Saturday, March 11
12:15 p.m.
Savannah, GA
Destiny waited until the next morning to press her advantage. After Harry pried herself away from her new conquest long enough to give her the name of Rashida’s favorite restaurant, Destiny went there and asked the staff to prepare Rashida’s favorite meal—the one she ordered so often everyone in the place referred to it as her usual. The way the cashier went on and on about “Miss Rashida,” Destiny half-expected to see the order listed under her name on the menu. Right between the General Tso’s chicken and something called the Happy Family.
She left her piece of shit Honda parked in front of the house on 37th Street and took a pedicab to Rashida’s apartment. The unusual mode of transportation reminded her of a rickshaw, which felt fitting considering the bag of Chinese and Japanese food in her lap.
The weather was pleasant enough for shorts and a T-shirt. The spring sun warmed her arms and legs. The birds’ cheerful songs were in stark contrast to the mournful dirge playing in her heart. She climbed out of the pedicab after the driver lurched to a stop. She was about to be with Rashida again. She had been looking forward to this moment for days. Until the moment finally drew near. Seeing Harry’s car in the parking lot reminded her she wasn’t in Savannah of her own free will. She was here because she had been hired to do a job. A job that no longer held the same appeal as when she had agreed to take it on.
How could she possibly go through with the plan when she was developing feelings for the woman whose life and reputation she was supposed to ruin? Rashida was supposed to be just another victim. Destiny hadn’t expected to like her. Maybe even love her. She hesitated outside Rashida’s door. How was she supposed to do what was right when all she knew how to do was wrong?
She slowly raised her arm and rang the bell. While she waited for Rashida to answer, she tried to determine how to perform the scene to follow. Should she go back to playing games or keep it real? The time for playing games was over.
Rashida opened the door as if she expected to see Harry standing on the other side. Her smile faltered slightly when she saw Destiny there instead.
Destiny wondered about the personal history between Rashida and Harry. Was there something in their shared past both women had conveniently forgotten to mention? If so, it could explain the ax Harry was grinding. But what was Rashida’s angle? She didn’t seem like the type to hold grudges, and she spoke about Harry as if they were just acquaintances, but what if they had once been more than friends? Imagining them as lovers brought Destiny’s possessive instincts to the fore. She couldn’t stand the idea of anyone touching Rashida, but especially not Harry. Harry had it all. A high-paying job, a big house, and a fancy car. Did she have to have Rashida, too?
Not if I can help it.
Destiny held up the bag of food. “I’m here for my lesson.” Displaying more confidence than she felt, she pulled a set of chopsticks out of her back pocket. “Can you teach me how to use these?”
Would Rashida toss her out or let her stay? Her arm bar across the door gave Destiny her answer, so Destiny decided to ask a different question.
“The kitchen’s that way, right?”
In the kitchen, she unpacked the bag of food and spread the containers on the counter as if Rashida had welcomed her in instead of giving her the cold shoulder.
“Did you have a good time last night? You left before I had a chance to say hi or to tell you how hot you looked in that outfit you were wearing.”
Rashida’s answer, although vague, made it clear she wished Destiny had bridged the distance between them instead of maintaining it. “You were busy meeting the members of your fan club.”
Rashida drew doodles in the condensation on her can of soda. She was thinking much too hard. Why couldn’t she just give in? Destiny led Rashida to the dining room, where they took their seats at the sturdy mahogany table.
“You don’t make it easy to say no, do you?” Rashida asked.
“Why say no when yes works so much better?”
Destiny was in her element. Flirting with Rashida was easy. It was everything else that was hard. Lying about her past. Hiding who she really was. She wanted to come clean. But how could she? Rashida was attracted to Destiny not DaShawn. She wanted the character not the actress playing the part.
Destiny looked around the room. The decorations were simple and understated, dominated by a pair of colorful oil paintings that hung side by side on the far wall. In one, an elderly African-American woman shelled butter beans on the front porch of a whitewashed house. In the other, several children cavorted in the spray of an open fire hydrant on a stifling summer day.
“Do you like those?” Rashida asked.
Destiny nodded. She didn’t have the words to describe the effect the paintings had on her. They made her feel as though she had found a part of herself she had once considered lost. Rashida made her feel the same way.
“When we were kids, my brother, sister, and I used to spend every summer at my grandmother’s house.” Rashida rested her chin on the heel of her hand. Her voice was as dreamy as her posture. “Each year, she’d buy a bushel of purple hull peas and make us shell them. She had so many bags of frozen vegetables in her freezer she could barely close the lid. Half the time, my parents didn’t have to go to the store for food. All they had to do was make a list and send me to Grandma’s house like I was Little Red Riding Hood. I’m surprised my fingers don’t have permanent stains from the shells.” She looked at her hands, which were perfectly manicured and so smooth they looked like they hadn’t seen a hard day of work. “Those paintings take me back to a time that was simple and unhurried. I miss those days.”
Destiny wanted to relive them with her.
“Which one speaks to you?”
“That one.” Destiny pointed to the painting of the children playing with the fire hydrant. “I was one of those kids. I can still remember the feel of the cold water rushing between my toes as I stood on the sizzling pavement. I can hear the laughter of my friends, the music thumping from cars riding by, and the curses of the cops dispatched to the scene.” She took a sip of her beer. “I had forgotten how much fun that used to be.”
“Isn’t tampering with a fire hydrant a felony?”
“Maybe, but who’s counting?”
Destiny’s good mood soured at the unexpected reminder of her criminal past.
“What did you want to be when you grew up?”
Destiny told Rashida about her one-time dream of becoming a track star. Then she told her something she had never confided in anyone. “I want to run my own business one day.”
Instead of laughing at her dream, Rashida offered ways to make it come true.
“If you get a business plan together, you could apply for a small business loan. I know several lenders who might be interested in backing a venture like yours. When you’re ready, I could give one of them a call.”
Destiny didn’t know how to react to such a generous offer. No one else had ever expressed such confidence in her abilities. Rashida’s show of faith prompted a confession, one even closer to her heart.
“I’d love to open a homeless shelter so a young girl or boy who’s in my old situation could have a place to lay their head at night without worrying about someone trying to chop it off.” She heard herself drift into the language of the streets, the place that had been her home away from home for far too long.
“The people who tried to hold you back aren’t in your life now,” Rashida said. “Your ideas aren’t pipe dreams. They’re goals. You can achieve them if you try.”
Hearing Rashida say nice things about her made Destiny want to cry. “How do you know I won’t prove you wrong?”
Once again, Rashida was unfailingly honest. “I don’t.”
Destiny had had enough. She couldn’t play this game for another minute. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Perhaps I should go.”
She tried to leave, but Rashida stopped her before she could. Destiny looked at her, wanting to believe what was happening was genuine.
“I don’t want to miss out on being with you because you don’t match my preconceived idea of what I’m looking for in a partner,” Rashida said. “It doesn’t matter how much money you have or what kind of car you drive. You’re a good person with a good heart. That’s all that matters.”
For a second, Destiny allowed herself to imagine Rashida had shared the sentiment with her instead of the person she was pretending to be.
In the kitchen, Rashida pulled the salads out of the refrigerator and poured ginger dressing on top. When she splashed some of the dressing on her finger, Destiny slid the digit into her mouth and licked it clean.
Rashida pulled her hand away. The muscles in her jaw crawled beneath her skin. Her eyes flashed with what looked like anger. Destiny feared she had gone too far. Then Rashida’s cloudy expression cleared. She took a step forward and captured Destiny first with her eyes then her lips. Destiny’s body responded favorably to the unaccustomed shift in power. She was used to being in control, but Rashida had effortlessly wrested it away. Destiny wasn’t sure she wanted it back.
“Whoa. Time out,” she said when she came up for air. “If you keep that up, we won’t make it to the main course.”
“Good point.”
They returned to the living room. Rashida tried to show her how to eat with chopsticks, but Destiny couldn’t manage the feat.
“Here. Let me help,” Rashida said with the patience of someone used to showing others how things were done. She put her hand over Destiny’s and guided her fingers into the correct position. “Like this.”
“I’m going to drop it,” Destiny said when the clump of lettuce precariously clutched between her chopsticks began to slip from her clutches.
Her fear and uncertainty were real, but neither emotion was brought about by her inability to grasp her food between two thin pieces of bamboo. Both were byproducts of the other lesson Rashida was teaching her—how to fall in love.
Rashida loosened her grip, letting Destiny take control. “No, you aren’t.”
The lettuce slipped even further. Destiny drew it into her mouth a fraction of a second before it fell free. Rashida beamed with pride in Destiny’s accomplishment, not her own. If she weren’t a banker, she’d make a wonderful teacher. An excellent mother.
For a brief, absurd moment, Destiny pictured the two of them raising a family. Like that could ever happen. You couldn’t pay her to change dirty diapers. But why did the idea of cradling a little girl with a smile like hers and eyes like Rashida’s sound so good?
Destiny caressed Rashida’s cheek. “Are we really going to do this?”
Rashida didn’t hesitate. “Yes, we are.”
“How?”
Rashida leaned into her. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
Destiny pulled Rashida into the living room. She chose a CD from the vast music collection and slipped it into the player. Rashida moved into her arms as if she belonged there. Destiny hoped she’d never leave. When the doorbell rang, she felt the real world intrude on her fantasy.
“Am I interrupting something?” Harry walked into the apartment like she owned the place. A small smile crossed her face when she saw Destiny and took in the scene. She turned back to Rashida. “Romantic music. A table set for two. Are you two together?”
“I was telling Miss Ivey about an idea I had.” Destiny reluctantly turned off the music. “I brought some food by hoping I could bribe her into helping me draft a business plan.”
Harry laughed as if Destiny had made some kind of joke
“I don’t know if we can trust her,” Destiny said after Harry left.
Rashida kissed her forehead. “We don’t have any choice.”
“We always have a choice. And I choose you.”
She took Rashida’s hand and led her to the bedroom, where she made love to her with infinite slowness. She wanted to make sure all of Rashida’s needs were met. Every desire fulfilled.
“Any regrets?” she asked when they were done.
Rashida flashed a lazy smile. “You asked me that the first time, too.”
The first time, Rashida had said the only thing she regretted was waiting so long to give in to desire.
Destiny spooned her body around Rashida’s. “Has your answer changed?”
Rashida guided Destiny’s hand to her warm, wet center. “What do you think?”
Destiny drew her fingers across Rashida’s opening, eliciting a moan. “I think I want you.”
“Show me.”
The words were more of a plea than a command. Destiny pulled Rashida tight against her. She wanted to feel her when she let go. She wanted to ride the wave with her, which, until this point, she had not allowed herself to do. Her pride kept getting in the way. She wanted to hear Rashida call out for her. She wanted Rashida to come for her. Each time she didn’t—each time Rashida climaxed with the wrong name dripping from her lips doused the flames of Destiny’s libido. But each time Rashida looked at her, the fire built up again.
Destiny sighed when Rashida shuddered and cried out. Rashida’s body was loose, her limbs slack with pleasure. Destiny kissed the nape of her neck. “Why can’t every day be like this?” she wondered out loud.
Rashida turned to face her. “You’d be bored with me in no time.”
“Not a chance.”
Destiny ran a finger over the planes of Rashida’s face, committing every inch to memory. She could feel their time together growing shorter. In a few days, Rashida would most likely be out of her life forever. If she couldn’t see Rashida in person, at least she could carry her image in her heart.
“You’re incredible.”
Rashida’s cheeks warmed. She looked away to hide her embarrassment, but Destiny saw through her defenses.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”
“During but not after.”
Destiny didn’t return Rashida’s smile. She wanted to give the moment the seriousness it deserved.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Destiny said. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever had in my life. I don’t want to lose you.”
“What makes you think you will?”
“Past experience. Whenever I get something I’ve yearned for, I’ve never been able to enjoy it for long.”
Rashida pulled her into her arms. “I don’t plan on going anywhere, so I guess you’d better get used to having me around.”
Destiny closed her eyes. For one of the few times in her life, she felt safe and secure. How long would the feeling last?