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Authors: Tracy Brown

Twisted (12 page)

BOOK: Twisted
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Misery Loves Company
A
sia charged into Nappy Nina's and looked around for the owner. She spotted Nina in the back talking to a client and sipping a cup of hot tea. Asia wasn't here for pleasantries today. She didn't need her hair done and there was no time for small talk. She was on a mission to save her marriage.
She walked over to where Nina sat and stood there. Nina looked up and saw Asia and sensed trouble immediately. “Hello,” Nina said.
“Yeah. Hi,” Asia said rather snottily. “I need to talk to you for a minute.”
Nina excused herself from her conversation and stepped over to a secluded part of the salon with Asia. She couldn't
imagine what Asia wanted with her and she was eager to find out. “What's up?”
Asia got right to the point. “I need to know where my husband is,” she said. “Ishmael is not answering my phone calls and I'm about to really hurt somebody.” Asia was desperate to find Rah-lo, and that was clear, judging by the look on her face.
“Well,” Nina said, looking at the floor, embarrassed, “Ishmael isn't really talking to me right now, either. He came home last night, took a shower, changed his clothes, and went back out. He hasn't been back since.”
Asia wondered if Nina was lying. Ishmael had been ducking Asia, so maybe he had told Nina to lie for him. But the dejected look on Nina's face signaled that she was telling the truth. “So you two are breaking up?” Asia asked.
Nina shrugged. “He's mad at me. Hopefully he'll get over it.” She didn't tell Asia that Ishmael was ignoring her phone calls, too. “What happened with Rah-lo?”
Asia shot a treacherous look at Nina, and for a moment Nina was sorry she'd asked. Asia said, “Don't act like you didn't hear it already. I know how people talk.” She realized that she was taking her frustration with Rah-lo out on Nina and softened her tone. After all, Nina was going through a similar situation with Ishmael from the sounds of it. “He walked out and he won't answer my calls. If the kids call him from their cell phones, he answers. But the minute I get on the phone he hangs up. And I know that Ishmael knows
where Rah-lo is. But he won't answer my calls, either. I need to know where my husband is because I know he don't think he can just walk out on me and leave me with three kids. He must be crazy.”
Nina sympathized with Asia. She knew how bad it felt to have your phone calls ignored by the man you loved. She shook her head sympathetically. “I don't know much,” Nina began. “But one of the reasons me and Ishmael had a fight was because of how Rah-lo walked out on you.”
Asia was confused. She frowned and asked, “What do you mean?”
“The other day I ran into Charly. She asked me if everything was okay with me and Ishmael because he had come into her hair salon a few days ago to see Robin.”
“Robin?” Asia asked suspiciously. She didn't know the former Dime Piece stylists too well. She knew only what she had been told. Since the salon had been owned by Rah-lo's mistress, Asia had never been there personally. She only knew Nina because she was Ishmael's wifey and, therefore, traveled in the same circles as Rah-lo and Asia. Over the years, Nina had filled Asia in on the other stylists—Charly and Robin—and how they had both slept with Ishmael. Nina had told Asia about Celeste's close relationship with Ishmael and how uncomfortable that had made her. And Asia knew more details of Rah-lo's affair with Celeste, thanks to all the things Nina filled her in on. “Why did he go to see her?”
Nina nodded. “That's what I wanted to know. So I asked him, and he told me that Rah-lo wanted him to find out if Robin had heard from Celeste. He said Rah-lo's in Atlanta trying to find her and he wants to know if any of us have an address or a phone number for her there. I didn't believe him, so I went and asked Robin myself. She backed up his story, but now Ish is mad at me for questioning her.”
Asia processed the information she had just been given. Rah-lo had actually gone all the way to Atlanta to find Celeste. Asia kept her poker face on, but she was inwardly seething. “Did Robin tell him anything?” she asked.
Nina shrugged her shoulders. “I don't think so.”
Asia stared off into space. She felt even more desperate than ever to find her husband so that she could patch things up between them. With Celeste back in the picture, Asia feared that her husband might be gone for good. “Thank you, Nina.” Asia took a deep breath and then exhaled, trying to calm herself down. “Call me if you hear anything else, please. Or if you need to talk.” Asia really didn't want to hear about what was going on in Nina's relationship with Ishmael. But if she could get any more information about Rah-lo's whereabouts it would be most helpful. Asia walked out of the salon. Now she had to figure out her next step.
 
 
Celeste couldn't believe her eyes. She sat in her office at work, checking out her MySpace page, and was floored to
find a message from Ishmael Wright. It had been years since she'd seen his face and he still looked incredibly fine! She scrolled through all the pictures he had posted on his page and all but drooled. There was one of him behind the wheel of his truck, one of him leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, and then she saw another one. Celeste gasped audibly when she saw it. The picture of Ishmael and Rah-lo dressed to impress at some party almost stopped her heart.
When Celeste had left New York four years ago, she had brought with her a bunch of pictures of Rah-lo alone, pictures of them together, pictures of Ishmael, Pappy, Harry, J-Shawn—of days gone by and all the fun they'd had. But she hadn't allowed herself to look at those pictures in years. They brought back too many memories for her, and she had tucked them away in the back of her storage closet. Now, seeing pictures of Rah-lo and Ishmael sent her right back in time and she found herself on a journey down memory lane. Rah-lo's beautiful lips were spread into a smile, and Ishmael's sexy physique filled out his button-up perfectly. For a moment, as she stared at the photograph, Celeste couldn't decide which one of them she missed more—the man she'd loved for years or his best friend, who made her panties wet.
“Hey, girl, what time are you leaving today?”
Celeste was startled by Keisha's voice as she entered her office, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Celeste had been so entranced by the image on her computer screen that she hadn't heard her friend come in.
Keisha frowned. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked. Keisha came around to the other side of Celeste's desk to see what had her so engrossed that she hadn't heard her approaching. When Keisha saw the picture of Ishmael and Rah-lo she fanned herself with her hand as if she had suddenly encountered a heat wave. “
Whew!
Girl! Who are they and where do I sign up?”
Celeste laughed. Pointing at the screen, she explained, “This one is my ex. And this one is his best friend.”
Keisha's jaws opened in shock. “Damn!” she said. “They're both fine as hell!” She peered closer. “But the friend is sexier, in my opinion. Is that the one you told me you were starting to develop feelings for?”
“Mm-hmm.” Celeste sat back in her chair and gazed at the picture, nodding.
“Well, I can see why,” Keisha said. “He looks like a cross between LL and Reggie Bush! Damn!”
Celeste laughed at Keisha's assessment. “Well, Ishmael somehow found me on MySpace and sent me a message.”
Keisha pulled up a chair. “What did it say?” she asked, anxious for some juicy details.
Celeste guided her mouse across the computer to take them back to the previous screen. Ishmael's message popped up in front of them. Keisha read it out loud and looked at Celeste suggestively. “He still loves you, girl!”
Celeste waved Keisha off. “What are you talking about? He didn't say anything like that.”
Keisha sucked her teeth. “‘I miss you. Shit ain't the same since you left … .' Would you read between the lines? The man is crazy about you!”
Celeste rolled her eyes at Keisha but thought about what she was saying nonetheless.
“Did you write him back?” Keisha asked.
Celeste shook her head. “No, not yet. I don't really know what to say.”
Keisha had heard enough. She was sick and tired of Celeste being so nonchalant about her love life. Before Celeste could protest, Keisha leaned over her friend and typed a response to Ishmael's message:
I miss you, too. Call me. (404) 555-0217.
Before Celeste could stop her, Keisha clicked “send.”
“What are you, crazy?” Celeste protested. “I don't want him to call me!”
Keisha was unfazed. “Why not? It's not like you're with Rah-lo anymore. It can't hurt. Plus he wants to call you. He went through all that trouble of searching cyberspace to find you … and the man is
fine
! He don't have to waste time on shit like that if he don't want to. I bet women throw themselves at him all the time.”
“That's the problem,” Celeste mumbled.
“So, if you don't want him, when he calls you can give him
my
number.”
Celeste couldn't help laughing. Keisha was crazy. “I would like to hear from him,” Celeste finally admitted. “Just to find out how everybody's doing and—”
“Save that bullshit for someone who don't know you, girl! You want to find out if he's single and if he can still lay the pipe good enough to make bitches claw each other's eyes out!”
The two women laughed and slapped each other a high five before Celeste logged off and the two of them headed home for the night. In the back of her mind, Celeste knew that Keisha was absolutely right. As Celeste climbed behind the wheel of her Benz, she sighed. She knew exactly what she needed. Seeing pictures of sexy Rah-lo and Ishmael had only reminded her that what she needed more than anything was some good sex. It had been weeks since the last time she'd been with Damon, and she was long overdue for some good loving. Trouble was, there were no viable candidates to replace Damon in her bed. Except, perhaps, for Bryson. She called him and he answered after the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Bryson. It's Celeste.”
“Heyyyy,” he crooned. She could hear the smile spread across his face. It made her smile as well.
“I was just leaving work and I thought I would call you. What are you doing tonight? Feel like having a drink?”
Bryson took off his watch and set it on the bed, removed
his cuff links. “See?” he said. “That's what I like about New York women. You take the initiative.”
“I guess that's a yes?”
“Definitely. I just got home a little while ago, so why don't you come by here? I have a full bar.” Bryson had much more than that. His home was simple, understated, and expensive. He owned a home on ten acres of land in Decatur, which had been passed down to him by his grandmother. He gave Celeste his address and brief directions and they hung up.
On the way to Bryson's place, Celeste thought about what she wanted from Bryson—from any man, for that matter. She had money of her own. She didn't need or want a man to take care of her ever again. It gave them too much power. It felt too much like charity. Even if they were kind enough to give you the illusion of control, they always held the reins. She wanted her own shit—her own money, name, success, and power. But she also wanted the security, the comfort, of a man. A man who didn't come with baggage and issues. She wanted to be held, touched, and talked to—listened to. But tonight she would settle for being fucked.
She felt like a seductress as she drove over to Bryson's place. This was how she should be living, she told herself. Foot on the gas, headed up the highway for a cozy night of drinks and intimacy, Celeste felt sexy as hell. She let the spring breeze blow through her open car window as she listened to Jay-Z's
new CD. Ishmael's face flashed in her mind, then Rah-lo's. Where the hell had they come from and why now? She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror and licked her lips. It didn't matter. Tonight was all about Bryson.
She arrived at his house in no time and was impressed by what she saw. His home was a beautiful colonial-style house on such well-manicured grounds. As she stepped out of her car, Bryson came outside to greet her. He wore an unbuttoned dress shirt, a wifebeater, and a pair of tailored slacks. Celeste checked his shoes out and approved. This was gonna be a good night.
He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “It's good to see you again.”
She smiled. He smelled good. “I'm glad to see you, too. Your house is gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” he said, smiling at her New York accent once again. As he ushered her inside and showed her around, he told her about his family. His grandparents had married young and given birth to two daughters before Bryson's grandfather was killed in an accident. His grandmother had single-handedly raised her daughters and put them through college. Bryson's mother, Alice, and his aunt Clara held degrees in education and psychology, respectively. And they had raised their children to achieve greatness. College was not an option, it was a requirement, in his family. The question was not
if
he would go to college but
where
he would go. And when his grandmother passed away at the ripe old
age of ninety-seven, she left each of her four grandchildren property.
BOOK: Twisted
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