Chapter 2
A favorite pastime of Jasmine's was to take a walk after receiving her paycheck, fingering the precious, crisp paper in her pocket as she made her way from block to block. She resolved to do the same this afternoon, though it would have to be short because her mother had called that morning to ask for a little help.
Besides, after the spring rains that had been rinsing the city all week, the potholed sidewalks were full of deep puddles. Still, she'd just gotten paid and it was hard not to walk around with a general sense of accomplishment.
"You're still a little rough around the edges," Amanda, her photo editor, said. She'd appeared from out of the blue to fall in step beside her. Jasmine turned her dreamy smile to her.
"Oh, I know," she replied as they exited the newspaper's ageing building together.
"You're reliable, but you can do better. Your captions shouldn't be more interesting than the pictures themselves. Stop playing it so safe."
Photography used to be a teenage hobby, which was why Jasmine's was fairly decent at it. Her camera, a solid little DSLR, with its sweet shutter speed and mind-blowing burst rate, demanded a level of expertise as well as talent. But while Amanda was passionate about photography as an art, Jasmine would always see it as a last resort.
"Look, I get that sports isn't your thing," her editor said, her tone dry as though she'd read her thoughts. "And it's maybe twelve people who'll read our little daily on any given day, but you've got talent, Fleet. And I know you want somebody to see it, even if you brush it off yourself."
Jasmine looked down from Amanda's wise green eyes and shrugged. "I'm glad you think I'm talented-"
"I do. I wouldn't be demanding more from you otherwise."
"Well, thank you. I guess."
"I know you'll deliver. You haven't let me down yet. Have a good one!"
As abruptly as she'd appeared, Amanda left Jasmine, crossing the street in impressive defiance of a Don't Walk sign and the whiplashed cabbie cussing up a storm in her wake.
In the next hour, she had wired her mother some money from her savings, cashed her check and was now debating whether to take the N-train to catch up with some buds in Coney Island. It was some time since she'd hung out and shot pool with them.
Right then, Jasmine saw a familiar figure standing some distance in front of her. A young black man in a familiar red baseball cap. Her heart leaped in her chest and she raised her hand in a frantic wave. "Ted," she called.
The man turned in her direction, stared intently for a second then abruptly turned around and started hurrying off.
Jasmine started after him then halted. It couldn't have been Ted she had seen. Surely he knew how worried she had been about him. He would never ignore her like that.
With a disappointed sigh, she began to walk again with heavier steps.
"What's happening, Dorothy!"
Jasmine jumped as she heard that already-too-familiar voice. Jesus, was no one going to bother with a greeting today?
The young man walking abreast of her stared straight ahead, but from his grin she knew he'd noticed her reaction to him and reveled in it. "What, you thought I was gonna snatch your purse?"
"If I say yes, will you get offended and go away?" she asked, annoyed.
"Relax. No one's gonna chase you today. Only I get that privilege, so consider me your protection. By the way, I got word about your boyfriend last night."
"Ted?" Jasmine almost stopped as she turned to him. "Please tell me he's alright."
"He's some piece of work, I'll say that for him," her companion said with a cackle. "Man's got a death wish or something..."
"What do you mean?" she asked, already dreading his answer.
"Hmm. See... This happens to be something that touches on Reggie's business. And I know he's a private man, so..."
The man seemed to lose all his confidence at a mere name's mention. It was almost possible to sympathize with him, except "This is about Ted, okay? Not your boss and besides, I'm not likely to tell him that we talked, am I?"
"Look, you wanna find out so bad, go ask him yourself."
Jasmine gaped at his disappearing back then jostled past some strangers to catch up. "Am I hearing this right?!" she flared. "You are that big a coward that you can't-"
"There's Tiny right there. He should take you to him."
Bewildered, she turned in the direction he was pointing. Sure enough, a big black Mercedes stood idling on the curb looking, for all intents and purposes, like it was waiting for them.
A new suspicion taking root, Jasmine stopped alongside him on the street and asked, "Did you follow me?"
"Never heard of coincidence, D?"
"I don't believe in coincidence-" she stopped and gave an irate shake of her head. "I don't even know your name!"
"Xavier," he supplied, his cocky grin returning. "My friends call me X. Girls call me Xtasy. Oh I know, not you, never you! Call me whatever you want."
Jasmine stared at the black car for a long moment. Then she swiveled on her heel and took one step in the opposite direction.
"Whoa, where you going, D?" The deathgrip on her elbow belied Xavier's cheerful tone and brought her to an abrupt halt. "Ain't no answers that way. Unless you don't give a shit about little Teddy no more. If so, I'm more or less single..."
Jasmine scowled at him then looked over at the waiting car. "Is he in there?" she asked, nodding to the vehicle.
"It's just you and Tiny. Hey, hey, don't feel bad. He's a scary motherfucker but he'd never lay a hand on a female."
"It's not that, it's..." Well, she was disappointed. If McComb had been in the car, she could have gleaned the necessary information then said goodbye forever. Now what would happen?
"Dorothy, it's alright," Xavier said softly. "If you really don't wanna be left alone with him, I'll come with-"
"Get away from me," Jasmine snarled, a warning finger pointed at him as she walked to the Mercedes. He backed off with a self-aware grin and lifted his hands.
She got in the car and shut the door behind her. Tiny eased the car to blend into the traffic and they made their way down the rain-washed streets.
"Af-afternoon, Tiny."
No response. Jasmine shrugged and settled back to enjoy the ride as well as she could. It wouldn't be easy. A week and a half had elapsed since she'd been in this car, since she'd let McComb pin her to the leather seat and kiss her.
Her conscience scoffed. She had let him do a lot more than kiss her that night. The brutal fact was, she had slept with a man she didn't know. No, a man she knew of, and whose reputation as a human being was tarnished beyond repair.
The urban scenery passed by her eyes unseen. Upon leaving his house the next morning, Jasmine had gone home, slept the clock round then resumed her routine seamlessly. She'd kept trying to contact Ted, of course, to no avail, but apart from having to do without her car, the rest of that night had been surprisingly easy to treat as a lurid dream.
Being in McComb's car, however, on her way to see him, obliterated the illusion. When his gorgeous townhouse came into view, Jasmine feared she was going to be sick. If she hadn't been so paralyzed with self-loathing, she well might have been.
Tiny pulled up into the cool, shady garage then turned the engine off. He waited for her to get out before he strode off.
"Walk this way," he ordered without a backward glance. Jasmine caught up with his long strides at the oaken front door. It was already open and right in the foyer, there was a woman fussing with her hair before a mirror mounted on the wall.
She had an aura of imperiousness about her, underscored by her expensive, if heavily applied fragrance. Her hair fell in golden waves down to her waist, a look her supermodel height let her pull off. Her skin was enviably tawny for this time of year, much of it on display next to her halter top and gold lamé miniskirt.
Jasmine was caught gawping when the woman turned her head and noticed her. She went very still as her gaze raked her from head to toe, like a gladiator sizing up a rival.
"Ah, Jasmine," a masculine voice purred, in a tone so intimate Jasmine was immediately mortified. McComb appeared at the end of the foyer. "Come on in. Thanks Tiny."
She tried to ignore the silent glare she was being subjected to as she took off her dirty sneakers. Then with her eyes glued to the floor, she stepped round the tall woman and went to McComb.
"Lucia, this is Jasmine," he introduced the two, unheeding of the deathly silence between them. "Jasmine, Lucia. Her father owns the restaurant we went to the other night."
Jasmine saw Lucia lock eyes with McComb, a furious flush spreading beneath the Neapolitan glaze of her skin.
"Charmed," Jasmine murmured to no one in particular.
"Would you excuse us a sec?"
She assumed he was talking to her and nodded. "Wait for me in the living room," he directed, his eyes never leaving Lucia's.
Jasmine wandered into the carpeted living room, checking out the art pieces decorating the place. Her gaze was drawn to a small sculpture of a human metamorphosing into a strange creature. Was McComb a spiritual type guy? No, it was Afrocentric. She vaguely remembered seeing something like this somewhere, a magazine perhaps-
"Oh Reggie!" The gushing exclamation from the foyer was followed by a laugh of such eminent relief that even Jasmine breathed a little easier from where she was. It would appear McComb had defused the tension, but how?
"Come here and give me a kiss," a breathless Lucia cooed.
As if she'd needed to ask how. Jasmine smirked at the sounds of kissing coming from the foyer. A brief whispered discussion followed before the door shut and footsteps came towards the living room.
"That's a little something I picked up in Zimbabwe," McComb informed her as he approached. "Soapstone. It's been a favored medium for sculptors there since the dawn of the Shona renaissance. Lovely, isn't it?"
Jasmine touched the pale, smooth figurine. "It's beautiful," she acknowledged.
"It's heavy, but fragile. Requires a little more care than it lets on."
"I see." She turned to him and it seemed they were both waiting for the other to add something.
"You look like you could use a drink," McComb said at last. "Whiskey alright?"
"I'm fine, I just need to know what's happening with Ted. How is he?"
