’t know the restaurant was ever not making money.”

  “When Jack’s grandfather passed away, his books and finances were a mess. But I was smart with the numbers, so Jack turned the financial part over to me, and he took care of getting the building and the menu up to par. Once people tasted Jack’s food, they started coming back. We made a great team.”

  “You still do.” I notice a hint of sadness behind her eyes. “Everything is okay with you and Jack, right?”

  “We’re as in love today as we were over forty years ago. Now, try on those earrings. I want to see how they look on you.” Obediently, I take off my thrift store finds and put on Mary’s earrings. She stands back to get the full view. “They belong on you, Mýa. Your short hair really helps them pop.”