Chapter 8
Nydia leaned closer to the partition separating her from the taxi driver. “You can put me out at the next corner.” They were three blocks from El Rincon, and she decided to walk the rest of the way. She shoved a bill through the slot and got out of the cab. The wailing of sirens and flashing lights, along with bumper-to-bumper traffic along Second Avenue, was an indication she would not make it to the restaurant to meet Danny on time. And being tardy was one of her pet peeves.
The sidewalks were teeming with people entering and leaving stores and those standing on corners waiting for the lights to change. Nydia shouldered her way through a group of young girls wearing their school’s uniform. They were talking over one another, their voices escalating as they attempted to make their point.
She smiled. There had been a time when she was one of those girls, talking louder and faster to make herself heard. Nydia estimated they were around fifteen or sixteen, and she wondered if she’d been that loud or obnoxious at that age. Her mother had made her teenage years a living nightmare, when she punished her for talking back while Nydia thought of it as speaking her mind. It had taken a while for her to understand it wasn’t what she’d said, but how she’d said it. Once she tempered her tone, Isabel appeared more open to her opinions and requests.
Nydia held out her hand to signal a driver to stop turning the corner as she stepped into the intersection. As an adolescent she would have screamed at the driver that the pedestrian had the right of way, or if she was feeling particularly hostile, flip them the bird. Thankfully those incidents were behind her, and navigating crowded streets and sidewalks on her way to work would become a thing of the past once she moved to New Orleans and into her suite in the Garden District mansion.
As the CFO for the DuPont Inn, she would live rent-free on the premises; and her meals at the café Martine and the supper club Toussaints were also gratis. Food and lodging were the most important and significant components in any household budget—two factors that would no longer exist for her.
However, Nydia knew she would have to either buy or lease a car to get around her new city. Her father had taught her to drive, but owning a car in Manhattan had become prohibitive because of the dearth of available parking. She hadn’t wanted to get up every other morning to move her vehicle from one side of the street to the other for opposite side of the street parking, or drive around aimlessly to find a space blocks from her home. And there was no way she wanted to spend hundreds of dollar a month for a space in an indoor garage.
She made it to the restaurant with minutes to spare. There were a number of empty seats and booths in the popular eating establishment. If it had been the weekend Nydia knew she would have had to wait to be seated. She spotted Danny at a booth for two located close to the kitchen. He’d put on sunglasses and a baseball cap, probably in an attempt to conceal his identity.
He stood up with her approach. “Thanks for meeting me, doll,” he whispered in her ear. “Please change places with me, because I want to sit with my back to the door.”
She complied, sat, and slipped off the strap of her cross-body bag and placed the small purse on the seat beside her. “How are you dealing with the fame?”
Danny Ocasio lowered his eyes. Long, dark lashes touched a pair of high cheekbones in a sculptured face that reminded Nydia of the Greek statues she’d seen in museums during her school’s field trips. His thick black hair fashioned into a man bun, swarthy complexion, large, seemingly laughing dark eyes and balanced features had most women giving him a second and occasionally a third glance. Danny was the epitome of self-confidence when it came to his artistic talent and looks, but there was an exception few were aware of: height. Standing five-seven in bare feet had become his Achilles’ heel, and he had made it a practice always to date girls who were shorter than he.
“It comes and goes,” he said in a quiet voice. He looked up, his eyes boring into Nydia’s. “It’s like winning the lottery, and everyone you know wants a piece of your prize.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Danny. I want nothing from you.”
He nodded. “I knew you would be the exception.” A waitress came over and left menus on the table. “Please give us a few minutes,” he said when she lingered at the table.
“Okay, mi amor,” she drawled, and then winked at him.
Nydia lifted her eyebrows. “Before it was Danny, and now you’re mi amor?” she teased.
A flash of humor crossed his face. “What did I say about wanting a piece of the prize?”
She knew he was right. Any time news floated around the neighborhood about someone winning Lotto or money from a legal settlement, relatives they never knew surfaced. “When do you start recording your album?” she asked in an attempt not to talk about money—the very subject that had become the source of her refusal to commit to a future with him.
“Next month. I’ll be going to LA with my manager and publicist.”
“You already have a manager and publicist.” Her query came out as a statement.
Danny nodded. “Once I got more than two million hits on the song I uploaded to YouTube, this dude contacted me and said he could get me a recording contract if he signed on as my manager. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain, so I signed on the dotted line. Three weeks later the head of new talent called and asked me how many songs I’d written. When I told him over thirty, he said he would contact my manager and discuss what they were willing to offer.”
He paused and smiled as if hiding a secret. “I have to confess that my manager is as lethal as a piranha when it comes to negotiating. I got a very lucrative signing bonus and a lot of other perks usually afforded gold record artists.”
Resting her elbow on the table, Nydia supported her chin on her fist. “They did it because they recognize your talent.”
“But do you?”
She blinked slowly. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you really believe I’d never make it, Nydia?”
Nydia lowered her arm. “It was never about your talent, Danny. It was all about you accepting responsibility for taking care of yourself that was a problem in our relationship. And it wasn’t about my making more money than you.”
“Then what was it about?”
She counted slowly to ten to compose herself; otherwise her tongue would get the best of her. And she’d promised herself after her final break with Danny that she never wanted to spew expletives at another man as long she lived. If they disagreed about something she would state her opinion and then walk away to avoid an acerbic verbal confrontation. She’d had enough arguments with Danny Ocasio to last her several lifetimes.
“It was about my not wanting to be used by you. Word got back to me about you telling your so-called homeboys that I would take care of you until you got your big break, then after that you could have all of the . . . let me get this right. All of the bitches you’d ever want.” Danny stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown a third eye in the middle of her forehead. “Are you going to deny you said it?”
Danny closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. I only said it because my boys were on me about having a girlfriend who was making crazy money.”
Nydia leaned forward. “It was my money, Danny. Not yours or theirs. I gave up a social life in college because I had to study practically around the clock because I didn’t want to lose my scholarships. I sacrificed again to get a graduate degree and then study for the CPA exam. I was paid well because I’d put in the work, and all I’d asked was that you get a job where you earned enough so you wouldn’t have to depend on your relatives to put a roof over your head or food in your belly.”
“Get real, Nydia. You know how much rents are in Manhattan.”
“Of course I know, because I’m renting an apartment in Manhattan, and before that a furnished apartment in the Bronx, which if you’d had a job rather than playing gigs on the weekend you could’ve afforded. You had options, Danny. What’s wrong with working in any of the brand name stores along 125th Street? Sixteen dollars an hour for an eight-hour workday, Monday through Friday, adds up to more than twenty-five hundred a month before taxes. You’d earn enough to pay rent, and with your weekend gig you could’ve used that money to buy studio time.”
Smiling, Danny slowly shook his head. “I’m still amazed that you can compute numbers in your head.” His expression changed as his smile faded. “I guess I couldn’t see it then. I was so fixated on singing that everything else was secondary. And what I regret most is losing you. But if you give me another chance I’d like to make it up to you.”
Nydia went completely still, her breath catching in her chest as she stared numbly at Danny when he slid off the booth and went down on one knee. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and opened a ring box. The size and brilliance of the center stone rendered her mute. She could not believe he was proposing marriage. Then, without warning, someone emerged from the kitchen and pushed a microphone close to her face while the flash from a camera temporarily blinded her. It only took seconds for Nydia to reach for her bag and push through the crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle.
“Are you going to marry him?” a woman called at her departing back.
Nydia shook her head. She raced out of the restaurant as several people followed her retreat. She didn’t want to believe Danny had chosen a public place to blindside her with a marriage proposal. It had been nearly a year since their breakup, and he was mistaken if he thought she was so desperate that she would become his wife because he was a celeb.
“Miss Santiago, are you going to turn down Danny Ocasio’s proposal?”
She turned to find a man with a microphone standing only a few feet away. There was another next to the curb filming her. She clamped her teeth tightly to keep from saying what she really wanted to say. This was one time she wanted to let loose with every vulgarity she’d ever known.
“No comment,” she said, flashing a tight smile. “I wish Danny all the success he deserves,” she added diplomatically.
That said, she turned and walked down the block to hail a taxi. One skidded up to the curb and she got in, and she gave the driver her address. Nydia covered her face with her hands and struggled not to cry. Never in her life had she been so publicly humiliated. The old Nydia would have cursed Danny in English and in Spanish and behaved so badly she would have brought shame on her family. But she had turned a corner in her life, and she never wanted to resurrect the old Nydia.
She waited until she was back in her apartment before she called her cousin. “No puedo creer que él me hiciera eso,” she blurted out in Spanish once she heard Milagros’s greeting.
“What don’t you believe? Who did what?”
“Danny.” She quickly revealed her meeting with her ex and his impromptu proposal.
“Coño, prima,” Milagros drawled. “He should’ve known better than to spring something like that on you. Has he forgotten that you broke up with him last year?”
“I don’t know, but he has to be living in an alternative universe if he believes we can take up where we left off as if nothing happened. Now that he has money he can have all of the putas, bitches, hoes, or whatever derogatory names men call women.”
“And you know girls are going to be on him like stink on shit once the word gets out that Nydia Santiago turned down his proposal. They’ll be throwing panties, thongs, and G-strings at him to get his attention.”
“I don’t care what they do, Millie, but I’m through with him.”
“How big was the ring?”
Nydia smiled in spite of herself. “Let’s say it was too big for my hand.”
“Damn! Was it Kardashian big?”
“I’m no expert when it comes to judging the size of a diamond, but I’d wager it was at least six or maybe seven gaudy-ass carats.” She recalled Jasmine’s three-carat engagement ring, and the one Danny had shown her was twice as large. “What he should’ve done was save his money.”
Milagros’s snort came through the earpiece. “I would’ve taken the ring and after a few months break the engagement and then sell the bad boy. You put up with more crap from him than I would have.”
“That’s because I told myself that I loved him.”
“You may have loved Danny but I never heard you say you were in love with him. There is a difference.”
“I know that now.” Nydia had only admitted to Jasmine that she’d stayed with Danny because of sex. But after a while even sex wasn’t enough to keep them together.
“You said there were media people at the restaurant, so do you think footage of his proposal will end up on television?”
“It probably will. Danny said he now has a publicist, so I’m certain everything was staged in advance. I’m not going to worry about it because I’m leaving New York by the end of the year.”
Milagros gasped. “So, you’re really moving to New Orleans?”
“Yes.” Nydia had told her cousin about Hannah’s offer but at the time hadn’t reached a decision as to whether she wanted to invest or leave New York.
“I’ve always wanted to go to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, but whenever I tried to get a hotel room near the action my travel agent confirmed they were all booked up.”
“You won’t have to worry about that next year, because I’ll save a room for you at the inn. Or you can share my suite.”
“Thanks, Nydia. Once next year’s vacation schedule at my job becomes available, I’m going to take off and come down to Nawlins to hang out with my favorite cousin.”
Nydia chatted with Milagros about her future plans before ending the call. She still did not want to believe that Danny had set up the entire scenario where he would be recorded proposing marriage to a woman he’d purported to love. Not only was he devious and duplicitous but also so overconfident that she would take him back because he had made it.
Even if she had thought about a possible reconciliation, she couldn’t, because she didn’t trust him. She remembered Hannah saying trust in a marriage supersedes love. And if Nydia ever fell in love and married, then she would have to trust the man even more than she loved him.
* * *
Nydia’s worst nightmare was manifested three days later when she walked out of her apartment building and was accosted by a reporter recording her on a cell phone. The woman wanted details behind her relationship with Danny, whose single had become the most downloaded song for the past three weeks.
“No comment.” It had become her pat response. Turning, she walked up the steps and back into the building. There were more than a million people living in Manhattan, and someone from the media had found her address. What she found odd was her name wasn’t even listed on the building’s lease. Perhaps she was being paranoid, but she suspected the taxi driver who had been conveniently double-parked outside of the restaurant had also been a plant.
Nydia knew if she were now face-to-face with Danny, she would tell him exactly what she thought of him. That she wouldn’t allow him to use her for salacious gossip just to enhance his newfound image. It wasn’t happening, because she refused to become a pawn in a scheme concocted by his publicist who wanted to project a good-guy image for his client by urging him to propose marriage to his longtime girlfriend. So many male celebrities were seen with a merry-go-round of women, while others were content becoming baby daddies, so it was obvious the publicist was playing a new angle.
Danny had made the grievous mistake of not taking the time to really know who she was when they were dating, because then he would have known she didn’t need a man to define her.
* * *
Nydia waited two days before attempting to leave her apartment again, only to encounter this time a man who’d been sitting in a car across the street from her building. He was a lot more persistent, but when she threatened to call the police and charge him with stalking, he got back into his car and drove away. Then she did something she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do again: she called Danny and left a voice mail message that she was going to sue him for harassment if he didn’t stop the press from invading her privacy.
He didn’t call back later that night, and she knew why. Footage of their meeting in El Rincon, and the subsequent encounter with the reporter waiting for her when she’d left her building, were featured on TMZ.
Her cell phone had rung constantly throughout the afternoon when friends and relatives revealed they’d viewed the segment with her and Danny. She literally had to talk her police sergeant brother off the ledge when he threatened to tune up Danny for shaming his sister.
“No, Nelson. I don’t want you to lose your job with the NYPD because of that clown.”
“I wouldn’t do it myself.”
“I don’t care. He’s not worth it. Now, promise me you won’t do anything to him. Nelson?” she asked, when encountering silence.
“Okay, sis. Only because you asked me. Pops is so mad that Mami threatened to leave him if he went looking for Danny.”
Nydia did not want to believe the men in her family were ready to end Danny’s professional singing career before it had begun. “I’ll call Papi later once he’s calmer.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right, because I can have some of my men drive by your place to make certain you’re not being harassed.”
“They’ll probably leave me alone now that the videotape is out.”
“I hope that’s true.”
Nydia didn’t feel as confident as she sounded, but hoped she was right.
* * *
Lamar was sitting in the family room watching television, while Kendra sat on a window seat talking on her cell phone, when the image of Nydia and the man she assumed was her ex appeared on the screen. He was transfixed seeing her expression of shock and distress once she realized she was being filmed by a popular syndicated entertainment and gossip news program. He’d tuned the television to the station because Kendra told him she wanted to write a report to compare different entertainment news programs for her English class. He took a furtive glance at his daughter. It was apparent she was more interested in talking to her classmate than focusing on the television screen.
The segment was over when Kendra sat beside him. “That was Casey. Her mother said she can’t do a report on supermarket tabloids because they print lies, so I told her to buy the entertainment magazines instead.”
Lamar smiled and placed an around her shoulders. “What did she say?”
Kendra returned his smile. She’d been recently fitted for braces, and it taken time for her to get used to them. She always carried a small cosmetic case with a toothbrush and paste to brush her teeth after every meal to prevent food from sticking to the brackets.
“She said her mother was okay with the magazines.”
Lowering his head, he pressed a kiss to her neatly braided hair. Not having his daughter for the summer had changed both of them. It appeared as if she’d grown several inches and appeared less childish, and the older she’d become, the more she resembled her mother.
“How many segments of TMZ do you have to see before you’re familiar enough with their format to make a comparison between Access Hollywood, Extra, Inside Edition, and Entertainment Tonight?” he asked.
“No more than three each. Remember there are four of us in each group, so we’re going to pool our research and decide on what we want to present to the class.”
Originally Lamar had thought the subject too mature for sixth graders, but when the English teacher sent home a permission slip with explicit details of the project, he gave his approval for Kendra to participate. She had a choice between radio, print, and television with topics covering music, sports, entertainment, and news programming.
Picking up her pen and pad, Kendra listened intently to what the different journalists were reporting and their delivery. “Maybe I should DVR the shows and then play them back on a night when I don’t have school. Now that I’m in the sixth grade I have so much more homework.”
Lamar turned his head so his daughter wouldn’t see his smirk. It was the same thing he’d said to her when she’d begun the project. “That sounds like a good idea.”
Kendra kissed his cheek. “I’m going to my room to finish my math and science.”
“I’ll set the DVR to record your shows.”
She came to her feet. “Thanks, Daddy.”
“Don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t.”
Kendra had promised him she would turn off her phone when doing homework and would leave it off until the next day. Lamar knew he had to trust her not to go back on her pledge.
* * *
Lamar waited until Kendra had retreated to her bedroom before he called Nydia. “Are you all right?” he asked when she picked up. He’d promised Kendra to DVR the shows, but he planned to delete the footage with Nydia. He didn’t want his daughter to connect the woman whose life was flashed across the screen with a scandal not of her choosing.
“Yes.”
“I saw the TMZ segment.”
“You and probably millions of other people.”
He ignored her acerbic tone. “Are you all right?” he asked for the second time.
“I will be once all of the nonsense dies down.”
“Are you certain it will?”
There was a pregnant pause. “I don’t know, Lamar.”
Extending his legs, he slumped lower on the love seat. “Talk to me, Nydia.”
He heard the pain and frustration in Nydia’s voice when she told him she was being hounded by the press and slandered in social media because she didn’t want to marry Danny Ocasio. She also admitted to being a prisoner in her own home since there was always someone lurking outside her apartment building hoping she would give them an interview.
“I know his publicist is behind the scheme because he wants to market Danny as this up-and-coming heartthrob who is a tortured soul because his muse and the love of his life has broken his heart. I may have been his girlfriend, but never his muse.”
“It sounds good because it sells copy. Give me your address?”
“Why?”
“I want to mail something to you.”
“What?”
He smiled. “It’s a surprise.”
“Aren’t you going to give me a hint?”
“No. Then it wouldn’t be a surprise.” Lamar mentally stored her address, including her apartment number, into his memory. “Look for it to arrive this weekend.”
“I’ll be here. And thank you, Lamar.”
“For what?”
“For lending your shoulder.”
“Anytime you need a shoulder, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Lamar hung up and retreated to his home office to go online to search for flights to New York. He hadn’t told Nydia his surprise was to run interference between her and the press so, hopefully, they would leave her alone. He found several flights for the weekend and booked a red-eye into LaGuardia for early Saturday morning and reserved a return flight for Sunday evening. His next task was to arrange for a car service to pick him up to take him to the airport.
Lamar knew he had to tell his daughter and housekeeper he would be away for the weekend. He found Ramona in the kitchen peeling potatoes while listening to the radio. When he first hired her, whenever he referred to her as Miss Griffin she’d correct him and say to call her Ramona. Although divorced, she hadn’t dropped her ex-husband’s surname. She always prepared the next day’s dinner the night before, which allowed her to relax once she finished her housework. He regarded the tiny, dark-skinned woman with a coronet of salt-and-pepper braids as a part of his extended family. She claimed it was her calling to take care of other people’s children because she could never have any of her own. Her husband of fifteen years had left her for another woman, and she claimed it was the best thing that had happened in their marriage. She had grown tired of his cheating.
“Ramona.”
Her head popped up. “Yes.”
“I’m flying up to New York this weekend, and I want to know if you’re willing to look after Kendra. If not, then I’ll drop her off at my sister’s Friday afternoon and pick her up Sunday night.”
“I don’t mind looking after her. We’ll get along just fine.”
Lamar gave the fifty-something woman a long, penetrating stare. “And I don’t want her to invite Evangeline’s twins or the Kelly girls for a sleepover. I haven’t told her that I’m leaving, but I’m going to warn her that she’s to stay home while I’m gone.”
Ramona Griffin blinked slowly, her large eyes unwavering. “What about her having company over?”
Lamar ran a hand over his head. It was as if his daughter and housekeeper were coconspirators. “Yes, she can have company. But no sleepovers.”
Ramona smiled. “I like when the house is filled with children’s voices.”
“Yeah, I know.” One time she had crossed the line between employer and employee and asked if he was ever going to marry again and have more children. He had given her a withering stare, and she immediately apologized. Lamar made it a practice not to discuss his personal life with his housekeeper.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to fall in love again and marry, but his daughter came first. She would turn eleven in November, and that meant he had another seven years before she went off to college. By that time, he would be forty-five, unencumbered, and free to engage in a relationship which could possibly lead to marriage.
“Thank you, Ramona.” She nodded and went back to peeling potatoes.
Lamar went up the staircase to the second story and knocked on the door to Kendra’s bedroom. “May I come in?”
“Give me a sec, Daddy.” The door opened slightly and Kendra smiled at him. “Yes?”
He peered over her head. “May I come in?”
She opened the door wider. “Of course. I’m not on the phone,” Kendra said quickly. “You can check if you want.”
Lamar tugged at a braid falling over her shoulder. “There’s no need for me to check. I came to tell you that I have to go away this weekend. I told Miss Ramona that you can have company, but no sleepovers.”
The girl’s eyes lit up like someone turning on a light. “Really, Daddy?”
“Yes. And company means no boys.”
A rush of color darkened Kendra’s cheeks. “I’m not into boys. They act so stupid.”
Not yet, Lamar thought. He knew there would come a time when she would be into them. “Not all boys are stupid,” he said in defense of his gender. “I’m leaving Friday night and I’ll be back on Sunday.”
“Where are you going?”
“New York.”
She pushed out her lips. “You promised me you were going to take me to New York.”
“And I intend to keep that promise this year. I have a friend who invited us to spend Christmas in New York with her and her family.”
Kendra caught his arm. “Who is she?”
“Someone you’ll meet once we get there.”
She let out a piercing scream that threatened to deafen him. “Whoa, baby girl. What are you trying to do? Make your old man hard of hearing?”
Kendra went on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “You’re not old, Daddy. A lot of my friends’ fathers have gray hair.”
Lamar wanted to tell his daughter her friends’ fathers were in their late forties and early fifties and were on their second and some even third marriages. “I don’t want you or your friends to give Miss Ramona a hard time or—”
“I know,” Kendra interrupted. “I won’t be able to have company for a long time.”
“Or I won’t let you go and visit your friends.”
She nodded. “I know, Daddy.”
“I’ll let you get back to your homework. Don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t. Good night.”
He smiled. “Good night, sweets.”
Lamar closed the door, walked across the hall, and entered his bedroom. It took less than twenty minutes to pack a carry-on with what he needed for the weekend. It was only when he put a toiletry case in the bag that he questioned what he was about to embark upon. He was planning to fly up to New York to provide comfort to a woman he’d met three times. The first was when he’d stared at her like he’d been shocked with an electric current and unable to move. The second was Cameron’s wedding, when they danced together. And the last was when he’d taken her to Ruby’s.
And with each encounter he’d found himself becoming more and more enthralled with Nydia Santiago. He’d made the decision to go to New York because he felt compelled to be there for her, but the underlying reason was to discover why she’d crept into his thoughts when he least expected. As CM, or construction manager, for his company, he was responsible for the oversight of all new and ongoing projects. Their company had been awarded several contracts to build commercial office buildings and military substructures. He’d accepted the offer to oversee the renovations on Cameron’s future home because it was personal. Once the former warehouse was converted and decorated for family living, he knew it would become an award-winning showplace.
Lamar returned to his home office and sent an email to his partners informing them he would be away over the weekend; he was scheduled to be out of the office for the next two days inspecting the construction of a medical building in Abita Springs and the restoration of an antebellum mansion on the Great River Road.
He spent the next two hours reviewing the plans for both projects, and when he finally climbed the staircase to ready himself for bed he noticed there was no light under Kendra’s door. She’d gone to bed without his telling her.
He’d found Kendra different after spending the summer with his sister’s family. It was as if she’d stopped challenging him, and he wondered if she needed to be around more children her age. And it wasn’t for the first time that he regretted not giving Kendra a sister or brother. He and Valerie had talked about having more children, but she wanted to wait until Kendra was two. By that time Valerie complained she wanted to go back to work.
He’d broached the subject of increasing their family once Kendra celebrated her fourth birthday, and it wasn’t what Valerie said but what she did not say: she preferred her career to motherhood. After a while, Lamar dropped the subject, and he thought he was fortunate to have been blessed with one child.
It wasn’t quite ten o’clock when Lamar climbed into bed after showering and brushing his teeth. He had to be up early and on the road to meet with the construction foreman before his crew began their eight a.m. shift. His last thought before he surrendered to sleep was the expression of shock on Nydia’s face when a reporter shoved a microphone at her. There was no doubt she needed a friend other than her family and those who were familiar with her and her deceitful ex, and he hoped when he returned to New Orleans she would no longer be harassed by the newshounds and paparazzi.