The Woman from Cheshire Avenue Read online

  As for Cory himself, his complaint was not Lilith’s supposed frigidity, but rather her sense of superiority. He often said he felt nothing he did was ever good enough for her.

  And he was right, Lilith shrugged, sighing blissfully into the rising steam. Nothing he ever did was good enough. For while Kendra thought Lilith was cold, and Cory thought she was a snob, Lilith had always felt Cory suffered from some sort of hearing problem.

  If she suggested dinner in an Italian restaurant, he “surprised” her with Mexican. If Lilith suggested spending a weekend at upscale hotel in River City, he “surprised” her with reservations at some cramped bed and breakfast in Simonetta Valley. If she wanted to attend an opera or go to a ballet, Cory “surprised” her with tickets to a blues concert.

  And when Lilith flat-out stated she wasn’t a fan of surprises, Cory felt she was being selfish.

  Money was never the problem; they were both financially stable and successful, so Lilith knew they could afford her suggestions. However, there was something about her suggestions which always seemed to rub Cory the wrong way; it was as though he just had to do the opposite of everything she wanted, even if it was something he knew she wasn’t remotely interested in. Lilith never understood that, nor did her family. Kendra and Frederick always thought was being selfish and difficult. What they failed to remember was that she was an adult.

  I don’t need to do things I don’t like just to get a boy to like me, Lilith mused, slightly adjusting her body beneath the lightly scented bubbles. I’m not a teenager anymore.

  Her father had set the two of them up of course; Cory was Jewish, like Lilith’s paternal grandmother. Frederick had had high hopes for Cory and Lilith. When Lilith saw how happy she and Cory made Frederick, she made an effort to stick with him, even after she started to realize things weren’t going to work out.

  Strange how she could think about all this now, without any shred of guilt, hurt, or pain.

  It just wasn’t meant to be.

  Granted, it would take some time for her father to realize this. Kendra’s opinion was largely unimportant, but Lilith couldn’t make the same claim about Frederick. And much of the drama surrounding her breakup with Cory stemmed from how poorly her father had reacted to it.

  Lilith sighed, feeling suddenly weary. Rising from her bath and rinsing off, she decided going to bed a little early wouldn’t hurt.

  When the next morning dawned, she found she was still in a good mood. She arrived at work late, on account of her need for a fresh, hot latte, and spent the day surfing the web and ordering clothes best worn after midnight. It was strange; she never felt as though she could do this before. Confidence really was a weird thing. There were days when the simplest tasks, the very simplest actions, seemed utterly impossible to accomplish, but now…. How long had she stalled on getting her hair done? It wasn’t as though she did it herself. She earned a sizeable income, so it was easy to have almost anything she wanted done any time she wanted it. And why had it never occurred to her to simply do something she wanted, like take an easy day at work? Where did she get all this imaginary pressure to excel?

  Frederick, she smirked, thinking about her father and shuddering at the thought of the price Kendra would eventually have to pay for being a walking train wreck. The old man sure can lay on the stress.

  It didn’t matter now. She was a new woman today, realizing all the wonderful things in her life. She was still young, still beautiful, and if she chose, had wonderful things ahead of her.

  So that afternoon, for her lunch break, she decided to go get a pedicure, and maybe a new pair of shoes to go with it. She liked the Couleur Spa in the eastern part of town; located in the brick road courtyards of Cheshire Avenue, it was always alive and filled with people fleeing their jobs for an hour or two. There were studios for yoga, Pilates, and cycling, a large indoor pool, several quaint shops, and even a skater park. In short, it was lunch break paradise.

  With the push of a button, Lilith locked her shiny silver Equinox and practically skipped down Cheshire towards Couleur Spa. On the way, amidst the throng of people, she caught a whiff of rank sweat and bad karma; she noticed it fleetingly and simply dismissed it as schoolchildren playing hooky.

  It wasn’t until she saw a couple of Neo-Nazis in dusty jackets that she realized whence the stench originated.

  The two young men didn’t notice her at first; one was too busy listening to his grim blond friend who looked as though he’d been stabbed in the heart, kicked in the balls, and left to die.

  Lilith’s eyes quickly settled on the blond; unlike the other, he hadn’t shaved his head and she guessed he wanted to show off his healthy natural blond hair. He was a few inches taller than his friend, and clearly had the stronger sense of hygiene. His skin was clear, and his clothes were nowhere near as dirty as his companion’s. She could tell the blond was the older of the two; the shaved one looked up to him, listening in rapt attention. He didn’t dare interrupt the blond, not when those frosty blue eyes betrayed his fury.

  Lilith raised an eyebrow, wondering why the dangerous types were often so good-looking.

  Lilith walked straight towards the two, determined to make them part and move out of the way for her. The tiny sidewalk wasn’t big enough for all of three them, and she wasn’t about to get off and gracelessly thread through parked cars for anyone, much less these two.

  The dup noticed her too, but only briefly; they must have presumed she would get off the sidewalk for them because they didn’t move either. This didn’t stop her, of course.

  “…and that cocksucker Derek just sat there smiling and nodding the whole time, hanging on Aryan’s every fucking word like it was gold….”

  Aryan? Lilith chuckled to herself. Now that’s inventive.

  Eric trailed off when he realized the red-haired black woman wasn’t budging. She was so close now he could smell her perfume, a thickly sweet floral scent which reminded him he was going on day three without a shower. She clearly wasn’t some ghetto rock ho, not with those clothes, that purse, and that smug self-confidence he found so irritating with her kind. She moved with pomp and flourish, like the noblewomen he’d read about in stories as a kid.

  She kept walking directly towards them, calmly making eye contact with him now, obviously determined to make them go around her.

  Fucking cunt, Eric glared. And they wonder why their own men don’t want them.

  He was in no mood to deal with whatever sass she planned to hurl his way, so he simply stopped walking. Shoelace also stopped walking, and the two of them filled up the sidewalk, like a human wall. If she didn’t want trouble, she’d have to go around them.

  But instead, she came to stand right in front of Eric, politely stating, “Excuse me.”

  She met his eyes with an unflinching gaze of her own, and for a moment, Eric paused. He obviously couldn’t retaliate physically; thanks to Derek’s laziness, they were in full view of the public, and in broad daylight, no less.

  And besides…there was something about this woman. Over the years, Eric had developed a sort of sixth sense about people. There were those he and his crew could hurt with immunity, and there were those he knew they couldn’t touch. Aside for her obvious expensive taste in fashion, there was something else about this woman, about the way she squarely met his gaze that told Eric it was in his best interest if she remained physically unharmed.

  Physically…but not verbally.

  “Fuck you,” Eric snapped, thoroughly fed up with feeling powerless. He was unwashed, and hadn’t slept in over a day. It had been nine hours since his last meal, and the meeting with Aryan had been an absolute disaster. He was simply in no mood to be anyone else’s bitch today.

  But as it turned out, he was in even less of a mood for Shoelace’s uninvited, albeit cheerful, little quip, “I know I’d love to.”

  Banging girls of color was strictly a no-no; the mere thought of accidentally breeding a hybrid was considered an abomination of the highest order
. Aryan had actually ordered the execution of Damian Bailey last year when the crew found out he was screwing a Latina on the side. Eric himself had pulled the trigger and planted two slugs in the back of Damian’s skull.

  So to hear the words coming out of Shoelace—Shoelace of all people—was beyond appalling. No one was more mindlessly dedicated to the crew than he. Or at least, that’s what Eric had always thought. Now he was beginning to think Shoelace was just one of those lonely losers looking for a surrogate family. His statement was so unexpected, so utterly bizarre Eric fleetingly forgot about the woman standing before him as he gawked at his comrade in stark disbelief.

  “Are you insane?” Eric demanded, when he finally regained his voice.

  “What?” Shoelace shrugged sheepishly. “Smooth milk chocolate piece like her….”

  The woman laughed aloud, clearly amused. Eric returned his gaze to her, eyes flashing with annoyance.

  “That wasn’t a compliment,” he snapped at her, but it had no effect.

  “Yeah, it was,” she chuckled. “See, your friend here has what some of us ‘colored’ folk call the Taste. Try as you might, he’s never getting rid of it.”

  Eric snorted. “If you’re about to peddle that ‘once you go black, you never go back’ bullshit, let me tell you a little secret—”

  What happened next absolutely defied explanation. She kissed him. She swept forward, quick as a cat, wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him.

  And it wasn’t a quick peck. Because he’d been talking, Eric’s mouth was open. Thus he got the full taste of her, the sweet, deep rich flavor of her mouth as her tongue probed and massaged his.

  Her chest pressed against him, making him suddenly aware of how big and full her breasts were. Her perfume, which he’d only sampled earlier, filled his nostrils in a heavy cloud, making him dizzy.

  The rising heat of her mouth, the feel of her body, and the boldness of her action caused a surge of electricity to rip right through Eric, arousing every single part of his body until he forgot who and where he was, letting her kiss him and, horror of horrors, kissing her in return.

  But just when the heat was starting to scorch, she suddenly, cruelly ended the kiss, audaciously nipping his bottom lip as she pulled back. She grinned brilliantly at his flabbergasted expression, relishing his speechless immobility. Effortlessly, the black woman pushed Eric aside and blithely went her merry way. Still turned on to the point of utter bewilderment, Eric had no choice but to watch her walk away, showing off the roundness of her hips in each deliberate sway.

  Deeply amused, Shoelace chuckled, “Told you, bro.”

  Possessions

  “No, you didn’t!”

  Kendra Wells gaped incredulously at her sister from across their window-side table at the Champagne Room. Exclusive and overpriced, it was a favorite place of their father’s. The glass tables and dark wooden chairs were rimmed in gold. The floor was caramel-colored marble, and the huge bar, located in the center, was manned by several bartenders in uniform.

  In the glorious golden lights of the chandeliers, Lilith truly looked like a brand new woman. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes which Kendra hadn’t seen since they were schoolgirls at St. Tatiana’s.

  “Oh Ken, I did.” Lilith raised her champagne glass in smooth triumph to her lips. After a delicate sip, she added, “He was so shocked he couldn’t say a single word.”

  “And his friend didn’t try to hurt you?”

  “Oh, please,” Lilith snorted. “His friend thought I was hot; that’s what gave me the idea in the first place. Besides, the guy I kissed was…kinda cute. You know, in a scruffy, loser-ish sort of way.” She lifted her glass once more. “Ken, I feel young again. Maybe I should throw a party or something.”

  “But Lil! What if he comes after you?” Kendra asked, her eyes wide. “Aren’t you afraid he might track you down for humiliating him like that?”

  Lilith raised an eyebrow. “Track me how? He doesn’t know my name. He doesn’t know where I live or work. And Cherrywood isn’t as small as we used to think, Ken. A person can get lost here.”

  A waiter interrupted them with another round of drinks. The women looked at him in confusion, with Kendra saying, “We didn’t order these.”

  “They are compliments from the gentleman over there,” the server explained, pointing to a tall, well-built Asian man in a very nice suit who raised his glass to them. The sisters raised their glasses to him in polite thanks before Lilith murmured, “Who’s that?”

  It was Kendra’s turn to be giddy. She pressed her finely manicured fingers against her newest red blouse whose price, Lilith guessed, was going to give their father a stroke.

  “That is Michael Hirosawa,” Kendra beamed. “Word on the grapevine says his family’s moving in, buying up some space, and donating to the most prestigious foundations.”

  Lilith raised an eyebrow in alarm. “Hirosawa? Word also has it that his family’s been involved in serious criminal shit.”

  Kendra shrugged, pulling out her compact and touching up her lipstick. “It would explain why they’re rolling in dough. But what do you care about danger? You’re the one who Frenched a friggin’ Nazi.”

  Though Lilith felt a slight twinge of satisfaction at those words, she was a little preoccupied with something else.

  “Why is he sending us drinks?” she wondered aloud.

  Kendra snickered. “How should I know? Maybe he knows Dad. Or maybe he just thinks we’re hot.”

  Neither theory comforted Lilith. She instead decided to focus on more mundane matters.

  “So how’s school coming?”

  “It sucks,” Kendra replied honestly, touching up her eyeliner now. “I have a twelve-paged paper due tomorrow, and Dr. Morris is a really big bitch.”

  Lilith smirked. “I take it you haven’t started.”

  “I’ll get it done,” came the dismissive reply. “I’m thinking about interning for Mendelssohn Corp. this summer. Ashli Albright thinks she can hook me up.”

  Lilith resisted the urge to yawn. She’d heard this before. One of Kendra spoiled friends was always promising to “hook her up.” But then summer would come and Ashli-, Brittani-, Tiffani-, or Kelli-Whoever would always take off for France or Cancun or Madrid instead.

  But rather than voicing this, Lilith remained a diplomat. “Sounds good. Glad to see you’re trying.”

  “Hopefully, Dad will see I’m trying and not cut me off,” Kendra replied, putting her weapons away and sitting up straight so all the world could see her handiwork. Lilith felt the eyeliner was a bit too thick and the lipstick too loud, but again, she said nothing.

  ‘Trying’ won’t be enough, Ken, she wanted to say softly. Maybe three or four years ago, but not now. Now Dad wants to see progress, concrete progress, and passing grades and a summer internship just won’t satisfy.

  Instead, Lilith chose to be kind and change the subject. “Did Dad say why he wanted us to meet him here?”

  “Because, ladies, I’m throwing a ball.”

  Both women looked up to see their sharply dressed, gracefully aging father, Frederick Emmanuel Wells. The tall city councilor and Chancellor of Cherrywood Catholic University beamed down at his daughters.

  Kendra, whom he noticed was very awfully eager to please, jumped out of her seat at first chance and threw her arms around him. Lilith, ever reserved as always, merely nodded politely from her chair, like a prim old lady.

  Frederick took a seat next to his youngest daughter, and sighed wearily. “After years of planning, scheming, and extensively kissing every crusty, over-privileged, bourgeois ass in our fair city, I have finally acquired the highly coveted Miriam Walker-Hill Grant.” He smiled brightly again at his daughters, saying, “Yes, girls; that’s right. Tomorrow night, the Annabelle Jean Justice Library will serve as the reception hall for my ‘esteemed’ guests who have so generously granted my dear university a 2.5 million-dollar grant.”

  “So we’re invited?”
Kendra asked. The false cheer in her voice came through loud enough, but again, her father ignored it. Whatever idiotic thing she’d done recently, he would deal with later. Now was his moment to shine.

  “Of course,” Frederick waved dismissively. “Now, I brought two of your grandmother’s dresses out of storage and had them sent to your homes. Reception begins at seven-thirty sharp tomorrow; don’t be late.”

  Lilith was resisting the urge to smirk. Her father’s flamboyance was the stuff of legend. He liked to throw balls and host dinner parties, and he always chose their dresses. It never bothered them; his taste was always better than theirs anyway.

  “Three balls in two years?” she laughed quietly. “You’re slacking, Daddy.”

  Frederick shrugged casually and patted his graying head. “With age comes weariness, my dear girl. Now, come, come; tell me what you plan to do with your hair. All the papers are congratulating me tomorrow morning, so we have to meet with a photographer in two hours. I know, I know; it’s late. But this is important. With any luck, Lilith, you’ll meet a handsome young man tomorrow night who will fall so insanely in love with you he’d be willing to give up his own life.”

  * * *

  Not a single word was uttered as Eric and Shoelace undertook the long trek home. Shoelace had a half-smile the whole time, and Eric knew the boy was most likely imagining himself in Eric’s place during the kiss.

  Eric’s eyes immediately clammed shut and stayed so for a long moment as he tried to block out the memory, the sounds, the smells of that strange woman. Every time he thought about it, even for if only for a second, he got turned on all over again. And walking was difficult enough as it was. At times it got so difficult he’d had to stick his hands in his pockets to soothe himself, suddenly grateful for the looseness of his clothes. He just wanted to get home, take a cold shower, get some sleep, and pretend today never happened.