CHAPTER NINE

“Darius, you can’t be serious!” Curry exclaimed to his friend as Darius recounted his most recent date with Cherish. Curry leaned back in his chair listening carefully, shaking his head in disbelief. “What are you waiting on? I’ve heard of women holding out, but come on!”

Darius looked at his friend. Curry looked different; his hazel eyes sparkled at him. Darius smiled. If it had been any other man, Darius would have thought Curry was in love. Not Curry. He was responsible for more broken hearts than Brad Pitt when he married Jennifer Aniston.

“Curry, now is just not a good time. I have a big project I’m working on and I don’t want to fail. I like to concentrate on one thing at a time. I don’t want something happening in the heat of the moment and we both regret not waiting.”

“As opposed to me?”

“Curry, you’re different from me. You’re a free spirit. I’m more…”

“Anal?” Curry smiled. Darius liked the rigidiness of a schedule. “Dare, there are some things you can’t plan.” Mica, Curry’s assistant, interrupted the conversation.

“Mr. Fitzgerald, here are the tickets for tonight’s game. You’re right behind the glass. Also, your reservations for Pierre’s have been confirmed for ten-thirty,” she said in her seductive accent, and placed the envelope on Curry’s desk.

“Thank you, Mica.”

She nodded and left the office.

Darius looked at the envelope. “Pierre’s? Well, I’m impressed. I hear there’s a two-month wait for a weeknight reservation.” Darius smiled; it seemed Curry was going to a lot of trouble for just a friendly date with Darbi. Pierre’s was a swanky restaurant by the new hockey arena in Dallas. “How do you know so many people with great tickets and connections?”

“It’s my personality.” Curry smiled confidently.

“Bull!” Darius laughed and left Curry’s office.

* * *

The next evening, Curry glanced at Darbi as he drove into Dallas from Arlington. She had been quiet almost the entire trip. He wondered if she regretted their date. Would she rather be out with DeMarcus? “Anything wrong?” He patted her leg.

“No, I’m fine,” came her soft reply. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He hoped it would be. He’d called in some pretty big favors to get last minute reservations at the restaurant. He hoped it would soften what he had to say. He chuckled softly. When had he cared if a woman objected to his holiday plans? “I’m going to Seattle tomorrow for Thanksgiving.” For the first time in three years, he wanted to stay in Texas for the holiday, but he knew his mother would disown him if he did. “I’ll be back Sunday,” Curry told her as he negotiated through the arena traffic.

“That’s good, Curry,” she whispered. “You should be with family during the holidays.”

“Will you be at Darius’s?” He gently caressed her hand, hating the thought of being away from her for even a few days.

“Yes. He’s going to have dinner there. So I’ll probably just stay with him Wednesday night.”

“Good.” Curry wanted to know where to call. At least she wouldn’t be with DeMarcus, he thought. A point for me!

* * *

Curry parked the BMW in underground parking at the American Airlines Sports Center in Dallas. Then he opened the car door for her and offered his hand. DeMarcus could take some tips from Curry, Darbi thought. She took his hand and eased out of the seat. They walked toward the arena hand in hand. “Curry, what’s this?”

“It’s a hockey game. Do you like hockey?”

“Now is a fine time to ask me, isn’t it? Yes, I do like hockey. Actually, I love hockey. In Philly, I worked at this video store and most of the guys who worked there loved hockey. So I started going to the games with them, less Amos, of course.”

“I’m glad to hear that you have some good memories of Philly.” He listened to her rave about her favorite team, the Detroit Redwings. “Unfortunately, the Dallas Stars aren’t playing them tonight.”

Darbi felt apprehensive as they neared the entrance door. She looked around and saw very few African-Americans, which was different from Philly. However, the ticket taker made her welcome with a big smile and a hello. Darbi laughed as she heard him say: “You go, girl!”

“What was that?” Curry looked for their section of seats.

Darbi smiled. “In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t a whole lot of African-Americans here. I guess hockey hasn’t caught on down here yet. In Philly, there were many more, though not like a football game.”

Curry shrugged, dismissing the subject. “I guess I really hadn’t noticed. Does it bother you being with me?”

“No, Curry, not in the least,” she said with confidence.

* * *

After the game while they waited for traffic to die down, Curry bought an authentic hockey jersey for her. Where, she wondered, did that fit into their ‘just friends’ relationship?

Pierre’s, one of Dallas’s most elegant restaurants, was close to the arena. When they pulled into the parking lot, Darbi expected it to be crowded, but it wasn’t. Considering they were both dressed in blue jeans and sweaters, Darbi expected them to be turned away from such an elegant restaurant. A tuxedo-clad gentleman greeted them with a large smile plastered on his chubby face. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Reservation for Fitzgerald,” Curry stated with confidence.

To Darbi’s surprise, the maitre d’ smiled and summoned the waiter.

Once they were seated, the waiter placed a linen napkin in her lap and poured the wine. After the waiter departed, Darbi spoke. “This is a beautiful place, Curry.” She glanced at him across the table.

Curry was about to answer her when someone broke into the conversation. He almost dropped his wine glass.

“Curry, what are you doing here?”

Curry looked at the five-foot-seven-inch blonde. Not here, not now! “Ava! How are you? This is my friend, Darbi Crawford.” He nervously nodded to Darbi. “We just left the hockey game,” he added for no reason.

The blonde woman shook Darbi’s hand. “I’m Ava Bradley. I’m the second ex.” She emphasized the word second. “Curry, you never brought me here,” she chastised him. Her tone was teasing, but Darbi could tell she was not.

“Because you don’t like hockey. Darbi does. How’s Jason?” Jason was the man she had left him for.

“We’re divorcing. I just can’t seem to find the right man at the right time. I’m moving as well. That’s why I was here. Farewell party.”

“That’s nice, Ava.” Curry stared into Darbi’s eyes, silently apologizing.

“Yes, Texas holds a lot of painful memories for me. I thought I’d start fresh somewhere else. It was nice to meet you, Darbi.” Ava left the table.

As the woman retreated from their table, Darbi saw the look of relief on Curry’s face.

“Sorry,” he said apologetically. He took a sip of his drink to calm his nerves. He hoped Ava’s impromptu visit hadn’t spoiled the evening.

“That’s okay. I could tell you were really uncomfortable. I’d probably react the same way if some of Amos’s family showed up.”

“Is that a possibility?” He wondered about her past with Amos, but didn’t know how to ask. She always had an unhappy look on her face when she spoke of him.

“No, I think they disliked me as much as I disliked them.” Darbi picked up the menu, closing the subject.

Curry watched her over his menu. They both had so many cobwebs in their closets. “They obviously don’t know the Darbi I know,” Curry joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Ava divorced me to marry Jason. She was ready for the family thing. I wasn’t. Don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

* * *

Later that night, Curry stared at the ceiling of Darbi’s condo as she slept next to him. After making love to her two earth-shattering times, he was spent. As tired as his body was, though, sleep eluded him. He was not supposed to be feeling these kinds of emotions with Darbi. It was supposed to be a bit of fun, he reminded himself. But each time he was with her, he felt even more drawn to her. Though she never asked about his past, he was getting curious about hers. He watched as she tossed and turned in her sleep and wondered what could have such a hold on her.

Darbi’s hand ended up on his stomach and slowly descended lower. Slowly she began to caress him, hardening him instantly. When her hand wrapped around him like a vise grip, he couldn’t hold back his excitement. Curry held his breath, anticipating her hand’s next move. He gritted his teeth against the growing erection, but it was useless. She massaged him for a few heart stopping strokes, then opened her eyes.

“I must have been dreaming.” She smiled shyly at him as she removed her hand. “Sorry.” She was obviously embarrassed.

Curry moved on top of her. “Don’t be. Now I’m dreaming.” He kissed her as he took her for another ride on the Fitzgerald Express.

A few hours later, Curry was startled awake by sudden pain in his chest area. When he opened his eyes, he realized Darbi was hitting him in the chest and crying. Her eyes were open and unfocused. Curry sat up and grabbed her hands. She jumped and blinked.

“Curry, what are you doing?” Darbi snatched her hands away and covered her nudity with the sheet. “Why is your chest so red?”

“Because you’ve been pelting me and crying.” He slowly rubbed her back. “Darbi, I won’t hurt you and Amos can’t hurt you anymore. He’s dead.” He drew her to his chest and eased down against the pillows. He listened as her sobs slowed down and faded into the night.

The next morning, Curry woke and decided to fix breakfast for her. After he showered and dressed, he walked into the kitchen. He winced in pain as he reached for the coffee cups. His chest muscles were tender.

After fixing breakfast and placing it on the tray, he walked into the bedroom. Darbi was just walking out of the bathroom, dressed in tight jeans and a sweater. He motioned for her to sit on the bed. “How do you feel?” While he wanted to ease her fears before he left for Seattle, he knew it was something that couldn’t be accomplished over breakfast.

Looking at him, she found a comfortable position on the bed. “I’m really sorry about hitting on you like that. I wish I could just let go. Does it hurt?” A tear escaped her eyes.

Curry sat next to her on the bed and placed the tray in front of her. Suddenly it mattered a great deal to him that she understood it wasn’t her fault.

“Darbi, if hitting me helps you get over your past, then no, it didn’t hurt.” He watched as she touched the red and purple bruises on his chest.

“Curry, I know you must be hurting. I wish I hadn’t done that to you of all people. You’ve helped me so much. Why can’t I just get over it?” She wiped the falling tears with the back of her hand.

Curry caught her hand, then dried her eyes with a paper napkin. “You will. It will just take time. You have fifteen years of hurt to get rid of. I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through. Eat.”

Darbi drew in a deep breath and grabbed a piece of bacon. As she chewed the meat, the tears finally went away. Curry felt his heart overflow with love.

* * *

The ringing of her doorbell awakened Darbi a few hours later. She opened her door to find a deliveryman holding a gorgeous array of flowers. They were from DeMarcus. She tipped the deliveryman and read the card as she walked to the kitchen: I can’t express sufficient regret for Sunday night. Please accept this as an apology. DeMarcus.

She sniffed the aromatic bouquet. It was a grand gesture for that debacle of an evening. She noticed another envelope; it held four tickets on the 50-yard line for the Thanksgiving Day game. After she invited Cherish to the game, she called her brother. “I hope you don’t mind, I invited Cherish,” she said, knowing that he didn’t.

“No, that will be great.” Darius hesitated, then said in his brotherly tone, “I know you said that Curry only wanted friendship, but are you sure about DeMarcus? Especially after all that mess the other night. You deserve so much more.”

“Darius, it’s just a football game,” Darbi explained. She should have known he’d worry about her. He had ever since she returned home over a year ago. “He’s apologizing for Sunday, that’s all. What about you?”

“What?” Darius played innocent.

“You’re frustrating Cherish. Darius, she thinks something is wrong with her, since you still haven’t, you know. Don’t you like her?”

“Of course, I do,” Darius reassured his sister. “She’s interesting, beautiful, smart and independent. I just want it to be right. She’s still grieving for her mother. I don’t want to add to her hurt.”

Darbi smiled through the phone at the concern in her brother’s voice. “Darius, I know you wouldn’t hurt Cherish. Not on purpose anyway. I know Cherish really enjoys your company, but brother, you are stressing her unnecessarily.”

“Darbi, you’re going to have to trust me,” he said in his boardroom voice. “I do care for her. Dinner will be at noon, so we’ll have time to eat before the game. Please thank DeMarcus for me.”