Too Little, Too Late (8 page)

T
RIAGE GLANCED AT HIS WATCH
. “Okay, this is all straightened out now, right?”

Natasia nodded. “We’re done.” She slammed the binder shut. “It’s only taken four days.”

“Yup,” Triage said, shrugging on his jean jacket. “The days that I had planned to relax before I began pulling double duty on this show and the movie.”

“Sorry,” Natasia apologized.

“Wasn’t your fault,” he said, then turned to Hosea. “You’re gonna get out of here?”

“In a minute. I just want to look over this one more time because there’s no way I’m coming in tomorrow. I want one day with my family before we begin on Monday.”

Triage waved. “I’m out. Call me if you need me, but I don’t want to hear a word from you until Monday.” He chuckled as he rushed from the conference room. “Peace.”

With a sigh, Hosea rested his elbows on the table and massaged his eyes. “These have been the longest days.”

“I know.” Natasia stood and Hosea noticed that even in skinny jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers, Natasia still sashayed as if she were on a runway. When she stood behind him, she said, “Just think, on Monday we’ll hit the ground running.” She rested her hands on his shoulders and massaged with the tips of her fingers.

Seconds ticked by before, “Don’t do that.”

“Relax,” she whispered, not stopping.

He raised his hand to meet hers. Held her still.

She sighed, but her hands stayed in place. “Don’t let this be about your wife, Hosea. I’m not doing anything. I know how you feel about her.”

“I don’t
feel
Jasmine. I love her,” he said without turning around.

“Didn’t mean to use the wrong word.”

“It’s more than the wrong word.” Finally, he faced her. “You need to understand that I love Jasmine.”

She sat in the chair beside him. “Why do you feel the need to keep telling me?”

“Because you don’t seem to be hearing me.”

She shook her head as if she didn’t understand. “What have I done to make you say that? You told me how you felt three weeks ago and I said fine. Now, we’ve been in L.A. for four days, working all kinds of hours—and the key word is
working.
So what have I done to make you think that I’m not hearing you? My God, Hosea,” she said with more than a bit of annoyance in her tone. “I was just giving you a little massage because you looked tired. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“It’s not just me.” He didn’t back down. “My wife’s not happy with this either.”

She raised her hands in the air. “Not happy with what?”

“With you.”

“Oh, please. I can’t believe you find insecurity attractive.”

“She’s not insecure. Look, Natasia,” he said with a sigh, “I want this to work. If I wasn’t sure before, the way you’ve handled the last few days proves that we’re blessed to have you. But I won’t do a thing to risk my marriage.”

She half-smiled. “Thought you said
nothing
could risk your marriage.”

“That’s what I said. That’s what I meant. And anything and anyone that gets close to being a risk will have to go.”

She pressed her lips together, but after a moment, she softened. “Okay.” She held out her hand. “You said it, I heard it. Let’s shake on it.”

He glanced at her hand as if it were a trap. But then he took hers inside his. “I want this to work. I want us to be friends.”

“Me too.” After a moment, she added, “Now, as a friend, would you mind if I massaged that little spot right there.” She pressed through his sweatshirt to the top of his shoulder blade. “You’re really tight.”

She smiled that smile.

He melted.

“As a friend,” she repeated.

After a long moment, Hosea nodded.

Slowly, she rose. Sauntered around him and returned her hands to his shoulders. “I’m going to make you feel all better.”

Hosea closed his eyes, tried not to moan with pleasure, and never saw the grin that filled Natasia’s face.

J
ASMINE STEPPED FROM THE
shower, yawned, and wondered why she felt so sluggish. Wasn’t like she’d exerted much energy since they’d arrived in Los Angeles. Hosea had worked from dawn to way after dusk every day since Natasia had called on the Fourth.

“We’re going to spend the whole day together tomorrow,” he’d announced when he’d climbed into their bed last night just before midnight. But when he’d leaned over to kiss her, she had rolled away.

Now, as she stood in the steam-filled bathroom, she still felt the same way—she was mad. Although she didn’t really know why. It wasn’t as if Hosea hadn’t worked long hours before. And there were many times when he’d had to sit in for her with Jacqueline when she stayed late at Rio for a special event.

But this wasn’t about work anymore. This was about work with Natasia.

“Morning, darlin’.” Hosea stepped into the bathroom.

Jasmine didn’t turn around. Just wrapped the towel around her, reached for her toothbrush, and turned the water on blast.

“Morning,” Hosea repeated.

Jasmine’s mumble didn’t sound a bit like English.

“Come on.”

Another grumble.

From behind, Hosea grabbed her, edged his lips to her neck, and blew soft breaths onto her skin.

Jasmine fought hard not to feel anything. “Stop it, Hosea,” she said, keeping the sharpness in her tone. “I’m mad at you!”

He backed away with a grin. “Thanks for telling me, ’cause I wouldn’t have known. So fill me in. Why?”

“Because we’ve been here for four days and we haven’t seen you for four hours.”

“But you know why.”

“I know, but I’m mad anyway.”

“Aww, I’m going to make it up to you today.”

“How?” She still pouted.

“Well,” he stepped closer to her, “first, we’ll go to church. And then, we’ll have lunch somewhere fabulous in Beverly Hills.”

Jasmine yawned as if she were bored.

“And while we’re in Beverly Hills, we’ll stop in a few stores…”

Jasmine’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes opened wide.

He continued, “I wanna buy something special for my wife.”

She bit her lip, tried to keep her smile away.

“And then,” he embraced her again, “we’ll come back here, find something for Mae Frances and Jacquie to do. And when it’s just you and me…” He pressed his lips against her neck, and with his tongue made her moan. “So, how does that sound?”

“It sounds…okay.”

Hosea’s eyebrows rose. “Just okay? Well, maybe I needed to shake things up a bit.” With a quick motion he whipped her towel away.

“Hosea!”

“What? You don’t like being butt-naked by yourself?” He shrugged his robe from his shoulders and pulled her close again.

“What are you doing?”

Hosea laughed. “If you have to ask, then I’ve definitely been away too much.”

She protested when he kissed her, “I’ve got to go check on Jacquie.”

“I just checked. She’s still sleeping.” His tongue tickled her neck once again. And then, he moved downward.

“But suppose…” Jasmine tried to remember what she was going to say. “Suppose…” She leaned against the sink and closed her eyes. “Suppose Jacquie wakes up?”

“Then…” he said before he pushed her onto the floor.

Jasmine shrieked.

“We’ll have to make this quick.” With no more words, he returned to his business.

Jasmine tried to remember the thousands of reasons she had for being angry, but all that came to her mind were the millions of reasons she had for loving her husband so much.

Jasmine tugged at the tapered jacket that was riding above her waist. She sighed as she took in her reflection; she wanted to lose the extra pounds she’d carried since Jacqueline was born.

Behind her, Hosea said, “Darlin’, we have to get going.”

She grinned at him. “Don’t blame me for being late. I was minding my business when you…” She adjusted his tie. “Where’s Jacquie?”

“In her bedroom with Mae Frances.”

Jasmine grabbed her purse. “What church are we going to?”

“Hope Chapel, in Inglewood.”

Hope Chapel.
Jasmine’s eyebrows knitted together. “Who’s the pastor?”

“Beverly Ford. She’s a friend of Pop’s and she’s dynamite.”

Jasmine had to force herself to keep breathing, keep thinking. “But Inglewood. That’s so far.”

“Only about thirty minutes away, which is why we have to leave now.” He moved toward the bathroom, then paused. “Didn’t you grow up in Inglewood?”

She shook her head. “No, in Ladera.”
Think, Jasmine, think.
“I’ll go get Jacquie and Mae Frances.”

Rushing to Jacqueline’s bedroom, she inhaled deep breaths. She needed the oxygen to think because there was no way she could go to that church.

“Mae Frances!” she exclaimed the moment she walked in. The way Jacqueline jumped in Mae Frances’s lap made Jasmine lower her voice. “I’m sorry, baby,” she said to her daughter, then crouched in front of the rocking chair where Mae Frances held Jacqueline.

“Goodness, Jasmine Larson,” she said through the veil on her hat that covered her eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I need your help.” Jasmine pasted a smile on her face when Jacqueline looked at her. She whispered, “Hosea wants to go to this church and we can’t.”

Mae Frances stood, put Jacqueline on the bed, and then came back to Jasmine. “What’re you talking about?” she asked, as she adjusted her hat.

“Hosea wants to go to Hope Chapel, but we can’t because that’s the church Kyla and Jefferson go to.”

Mae Frances frowned. “Who’re Kyla and Jefferson?”

“Kyla was my best friend.” She spoke quickly, knowing that Hosea would be bellowing for them soon. “But we’re not friends anymore, because I slept with her husband.”

Mae Frances’s penciled eyebrows rose. “When did you do that? We just got here!”

“Mae Frances, that was years ago. When I lived here. That’s not who I am now.”

“Oh, I forgot.”

“Anyway,” Jasmine stood and paced the room, “the problem is, Alexis goes to that church, too.”

Mae Frances shook her head, more confused than before. “Who’s Alexis?”

“Kyla’s best friend, and,” she turned and looked at Mae Frances pointedly, “Brian Lewis’s wife.” Jasmine watched her words sink in, saw Mae Frances’s eyes widen with understanding.

Mae Frances glanced toward Jacqueline. “Her father.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Why not? She doesn’t understand.”

“She understands more than you think and even if she doesn’t, I don’t want those words in her subconscious. Hosea is her father.”

“Jasmine!” Hosea’s voice echoed from the other side of the suite.

She peeked into the hall. “We’re coming, babe.” Closing the door again, she turned to Mae Frances, desperation filling her eyes.

“Well, is this really a problem? Preacher Man already knows everything.”

“But Brian doesn’t. If he sees Jacqueline…” She stopped and both of their eyes turned to the toddler. To the little girl who looked nothing like the people she called Mama and Dada.

“Jasmine!” Hosea called again.

She took a breath before she opened the door. “We’re coming, babe. Jacquie spilled juice on her dress and Mae Frances is changing her.”

“Hurry up,” he shouted.

She whispered to her friend, “What am I going to do?”

Mae Frances thought for just a moment. “Pick up Jacquie,” she directed. “Let’s go.”

Jasmine’s eyes widened.

“Jasmine Larson, have I ever let you down? Do what I say.”

Her heart was pumping hard when she held Jacqueline in her arms. She glanced back at Mae Frances, standing regally in a fuchsia suit that was fit for a First Lady. Mae Frances lowered the veil of her hat, then nodded for Jasmine to move on.

“Finally,” Hosea said when they entered the living room.

“We’re ready now,” Mae Frances said, “to go hear some good preaching—” She stopped suddenly, leaned against the sofa, and released a moan.

“Mae Frances!” Hosea rushed to her side.

She moaned again.

Hosea lowered her onto the couch. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s my stomach…or my head.” With sad, sick eyes she glanced up at him, her hat now tipped to the side. With a deep breath, she said, “Okay, let’s try this again.”

Hosea held her arm. “Take it slow.”

Barely two inches off the sofa, she groaned so loud, Jasmine wondered if something was really wrong with her.

“Okay, that’s it. You’re not going anywhere,” Hosea said.

“I’m fine.” Mae Frances held one hand to her head and the other rested near her stomach. “I don’t want to miss church.”

“You’re missing it today, Nama.”

“All right,” she said, disappointment dripping from every part of her. “I’ll rest a little and will probably feel fine—right about lunchtime. We’re going to Beverly Hills, right, Preacher Man?”

“Don’t think about that right now.” Hosea took her arm, helped her to stand.

She moved slowly, cautiously, as if pain could come with her next step. “I’m so sorry,” she said as she passed Jasmine. “Why don’t you guys just go on to church without me?”

Jasmine’s mouth opened wide, but before she could scream obscenities at her friend, Hosea said, “We’re going to stay here. Just in case you need us.”

Mae Frances glanced over her shoulder and winked.

“I’ll be right back, darlin’.”

The moment the door closed, Jasmine collapsed onto the couch and hugged Jacqueline to her chest. That would have been some major drama—running into Brian and him seeing Jacqueline.

She shuddered, held her daughter tighter.

Her focus on Natasia had left her soft, but that wouldn’t happen again. She would keep her family right here in the Valley. Brian and Alexis and Kyla and Jefferson could have the rest of the city.

As she kissed the top of Jacqueline’s head, she made mental notes. One: Find a church in the San Fernando Valley. Two: Get rid of all the drama in her life, especially Natasia. Three: Don’t add new drama, stay away from Brian. And four: Find a way to pay Mae Frances a million dollars for saving her life once again.

Jasmine held the silk sheath dress up and posed in the mirror. “Babe, don’t you love this?”

Hosea peered at his wife over his reading glasses. “How long are you going to primp like that?”

“All day, every day until I have someplace to wear this bad boy.” She jumped onto the bed and kissed Hosea. “Did I ever tell you that you’re the best husband?”

He grinned. “You’ve mentioned it.” He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes. “It was great hooking up with Sebastian,” he said, referring to the designer who had made her wedding dress. “I’d forgotten that his studio was up here.”

“Aren’t you glad I called him?”

“I think you mean, aren’t
you
glad?” He chuckled. “I’m sorry, though, that we didn’t get the chance to hang out in Beverly Hills.”

Jasmine wasn’t sorry at all. She’d carefully waylaid their plans to go into the city, insisting that they stay in the Valley and visit Sebastian.

“There’s nothing special about Beverly Hills anyway. I’ve been there thousands of times. And lunch at Jerry’s was better than any of those stuffy restaurants.”

He nodded. “That pastrami sandwich was tight.”

“The corned beef was good, too. Just wish I hadn’t eaten so much.” She rolled off the bed and stood in front of the mirror again, her eyes gazing at her hips. She’d been shocked when she discovered last week that she couldn’t fit into a pair of size twelve jeans. When the salesclerk had asked if she wanted a larger size, Jasmine had rolled her eyes and stomped right out of the Bloomingdale’s fitting room. “I need to lose some weight.” She sighed.

“No you don’t.”

“Easy for you to say, Mr. I’ve-lost-twenty-pounds-and-passed-them-all-to-my-wife.”

Hosea patted his belly. “I do look good, don’t I?” His laughter made Jasmine pout. “Ah, darlin’, you know I love every extra inch, every extra pound of you.”

“Hosea!”

“I do, I love me some you. There’s just a little bit more of you to love.”

“Are you trying to make me mad?”

“No, I’m just telling you the truth. Anyway, you only need to look good for me, and I say you look doggone good.”

“I want to get back in shape.”

“As long as you’re doing it for the right reasons.”

“I’m doing it because I don’t like competition.”

He let her words stay between them for a moment. “You don’t have any,” he said slowly.

“Natasia looks like a model.”

“And you look like the woman I adore.”

“Spoken like a husband.”

“Spoken like a husband in love.” He reached for her and she moved to the edge of the bed. “Don’t let Natasia get to you. She’ll be gone in three months.”