Déjà Vu Read online

  “The best thing you could have done.”

  “But I have fallen in love with you.”

  “I’m a married woman.”

  “Whose husband committed adulterous acts with your next-door neighbor and your ‘so-called’ best friend.”

  “And so, are you willing to commit adultery?”

  “My wife is dead.”

  “But my husband is not. And for your information, Angelica told me she did not have a relationship with Jefferson.”

  “That’s her story. Do you know that she tried to seduce me at my shop? Margo, she unbuttoned her jacket and exposed—”

  “Too much information. She’s always had a crush on you.”

  “What do you really know about her? Her jailhouse cot was barely a week cold before she was up to her old tricks again.”

  “Where is Angelica? I’ve called her number several times the last couple of days and didn’t get her. Has she shown up for work?”

  “I fired her.”

  “Fired her? She was volunteering her services.”

  “It didn’t work out, and I haven’t seen her since. You know what happened the last time she went missing.”

  “She wasn’t missing. She was out of town.”

  “Yeah, lying in the lap of some criminal while helping to serve death warrants on Hamilton and Jefferson.”

  “I’m tired, Malik. I don’t want to talk about Angelica, Jefferson, or Hamilton. I don’t want to talk about us.”

  “If you want me to leave, I will. I’ve resisted the urge to be with you for a long time because I respect the sanctity of marriage. I understand what it means to not covet another man’s wife. I understand what it means to not commit adultery, but I want you in the worst way.

  “I can’t explain what you do to me when I’m around you. You are a beautiful and smart woman, Margo. You are a successful realtor. You have a beautiful home. There are so many qualities about you that mirror my beliefs. Yes, I know it is wrong, but I don’t want to be right.”

  “Did you ever love Toni? You seemed to be very happy.”

  “Yes, I loved Toni very much. She was special to me, and she made me complete. We were very happy together. And, since I’m telling the truth, there were days when you were going through stuff with Jefferson before the trial and right afterwards that’s if you had let me in, I would have dropped everything for you.”

  Margo covered her face with her hands. She had been so consumed with everything that was going on with Jefferson that she had no inkling Malik felt this way about her.

  “Maybe it’s time for you to go home, Malik. I think we both need some space to sort things out.”

  “What is there to sort out, Margo? I’m laying it all on the line. I’m in love with you.”

  “Please don’t say that. You’ll ruin our friendship.”

  “But I do, Margo. If you want me to go, I’ll leave, but I can’t help the way I feel.”

  Margo’s eyes were tight, but she offered a little smile.

  “I love you too Malik, but as a brother. We can’t have a relationship because I’m married to your best friend.”

  Tears formed in the corners of Malik’s eyes. Before he knew it, he was catching them with the back of his hand. This surprised Margo. She went to him and hugged him tightly.

  “I’ll always be your friend, Malik, but I love Jefferson. It is until death we do part.”

  “Okay, Margo.” Malik sniffed. “I have to respect you because you have always been that special kind of lady. That’s what I have always liked…loved about you. I’m going to miss seeing you often.”

  “It might be advisable to change your church membership.”

  “Ouch. You’re serious.” Malik waited for Margo to say something, but she didn’t. “Well, I guess I’ll be going, but it will never stop the way I feel about you.”

  Margo stood at the door and watched Malik get into his car and drive off. Her heart was heavy because she did not want Malik to leave. If she was going to remain committed to her vows to God and Jefferson, Margo could not entertain Malik in her home or be with him on fun occasions. Although Margo had asked the Lord to keep her from harm and danger, her flesh was weak. And while just about any man would do for her because it had been five years since she felt a man’s touch on certain parts of her body, Malik was the one she had fantasized about in her dreams.

  The mobile phone was inches from where she stood, and Margo attempted to reach Angelica for the fifth time.

  11

  Sleep eluded Angelica. She lay awake, wondering what her day would be like. Soft fingers combed through her hair as she envisioned changing into expensive garments by top designers in the fashion world. She hoped that one day her name would become a household word that would command millions of dollars for her services. Angelica saw herself stroll-ing the catwalks of New York, Paris, and Milan—the buyers not only checking out the latest fashions but also admiring her beauty. And later, there would be television ads promoting her new line of clothing.

  Donna was up early, chatting on the phone. It was four-thirty a.m., and Angelica decided to get on up. She walked into the living room where she found an assortment of cameras strewn throughout it.

  Donna had certainly carved her way into the industry. The weekend had been fascinating, to say the least. Hobnobbing with Donna’s rich friends and rolling up on Diddy and his crew at a lower Manhattan nightclub was the crème de la crème for Angelica’s first few days in the big city. Fayetteville was now a distant reminder of the past, although Angelica knew she needed to call Margo, who had left several messages, to let her know she was all right.

  “Anxious to get started, I see.”

  Angelica jumped. In the shadows stood Donna, who had walked quietly into the room and disturbed Angelica’s thoughts.

  “Yes, so excited I can’t sleep.”

  “Well, Angelica, this may make or break your career—that’s if you desire one in modeling.”

  “Donna, if I haven’t said it already, I’m grateful for this opportunity. I won’t disappoint.”

  “Oh well then, be ready at six. We have an early morning shoot at eight. Hope to be done by noon for the first set. Dress casual.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Ari brought Donna’s car to the front of the building, and she and Angelica jumped into it. The city was abuzz, and Angelica marveled at all the people who were already up and about so early in the morning. A bagel hung out of Donna’s mouth as she maneuvered into traffic.

  New York noise was so different from the sounds of Fayetteville. Angelica sat back as Donna cursed every other car and talked about the pathetic driving, even though she wasn’t qualified to vent because she jerked forward and put on brakes as much as the next person. There was a moment when Angelica almost jumped from the car as they entered Times Square and saw the Good Morning America crew on the marquee. Before she went to jail, she always watched Diane and Robin in the morning with a cup of coffee. That’s what she needed right now—a good ole cup of gourmet coffee.

  It was another twenty minutes before Donna finally pulled in front of a warehouse near a dock.

  “This is it. Let’s move it.”

  There was nothing glamorous about the grayish-looking building that stood all by itself. It was an elongated building with no windows, and grass grew wildly around it. A lone Porsche sat in the parking lot next to it, but other than that, Angelica could neither make heads or tails of where she was nor identify the building that held no sign.

  Dragging her fleet of cameras, Donna approached the building with Angelica at her side. Almost immediately, three females exited the Porsche that sat in the parking lot, and Angelica recognized Madeline, Coco, and Jazz. They did not look as glamorous as they did on Friday night—no makeup and their hair was either straight or pulled back into a ponytail. They wore high-fashion leather jackets in colors of red for Jazz, black for Madeline, and butterscotch for Coco, and they each wore a pair of jeans that looked like t
hey had been spray-painted on. Before the group entered the building, another car drove up.

  Upon entering the building, Angelica felt surprised. She wasn’t quite sure what she expected; however, there was a makeshift lobby off to one side and a large stage, decorated with some type of props she could not readily see. It must be the place where they would do their photo shoot.

  A couple of guys passed by with curling irons and other gadgets in leather holsters that were strapped around their waists.

  “As soon as the crew gets set up,” Donna said, “you will go to wardrobe to choose your outfits and then go to make-up.”

  It was hard to keep the smile from Angelica’s face. This was for real. She was getting ready to plunge into the world of high fashion without even an interview, much less a portfolio, and what was really puzzling to Angelica was that she was a lot older than the other girls but, like Tina Turner, her body was still in fabulous shape. She would remember from now on not to come made up because there would be someone to do that for her. Madeline, Coco and Jazz already knew that.

  The door opened and three unfamiliar females walked into the room. They seemed rough around the edges and not very attractive. Being a model was all about the look. If you happened to have the total package, oh well.

  The three newcomers found Donna and kissed her on the cheek and the mouth the way the others had done Friday night. Angelica believed in welcoming a friend, but all that kissing was getting on her nerves. As long as no one tried to do it to her, she would tolerate it, but she didn’t have to like it. Artists were strange people to her.

  A very tanned male with streaked blond hair escorted the ladies to a back room. Clothes racks littered the room, and there were shelves that housed several hundred pairs of shoes. Out of the corner of Angelica’s eye something else caught her attention. Grown-up toys were also on display. She dismissed it when Donna came into the room.

  “You all have one hour to get ready for the first photo shoot. The lighting must be just right.”

  “We’ll be right there,” Coco shouted, digging through the racks to get the choice pieces.

  “Okay. And Angelica, after you’ve gone through make-up, you’ll stay put until you are called,” Donna said.

  “You got it,” Angelica responded.

  “André will pick out the outfit you will wear. See you in a few.” Donna left the room.

  Ooh’s and ah’s erupted each time André held up a piece of fabric. Absent were the beautiful couture designs that made Givenchy, Chanel, and Christian Dior household names. Instead, there were pieces of leather with large brass buckles that had to be manipulated onto the body. This was not quite what Angelica had envisioned and she wasn’t certain about exposing her goods to the world. She may have played hard as a young woman, but the only exposing she was inclined to do was next to a warm, sexy man whose abs of steel would fold themselves around her body. And there was no one in the building who remotely resembled the description of the man she envisioned being with forever and ever.

  André handed Angelica a brown thong, a short-short, brown leather skirt with slatted pleats that stopped at the top of her thigh, and a leather-padded bra that would leave her midsection bare. Angelica stared at the items in her hand and wondered what she was supposed to do with them. The photo shoot was taking a bizarre turn, and the runway lights Angelica hoped to see were clearly nonexistent.

  12

  Margo placed her coat in the closet and then went to the living room and took off her shoes. She went over to the couch, fumbled through the mail that she laid there on her way into the house, and moved her purse so she could sit down. Several bills were in the stack, but what caught her eye was the envelope in the shape of a greeting card that was scribbled over in Malik’s handwriting.

  She pulled the envelope from the rest and stared at it for a moment. Margo missed Malik but knew she had done the right thing by telling him that they needed time apart. Prayer kept her anchored, and she felt safe that she had her Jesus to help get through times when she felt a wee bit lonely. Margo looked at the envelope, tore it open, and pulled the card from its holder.

  A black and white picture of a black man and woman looking into each other’s eyes was on the cover. Margo stared at it as if it was a picture of her and Malik. She stared at it as if trying to understand what the couple was sharing. Hesitantly, Margo opened the card and guided her eyes to the text. It read Love is in the eye of the beholder. In your voice, I hear it. In your smile, I see it. In your touch, I feel it…You are the things I love.

  Margo closed the card and her eyes, holding the card to her chest. Malik had somehow crawled into her system, but it was a direct result of the loss of her beloved Jefferson, the man she truly loved. Malik offered security and the comfort of a good friend at a bleak time in her life—nothing more, nothing less. Margo had to admit she had let her guard down, though, and now Malik wanted more, more than she was willing to give.

  Placing the card back in the envelope, Margo got up from the couch and went to the kitchen. The phone began to ring, and she hesitated, hoping she wouldn’t have to hurt Malik’s feelings again. She looked at the caller ID, but did not recognize the caller. Out of curiosity, Margo picked up the phone and answered.

  “This is a collect call from,” the recorded operator said, after which a live voice came on the line, “Jefferson Myles. Do you accept the charges?”

  “Yes!” Margo said, dancing in a circle. She covered her mouth with her free hand, excited by the sound of Jefferson’s voice.

  “Margo?”

  “Yes, Jefferson. It’s me.”

  “How are you doing, baby?”

  “I’m doing fine…great. How about you?”

  “I’m doing fine. I have some news…pretty good news at that.”

  “What is it Jefferson? What is the news?”

  “I have a parole hearing in a few days. My attorney thinks I have a good chance at being released.”

  “Oh my God!” Margo exclaimed. “Could this be true? I’ve got to tell Ivy, JR, Winter, and Winston.”

  “Don’t say anything yet, Margo. Let’s wait until after the parole hearing. Then we’ll know if a celebration is in order. I do feel good about this, baby.”

  “Oh, this is wonderful news, Jefferson. Extra prayers tonight for everything to go right. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too, Margo. I don’t deserve you, but I’m thankful to God that I still have you in my life. I love you, and I’m going to do everything in my power to prove it to you.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me. God has shown me through His love that we are going to be all right. I haven’t abandoned you or our marriage. You are the love of my life. I want you to wow that parole board and hurry home to me, to the family.”

  “What did I do to deserve you? I’ve got to go, baby, and I can’t wait to see you again.”

  “I can’t wait either,” Margo said, tears sliding down her face.

  “I’ll call you with the news, regardless of the outcome. I love you.”

  “Okay, Jefferson. I’ll be here waiting. And I love you, too.”

  Margo heard the phone click. She held the phone close to her bosom until the busy signal annoyed her enough to hang it up. Good news was what she needed, and although Jefferson had asked her not to say anything, the first person she thought about telling was Malik.

  The card was lying on the kitchen counter. Margo picked it up and tore it into pieces. There was no room for another person in her life, and the moment she had waited for might be only days or a few weeks away. Margo decided against telling Malik her news. She grabbed the phone again and called each of her children. God was in the motion of answering her prayer.

  13

  Afreak, that’s what she looked like. In another life, Angelica had worn revealing clothing or no clothing at all—depending on who was telling the story. When she pole danced and the lust-filled men were yelling for her to take it off, Angelica was in a zone. The itsy
-bitsy bikini she wore was only a tease to the gyrations that caused men to pull twenty-dollar bills out of their wallets and place it in her G-string.

  The outfit she wore now didn’t feel comfortable, and it seemed tasteless for a magazine spread. Maybe it was because she expected to be wearing a glamorous gown and four-inch diamond stilettos. Something was wrong with this current picture; no, it didn’t feel right at all.

  Angelica paced as she waited to be called. It seemed odd that she was the only one left in the room. It gave her time to think, if nothing else, but her mind was clouded and no reason could get through.

  “Angelica.” It was a voice from a loudspeaker. “Please proceed to Stage II.”

  Stage II? Angelica had no idea where to find it. She opened the door and left the room to venture through the hallway. She hadn’t noticed it before, but on the wall were little hangers with the words Stage I, Stage II, and Stage III hanging from each one. She found Stage II, opened the door, and walked onto a stage that made her bottom lip drop.

  The room looked like a jungle. Fake palm trees and antelope-skin rugs were scattered throughout the room as well as light colored straw meant to resemble the brush in Africa. Black, white, brown, and cream colored material was draped on the walls of the stage. What made Angelica recoil was not the large brass bed in the middle of the room with leather bands attached to it by chains, but the real male lions that were housed in brass cages beside it. The lions looked as if they would welcome a human meal if the opportunity presented itself.

  “Take your places,” Donna spoke.

  Angelica remained still, not sure where her place was. Jazz climbed on the bed and was followed by one of the other women that came in late. Madeline and Coco moved to each post of the bed while two other women took their positions behind them.

  “Angelica, you will get on the bed with Jazz and Ciara,” Donna said, pointing the way with a long-lens camera resting on the other arm.