Caress Page 2

  Warmth suffused her face and she wanted to say something more—he was obviously not in a hurry to leave her side—but her phone vibrated in her hand and she looked down. The call was from Lysette. Nya pressed ignore and looked up again. She never ignored Lysette’s calls, never, but her best friend would have to understand. She glanced up at the man again and started to ask his name. Her phone vibrated again and the screen lit up. “Sorry,” she offered before looking down. It was her father. She felt her smile droop as she apologized again and answered.

  Listening to her father was exactly like listening to white noise in that the sound was incessant and didn’t really require any answers or participation. In another way it was the exact opposite of listening to white noise in that her father slowly drove the listener mad. Stress spread through her back and shoulders, knotting her muscles. Her face grew hot and her heart thudded hard in her chest. And no matter what he said to her, how angry it made her, all she could do was listen and respectfully say, “Yes, sir.”

  In two minutes she walked away, phone tucked between her shoulder and ear, dragging her bag behind her. Thankfully, the valet had her car ready. Normally she didn’t use valet, but she’d been late for her plane when she left for St. Thomas. As the valet put her bag into the back of her car, Nya’s father said goodbye, and Nya remembered that she’d left a very handsome man where he stood. Her head snapped back toward the airport as if he would still be there. He wasn’t. Her father had ruined her day in more ways than one.

  By the time Nya turned the key in the door lock of her plush home off Highway 280, frustration and exhaustion had started to take over. She dropped her bags just inside the front door and shuffled through her mail as she walked through the foyer. In her den she dropped hard into her favorite recliner, wishing for a brief moment that she hadn’t volunteered to end her vacation early. There had barely been enough time to see her sister Jenine get married because the article had broken that same day. Had her father told her about what was happening at Art Sentries earlier, or mentioned to her that a reporter had been trying to contact them regarding it, perhaps she could have gotten ahead of the story. But she understood her father well. She understood the man’s pride. He never felt a need to explain himself. To anybody. Ever.

  She knew herself to be just as stubborn sometimes, and at those times she thanked the Lord for the temperance of her mother. So, while there was bitterness in her voice when she told her father she would take the first plane out and handle the situation, she soon calmed down and focused on her need to set things right. Her father wouldn’t even have to leave the island if he didn’t want to. But Nya would not leave this story out there without addressing it. Neither would she bury her head in the sand nor stick her nose so far up in the air that she ignored the reality of their dire straits.

  Beneath her genuine worry over this issue and how it would affect the company, she was more concerned about Nyron. He might not show it, but this debacle had wounded her father to the core; it would certainly damage the global legacy he had built. To the world, Hatsheput was synonymous with creativity and social responsibility. This hint of impropriety would forever call that into question. Nyron wasn’t as young and hearty as he had once been. She didn’t know what having his company and family besmirched would do to his health. Maybe she didn’t always like him, but Nya didn’t want to lose her father.

  She was going to contact the Harrison Tribune and have them apologize for the article and print their side of the story. The business had been cut deep, but hopefully she could staunch the blood flow or at least orchestrate a transfusion in the form of good press. Even though she didn’t agree with it, her father had ignored the reporter’s request for an audience for good reason. The investigators had already sent the message that too much press would be detrimental to their process, that it might tip off anyone who was implicated before they had enough evidence to convict. In an inexplicable, irresponsible act, the Harrison Tribune had taken that option away.

  Hatsheput could no longer afford to stay quiet. The newspaper had let the cat out of the bag and now her family’s company had to appeal to the public with an explanation to save the company. Vendors and buyers alike would also be skittish if they believed association with Hatsheput would put them in a negative light. She would have to handle that as well. Nya didn’t kid herself about the situation. If she pulled it off, perhaps her father would show some gratitude and reward her with what she really wanted.

  From the moment her mother had revealed that Nya’s father would be retiring as president of Hatsheput in the fall, Nya had felt a constant and nagging pressure to work even harder, hoping her single-minded dedication would prove to her father that she was the one person to succeed him. It was no secret her father didn’t want her to run the company. He had always tried to discourage her involvement in the family business. All his efforts had made her even more determined to run the company one day. God, if her father only knew the dreams she had for the company! She prayed she handled this situation so well that he finally would see her as worthy of taking the reins of their art empire.

  She had to succeed and succeed quickly. Nyron was embarrassed and, as he had done for years, he was going to take it out on her. Within a day or two, he would be back, demanding to meet with the Harrison Tribune’s editor-in-chief. Here he was coming back to take control of a situation he’d chosen to ignore until she had taken up the gauntlet. There was no way on God’s green earth she was going to give her father the chance to be a hero. That time had passed.

  Soon Nya found what she was looking for, the phone number of the Harrison Tribune’s editor-in-chief. Briefly, Nya considered contacting their legal eagles before making the call, knowing they were obsessively loyal to her father and probably wouldn’t advise her without him. She punched in Claudia Harrison’s number anyway.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Seymour?” Ms. Harrison said on the other end after Nya identified herself. Her tone seemed non-confrontational but assertive as she interrupted Nya’s tirade.

  “Yes?”

  “The Harrison Tribune lawyers and I have already received a phone call from your father, his lawyers, and an FBI agent. I am aware of what is underway and we plan to print a prominent follow-up article indicating that we did not intend to insinuate that Hatsheput was in any way complicit with the criminals at the Art Sentries Foundation. We will also make it clear that you have cooperated with the authorities from the moment the corruption was discovered. I offer my sincere apologies to you as well for what has transpired. We are willing to do a longer, feature article setting the story straight as soon as the legal processes are complete.”

  Shrewd, Nya thought. She tried rubbing away the aching knot in her neck, knowing that if she didn’t relax she wouldn’t be able to think straight. Getting this handled properly was crucial.

  “I think that’s a stellar plan, Ms. Harrison.”

  “Please call me Claudia.”

  “Claudia, perhaps we can discuss this exclusive further once the case is closed. In the meantime, however, our company’s image, as you acknowledged, has been tarnished even though you made no explicit accusations. As a result, the investigation has been dealt a major setback. We can’t be sure when the ‘legal processes’ will be complete. Surely, we can arrange a feature on Hatsheput sooner rather than later that both exonerates us and honors us for our service to the community.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the phone. Then: “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

  h

  Nya had been working for hours since she got home. Her eyes were gritty and her back ached from being hunched over her laptop. Her soul felt battered. On her screen were photos of four young men, none over twenty-one, who had lost their lives too soon. Her throat burned and she beat back tears. For the first time in a long time, Nya felt as if she needed a hug. A big one. From someone with strong arms. When an unwanted vision of the man from the airport popped up in her head, she knew it was time to take a break.
What did it say about her that in a time when she needed comfort, she thought of a perfect stranger?

  Trying to shake off both grief and loneliness—if she didn’t she would most assuredly go insane—Nya stood and stretched. Walking into the kitchen, she ran her fingers through her twists and let them hang loose down her back. She stared into the refrigerator, searching for something perfectly delicious and decadently succulent that would take her mind off her despair. She wondered when she had last eaten. As she feared, there was nothing in the fridge. She’d been gone for a week and what she had was either frozen, spoiled, or not something she wanted.

  Sometimes it seemed God really did listen to her. She was still standing in her kitchen when the doorbell rang. She padded through the house to the door and looked out the peephole. Maybe not the best company, but he would definitely do; plus, he was carrying a grocery bag!

  She pulled open the door. “Oh, my God, El, please tell me you brought food!”

  Elphonse Deklerk, her oldest friend in the world, walked in with a grin. “If you call a couple of sirloins, shrimp, potatoes, spinach, cream, butter, and a heavy block of aged Parmesan cheese food, I guess so. I brought some vine-ripened grape juice, too… fermented, that is.”

  Nya salivated at the thought of steak drizzled with a shrimp sauce, some sautéed spinach, and a baked potato with a glass—make that a bottle—of wine that didn’t go with it while watching inane television all night. It sounded like pure bliss. “El, I swear to God I hate you most days, but you are a prince among men right now.”

  El raised an eyebrow. “And you are Queen of the Backhanded Compliment.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad I’ve been promoted to queen.”

  “Oh, but you still have the attitude of a princess, princess.”

  Nya scowled at him.

  A tall, slim, light-skinned man with dark freckles across his face and dusty red hair, El looked both exotic and handsome. She remembered that when they were younger many girls had been attracted to his unusually “clear” complexion, green-flecked hazel eyes, and that hair. After five years, she still wasn’t accustomed to the immaculately manicured look he was sporting these days. Ever since they were tiny he had worn dreads and broadcast his thick island accent. Now he spoke in smooth, upper New York tones with scant traces of his island heritage, and he wore Armani instead of tie-dye or batik. Nya had also lost much of her accent, but it still came out when she was at home with her family. She reflected wistfully that they were no longer children, and she should perhaps accept the man he had grown up to be. At times like this, she missed the closeness they had once shared.

  “Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to cook?”

  She stepped back from the door and Elphonse followed her into the kitchen. “I didn’t realize you were coming back to Birmingham today until Jenine called. When she told me what was happening with the Harrison Tribune, I knew you weren’t going to take care of yourself, so I figured I’d bring some things over.”

  Nya studied his face. The old El would have done that in a heartbeat, but she had already figured out she didn’t know him so well anymore. She searched for an angle. “Jenine missed you at the wedding.”

  “Yeah, she called me and told me all about it. But you know me. I’m not one for family functions these days.” He hadn’t been for a long time.

  Awkwardly, oddly, the man who had been like an older brother to her put down the bag on the kitchen counter and gave her a quick, weird hug.

  “You gonna cook or what? You know I’m no good in the kitchen,” he declared, not looking her in the eye.

  “Yeah,” she nodded. “Yeah, I’ll cook. I think there’s a game on. Go hang out.”

  “All right,” he said and disappeared around the corner.

  In a half hour, Nya had prepared their dinner and brought it out to the den.

  El lounged in a recliner watching TV. She set both their plates on a table within reach of the both of them.

  “Drinks?” he asked.

  Nya gave him an arched look before returning to the kitchen and bringing out two glasses and the uncorked bottle of wine. As she poured them both drinks, she kept her eye trained on him.

  “You are a princess,” he said, taking up a fork.

  Nya ignored him and sat down to enjoy her own fare. For the most part, she kept her meals light and stuck to seafood, but she needed comfort food, and this was her comfort meal.

  “If I didn’t say it before, thank you, El.”

  “You’re welcome.” He took a sip of wine.

  They ate for a few moments in comfortable silence before he asked, “Are you handling the situation with that article?”

  Nya nodded.

  “Are you going to meet with the journalist or go straight to the top?”

  “Glad you asked. I talked with the Harrison Tribune editor-in-chief over the phone tonight. Get this, you talked to Jenine, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well then you know Daddy wasn’t going to do anything about it. He wasn’t planning on addressing the article at all until the investigation was complete. But I told him we couldn’t do that. I explained all the reasons why and he still ignored me. So I told him I was going to handle it. I was going to come directly here and handle it. Well, I called this Claudia Harrison tonight, and I find out Daddy has already called her. He and Terrence. I’m sure Terrence threatened to sue them up and down and sideways. Long story short she’s going to go ahead and print a front-page follow-up in tomorrow’s issue. They’ve already given it the breaking news treatment on their website, so…” she said thoughtfully, “…after we tell our side of the story, clear this up, I think some free advertising space will be in order, too. It’s not a nationally syndicated paper, but their website gets a ton of traffic, and they owe us that much and potentially more.”

  “You know, that paper’s a pretty big deal with us people of color around here,” El mentioned.

  “I know.”

  “So it’s good they’re going to cooperate.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you think they’ll try and get something out of the authorities? About the case I mean?”

  “I’m sure. What’s crazy is that they should have already talked to the authorities. Isn’t that what reporters do when they uncover criminal activity? Get the authorities involved before they publish?”

  El shrugged and averted his eyes. “I don’t know how that works.”

  Nya pierced him with a fierce glare. “If they do get any information out of the authorities now, there had better not be a leak that does any more damage. We still have to find out who was pulling the strings. You and I both know Marshall couldn’t mastermind his way out of a paper bag. Someone else had to be behind it.”

  El only nodded before attacking his food. Always a voracious eater despite being very thin, he was done long before Nya. He stood and began walking around the room, studying the paintings on the walls even though he’d seen them a thousand times. He ran his hands along the sideboard and rifled through a stack of magazines. Nya hated when he inspected everything as he was doing then. It was always as if he were searching for something. He stopped near her desk.

  Nya stopped mid-chew as she watched him lean further over her desk to examine something there. “Is there something in particular you’re looking for? Maybe I can help you find it. I mean, this is my house.”

  Without changing position, he asked, “So do you think they’re close to finding out who was using the foundation for criminal activity?”

  “Hard to tell. I pray they do. I was just thinking about those boys and it tears me apart. I don’t know what kind of people would use them like that.” Her voice trailed off as she remembered something they all had struggled to forget. She knew exactly the kind of people that would do something like this. So did El.

  He stood and focused his pale eyes on her. “Do you ever wonder why we didn’t catch it?”

  She froze. For ten seconds her entire body
went rigid. She put down her fork and cleared her throat. “What do you mean? Why we didn’t know what was happening with the foundation?”

  Apparently her expression caught El off guard. He backed away with his palms out. “Forget I asked.”

  “What are you talking about, El?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you ever think we’ve lost our way?”

  Nya blinked.

  He shrugged. “If this had been ten years ago, we would have known all those kids personally. We would have known if someone was using our business as a cover for criminal activity.”

  She swallowed. “We’ve all had an increase in responsibility over the past decade. The company is so much bigger now.” Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears.

  “I know you think Nyron is embarrassed because this happened under his nose, on his watch, but what about the rest of us? What about you? You’re talking about how awful you feel reading about those kids, but you’re spending all your time dealing with this newspaper.”

  “It is my job to look out for the company’s well-being.”

  “Yeah. But, what about human well-being? Did you know any of them? Did any of them know you, or your father… or me? They were running drugs, laundering money, enforcing. They didn’t even know who for. Then they died.” He gestured to her computer screen.

  Nya was stricken speechless and the tears she’d battled earlier threatened again. Ten years ago, El had gone through a tragedy and chosen to forget where he came from, and now he was in her house saying this. “You, of all people, have some damn nerve,” she growled at him.

  Elphonse turned away.

  “No, we didn’t know them personally, but we were trying to help. I hurt for them, and I am doing whatever I can to help catch the people behind this. You, on the other hand, turned your back on everything you were. Even if you did know what was happening, who’s to say you would have cared enough to make a difference?”