Playing With Fire (3 page)

Romeo nodded. “No problem. Work off what you owe me. If you decide to stay on after that, you let me know, and I'll give you another advance.”

“How you know I won't just take this money and go 'bout my business? I could just disappear and not come back.”

Romeo rose to his feet, adjusting the waistband of his slacks. The two locked eyes, each gazing intently at the other. “You could,” Romeo finally answered, “but I'd like to think that I can trust a man who doesn't take charity and will work to pay for a glass of water.”

Piano Man came to his feet. “I was working off the ice and the clean glass. The pretty lady said the water was free.”

Romeo smiled, his head bobbing slowly against his thick neck. “You got somewhere to stay?”

Piano Man nodded, raising a cash-filled fist to his heart. “I does now. A room at the Madison is forty dollars a night. Cheaper if you pays by the week.”

“Tell you what—let me make a call. I know a woman who owns a boardinghouse not far from here. I can probably swing you a better room for half the price, and she's been known to throw in a few meals if you talk sweet to her,” Romeo said, giving his new employee a slight wink.

Piano Man grinned. “Well, I do believes I can expect to be eating well then,” he responded, the lines of his face drawing back as he smiled.

Romeo laughed. “I thought you'd like that,” he said, turning around. He paused, then looked back over his shoulder. “I'm sorry. I forgot to ask. What's your full name?”

Piano Man hesitated, twisting the cash between his palms. “My daddy named me James. James Burdett.”

Romeo nodded, shaking the man's hand one last time. “Welcome to the Playground, Mr. Burdett.”

Piano Man stared after him as Romeo headed toward his office at the rear of the club. As the younger man closed the door behind himself, one could almost see the sadness creep back into Piano Man's eyes. Pushing the green bills deep into his front pocket, he sauntered back to the stage and let his fingers cry against the piano keys.

Piano Man was not alone. The band had stopped by and was playing sweetly beside the old man—Randy “Too-Smooth” Biggs on saxophone, Billy “Blues” Tyler on bass, and Little John Clark on the horn. It had taken less than a week for Piano Man's friends and admirers to search him out in order to amuse themselves with the music. They now came every night to play and they would play until they were bored with one another, or the crowd, whichever came first.

There was a brief pause as the band rose to take a break. Malcolm quickly switched on the sound system. The low drone of Muddy Waters filled the room. Across the way Romeo watched Piano Man as he took a quick drag from a cigarette he had palmed off Odetta and followed it with two shots of Black Label. Gliding over to the stage, Romeo tapped the old man lightly on the shoulder.

“Don't start,” Piano Man said emphatically. “I ain't in no mood to hear it.”

“Tough,” Romeo responded, taking the nonfiltered tobacco stick from the man's hand and crushing it out in the ashtray Piano Man had laid on top of the piano.

Piano Man cussed. “Boy, you a pain in my ass. Man can't do a damn thing with you around.”

“That's right. Do what you want as long as you don't do it around me. Now you know if you work for me you don't drink on the job. Drink on your time, not mine. You losing your mind?”

“I don't need no caretaker, boy,” Piano Man grunted, rising from his seat. “I'm a free agent.”

“You don't have a caretaker. I'm only protecting my investment. I paid in advance, remember?”

Piano Man grunted again as he lifted his body from the bench and stepped down off the stage.

“Where are you going, now?” Romeo asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Going to kiss them pretty girls over there. That one in the red sweater came up to pinch my cheek before and I promised her I'd let her buy me a drink. Is that okay with you
?”
he asked sarcastically.

“No, it's not okay, but I don't have the time to sit here and mother you right now. You just keep yourself out of trouble and make sure there's nothing in that drink stronger than ginger ale.”

Piano Man muttered under his breath. “You need to go kiss that girl you been staring at all night and not be minding my business.”

Romeo bristled. “What girl? What are you talking about?”

Piano man laughed. He shifted his gaze toward a side table and the woman who sat alone, her eyes dancing around the space. “You know what woman,” he said as he gave him a half salute, then turned on his heels.

Romeo blew a soft sigh as he watched him ease his way over to sit with three overdressed senior citizens who sat blowing kisses in the old man's direction. The three women immediately made a space for him, each clamoring for his attention. Romeo laughed, shaking his head from side to side, then turned his attention back to his duties.

“He's right, you know,” Malcolm said, moving to his side.

“About what?” Romeo asked, eyeing his friend curiously.

“That girl.”

Romeo laughed. “Did I miss something?”

His friend laughed with him. “You might have, but we didn't,” Malcolm said. “And you know nothing gets past Odetta's eagle eyes!”

“That's right!” the woman exclaimed as she suddenly joined them. “I saw how you were staring at that woman.”

Romeo shook his head. “I don't know what y'all are talking about. I stare at all the women!”

Odetta chuckled, her head waving from side to side. “Well, her name's Taryn. Taryn Williams. She and your girl Roberta work at the same company.”

Romeo tossed a quick look toward the table. A man had joined the beautiful woman and she was laughing warmly. The tall stranger was built like an NFL linebacker, wearing a wool suit made for a steeplechase jockey. Tight and small, it was busting at the seams. Romeo watched as she politely refused the man's advances, sending him on his way. Romeo knew it wouldn't be long before another single male took his place, eager for her attention. She was a woman alone, and the raging testosterone in the room considered her desperate or easy. But they were quickly discovering she was anything but as she'd had them dropping like flies since she arrived.

His friends were right. He had been staring for most of the evening, the intensity of his attraction catching him off guard more than once. Now he was embarrassed that he'd been so obvious about it.

Taryn Williams was a regal beauty, her splendor wholeheartedly natural. Her composure was serene and majestic as she sat listening to the music. Her complexion was flawless, skin the color of red clay, a dark caramel with rich red undertones. Her eyes were large and round and a deep blue black that shone brightly, penetrating straight into the core of his being when she deigned to look back at him. Dark chestnut brown hair in a shoulder-length cut flattered her curvaceous body, and she looked exceptionally young. He fathomed her healthy countenance belied her true age.

A form-fitting black lace dress clung to her voluptuous body. She had curves in all the right places, her attire complementing each dip and rise. With her full cheeks and sensuous lips, he was reminded of wet, sweet mangoes, waiting to be tasted. He suddenly imagined her mouth had been made for long, slow kisses and sweet promises blowing in his ear. A wave of heat shot through his southern quadrant, moving him to shift from one leg to the other to stall the sensation.

He shook the feeling, his eyes blinking rapidly. “I am not interested in that woman,” he said aloud.

Odetta laughed heartily. “Yes, you are.”

Romeo rolled his eyes skyward as Malcolm joined Odetta in laughter.

The conversation was suddenly interrupted by a commotion coming from the other side of the room. Hearing her name being called, Odetta turned toward a thirsty patron, flipping her hand in his direction. “Hold your horses, Henry James. You see I'm busy,” she quipped loudly, racing toward the table. “You ol' bald-headed fool! Why you got to be causing all this ruckus calling me!”

The two men were both still laughing as the robust woman rushed across the room. Malcolm tapped his friend against his back. “At least go introduce yourself,” he said. “What can it hurt?”

Romeo shrugged his broad shoulders as he blew a heavy sigh. “Brother, you know better than anyone else that I don't need another woman who requires a lot of attention. That woman looks very high maintenance.”

Malcolm shrugged as he headed back toward the bar. “Just say hello and see what happens. You never know.”

Romeo eyed his friend. He needed to refocus—too many distractions throwing him off track. He blew another deep sigh, his gaze quickly scanning the room. Catching Piano Man's eye, he pointed first toward his watch, then the piano, then he lifted his palms toward the ceiling.

Pointing back at him with his own wrinkled appendage, Piano Man rose from his seat. After kissing each of the three women in turn, he called to the others, then headed back to the stage. On cue, Malcolm switched off the music, Koko Taylor's “Beer Bottle Boogie” fading into the distance. Taking his place on the bench, Piano Man's hands raced across the keys. The room was soon coated with a rich, deep tune that rushed forward like a storm wind ready to do battle.

Romeo continued to make his rounds. Women leaned up against him, eagerly pressing kisses against his cheeks. The men met his outstretched hand in firm handshakes while slapping him across the back. He occasionally sat to catch up on an old acquaintance's activities or the escapades of a former lover, his calculated responses and exclamations smooth and endearing. He was in his element and he was happy.

Boosted by his good mood, he turned in the direction of the woman named Taryn, hopeful that her suitor for the moment had moved on. Disappointment suddenly painted his expression. The woman named Taryn was gone.

 

 

Taryn couldn't begin to reason why she had gone out to the club at all. Knowing she had to be at the office early in the morning should have been enough to keep her at home. But listening to her friend Roberta had been her downfall. Roberta had begged her to come out for a drink, claiming she needed to talk. Taryn had sat there for over an hour waiting for the woman when she'd finally gotten a text message that she'd been stood up, Roberta needing to get home to her husband and baby.

And there she'd been, stranded at the Playground by herself, and so Taryn had stayed, enjoying the music and most of the attention that had been lavished on her. Now she was second-guessing her decision. She hated to admit it, but she'd secretly gotten caught up in Roberta's enthusiasm and was curious to know more about the owner of the Playground. However the owner hadn't been the least bit curious about her.

She made one last check of her front door, insuring the alarm was engaged. Moving through her North Hills home, she stripped out of her clothes as she made her way up the stairs to the second floor.

For the first time she found the home's quiet almost unnerving. The hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway, and the creaking of the floorboards beneath her feet were the only sounds echoing through the space. She didn't own a pet, having neither the time nor the inclination to be bothered, but she couldn't help but wonder if maybe coming home to a cat or a small dog might feel less lonely.

Taryn heaved a deep sigh, appalled that such a thought had gone through her mind. She wasn't lonely. Not really. In fact, she'd always been quite content with her life. She loved her job. As the president of sales and marketing for a national design chain, Taryn spent a fair amount of time traveling around the world, searching out product to boost her company's bottom line. The intensity of her schedule and the pressures of her responsibilities had never been conducive to a long-term relationship with any man and so she had never really given one any consideration. She had never needed a man in her life and had yet to meet one she wanted for longer than a quick moment.

Thoughts of Romeo Marshall suddenly flashed through her head. Something about that man intrigued her and she hated to admit that she was curious to know exactly what that was. She hadn't given him much thought that first night when he hadn't bothered to make his way to where she and her friends had been sitting, and although Roberta had been dismissive, continuing to extoll his many virtues, Taryn hadn't been convinced. Tonight she'd been disappointed; he had not made the small effort to stop by her table to ask if she was having a good time.

Taryn shook her head, frustrated that she even cared. She already knew that Romeo Marshall, with his less than stellar reputation, wasn't the kind of man she wanted to invest any energy in. Besides, the prospect of being with a man who had once sexed her friend felt all sorts of wrong, despite Roberta's assurances that Taryn was being way too sensitive about the whole thing. “I'm not kidding,” the woman had extolled, “even if it doesn't turn into anything permanent, you'll still thank me. That man is God-sent!”

Taryn blew another deep breath as she rinsed her mouth and swiped a warm bath cloth over her face and eyes. Easing into her bedroom, she drew back the covers and slipped beneath them.
God-sent
. She should only be so lucky, she thought as she reached for the television remote and began to surf the stations.

 

 

The tinkling of breaking glass and the loud curses of a gin-splattered patron caught Romeo's attention. Excusing himself from a conversation, he rose from his seat, sauntering over to his customer's side just as the onslaught of tears rose to his waitress's eyes.

“Sharon, please bring Mr. Jenkins's table a round of drinks on the house,” he said quietly, gently squeezing her shoulder.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Marshall, sir,” the young woman responded, gratefully fleeing the discerning eyes upon her.

Gesturing for a busboy to bring a broom, Romeo smiled his warmest smile. “My apologies, Sam. Just send me a bill for the suit and the Playground will take care of it.”

“Ain't no big thing,” Samuel Jenkins slurred, the whiskey punctuating his speech. Briskly wiping at the moistened jacket and wrinkled pin-striped shirt, he chortled loudly, the sound vulgar and harsh. “Was just trying to work a little of my mojo,” he said, cackling harshly. “These young girls today don't know how to take a little joke.”

“Sam, they have no problems with the jokes, man. It's when you tell your jokes with your hand on their asses that they have a problem.”

The man snorted, breaking into a semitoothless grin. “Ain't no big thing.” The other two men seated at the table with him grinned back, nodding their heads.

“Just keep your hands off my girls, Sam. It's hard enough getting a good night's work out of them without you being a distraction.”

“Ain't me, Romeo. It's the beast in my pants,” he stammered, laughing heartily.

Romeo smiled slightly, shaking his head. Slapping the man on the back of his shoulders as he swept by, Romeo reiterated, “Just don't give my girls a rough time, please.”

Making his way to the bar, he stopped to console the young woman struggling to regain her composure. “Are you okay, Sharon?” he asked, concern sparkling in his dark eyes.

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Marshall,” she whispered, “but he grabbed my behind, and was reaching for my chest, and . . .”

“It's okay. Sometimes they can get out of hand. Let Malcolm bring the drinks over, and after this round, I'm going to cut the three of them off. You just stay away from them for a while.” Looking around, he gestured for Odetta to join them. The robust woman smiled in their direction.