Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [74]
I took my jacket off and threw it over a leather high-back chair that didn’t really fit the room’s decor, but Wylie said it was his throne. I sat on the sofa, and Wylie came out of the kitchen with a glass of wine and swirling ice in a cocktail glass.
“So how was your day?” he asked as he sat down next to me.
“Another day without making a dime,” I said as I took a sip of the wine. This was not the brand of wine I served or drank at my own place. It had a smooth buttery taste with a touch of fruit. I couldn’t remember the name of it, but I knew it was over eighty dollars in the restaurant where I used to work.
“Don’t worry, things will pick up,” Wylie said.
“How much is this wine per bottle?” I asked.
“Oh child, I don’t know. I usually buy it by the case,” Wylie said casually.
“One day very soon,” I said softly.
“Guess what?” Wylie asked with excitement in his voice. I knew this could only mean one of two things: a man or an exciting trip somewhere soon.
“I’ve got a date with that man I told you about,” Wylie said.
“What man?”
“David Carroll. Remember I told you about him? He’s from the Bahamas, and he wrote a workout book with the best pictures in the world. He’s the one who was on the Bahamian gymnastics team.”
“I thought you didn’t date your clients,” I teased as I sat my wine down on the bench.
“I don’t date my American-born clients,” he said, and smiled.
“Oh, I see. It’s like that,” I said.
“I can’t wait. Where should I take him?”
“He’s the author, let him decide. But you’re a braver girl than me, ’cause I would never date a man who can do a split,” I said, laughing.
“Oh, I ain’t worried about him doing no splits. I just want to make sure those beautiful legs of his stay firmly on my bed and don’t go swinging in the air before I can get mine up there,” Wylie laughed. “What about yourself? Are you back in the dating game?”
“Naw, not just yet. I still got some unfinished business with Mr. Basil, and then I’ll see,” I said as I took a sip of the wine.
“Bart, come on, now. This is getting crazy. Move on and leave that child alone. I know he’ll think twice before he tries to mess over someone again, but I’m beginning to worry about you,” Wylie said.
I told Wylie I didn’t know what Ava had planned but I was going through with whatever it was as long as it didn’t include serious bodily harm.
“Bart, you can’t be serious? This woman sounds cruel. You could both end up under the jail,” Wylie said.
“I don’t give a fuck, I’m getting back at Basil. Besides, where am I going to get the ten thousand dollars to pay Miss Ava back if I don’t do it? Shit, I need that and everything else she promised me.”
“Bart, you can go back to personal training. I mean, I hear some trainers are getting eighty and ninety dollars an hour now.”
“Then they’re doing something more than training, especially if they’re black,” I said.
“So when are you going to do this?”
“I’m going off to the Plaza tomorrow and follow Ms. Ava’s plans,” I said.
“Think about what you’re doing. You are ruining another man’s life,” Wylie said, his voice tight, and there was a coldness in his face, like he was either sad or disappointed.
“It’s easy for you to sit here and pass judgment on me ’cause it didn’t happen to you. None of this happens to you. You collect your fat paycheck and come home to your fabulous home, sit on your fat ass and drink all week, and then go to church on Sunday. You’re a trust-fund baby. When your parents die, you’ll be set for life. I don’t think you’re in any position to judge me,” I said firmly.
“Finish your drink.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Finish your drink and leave,” Wylie said. I could see tiny pools of tears forming in his eyes, and I wanted to take back what I had said. But I didn’t. I just grabbed my coat and bag, then left like a gush of wind, without telling my friend, my only friend, goodbye.
Who Can I Turn To?
I was watching Shirley MacLaine in Sweet Charity on The Movie Channel when the phone rang. I looked at the caller